9:00 pm - Tuesday 13th June 2000

In theory, if I try to save someone else's heart, shouldn't fate dictate that someone should try to save mine?

I'm stuffed, I've been at work from 9 am to 7 pm, and two phone calls and some lost HTML later, I can't believe I'm trying to write out what was meaningful for me from the weekend, I'm sure I'll end up offending someone…

So, what was important from the weekend? I'm still not sure about myself getting drunk. I don't believe I embarrassed anyone other than myself (mildly), but I just have this lurking sense of guilt (for me that could be considered normal I guess) that I did something wrong and now I've lost some respect from a friend I value highly. Naturally, there's no way I could do something as straight forward as asking, so I just apologize for anything and everything under the sun.

Another incident, this time rather humorous, was when Peta and I were crashed out in the foyer (well, I was crashed out, she was escaping the noise). We were bitching in a good-natured way about Shelly, who is without a doubt the most drop-dead gorgeous, charismatic and openly friendly tranny I've ever met. So we were joking that we should gang up and kill her, and having a good chuckle. A little later, Shelly comes out and sits on the steps with us. She takes about 2 minutes to charm our socks off, and then she and then all of us start bitching (again in a good-natured way) about this striking, tall tranny who was also there. Suffice to say, I found it (especially in retrospect) very funny.

On the drive back to Canberra, Peta showed me a gesture which may not have meant much to her, but which had a penetrating impact on me. She showed me an article from mid-1997 which had come from a newspaper. This article was about the love between and challenges faced by a transsexual and her partner when she (J) had finally come out. The article was one which had quite literally saved Peta's life… it was old and somewhat tattered around the edges, but the way the paper folded showed that the article had been read and re-read many times, put away and kept, like a personal trinket which is close to one's heart, like a tiny sail for a boat which offers the possibility of sailing to a new land of internal peace and happiness… it really struck a chord with me, because for so long I had had many different pieces of newspaper scraps upon which I had hung my heart and my hopes, I don't have any now, these were things I had in my school days, little pieces of hope in dark times… I realize it is silly, I realize it is unscientific, but I wondered what vibrations permeated those pages, the relic imprint of despair, frustration, sadness, and finally hope… who knows, maybe I have too much mis-directed empathy, I don't even know whether caring about anyone is a good thing any more… *sigh*

As I mentioned previously, watching the group dynamics when at Jodie's house was fun. Not simply between TS's and TV's, but just amongst people I think I know reasonably well. I know some things people said wasn't intended to be funny, but often through the situation or upon deeper thought, the things became humorous… a twisted kind of humor sometimes perhaps, but humorous nonetheless…

You know, I'm trying not to fuck up, I really am, but I think it might be too late anyway…

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