February 17th, 2011

Rainbow || Rainbow northern lights.

(no subject)

Today I had a lecture on sexual differentiation and sexual differentiation defects. There was a beautiful film after about XY 'males' without proper receptors, making them essentially female in all senses save possessing the upper length of the vagina (thus it is a narrow pouch) and possessing often well-hidden testes; they have hormone levels of 'average' XY males, but it has no effect due to the lack of receptors. The film contrasted two women: an older woman diagnosed with it early in her life and her feelings of secrecy and shame, never feeling like a proper woman due to no penetrative sex (her face was always in shadows and her voice was replaced by an actress voice); and a teenager in the 90s who had faced a lot of secrecy and lies about her condition but was at last told and empowered herself with it, undergoing surgery for a full-length vagina and telling her boyfriends about it reasonably quickly (she was shown as a snarky teen with her mother in interviews, then gossiping and dancing with her friends). At the end the boy behind me, who had been irking me to no end during lecture, said, "That film was so pointless." (He also said near the beginning, "They should show her face" to which his friend asked "why?" and he answered "What if she looks like a man and she's ugly?") I wanted to throttle him.

Tash-the-adorable-straight-rocker-girl and I met up to head into London. We hit up the Museum of Natural History, the Museum of Science and Victoria & Albert Museum, all for free. She hinted at an ED and eventually I gently asked; she was surprised I had noticed and was then relieved (later stating she knew she could talk to me about it after seeing my Facebook update months ago about taking a "mental and physical health day"). We discussed some deep subject, some superficial topics and had quite a bit of fun. We headed to Victoria where I intuitively found a nice gay bar, but we explored around other places before buying drinks there. Tash bought me a sandwich when I refused to buy myself one (I don't always do well with food and money) and I gave her whatever bits she stared at for a length of time. She told me I was "awful cheerful" for someone with the hip/body condition I have suffered but she still felt guilty for my pain. We spent a lot of time feeling guilty for each other's emotions - we both seem skilled with such things.

Headed to the Apollo Victoria (I think) for Wicked, which was my birthday gift for myself as it was a quarter of the price through Tash and the drama society (she wanted me as her plus one). She had never seen it and today I told her I have seen it twice; I told her how deeply it affected me and how that would especially be the case with this viewing.

I don't think I have ever experienced everything in my life - good and bad - connecting through one thing in so few hours before in my life. I still feel raw. At Defying Gravity, I bawled until my eyes stung silly (I stupidly applied makeup on the train). The song has always been my transition-into-something-difficult-that-I-need-to-do-as-fully-myself song: the first time I saw it was around the time I first came to England to pick my university; the second time I saw it was right before returning for my third year, knowing I was about to face the hardest academic year of my life within a system I can't stand; this time I am in my final months and final deadlines (dissertation, exams) and then I will fly - I lost it over If you care to find me / Look to the western sky! / As someone told me lately: / "Ev'ryone deserves the chance to fly!" I told Tash during the song that the act was about to end so we ran out as soon as it ended and were the first to the loo. When we both came out, Tash raved about it and how sad and touching it was and how glad she was she had brought me because she could see that it really got to me and that was beautiful to see. I just laughed and smudged off my makeup with a paper towel.

The second act was hard. For Good was hard because it now has so many affiliations in my mind, some pleasant and some very much not so. I cried again. During many of the Elphaba/G(a)linda/Fiyero scenes I was crying or close to tears, and I remember one of my thoughts being, "I tried my best and I fudged everything up like Elphaba, but my stuff is never going to reach resolution the way hers has--I'm not good or intelligent enough for that." Bawled during the curtain call, possibly just as a release for everything I had felt through the play and that I had seen it again and where I was seeing it and under what conditions. Tash and I dashed.

I explained where my pain from Wicked presently comes from (but it's still completely worth it and hands down my favourite musical as it has been since high school) so we were already discussing some emotional stuff. Then on the train Tash got a message that she had been booted from her band and blamed for their inactivity, when that wasn't the truth (inter-band dating and no planned practices ever, despite her reminders that she was always ready/available for a jam). She was upset and I was a little upset - but mainly raw - and we discussed coping methods and how our brains work and how we deal with upset. A lot of today was about how we view ourselves.

For instance, I am still having this great difficulty in viewing myself as a good person just knowing that to some people out in the world I have not been and there are some people in the world who think I am the opposite of a good person. Through my life I have at times (sometimes elongated - talking years) and with some people I have been mean, judgmental, self-centred, callous, immature, manipulative (usually unintentionally but sometimes I just don't recognise what constitutes manipulation), unapologetic, contrary, confrontational, passive-aggressive, too hard, condescending, more. I know life is about change and growth, but sometimes I seem to regress in certain situations and around certain people (with people, it's especially when I am too biased to be receptive to their own changes through time). It's just so frustrating. I know feeling like a good person is something that should come from inside me, when I am living within the direction of my own moral compass and integrity, but it is so difficult when I know that in the past I have sodded things up with my faults and actions - and that with some of them nothing I say or do will ever really offer completion. My sense of 'goodness' still seems to come from the sense I am getting from those around me - which would logically be something closer to a consensus ('if all those around me agree I am a good person, I must be') - but doesn't turn out that way because as soon as I remember that someone out there thinks I, specifically (not just with prejudice having not met me), am a bad person...it's gone.

I understand that I have been all of those above-mentioned bad traits and that I haven't grown past them - in some instances they still sneak up. I like to think that I am growing beyond those bit by bit, personal growth moment by personal growth moment, but then some things just...rock the boat. Mrs. Cavanagh used to say, "I'm going to be your objective opinion now: I say that you are [creative]" (or any trait) and then sometimes I was her objective opinion. The only problem with considering someone an objective opinion, is that it allows me to convince myself that opinions from critique to hatred can be objective too.

Also I got tricked by a beggar for a little money (not much), had great conversations with security guards, ran to my bus when I knew I shouldn't have and am now in bed icing my hip. Something possessed me to research 'should I run with a hip replacement?' and realised once again that there is a giant spike of foreign material lodged into my femur to keep a fake joint in tact within my body - the thought is as foreign as the object sometimes. I did come to the conclusion that some short-time high-impact should be fine (it was a short jog) but it still struck me to tears again. "Cheerful," I think not.

Tomorrow I have my dissertation meeting with Nick-the-supervisor at 1.30 tomorrow and then the five of us in the Wildlife in the Farming Environment group are skipping Conservation Biology to practice of presentation for Friday (this was not my plan, by the way). I am so nervous. After it's all done, I may have to just come home, catch up on last week's Grey's and crash.

I can't believe I saw my favourite musical in London Victoria. I can't believe how much it is pushing me to work through all this 'gunk' in my head that needs working through for healing, self-acceptance and self-love. I'm grateful, though - and so thankful that Tash wanted me there as her plus one!

Oh and thank you everyone for the comments to my last entry! I will try to answer the rest soon - they all touched and comforted me, each one. I have the best flist in the world. (I will try to go back to shorter entries soon - today was a long day.)


A woman is like a teabag. You never know how strong she is until she gets into hot water.
[Eleanor Roosevelt]
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