Things I Can’t Ignore
Idunno what’s up with me today, but I can’t sleep, and it must’ve been written all over my face, because the first thing out of Dan’s mouth when he got home from work was asking me if I was okay.
I’m really bad at hiding anything, especially if you know me, but apparently really good at hiding things from myself since I can’t pin point the cause of my distress today. I even got more work done in one day than the last two weeks in comparison as far as the monetary work goes.
Brad said he’s willing to help me edit my video for project “x” that I mentioned in the last entry.
No time for sex…I actually masturbated last night and today. Not something I do often. I don’t remember what started it…I think I saw a picture, one thing lead to another, and the next thing I know, I was watching xtube. So this was the first video I watched. Hot man on man action.
Then after that, more guys fucking other guys in the ass. Somewhere in all of these and throughout the course of the day, I started searching trans topics again, and started getting annoyed that Dan would leave me if I had a penis. Not super annoyed, just annoyed. I’m trying to see if there’s a place in Switzerland or somewhere else where they can make me intersexed. Still contemplating cutting off one of my breasts, frustrated that I don’t wear make-up at all anymore. Contemplated dressing as a boy in drag today, but couldn’t find the energy to change out of the clothes I picked up off the floor today.
These are just the thoughts that zoomed through my head. Realistically, I shouldn’t be annoyed that Dan wouldn’t want to be with me if I had a cock. Somewhere in all of this, I also found a really rad documentary. It’ll only take an hour of your time to watch, but I think it’s very good. My Penis and Everyone Else’s. I think it’s more about the insecurities we suffer as people in regards to body image than it is about the specific body part he’s focusing on for the documentary.
I’m stressed about project “x”, and as a result, I have shut down. I can’t do that. Got a party on Saturday, followed up with a tour.
My sex drive has remained on chill for a while now, only peeking when I’m getting ready to start…and that could be it too. My breasts started hurting a couple days ago, and all the other tell tale signs are beginning to show, announcing to the rest of my body that the bitch is about to take residence for another week. I’ve been getting psychotic emotional when I start bleeding, and I don’t get it.
I had almost forgotten how much I love gay porn until last night. I like it because there’s no frills, no bullshit. Just straight penetration, right down to business. Raw, rough, and beautiful. There’s no bullshit dialogue (at least not in the stuff I watch). When I watch regular porn by myself, I usually watch it on fast forward, so everything seems a lot harder and faster than it really is.
I’ve been having some difficulties. I got a phone call from some friends right before Mayhem tour started last year. The call was to let me know that I’ve been exposed to HPV. It made me stop and really think about my sexual activities. I’d like to think that I’m a lot more careful than your average folks, but shit happens, and I haven’t always been as safe as I could be…I mean fuck, I gave my virginity to a tweeker, two heroine junkies followed that, and a slew of other alcoholics to follow and who knows what other scum I’m generally attracted to.
Even if I had HPV, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, as the largest concern with that is cervical cancer and not being able to have kids, and I don’t really give a shit about that. I already took care of that 7 years ago now. But there’s other things, and it’s not even that I’ve done things that may have put myself at risk, because I really don’t give a shit about myself as much as I should, but more so what kind of risk I’m putting Dan at or other partners who’ve meant a lot to me. It just isn’t worth it for the feeling of euphoria.
I keep thinking about all the people who’ve tried to warn me about the evils of men and their douchebaggery, but none of them ever stopped to consider that I’m no angel either. I am fucking crazy to a point. There’s clicks and things that should be there, but the connection is just gone, the brain is fried, and every day that I’m sober minded, I take a good look around sometimes and go “whoa, what the fuck?”
At least I know I’m in the right industry, because everyone else seems to be just as fucked as I am at the very least. Musician should be synonymous with “lacks good people skills 70% of the time” or “mumbles to herself often”. But what I’ve realized here lately is that no one is normal, everyone is a bit off to a certain degree, it’s just that most don’t openly admit it.
Everyone is fucked, and if you think you’re not, then you’re probably worse off than the rest of us with you crazy delusions.
I guess I’m still just internalizing a lot of things, and trying to figure out what I’m going to do about everything.
Dan took my truck to work with him today because his bike was acting up. When he got home, he told me my truck was having issues too. I was already aware, but I didn’t know the severity of the problem. My baby is such a bad ass. He worked his 8 hours, then came home and fixed both his bike and my truck. The down side to that was he didn’t come inside from the garage until 12:30am. I made goulash for dinner. First time ever, and it turned out both delicious and filling.
I have so much to get done tomorrow. So many last minute things, and not a lot of time to get it all done. I go through this every time I leave though, just freaking the fuck out, then by the time I settle into tour, it’s time to come home again. A vicious fucking cycle.
At least this is a real tour. And by real, it just means that we have solid dates booked before we leave. lol All tours are real.
I’m also struggling with the whole honesty thing. There’s pressure, pressure that I’ve never felt before. In the past, I would just write whatever I felt…which is what I’m doing now, but now instead of not being honest, I just stop talking or writing. I think of things on so many different levels. I used to not care about how people perceived me, but now working for this label, I feel like there’s a certain standard I’m supposed to uphold as to the way I carry myself or something. Add that to the stress of project “x”, and I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around everything.
