A journey to San Francisco to become no less than Me. (BLOG REBOOT: Former site of Hairy Legs.)

Archive for September, 2009

Procrastination and venting.

Ugh.

So, for the last five days I’ve been cleaning.

I am SO FUCKING TIRED of cleaning.

Aside from the fact that I came down with a mysterious flu-bug-type-thing that made me puke my guts all over the place and I’ve therefore been wanting to sleep pretty much non-stop lately, I’ve had to clean places in the house that I forgot existed, for people who usually don’t care that much about said places.  But when these people are in surgery, and want a house spotless when they get back, and threaten not only with the fact that there are going to be an inordinate amount of visitors in the following days, including house inspectors from Child Protective Services, but also imply that the quality of many people’s lives will depend on whether you’ve cleaned your room or not…

you have to clean.

I’m serious, things are getting out of hand.  I’ll try to keep this short because there’s really no way of fully explaining it without completely slandering my stepmom’s no-good rotten son, but basically my step-sister-in-law is in a tough spot and needs someone to take care of her two small daughters or they’re going into the foster care system for a long time.  So they’ve turned to my stepmom, and if things turn out the way everyone expects, we’re going to have two squalling foster children running around here.  Living in a bedroom two feet from mine.

I can’t begin to explain the vast number of ways this may wreck my life.  It’ll DEFINITELY change things.  For a rather petty example, I was counting on having the house to myself again in 3 months when my stepmom goes back to work, which is an unimaginably long enough stretch for me, but it’s probably going to go more like this- when she’s at work, I’ll probably be expected to look after them.

I never wanted to be a babysitter.  I never asked for any of this.  I certainly never asked for my dad to marry someone whose son would wind up in prison and dump his children on us.  I know I’m being particularly cold-hearted and awful about this, but this is the worst time in transition for any of this to happen.  I don’t want those babies seeing me like this.  I don’t want to explain to a seven year old why I’m tying my dirtypillows down every morning before I get dressed should they walk in on me.  I definitely don’t want them to walk in on me using my STP.  I don’t want to explain any of it, I don’t want her talking to my parents about what her curious little eyes may observe should she poke around like she’s so apt to do.

Long story short, it’s time to get out before things get weird.  I can’t stand being observed like this 24-7 anymore and I don’t care what it takes.  I’m afraid I’ll have to move a long, long way from here and everyone I love just to get away from things that might wind up tearing me down.  Or at least from things that might drive me insane.

And the first thing that those girls are doing to me is making me clean, way faster and more than I ever wanted to.  My stepmom is intent on pressing the point that, if my room is dirty, they’ll deny us custody of those girls and a lot of people’s lives will be ruined, including mine.  I’m sure she’ll make certain of that.  (Whereas, if I DO clean it, the ONLY life that will be ruined is mine.)

Okay, I’m being very selfish there.  One way or another, a lot of people are hurting through this.  My stepmom has a 14 inch incision on her side where they replaced her hip, and she has to take care of them through her recovery.  No matter where those little girls end up, they’re going to be ripped away from their mother and no children deserve that.  My step-sister-in-law is going crazy without her children, and even seeing them in the hands of people she can trust, she’s being denied almost ALL visitation rights.  My dad is 50 years old and, I would judge, too old to be taking care of a 2-year-old and a 7-year-old; it’s going to be tough on him too.  He was just settling into his later years, seeing his first kids out of the nest, and now it’s all starting over again.  So many more lives are being upturned by this, and I’m reacting to it like a big, selfish baby.

But I can’t help but vent about it.  I’m just thinking about little children hanging off the back of my computer chair (the family computer, I might add, is conveniently placed in the living room where anyone can bother me if they so choose- my parents at least have the tact to not read over my shoulder).  It makes me shudder.  They’ll probably invade every aspect of my life that they can while they’re here, and the thought of it drives me up the wall.

Maybe it’s a good thing.  My job hunt was grinding to a depressed, rejected halt after getting denied so many menial jobs so many times, and this may drive me to such desperation for an income to live out of here on that I’ll find a job I otherwise might have missed in my miserable stagnation.

I think I’m mainly afraid that this is going to slow the process of transition somehow, when it’ll actually probably speed it up some.  This is happening at a time that’s rousting me out of a comfortable place of nothingness I was settling into.  Don’t get me wrong, I know that stagnation is generally a bad thing, but I really needed it right now.  In that period of few events going on in my day-to-day life, I was experiencing an intensely accelerated period of mental growth, rooting out old problems and sorting through the past, really finding the root of everything.  But now that I’ve pretty much gotten to the bottom of things, my life is picking up again, whether I want it to or not.

