This is the end of my life. I would not know how else to spend it. I am drinking to die.
Oh... the cat is playing with a glass... I wont have to pick it up again. My soul wanted to live this way... not me. Not me.
With a spark the death fluid warms my throat. Kill me... kill me. Kill me please. Oh god, why am I so indestructible? No murmur... no heart attack. Just blood. Warm my bones one last time. Fill my dreams one last time.
The trouble with suicide is the mess you leave behind. I don’t care to live. I don’t want another day at school. Only six more weeks to go. Can I have my life back? I don’t want the one I got. I thought about quitting... and leaving her behind... but wouldn’t I also leave the children in a bind? What will become of me? What of the woman that is me… will become me? Karen will die alone. Karen will die alone.
Dammit I’m tired. I’m tired of this fucking life. More poison for me... faster... kill me faster. Give my liver to someone who needs it. Give my heart, my kidneys too... tell them it’s a gift from me to them... tell them I did not need them. I am alone here, and they can keep them.
What the fuck happened to me? How did I get to this spot? Doesn’t anyone care? I do... I don’t. Another sip please... set me free. Even if it’s for a little while... don’t let me return back to that safe place.... the fortress of myself. Let me run wild... let me see my own blood flow.... kill me.... why must I go on.... why can’t I do it.... I don’t want to go get the knife.... I just want to die. Like a switch... on... off... on... off.
God... make me a woman... let me work at Publix or Burger King or something... just give me breasts and a pussy... let me live as a woman... please?
I throw back more poison... and yet I don’t die. Another sip.... and another. Death comes slow.... if at all. Could I trade my life for someone else’s? Could my grandfather live another year if I go now?
I do not use a knife... am I a coward as well? I am not happy. I am not happy here. I love the trees and the view... even the weather is charming in it’s own way... but I am not happy.
Were I do have a pussy... would I feel differently? I do not know. The poison is taking affect.... but not enough to kill me. Take away these feelings... why must I have them... why must I look down and see a chest and penis... why... why God. Are there answers?
I need more poison... and a hot bath... if I am going to die... let it be in style.
The knife makes music against my skin... tiny prickles of the blade as it slides across my surface... why not you penetrate and bring forth the blood? Why not fill this spot on the couch with red.... trace my blood on this cursed couch... which I bought once when I was a man. God.
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
With a spark the death fluid warms my throat. Kill me... kill me. Kill me please. Oh god, why am I so indestructible? No murmur... no heart attack. Just blood. Warm my bones one last time. Fill my dreams one last time.
The trouble with suicide is the mess you leave behind. I don’t care to live. I don’t want another day at school. Only six more weeks to go. Can I have my life back? I don’t want the one I got. I thought about quitting... and leaving her behind... but wouldn’t I also leave the children in a bind? What will become of me? What of the woman that is me… will become me? Karen will die alone. Karen will die alone.
Dammit I’m tired. I’m tired of this fucking life. More poison for me... faster... kill me faster. Give my liver to someone who needs it. Give my heart, my kidneys too... tell them it’s a gift from me to them... tell them I did not need them. I am alone here, and they can keep them.
What the fuck happened to me? How did I get to this spot? Doesn’t anyone care? I do... I don’t. Another sip please... set me free. Even if it’s for a little while... don’t let me return back to that safe place.... the fortress of myself. Let me run wild... let me see my own blood flow.... kill me.... why must I go on.... why can’t I do it.... I don’t want to go get the knife.... I just want to die. Like a switch... on... off... on... off.
God... make me a woman... let me work at Publix or Burger King or something... just give me breasts and a pussy... let me live as a woman... please?
I throw back more poison... and yet I don’t die. Another sip.... and another. Death comes slow.... if at all. Could I trade my life for someone else’s? Could my grandfather live another year if I go now?
I do not use a knife... am I a coward as well? I am not happy. I am not happy here. I love the trees and the view... even the weather is charming in it’s own way... but I am not happy.
Were I do have a pussy... would I feel differently? I do not know. The poison is taking affect.... but not enough to kill me. Take away these feelings... why must I have them... why must I look down and see a chest and penis... why... why God. Are there answers?
I need more poison... and a hot bath... if I am going to die... let it be in style.
The knife makes music against my skin... tiny prickles of the blade as it slides across my surface... why not you penetrate and bring forth the blood? Why not fill this spot on the couch with red.... trace my blood on this cursed couch... which I bought once when I was a man. God.
