Decidedly Obscure Human Complaints.

… and I celebrated by going to birthday breakfast! I initially planned on going to the Utah Renaissance Festival and Fantasy Faire, but then grew increasingly anxious about an important paper that’s due tomorrow. So - I postponed it for a day that will work way better! I’ve received the greatest presents ever.

This bag from Jude:

This envelope, sealed with a kiss:

This creepy doll from Shenan that I now call “Dexter’s love monkey” who opens his mouth into a perfect little O and sings when squeezed. It’s a perfect fit. Plus, Gany really, reeeeeally wants to gut the voice box out of this little guy:

A gift card to Nordstrom Rack for a new pair of shorts from Jude, who can’t stand the basketball shorts I romp around in daily and has been complaining about them since last summer. But the most important gift of all? The adorable company of and lovins from my friends and family last Thursday and this morning, of course!

Oh, and the best gift? My dad’s post on my Facebook wall:

Still just as cute as the first time I saw your little head pop out 29 years ago. Love, Pops. :)

, who later added:

It was a very strange experience. I always thought I was a rational person. I was certain I would retain complete objectivity when Dexter was born. But, the instant he appeared I was overwhelmed with a sense of euphoria. I knew I had no objectivity at all. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Awww!

I’ve been told a million + 1 times, “Facial hair isn’t as fun as you’d think…” by many-a-cisgender-dude; and now I’m beginning to understand. The thicker my stubble becomes, the less fun shaving is. Even with shaving cream, as the blade rolls along my skin it snags on every hair now instead of just smoothly gliding along like it used to. There’s this snaggy scrrrrrrraping feeling that leaves me feeling absolutely amazed when I’m finished that it hasn’t left behind a landfill of bloody follicle tears.

A couple of times now I’ve tried to patiently let my facial scruff situation grow out to see how it goes and what it looks like, but it’s like trying to go from bald to growing one’s hair out. I go NUTS trying to grow my hair out - especially during the whole “puff stage” where I feel like a walking, talking 5’11” Q-Tip, and then crumble and cut it all off again.

This same shindig is happening in facial hair land. While I love it and the more there is the more uber-handsome I am, it just … bothers me to have it there all itchy and straw-feeling. Yet, it’s equally bothersome to scrrrrrape it off. Wah. Not to mention that little bits of substances get stuck on my scruffy chin. Just the other day while volunteering food caught there was pointed out to me. I’ve found lint on my face, too. Lovely.

On an inspiring note, in the land of pubertal development I’d approximate myself at, oh, being around the male puberty 15-year-old-guessing-‘ish mark. I troll this Teen Beards Forum for comparative inspiration.

Currently I’m enjoying one week of blissful Spring Break. Instead of traveling off yonder to a warm beach somewhere. I’ve spent most of my time as a cowboy fighting zombies on the Xbox 360 game Red Dead Redemption: Undead Nightmare - and wouldn’t spend my Spring Break any other way!

I’ve also spent a bit of time laying around like a schlub watching mind-numbing crap like Blue Mountain State, reading comics, getting my social fix, sweaty dancing, walking the cats, cycling around, and … now that it’s Wednesday, finally becoming anxiety-ridden about my take-home midterm and studying for the two midterms I have once break is over.

In other news, Tranadu was a lot of fun. There wasn’t a single group rehearsal for it, so when I finally got out on stage I was entirely overwhelmed by the lights, the on-stage dancers, the roller derby girls skating around with a beach ball, and the audience. Despite rehearsing in my bedroom, the mirror, and my noggin repeatedly - the second I got out there and began, I literally forgot every.single.line.

Fortunately due to rehearsing like crazy, I was at least able to move my mouth to the rhythm of some rehearsed subconscious imprint wired into my brain while hoping I wouldn’t throw up right then and there.

Then again, it was called Tranadu: A Musical on Ice - and, given there was no ice, it could’ve given us all something to slip and slide around on.

My parents attended and loved it. In fact, that night my mom changed her Facebook status to the following: “Tranadu On Ice was great! At least the first part, excluding the real movie. Starring my son, the famous Dexter. ♥” So.embarrassing.yet.adorable. A bundle of friends also showed up who were willing to pay $15 to watch me suffer on a stage for 5 minutes. Supportive? Sure! Thanks everyone!

Over these past couple of years I have been through a binder or two, and, while all of them are uncomfortable awful acid-reflux-inducing pain-in-the-lower-backs, eventually I stumbled across the Underwork’s Double Front Compression Shirt (Model 997) and have since become ridiculously fond of it.

Ever since I started wearing it last June I have literally worn it every day since. Even though it’s comfortable in comparison to the other binders I have, if worn for longer than 6 hours it will start to cause acid reflux and my shoulders/upper-back start to really ache. After longer than 10 hours, I will literally start to feel sick - so I started to wear it in classes and then, while wearing a baggy jacket, will switch to the T-Kingdom M801 for a chest break’ish. 

This system has been a flawless one - up until Monday morning, when I couldn’t find the 997 binder for the life of me. Dun dun dun! Now that I hate my other two binders (which are just ridiculous awful and there’s no way I’d even try to wear one of them longer than 4 hours. I’m most likely going to donate them to a local trans dude who they may work for & fit better or to the Big Brothers Used Binder Program), I opted to just go to school to the loose-binding M801 and to just strategically wear my jacket all day to hide my chest.

