āTransChronoš°ļø
TransChrono: an identity whereby one desires to be from, or identifies as being from, a different time period.
Can be called Tranchrono, Transtemporal, or Transtempo.
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āTransChronoš°ļø
TransChrono: an identity whereby one desires to be from, or identifies as being from, a different time period.
Can be called Tranchrono, Transtemporal, or Transtempo.

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š°ļøTime Non-Conformingā³
Time Non-Conforming: denoting or relating to a person whose behavior or appearance does not conform to prevailing cultural and social expectations about what is appropriate to their time period.
šChronoEcoFutureš°ļø
ChronoEcoFuture: a transchrono identity whereby one desires to be from, or identifies as being from, a future time period reminiscent of ecopunk.
(*~ care & rage ~*)
Thank You
What am I thankful for? Grateful for? Consciously blessed with? The list is endless. For all that I struggle with, I really could not ask for a lot in life Iād prefer. I am fortunate to be healthy and surrounded by those I love and am loved by. It feels good to be home for the holidays, in a stable environmentā¦even back with my childhood toys, in case you did not catch onto that in my last post. Thereās something to be said for familiarity. Itās comforting.
Iāve been reading and writing mostly today. Curled up in introspection. I know that Thanksgiving is a time for family, but itās only the people I spent the first eighteen years of my life with, and itās hard to remember why Iām happy with my life when football commentators are yelling in the living room.
Iām lucky, to be transtemporal in a time period as accepting as this one. With all of history laid out behind us, itās easy to see where it would have been hellish to endure this sort of dissociative disconnect from the time period one is physically confined to. It is a blessing that information is so readily available and easily distributed in this time as wellā¦I cannot imagine how alone I would feel without ready access to the literature and art produced by a time I feel more of a connection with.
Iām grateful for Tumblr, too, connecting me with others who feel alienated for their unique identities, and giving me a place to speak about what troubles me, unconstrained by the worries of what a primarily cistemporal society would say. So thank you, Tumblr. Know that I care deeply for you.
Ā Victoriously,
Regina

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Transtemporal. That is one of my new favorite words. I was writing my paper and I needed a word to describe "spanning across time" so I was like "what about transtemporal? Is that even a word?" *Googles* "Oh my, it really is a word! Hot damn!"Ā The people on here that know me from real life are going to be like, "Yep. That's what Jamie would get excited about."Ā
Beauty is Challenge
I've been pondering the beauty standard lately. I donāt particularly care for it, but I try not to be mad with it for fear of growing mad with those who abide by it. We are all our own entities, making the choices we want about our bodies and how to present them, but I for one donāt care for aspects of this code that seems so universally celebrated by our society. I for one never understood your modern fuss about shaving. What should it matter if I have a bit of hair beneath my arms or on my legs or anywhere else, tucked away on my body. How can anyone structure an argument against the natural state all human beings are born into? This modern world and its expectations leave me flustered sometimes.
More so, Iāve been thinking about weight in our culture. Perusing paintings from centuries past, it is obvious that once plumpness was the ideal, and that we have volley between images of slenderness and fatness as our representation of beauty. Why is it that once we were so eager to celebrate weight, and now so quick to condemn it?
Although it would be easy to make the argument that this proves how arbitrary and cockamamie the idea of a beauty āstandardā is, I think there is a reason behind it.
In the past, it was seen as a sign of opulence if you had enough food to grow fat. It was hard, and that challenge differentiated some people from others. Now, in this modern age that reeks of fast food and over abundant sweets, it is startlingly easy to put weight on. The challenge has reversed itself; it is now harder to keep weight off than put it on. Shaving, too, represents a challenge. It is easier to neglect to trim your bodily hair, and so when it is shaved it represents effort. Makeup, hair curling, nail painting and so many other aspects of ābeautifulā as we culturally know it visually broadcast how much effort we are willing to put into our appearances.
I think that, for better or worse, when we preen ourselves to fit the beauty standard we are not announcing to the world āI am beautiful,ā but rather, āI am willing to put absurd amounts of effort into my appearance,ā and that is what other people regard as attractive. Our bias against natural beauty seems to come from an unconscious desire to equate it with laziness.
Painting ourselves with makeup or choking ourselves with neckties, men and women are in this together, just corsets or stiletto heels, moderns and transtemporals have to deal with the consequences of attempting to standardize beauty.
Victoriously,
Regina
Actually Living in the Moment
Iāve been thinking about my last post, and a thought occurred to me that I would like to amend to it. There are few moments where I do feel to be āliving in the moment,ā but the one unifying commonality between all of the moments when I am most āpresentā is that I am with cistemporals.
Moderns do a great deal to draw me into ātheā moment. I suppose I could accuse them of coercing me into assimilating, using their power as the majority to coerce me into their standards and ideas of normalcyā¦but I donāt want to sound disrespectful, and after a fashion, I do need a little bit of that. Being transtemporal isnāt like transgenderedā¦what we are no longer exists. There is no outfit, no surgery, nothing at all that we can pursue in order to be regarded as what we are. People have to have a little trust, compassion, and patience to understand our identity, and there are plenty of moderns out there that simply do not exhibit these virtues to this extent. So, while I will never forfeit this fight for recognition and basic human respect, I acknowledge that a certain responsibility falls on me to make the best of my transtemporality and function within this time period.
So I appreciate it when others can help me to forget that I am an outsider among them. You hand me a Rock Band guitar controller and laugh alongside me as I gracelessly fail to understand its mechanics during a song. You sing along howling punk-rock vocalists, and suddenly Iām swept up in the desire to do the same. It doesnāt matter that Iāve never heard the song, donāt care for it in the least, and donāt relate to the lyrics at all. You hand me a game microphone and tell me to sing, and three years of formal voice training finds itself attempting to emulate a rockstar. I just let go of everything that defines me and I embrace all that you are.
And for a moment, Iām free. Iām no one. Iām justā¦joy, totally out of context.
Victoriously,
Regina