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
The trouble with suicide is the mess you leave behind. I don’t care to live. I don’t want another day at school. Only six more weeks to go. Can I have my life back? I don’t want the one I got. I thought about quitting... and leaving her behind... but wouldn’t I also leave the children in a bind? What will become of me? What of the woman that is me… will become me? Karen will die alone. Karen will die alone.
Dammit I’m tired. I’m tired of this fucking life. More poison for me... faster... kill me faster. Give my liver to someone who needs it. Give my heart, my kidneys too... tell them it’s a gift from me to them... tell them I did not need them. I am alone here, and they can keep them.
What the fuck happened to me? How did I get to this spot? Doesn’t anyone care? I do... I don’t. Another sip please... set me free. Even if it’s for a little while... don’t let me return back to that safe place.... the fortress of myself. Let me run wild... let me see my own blood flow.... kill me.... why must I go on.... why can’t I do it.... I don’t want to go get the knife.... I just want to die. Like a switch... on... off... on... off.
God... make me a woman... let me work at Publix or Burger King or something... just give me breasts and a pussy... let me live as a woman... please?
I throw back more poison... and yet I don’t die. Another sip.... and another. Death comes slow.... if at all. Could I trade my life for someone else’s? Could my grandfather live another year if I go now?
I do not use a knife... am I a coward as well? I am not happy. I am not happy here. I love the trees and the view... even the weather is charming in it’s own way... but I am not happy.
Were I do have a pussy... would I feel differently? I do not know. The poison is taking affect.... but not enough to kill me. Take away these feelings... why must I have them... why must I look down and see a chest and penis... why... why God. Are there answers?
I need more poison... and a hot bath... if I am going to die... let it be in style.
The knife makes music against my skin... tiny prickles of the blade as it slides across my surface... why not you penetrate and bring forth the blood? Why not fill this spot on the couch with red.... trace my blood on this cursed couch... which I bought once when I was a man. God.
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Dammit I’m tired. I’m tired of this fucking life. More poison for me... faster... kill me faster. Give my liver to someone who needs it. Give my heart, my kidneys too... tell them it’s a gift from me to them... tell them I did not need them. I am alone here, and they can keep them.
What the fuck happened to me? How did I get to this spot? Doesn’t anyone care? I do... I don’t. Another sip please... set me free. Even if it’s for a little while... don’t let me return back to that safe place.... the fortress of myself. Let me run wild... let me see my own blood flow.... kill me.... why must I go on.... why can’t I do it.... I don’t want to go get the knife.... I just want to die. Like a switch... on... off... on... off.
God... make me a woman... let me work at Publix or Burger King or something... just give me breasts and a pussy... let me live as a woman... please?
I throw back more poison... and yet I don’t die. Another sip.... and another. Death comes slow.... if at all. Could I trade my life for someone else’s? Could my grandfather live another year if I go now?
I do not use a knife... am I a coward as well? I am not happy. I am not happy here. I love the trees and the view... even the weather is charming in it’s own way... but I am not happy.
Were I do have a pussy... would I feel differently? I do not know. The poison is taking affect.... but not enough to kill me. Take away these feelings... why must I have them... why must I look down and see a chest and penis... why... why God. Are there answers?
I need more poison... and a hot bath... if I am going to die... let it be in style.
The knife makes music against my skin... tiny prickles of the blade as it slides across my surface... why not you penetrate and bring forth the blood? Why not fill this spot on the couch with red.... trace my blood on this cursed couch... which I bought once when I was a man. God.
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
What the fuck happened to me? How did I get to this spot? Doesn’t anyone care? I do... I don’t. Another sip please... set me free. Even if it’s for a little while... don’t let me return back to that safe place.... the fortress of myself. Let me run wild... let me see my own blood flow.... kill me.... why must I go on.... why can’t I do it.... I don’t want to go get the knife.... I just want to die. Like a switch... on... off... on... off.
God... make me a woman... let me work at Publix or Burger King or something... just give me breasts and a pussy... let me live as a woman... please?
I throw back more poison... and yet I don’t die. Another sip.... and another. Death comes slow.... if at all. Could I trade my life for someone else’s? Could my grandfather live another year if I go now?
I do not use a knife... am I a coward as well? I am not happy. I am not happy here. I love the trees and the view... even the weather is charming in it’s own way... but I am not happy.
Were I do have a pussy... would I feel differently? I do not know. The poison is taking affect.... but not enough to kill me. Take away these feelings... why must I have them... why must I look down and see a chest and penis... why... why God. Are there answers?
I need more poison... and a hot bath... if I am going to die... let it be in style.
