I haven't posted in 12 days.

That's a long time for this blog to be silent. I got an "are you ok?" email the other day because of it.

So much has changed around here... yet I don't really feel like cataloging it all.
Things are - different - now, and you'll all just have to take my word for it.

My rose-tinted Wayfarers have been knocked off by human frailty and crushed under a heel of my own making. I see now what I've long ignored, and it is both good and bad.

Consider, for example, the stark realities of my quiet academic life. My classes are diverse in subject matter, but the message is the same; this world is really fucked up. I have posted before about the challenge of doing something about that, so I won't bore you all with another history lesson. Suffice it to say, it still rests heavily on me at times.

I am almost the "token boy" in my world now. My roommates, my daily workout buddies, my best friends - all female. If not for my male office mates I might die of estrogen poisoning, yet the fierce tribe of women who surround me are all better in most ways than any man I've ever known, or any man I'm likely to ever be. They can all handle truth and suffering and love and misery with a greater grace, and I marvel at their dignity even as they dissolve into giggling in the kitchen. They're probably laughing at me, and that's ok.

I briefly lost my mind earlier today - started talking like the Lucky Charms leprechaun in my office. Except he was a pimp, collecting money from his girls. "Where be me pot of gold, bitch? I've a shillelagh with your name on it here - don't make me break me wee green boot off in your arse!" Surprisingly, misogynist wee folk are hilarious. (I felt dirty just typing that...)

My body has become my own again. I am two inches from wearing the same size pants I wore when I graduated from high school, and four inches from the days right before the patrol academy when I was the thinnest I've ever been. I can't really afford new gear, but clothing that fits is becoming an issue. This past weekend, I counted 12 pairs of black pants that are too large to wear, and a few more that will be too large in a few weeks. I pulled on a pair of jeans the other day for the first time in like 18 years. I'm afraid to inventory the black t-shirts... I'm sure I will find something on the order of 25 or so that are too large to be worn anymore. I don't know what the smart pontiff is wearing this winter, but I really need to go shopping.

So, yeah; I guess I'm ok. Thanks for asking.


Tammy said...

Glad to hear your "voice" again - was a little worried as I have never seen so much time go by between posts... Hang in there~ :)

Coriander said...

I am glad you posted - I hope you feel better soon... so what they hay! Only ok - what am I going to have to do to fix your mood (ahem... ok so there is going to have to be some limitations) Anyway I will hug you later... if you aren't still worried about risk society... lol.

Claytonian said...

any cautionary tales about what happens when one tips the scales? Getting back to slip is quite an accomplishment

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