But Passing Through It

Asked our new Director of Music to call me Ben. He was great about it. But as soon as I did it, it didn't feel quite right. I don't know. What do you do?

Spare a thought for all of the trans guys and hipster parents who named themselves or their babies Atticus. 

I don't like my apartment. It's stupid and cramped, and I feel like I hurried myself into getting ripped off. It feels less like a fort now and more like a place where one goes to disappear. Only I can't really disappear, because I have work and family. And now school, too. And anything else that I could put in it would be one more thing to be a weight. I don't think that it's worth furnishing. I don't have the energy to deal with it, anyway.

I don't get it. I wake up aching, pass the day in a haze and fighting off sleep, return home exhausted, and can't focus on work at night. Now I'm still achy and vaguely nauseous. Is this what it's like to be depressed without sadness? Or is there something wrong with me?

I'm beginning to wonder whether I may have concussed myself when I bruised my face. How hard would you need to hit yourself i order to sustain a concussion?

Had a colossal meltdown. Called my brother, and the two of us got rid of the couch. The couch that almost certainly does not have bugs of any kind. So I feel like a huge loser and a failure, not to mention wasteful and childish. My whole body hurts. I feel so empty. And I still have to scrub every inch and crevice of that apartment.

Please don’t tell me that “transethnic” or “transracial” is going to be a thing that’s taken seriously because of this white NAACP lady who’s been “living as Black” for years.