I was on my way home on Wednesday, September 23, 2009, with my dinner in hand, and I swear I just wanted to sit down and eat but I knew the bus would show up the minute I did. I had intended to eat in the restaurant, but for some reason the counter person handed me my meal in a bag to go. Since my usual table was occupied, I sighed and left; the entire day had been off like that. I should have known the universe had it in for me.

When the bus arrived, I was the second to board and the first person stopped and pushed past me to get off again. That was when I noticed one of the passengers was beating the crap out of another. The bus driver had gotten up to try and do something about it, but that just drew the psycho's attention to himself. I had stepped off the bus and was looking for somewhere to set down my bag of food and my drink, because I'm not the kind of person who can stand around and watch something like this. None of the people standing around at the stop would do me the favor of holding onto my meal, so I shifted everything into one hand so I could reach in and pull the mad man off the bus driver.

I had no desire to get involved in this; I don't get into fights. Still, I tried to get the guy's attention, pulling him back and saying, "That's enough. You need to step back and think about what you're doing," while he stared at me in disbelief and asked me if I wanted to die. "You're attacking the bus driver," I pointed out, adding, "Think about it!" At that point, I let him go and stepped back to give him a chance to come to his senses. I can see in his eyes how pissed he is at me for "disrespecting" him, and yet there I was treating him like a sane, mature, intelligent human being, giving him the chance to resume acting like one. Instead, he turns back to the bus driver and is joined by a young woman who has come forward to attack the bus driver too.

When the guy tries the grab the girl and pull her off the bus, I step back and hope this means that he, at least, has sobered up a bit. She keeps screaming, cursing and kicking the bus driver, while people around me cry out for someone to call 911. When the couple finally does step off the bus, the driver shuts the door on them at the suggestion of the other passengers. I was trying to back away from them, but I was caught between them and the crowd at the bus stop. When the girl, who had tried to stick her foot in the door and got it stuck, pulled free, the couple bumped into me as I tried to get out of the way. The man turned around and grabbed me, shouting over and over in my face, "WTF! Do you want to die?"

I show him the drink and bag of food still in my hand, telling him calmly, "No. The only thing I want to do here is get home so I can eat my dinner." He gives me this look of contempt and grabs the drink, crushing the plastic cup and trying to spill the contents on me with little success. Once the cup is empty, I let it go and try to step back with a disappointed shake of my head. After screaming something about disrespect, he hawks up a mouthful of spit. I looked him straight in the eye and, still in a level voice, say, "Don't. That's assault, and I will defend myself." I know the adrenaline had hit my system minutes ago, but all I felt was disappointment and resignation.

He spit on me, and I took one moment to let my disappointment show on my face, and since he still held me close, with one hand gripping my coat, I pounded him in the face. I think it was the first punch I have ever thrown, and I was amazed that I felt no pain even though I could feel and hear flesh and bone compact and crunch under the blow. He did not let go, so I hit him again, still looking at him with cold disappointment and resignation. By the third punch, he was trying to jerk me off balance and his return blows began to land on the left side of my face. I had seen him go from person to person lashing out like a wild animal, and I wondered right then, Do I want to kill this guy? Will anything less stop him?

I was still amazed that I felt no anger, I was not seeing red after taking a few good punches. Not interested, I realized. I started to put him into an arm bind and headlock, and the girl suddenly jumped in, throwing punches, pulling on my hair and clothes, kicking and screaming, and I looked right at her and said, "No. I don't want to hurt you," as I pulled back the punch I threw instinctively in response to her attack. She kept attacking, though, so I caught her up in my other arm, for a moment keeping both of them bent over and bound up in my arms. Their struggles threw us into the side of the bus, and one of them went for my leg, throwing me over and then things really got out of hand. The next few moments were a flurry of her tearing at my hair and jerking my head around and him raining my face with punches.

This is what it is to get beaten. I thought it would be more painful, but it was mostly a series of shocks and a lot of disorientation. I could not make sense out of things, which meant I was no longer able to fight. You need trained reflexes to fight when you can't rely on your senses. So, I curled up, protecting my head and face and gave them my back. In a way, it was an enlightening moment. I was beaten senseless, and yet I had the clarity of thought to note that while I lost the fight, I had won in the sense that I accomplished my objective of helping to protect the passenger and driver they had been attacking. I was a bit disappointed that I had not been able to defend myself, but the only thing I was really upset over was the destruction of my dinner. I was still hungry, and I really regretted that.

I finally have proof that physical pain just does not compare to the psychic pain I live with daily. The only thing that really bothered me was the twinge in my knee, which was twisted when they attacked that leg to bring me down. The broken nose bled like a faucet, and has been tender since; I suspect that it straightened my nose from when I broke it as a kid. The real problems have been the fact that I don't have medical insurance; I could not let them take me to the emergency room and run up a massive ambulance and medical bill. I had to take a couple days off work, which I really can't afford. I might just have enough to pay rent and bills, but that will leave me with nothing to live off of for the next month--even assuming I don't lose my job for being out injured without a doctor's note.