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Earlier this week I received an e-mail from my school asking if some other students and I wouldn’t mind being photographed for some promotional brochures for our school. I have never, ever been asked to appear on promotional materials for anything. We were asked to wear colorful clothes and multiple layers.

I couldn’t help but wonder why I’d been invited to appear in a photo shoot for school promotional materials. Is it my funny floppy gauged ears? My tattoos? Was I chosen as some aesthetically alternative bastion of liberalism?

Whatever the reason I, of course, couldn’t resist and immediately agreed to it. Images came to my mind of hopping on steps with college kids throwing school books in the air or posing with smiles or skipping or rolling around in bright green grass or… who knows what. Something epic, no doubt.

I wore a bright purple shirt and a vest. That particular day was super sunny, but the windchill factor was freezing. Yet, between shoots, we were asked to remove our coats and try to appear warm and happy. They had us run up stairs, hop, smile, walk down the stairs chatting and smiling. It was so, so good - and I can’t wait to, hopefully, at some point in the near future, receive the pictures to plaster on my blog.

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Earlier tonight I watched the documentary Becoming Chaz , about Chastity Bono’s transition to Chaz Bono which is premiering here in Utah at the Sundance Film Festival. From the Sundance website:

Chaz Bono was a male trapped in a female shell for as long as he can remember. Growing up as Sonny and Cher’s adorable golden-haired daughter in a body he felt wasn’t his own was a crucible it took years to transcend. Now, as he undertakes gender reassignment, he’s bravely decided to share the process on camera. Becoming Chaz invites us along on Chaz’s remarkable journey of transformation. As hormone shots give way to top surgery, down-to-earth, unflappable Chaz beams with a sense of liberation and goes public with his story to put a face on a misunderstood issue. Meanwhile, his gregarious girlfriend grapples with the realities of suddenly living with a man, and it’s clear sex change isn’t solely a physical transition.

Intimate and nakedly honest, the film reveals the humanity and courage it takes for Chaz to ultimately embrace his true self. His moving struggle will reverberate profoundly for anyone to whom authenticity matters

My friend, Andrew, purchased tickets to it a few weeks ago - but when he invited me I initially had to decline due to class schedule conflicts. That conflict went away after I dropped that god awful Spanish class - but, since I’d declined initially, Andrew had given my ticket to our mutual friend, Erin. But, lucky me, Erin took today off from work to sleep at home due to being sick and gave me his ticket. Woot! Sucka!

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Had my consultation today and it went very well!

It was up at the University of Utah at the Madsen Surgery Center with Doctor Cori Agarwal. I made the appointment with a super sweet over-the-phone coordinator named Haley, who informed me that it would be in the Womens Health Center and made sure to add the disclaimer, “But don’t let that scare you. We’re welcoming of all gender variations!”, which I thought was adorable.

So this morning my mom and I got up all excited for my big consultation day. And my mom, as always in her mega supportive way, accompanied me.

We found the Madsen Surgery Center up in the cobweb of a mess loopty loop road situation up at the U of U in time for my morning appointment which was, in fact, at the Womens Health Center and was, in fact, full of women. As we waited to sign in, a nurse behind the counter, addressing my mother, said, “We’ll be just a moment!” And then, once that moment had passed and sign-in time had arrived, again addressing my mother, “Alright, who are you here to see?”, to which I replied, “Doctor Agarwal.” The nurse didn’t act surprised and was all friendly cute and handed me some paperwork to fill out and turn in.

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My cat, Evilbunny, is 84 years old in kitty years now. What the? That’s 17 in human years! Madness. He just keeps going and going and going and… I think all of the cuddles I’ve been giving him throughout the years (since I was 11 or 12) are keeping him alive and sufficiently plump. Or so I say.

Here is a photo taken yesterday of our usual nightly sleeping arrangement. Since I had to get up to acquire my camera and take the photo, I doodled in where I sleep and the position I arrange myself in, like a puzzle piece, to fit:

Vacation is going by way too quickly. I’ve spent about 80% of this break social whoring it up like a chipmunk storing food in preparation for the winter season. I’m signed up for 16 credit hours next semester, plus 2 extra credits for a research methods course required for the McNair Scholarship program I’m in. This is a great time to have school break though, seeing as it coincides with out-of-town friends pooling in to the fine state of Utah for the holidays!

Christmas has been super fun. Throughout the month my grandparents snuck by our place to drop off soup and rolls and whatnot all ninja style. Which were super delicious and very sweet of them. Then, on the eve o’ xmas a couple of little presents were opened between my parents and I. My dad unwrapped his gift to discover a box of crackers and my mom unwrapped her gift to discover a vegan “cheese” ball to dip said crackers in. Mmm!

Then, as per family tradition, we nibbled on the above mentioned deliciousness while watching a Christmas film together. This year we chose Christmas Evil (also known as You Better Watch Out and Terror in Toyland), which is a 1980 slasher film where I learned that nothing beats watching Santa Claus get chased down by a torch-wielding mob or paint a sled on a creeper van full of toys to get around in. John Waters calls this awesome piece of crap the “greatest Christmas movie ever made.” It predates the horror film Silent Night, Deadly Night, which up until just this December I thought was the earliest Santa slasher film. Eh, wrong.

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