The knife makes music against my skin... tiny prickles of the blade as it slides across my surface... why not you penetrate and bring forth the blood? Why not fill this spot on the couch with red.... trace my blood on this cursed couch... which I bought once when I was a man. God.
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
God... make me a woman... let me work at Publix or Burger King or something... just give me breasts and a pussy... let me live as a woman... please?
I throw back more poison... and yet I don’t die. Another sip.... and another. Death comes slow.... if at all. Could I trade my life for someone else’s? Could my grandfather live another year if I go now?
I do not use a knife... am I a coward as well? I am not happy. I am not happy here. I love the trees and the view... even the weather is charming in it’s own way... but I am not happy.
Were I do have a pussy... would I feel differently? I do not know. The poison is taking affect.... but not enough to kill me. Take away these feelings... why must I have them... why must I look down and see a chest and penis... why... why God. Are there answers?
I need more poison... and a hot bath... if I am going to die... let it be in style.
The knife makes music against my skin... tiny prickles of the blade as it slides across my surface... why not you penetrate and bring forth the blood? Why not fill this spot on the couch with red.... trace my blood on this cursed couch... which I bought once when I was a man. God.
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
I throw back more poison... and yet I don’t die. Another sip.... and another. Death comes slow.... if at all. Could I trade my life for someone else’s? Could my grandfather live another year if I go now?
I do not use a knife... am I a coward as well? I am not happy. I am not happy here. I love the trees and the view... even the weather is charming in it’s own way... but I am not happy.
Were I do have a pussy... would I feel differently? I do not know. The poison is taking affect.... but not enough to kill me. Take away these feelings... why must I have them... why must I look down and see a chest and penis... why... why God. Are there answers?
I need more poison... and a hot bath... if I am going to die... let it be in style.
The knife makes music against my skin... tiny prickles of the blade as it slides across my surface... why not you penetrate and bring forth the blood? Why not fill this spot on the couch with red.... trace my blood on this cursed couch... which I bought once when I was a man. God.
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
I do not use a knife... am I a coward as well? I am not happy. I am not happy here. I love the trees and the view... even the weather is charming in it’s own way... but I am not happy.
Were I do have a pussy... would I feel differently? I do not know. The poison is taking affect.... but not enough to kill me. Take away these feelings... why must I have them... why must I look down and see a chest and penis... why... why God. Are there answers?
I need more poison... and a hot bath... if I am going to die... let it be in style.
The knife makes music against my skin... tiny prickles of the blade as it slides across my surface... why not you penetrate and bring forth the blood? Why not fill this spot on the couch with red.... trace my blood on this cursed couch... which I bought once when I was a man. God.
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Were I do have a pussy... would I feel differently? I do not know. The poison is taking affect.... but not enough to kill me. Take away these feelings... why must I have them... why must I look down and see a chest and penis... why... why God. Are there answers?
I need more poison... and a hot bath... if I am going to die... let it be in style.
The knife makes music against my skin... tiny prickles of the blade as it slides across my surface... why not you penetrate and bring forth the blood? Why not fill this spot on the couch with red.... trace my blood on this cursed couch... which I bought once when I was a man. God.
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
The knife makes music against my skin... tiny prickles of the blade as it slides across my surface... why not you penetrate and bring forth the blood? Why not fill this spot on the couch with red.... trace my blood on this cursed couch... which I bought once when I was a man. God.
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Note: At no point in my misery did it dawn on me that there would be no chance for HRT or a life, for that matter if there was suicide. I did not realize this until I did make an attempt on my life… or at least to say one that would of succeeded.
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Feb 11 98
Last Friday, Feb 6th, I hit another low, as you could tell by my entry. I don’t know what it was.... perhaps that final decision to either push through this internship or quit. When you have so much stacked against you it is easy to want to give up. I feel like I am a wasteland… and all that is around me is desert.
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
But all is not so desolate in the wastelands. There is a flower that blooms in the night, and her name is Karen. She is alive and well, and walks the cool night sands barefoot looking for good things to think about. My therapist tried to get me to get some good energy down deep inside of me, and that seemed to help.
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
I don’t feel like a hard-ass. In fact, this morning as I shaved what little hair I have left, I looked in the mirror and saw Karen looking back at me, almost as if to wave and wish me luck. No matter how distant or impossible things might seem, she is a possibility... I only hope I can continue to believe in her. She is me... and I am her. Like Sasami and Tsunami... we are one and will join someday.
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Feb 16 98
The illusion of my womanhood gets challenged by my beard growth... hehe.