I have been taking care of myself, giving my knee time to recover. I could not walk on it Thursday or Friday, but Saturday Evening I was able to walk to the nearest mini-mart for some Advil and ice cream. I was not able to focus on school work for a couple of days; I spent a while laid up in bed and even when I was able to get around my apartment, my knee made it impossible to sit at my desk for long. In a way, I feel like my worst fear has come true, that I would get hurt and not be able to support myself while I am alone up here in Alaska. I was able to get some help from my apartment manager and one of the girls in my support group to get some food stocked up so I don't starve, and if I am able to walk by Monday, I might still have a job. The problem is, I don't know that I will have an income beyond this weekend, and that's stressing me out more than the attack itself.

I have never been able to be myself, so I tried to just be the best person I could be, and yet when I truly do my best, I always seem to end up the worse for it. It really makes me wonder if there's any point...

When I made the decision to come to Alaska, my family and the handful of friends that know me in my male guise were worried. They were concerned that I would end up alone and cut off from anyone who cared about me. They did not know that I pretty much felt that way already as a consequence of having to live on my own and support myself while stuck in this male body. I had tried to tell them how much it cost me to present as a man, and I had confided that my inability to stay functional made any attempt at maintaining the act over a long period of time a danger to my health. I do what I have to do, but there is a point where I fall apart. If I am lucky, I have a nervous breakdown. If I am not lucky, I attempt to mutilate myself. I'm not proud of that. There is nothing rational about it except in the sense that an animal will chew it's own leg off to escape a trap. What I'm tempted to cut off, to escape from the trap I find myself in... well, it does not take much thinking to know I would probably bleed to death after cutting it off. That makes it a suicidal impulse to me, but if I had the ten or twenty thousand dollars, I'd happily give it to a surgeon for SRS.

I don't have the money and I don't have the stability I need to make that kind of money, and the things I do to cope with this cruel reality only make the prospect of transition less likely. The irony is, I work really hard. I have been going to school and supporting myself for most of the past five years doing IT contracting, office temporary or customer service type jobs. When I have spare time, I try to work on my art and writing--still in the hope of starting a career that allows me to support myself in a less painful manner. In spite of what feels like a heroic effort to make my life better, I continue to hover on the edge of oblivion because I have no time or outlet to be myself. I came to Alaska because I had a friend there who seemed to understand what I was going through, who was going through a little of it himself. We had discussed sharing a place and possible transitioning together, but when I arrived in Alaska, it was painfully obvious that he could not. Gender issues or not, his life revolved around his son and once I was there in person, and not just chatting online, he seemed to have no idea how to relate to me.

So, maybe my family was right, in the sense that I did end up stranded alone in Anchorage. This does not feel like a safe place for me to transition, but even San Francisco did not feel right without a secure job and supportive friends. Now that I find myself between jobs, waiting to hear back from my agency or about the jobs I've applied for, all of the stress and anxiety I pushed aside to get through my days at work has come right to the surface. It is staring me in the face and making me wonder if there is anything to hope for. I've vented and raged about being transgendered enough times in my journal, and I don't expect anyone who bothers to read this journal to have any real answers for me. I know there are people who care, but I also know no one has the resources to help. I am alone, and if that was going to kill me, it should have done so by now. No, it just makes it harder to quit smoking, or exercise properly to lose those annoying few pounds around my waist, or fall asleep, or wake up, or... whatever.

If I wanted to die, it would be easy. Quitting is easy. Not being able to quit, hard is all I've got. It's stupid, it's unfair. It's my life. I used my creativity to give my life enough purpose to live in spite of not being able to transition. I went back to school hoping that a degree would help me get a job that would allow me to save up for transition. I got a job to support myself while I was on my own and going to school. I ended up with no time for creative work, I spend all my money on rent and bills, and every day I get farther away from transitioning, farther away from hope, farther away from my family and friends, and using every ounce of will and wisdom to keep from losing it altogether. I don't think anyone should go through something like this alone. Of course, I don't think anyone who is going though this is in any position to help anyone. People who are not going through this, well, the price for their help has always cost more than I could afford. I have been hurt beyond their comprehension, I need more to heal and recover than I could ever ask for.

I think it would be easier if I wanted to die. The problem with being transgendered is that you want to live and your own body stops you. Instead of living, you lie. When I say I want to die, I really mean that I want to escape from this lie. I would prefer it if there was enough magic or miracles in the world to literally transform my body and make it true to me, and I would consider it merciful if medical professionals fixed problems like this immediately so that the cost is paid by a healthy individual, instead of dropping so much extra weight on someone who is crippled. I wish I could say these things to someone who could actually help me, and I wish I had been able to trust my family when I was young enough that their help would have been enough. Instead, all I can do is fill the silence with the painful realization that the most horrible aspect of being transgendered is that it can force you to isolate yourself.