I feel a little bit like I’ve been standing on the side of an ice-cold pool, contemplating diving techniques, swimming strokes, the temperature of the water, and all kinds of other water-related things without actually swimming…

And then two little girls came up behind me and pushed me back in without warning.

I’ll probably be pretty pissed at them for a little while, but would I have done any swimming at all if they hadn’t pushed me in… before closing time?

Time to jump back in.

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Today, I am Mr. Clean!

This is the T-shirt I'm wearing today.  Except mine's a little more hardcore.  I'd post a pic of myself wearing it, but my camera's still broken.

This is the T-shirt I'm wearing today. Except mine's a little more hardcore. I'd post a pic of myself wearing it, but my camera's still broken.

Mr. Clean was always pretty badass, huh?  The only other person who could rock that polished doorknob haircut as hard as Mr. Clean was Morpheus, and you can bet those weren’t the only doorknobs that were getting polished on them.

…Now that I’m done making awkward innuendo about bald guys, I’ll get to the point.  Today I’m called upon to do some serious cleaning of my seriously messy bedroom and bathroom, because my stepmom’s going into hip surgery and we may have some relatives coming and visiting and/or living with us for a while.  I’m taking advantage of being forced into cleaning by pretending it was my idea and going through all of my old clothes and the girly things that have been hanging around by virtue of bad Christmas gift that I didn’t have the guts to throw out.  I now have those guts, as well as some balls, and the gall, and every other body part I need to do things I would not once have done.  It’s finally time to get rid of the things I seriously will never use again.

It feels like a good time to do this, because I’m no longer bouncing between wearing girl stuff in polite company and guy stuff when I feel like it.  I now “feel like it” 100% of the time and the idea of putting on anything frilly, pink or skirtlike is laughably beyond reason.

Maybe I’ll have a yard sale…

I wish I could make a vlog about this.  It’d actually probably be pretty funny for you to see the state of my room and me going through it.  It’s seriously a wreck.  This last weekend I had a kind of a party while the ‘rents were gone (again) and I wound up flinging a mattress and various paraphernalia into my room when I heard them coming up the drive a day earlier than I thought they would.  So on top of the usual squalor and chaos, the mattresses and broken closet doors and other various things create a series of tilty, jaunty planes that made me wake up in the night last night thinking I was inside an Escher painting.  Seriously.

(But at least that’s better than the apocalyptical dream I had night before last that God decided to destroy the world because it had too much Nathan Lane in it.  It gives me the shudders.)

I digress.  Today, I cut through my past with a sharpened sword and excise the filth and scum that is no longer of use to me.

(For some reason I picture that line being read with the voice of Sir Alec Guinness.)

OFF TO CLEAN!!!

Name time!

Now that it’s been 8 days since my last post and officially the longest stretch I’ve gone without posting since beginning this blog, it’s time to jump back in the fray.

I’ve been spending a lot of time focusing on reconnecting with my past and working on seeing that I’ve been abandoning things I enjoy just because they were connected with the “girl side” of my life.  I don’t want to do that- it feels like focusing more on gender binary than just being myself, and I know that I’ve spoken about this a lot on this blog, but it’s easy to write about these principles and harder to realize you’re being a hypocrite in real life.

I’d actually been developing a phobia of feminine things, flinching away from anything girly like it was on fire, and it was getting out of hand.  So, as a way of re-establishing a balance in my life, I actually went on ahead and had a “girl’s night” with my best friend.  We watched a Queen Latifah movie, ate Ben and Jerry’s and generally did the sort of girly things that most guys would get shot for doing if the general public found out.  She wanted to straighten my hair, but by that point I’d had enough and we wound up watching Full Metal Alchemist the rest of the night.

It was actually kinda fun.

On to the main subject, I’m having the worst time picking out a name.

I know that a lot of you know me by Jack, and that’s fine in InternetLand.  It’ll probably be my screen name for a long time just because it’s already established with the email and media accounts used the most, and it’s convenient that way.  But here’s the thing.

Ever since this whole integration thing started, we’ve realized that using either my legal first name OR Jack’s name, i.e., my “brother’s” name, would be weird.  I consider him my brother, anyway.  Can you picture how weird it would be, if you suddenly shared an identity with one of your siblings, to use their name and not yours, or vice versa?  Either way it’s going to be weird.  Plus, there’s a sort of stigma attached with his name among people in my life.

With my close friends and acquaintences who became familiar with my DID situation, whether they admit it consciously or not, I know that the name Jack is associated with a condition, at best, or nothing more than a symptom, at worst.  We want to leave the DID behind and bring no more focus to that than the female part of my life associated with my legal name.  This is a fresh start for all of us, and using the name Jack would only be shoving the DID in people’s faces every day.  There’s no room for focusing on that in my life anymore.