As the afternoon came to a close and I started to do some serious work I hit a window of depression.... I started to feel down and sad. This weekend has been a good one... I have been able to rest and such. I have been able to sink my teeth into this apartment and lifestyle... I have been able to ‘be’ a woman here... and enjoy everything around me. I guess I feel like for this weekend I have been able to ‘go backstage’ of this internship and seen the lights and the sets. It is intermission, and I have met the cast and seen that this internship is merely an aspect of reality.
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
I feel like in all of this struggle and effort for the internship that I have lost much of my self. I don’t play role playing games right now, I don’t really have time for myself. But, there is a deeper issue at stake here, and that is that I have been denying myself... that is
the woman that I am. I am not saying that if I am not wearing a skirt I am not she... for our sense of self is non-materialistic (but at times we do get cues from our clothes).
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
But... in all the hustle and ras-ma-taz to be a good teacher, my GID has taken a backseat... maybe even in the trunk. I have too... it’s like sink-or-swim. I am still here... I am still woman, but I don’t feel like I need to say that to be a woman. I use my duality to help me out... to be a hard-ass teacher when need be, but also to be gentle and take an interest in my students. I think I appear effeminate sometimes, but hey, that’s only natural.
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Class was interesting... I feel so inadequate again. On my way to class I saw a group of girls waiting for the bus at UF... as I drove by them I said “wish I had your tits... “ to myself. I guess GID may be in the backseat after all. I had a nice chat with some of the interns after class... seems I am not alone in my feelings. One of the people there said they made it through the weekend because they smoked some pot... I guess I should not feel so bad. Seems like we all are feeling this shity deal out.
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Feb 17 98
I’m trying to drink at least two cups of coffee when I wake up.... figure it might help me out when I teach... we shall see. It’s weird to be walking through the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. I see a very androgynous looking man... not androgynous yet, but getting there. It is weird to be in the same room that I spent time applying make-up, messing with my hair and such. It’s weird to see in the bath tub a woman’s razor you use to shave your legs. I started to put girl stuff in a box, that I’ll keep a bit separately from everything else.... again, it is weird to be looking for your dark socks that match your tie and dig your way through woman’s panties, bras, and pantyhose.
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Feb 23 98
I still want to be a woman... I’ve stopped saying “it’s not fair”... I guess I just sigh or yawn and think “someday”... and that’s a good approach I think. My latest fantasy... to wear the prom dress my date wore to the ROTC event I took her to at Tech.
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Feb 27 98
I am not going to see Dr. W until April, so I have freed up Tuesday afternoons. I am not working this Sunday either. I have much work to do... so I need to keep that in mind.
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
I really am trying to keep a positive outlook on things... just to survive. The truth is that I am a novice teacher, and I have a bad directing teacher. And, I’m nearly broke, and UF is still cramming crap down my throat. This all is not conducive to happy living. Oh well.
When I talk to people, they just say “hang in there”, or “teaching is tough.” I think it bites.
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Note:
Looking back I think at the time I was going through the middle part of my internship, I did not see
any other possibility... I was an intern, I had to teach. My life for the past 5 years had been
leading up to this one moment, and I was discovering that I hated what I was doing.
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
But, when I would talk to people, they would say to stick it out. What I began to realize is
that the situation does not get a whole lot better. As a teacher, you still have many things
to do that are overwhelming to a creative spirit. That.. and I was not into authority... I wanted
respect because I gave it. I found out that it takes a while to get to this phase of education...
at the onset you take everything and deal a lot of negativity as a pre-emptive strike against unfocused
creativity. No matter how nice a teacher is to a student, at first they are your enemy to the majority of
students.
And, if I was only planning on doing teaching to pay back my loans and start another career,
chances are I would not be in long enough to get the respect I wanted... so I was looking at another
4 or so years of a living hell. And, I did not see the alternatives before me.
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
February was a month
of dynamic change, and I started to question what I was doing. January was very much getting into my
position, and February was learning the tricks of the trade. While I felt some stress relief when I
became better at what I was doing... getting classroom management under control, the schedule, etc....
I learned that even at it’s best, teaching was not for me. Our educational system in America is not
set up for success, but rather for passing the lowest denominator as quickly as possible... and I lack
the patience to make a change... I hold teachers in highest regard for staying in the trenches. But,
as for myself... no sane person would intentionally do something hazardous to themselves at no benefit
if they had a choice... so why do something so opposed to my own nature and plans for the future? The moral: life
is always full of choices... even if we can’t always see them.
Back to Main Page
Back to Main Page