I left my journal in limbo for far too long, considering the bitching and whining it contained, but it also had some featured art I wanted to keep displayed after my prize subscription ran out. I know I could probably use a credit imprint gift card to pay for a subscription and get around my lack of bank account or credit card, but so far the extra cash has been lacking.

I've been keeping busy during the long silence. I completed my AA in Business and am now pursuing a BSIT in Visual Communications. Hopefully that will lead to a job involving graphics and writing.

When I look at how busy I've been, and how little use I made of the extra features that come with a subscription, I'm probably better off with a basic account for now. Now that I've set up a blog on wordpress, I tend to do most of my venting there. Of course, anyone who pokes into my journal archive here will find transgender themed posts from the past. I realize that it's pretty much the same story you can find on any trans person's pages but...

Having a problem for which there is no real solution severely undermines one's capacity to deal with other problems in life, and often plays a big part in creating those problems. I deal with them relatively openly because it allows me to manage having to live halfway between fact and truth. The fact is something I have to live with but the truth is something I cannot deny. It is not convenient, and it's not fair; not for me and not for the people who have to deal with me.

My life tends to unravel about as fast as I can pull things together, and I get by because I choose to see the good in life (even if I don't get to partake of any of it) and because I care about people even when they disappoint me or hurt me. I keep pushing forward because I am painfully conscious of the fact that I can not afford to break down. Because I try to be true to myself, I end up pretty much on my own in the world. If I stumble, if I fall, it's always possible I won't be able to get back up on my own. If I stop swimming, I drown.

I'm still swimming, and while I have not made great progress, I'm not just swimming in circles anymore. I don't know if this edit will take, but if the featured art below does not show, then I'll update again with something else--but at least the awful journal I left up for so long will be gone!

...oh. It didn't take. Looks like I'll have to pony up for a subscription if I want to feature artists I like. Until then, just poke through my favorites; I am sure each of the artists there will appreciate a visit!

January 2, 2007

Well, here we are at the start of a new year! That means I'm back in school and working hard as ever, but hopefully I'll still be able to keep up with my art too! For the near future, I am going to be going thru some of my space art and updating pictures with what I've been learning and creating wallpapers and print versions of the ones that turn out well.

I am also going to be trying to come up with some new, interesting work to post over at Art is Murder as well as a bit of fan art to post on my fanfiction archive site at rakhal.com. For those of you who follow my fanfiction series, Reflections, I am going to be trying to resume work on it this month, time allowing!

At present, I have not been able to think of a design for my journal here, using CSS. I hope to come up with something before my subscription runs out. I had an idea for something that incorporated a bit of space terragen with an original character or something mixed in. Suggestions and designs are welcome if anyone has any!

On Another Note...

For the time being, this will be a sort of standing mission statement slash bold faced begging for tidbits segment. I really, really am set on getting a subscription and print account for my dA account here, but thanks to a friend wiping out my bank accounts and leaving me with several thousands of dollars debt, I don't have/can't get a credit card or bank account (with cc imprint). So, my chances of getting that started any time soon is really dependant on kind souls who are inclined to give subscriptions as gifts and prizes. Obviously, it's pretty tacky to ask for such generosity... at the same time, if I didn't mention it, no one would know what a difference it would make in my life. I'm certainly not the best artist here on dA, but I am determined to find a way to make a living creating art, because it is what I am best at, and what I love doing the most.

The thing I want to make absolutely clear is, I want to pay for these things. I would be happy to pay and I have every intention of rewarding anyone who helps me suceed in my dream of becoming a professional artist. I'm dying to sell some art, eager to be approached with offers to collaborate or do art on consignment! When it comes to art, one thing I am not, can not be, is lazy! There isn't enough time in the day to do all the artwork I want to do! I just don't have enough time or money to get over the reef.

The main reason I am here at dA is to get over that reef, to sail out into the open where I can truly grow and evolve as an artist. So, on this day, I make my resolution to accomplish that this year, and with fair winds and favorable currents, I am certain I will. If you doubt me, look at my gallery, see how far I've come in six months.

And, Baby, I haven't even hit my stride yet!


Friends and Familiars
A Place of Honor



Please go and give these guys a hug for me!

OMG! They love me, they really love me!!!

A special thanks to *environaut for awarding me a three month subscription for winning his Postworking Contest! It was a fun and educational experience for me! And of course I am still grateful to ~Smil and ~Nikoletina for buying me a one month subscription for my birthday last year! Things like that make me soooo happy!