All that said, we did at first want to find some amalgamation of Jack and my name, but it came out sounding so hilariously inappropriate that we abandoned that road and fished in other ponds of inspiration altogether.

The first name I almost settled on- Calvin- sounded close enough to my legal name that it would probably be comfortable for my friends to slip into, and it had the added plus of being associated with “Calvin and Hobbes” (which is symbolic enough that I don’t feel the need to outline it for you.)  But I sat on the idea for a couple days and wound up rejecting it.  A couple of the negatives included that the literal translation of Calvin is “bald”, and it just doesn’t sound all that manly, anyway.  It makes me think of some slight, pale, neurotic office worker with no social life.

Searching through all of the names that sound even remotely similar to my legal name, I turned up nothing that fit, not even closely.  So I started another route with my sister last night and went through lists of my favorite movies, coming up with first names that I liked based on my movie character idols.  Three hours later, I wound up with a list of about ten names that almost work but I’m not sure about.  Here they are in order of how much I like them.

– Vincent
– Damien
– Alan
– Thomas
– Oliver
– Xander
– Adrian
– Logan
– Richard
– Jareth (don’t laugh. this was one of the first I crossed off.)

The only problem I can find with Vincent is, it’s such an awesome name I really don’t think I can do it justice.  Is it possible to not pick a name because it’s TOO cool?  Very much so.  I’d like it, but I’m not so sure it’ll stick.

Also Damien is hardcore, but I feel like people would be hardpressed to come up with a nickname that isn’t “Dame”, which I kinda feel defeats the purpose.  It’s like how Anakin’s name got shortened to Ani when he was a kid.  ‘Nuff said.

Problems with other names like Alan, Oliver and Adrian (pretty much any name starting with a vowel) is that they seem to carry too weak of a demeanor.  They’re nice names, but I want my name to have a little bit of a kick.

I liked Thomas because it all seems to suit me nicely (Tom, Tommy, etc.) and I like the tomcat connotations- an extremely virilized, male creature in what’s generally considered a female-typed animal body- but the thing that’s weird about this is that one of my first cats was named Tommy, and it just weirds me out to name myself after a cat.  So this one’s probably out of the running, despite being win on all other accounts.

I like Xander just because it sounds cool, but it’s a little pretentious for me.  Not much to say about that one.

I like Logan because it’s Wolverine’s name.  I don’t like Logan because, for some reason, the sound of it reminds me strongly of sour milk and it kinda makes me want to hurl.

Almost the same thing with Richard.  I like it simply because of Richard B. Riddick, which in my opinion is the most badass thing since Chuck Norris and the only completely good thing Vin Diesel ever did with his career.  I don’t like it because of what people might wind up calling me- Rich, Dick, a lot of other asshole names.  The only nickname I even sort of like out of Richard is Ricky, and… meh.

Jareth I obviously don’t really want to go with because it’s the name of the King of the Goblins in one of the most beloved young-girl coming of age adventure stories of all time.  Just the idea of being associated with Jim Henson makes my skin crawl a little, however, being associated with David Bowie kind of makes up for it.  I mainly put it on the list to remind me of all the J names I could go with, like Jared and Jarron and all those other 90’s brodude names.  Really, what am I thinking on this one, anyway?

We also wound up with a list of rejects I definitely won’t be going with, posted here for your amusement.

– Archduke Ferdinand (Ferdie for short)
– Steve Jobs
– Pizarro
– Boromir, son of Theoden
– Quasimodo
– Harvey Birdman, Attourney at Law
– Yazoo
– Lord Ilpalazzo
– god (with a little “g”, out of reverence)
– Edward (after the Elric variety, NOT Cullen)
– Janosz (pronounced “Ya-nosh”)
– Theodore Logan, Esquire
– Superman
– Zaphod Beeblebrox
– And last but not least, the symbol for “Pi”.

This is what I get for chatting with my sister at 2 in the morning.

I hardly feel closer to the end of my name search than the beginning.  All I really know for certain now is that I need a new one, and I also know a few names that don’t work.  That’s it.

How do you come up with what people will call you for the rest of your life?  It’s awkward right now- I’m in an area where I don’t want anyone calling me by anything that anyone knows me as, so I’m kind of in this weird “He who shall not be named” phase.  I feel rushed to figure it out so the people who know I’m having anxiety about my female labels won’t be uncomfortable trying to figure out what to call me, but I’m having the worst of it just trying to nail one down.  Is it really that hard?  It’s just a little set of letters, it’s just a word.

Funny that so much anxiety can be caused by one little word.

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