I need to figure out how to convey that I’m all for strong women who speak their mind and do what they feel is right in their own heart and minds. It seems a simple enough task when you say, “well speak your mind”…but then I remember that my view on the world is completely different from most people.
Until you pick yourself up off the floor, you’re going to keep getting kicked around. That’s what I’m trying to say. That’s part of my message behind project “x”…and I’m struggling, because every woman who connects with me through my music also seems to want to fuck me. I’m not saying this is all cases, but in a lot, and it really bothers me a lot.
I ran into a friend, fresh off a breakup last weekend and the first thing she did to express how happy she was to see me was grope my ass and run her hands up and down my body as she hugged me. It made me really uncomfortable. I love her to pieces, but I’m not here for you all to molest me…friendly gesture or otherwise. That shit really makes me uncomfortable if I didn’t invite it.
Contrary to what folks may believe. I really don’t like to be touched. I especially hate my hair or my head being touched. Aaron’s girlfriend tried to fix one of my curls at a bar in LA a few weeks back, and when I protested, she returned with an open handed noogie. It took everything inside of me not to hit her, because it’s not her fault…she doesn’t know it’s a trigger for me. That’s something else that’s been bugging me; how do I convey shit to people without coming off as a complete bitch and without giving off victim vibes.
No, touching is not okay unless I’m open to it. You don’t know where my head is at when you touch me. It shifts constantly, my head that is. In the span of 5 minutes (especially when I’m bleeding) I go through so many emotional head changes, and my thoughts wander as I’m trying desperately to connect to whatever conversation I was involved in or complete some pattern that’s going on in my brain. It’s not you. It’s me. Seriously.
Most people don’t know what it’s like to be around me constantly. I am still bi-polar, I still have high anxiety, I still have borderline personality disorder, I’m still anti-social, I still have ptsd, I’m still obsessive compulsive. Therapy didn’t magically make any of that shit go away, all it did was teach me to be aware of my triggers, how to face fear better, and how to not let any of this shit cripple me. It’s a constant work in progress, but now I have tools to conquer shit. Every time I think I’m 100% a-okay and can start living some degree of a “normal” existence, I find a new trigger I wasn’t aware of, or someone catches me off guard.
I’m not saying I completely hate being touched, but it took me years to be able to give anyone an honest hug. Most people I’ve had sex with I avoid sleeping next to, because it incites rage come morning. Not that I regretted sleeping with them, but intimacy was not part of the deal. I’ve walked away from a lot of lonely eyes without any remorse. I told you what it was, and that’s all it was.
I mean fuck…it took me 5 years before I started to really enjoy cuddling with Dan, and that was on my terms. It’s hard. To be that open. I mean sure, I type out my thoughts freely for any passing stranger to view, but the core of me…you want in? Fuck you.
You don’t get that side, and if you do, it’s a rare thing, and I hate exposing it to anyone. Project “x” is going to force me to expose that side though, and the more I work on it, the more emotionally unstable I become.
I’ve been having issues, because I’ve been on the road with Aaron for a year and a half now, and every time we’re on the road, something new pops up. But that’s part of it. You can’t be in such close quarters with someone and not pick up on things or share who you are. At some point you can only listen to so much silence or music, and verbal communication finds a way out.
There’s a part of me that prefers the unspoken bonds of the way things are done back home. You know the pain is the same because you see it in our eyes, and our smiles are that much brighter because of it when we’re around each other. Don’t have that luxury with folks outside of the circle. Then again, the opening up, the feelings of vulnerability when you’re allowing another human being to get to know you is also something I crave deeply. Genuine bonds of friendship. Sometimes I want that so bad, I get too eager and destroy it before it solidifies…or maybe they just never really got me in the first place.
But I do hate the amount of people who want more than just a friendship out of me. How many times are you gonna throw it out on the table that you want to dip in between my thighs? I know, thanks…please go fuck off now. I don’t mean it to be cruel, I really hate the attention. I hate knowing when a friend wants to fuck me. I hate knowing when family wants to fuck me or something like it.
It’s been a common theme throughout my life. Back when I did the nude modeling and the soft porn stuff, I figured fuck it, I’ll just embrace it. But it didn’t make it any better. Now I just feel kinda stuck. When I look like a girl, people wanna fuck me. When I look like a boy, people wanna fuck me. When I look grungy, people wanna fuck me. You don’t know what that means, or how little respect I really have for you when it gets to that point. You think I’m not aware of what I look like? Without makeup at 29, I still get carded, there’s little blemishes on my face, and while I have my own body insecurities, I am aware.
I have always stood out. Regardless if I wanted the attention or not, it’s just the way it is. Sometimes it sucks, but I’m trying to learn to use it as an asset, and not hate it so much. Marc told me back at Denny’s in Santa Cruz a few tours back, “you know you’re actually a very pretty girl.” and I brushed it off. He said, “listen, I’m being serious.” and I know. I don’t brush it off because I don’t believe it, I brush it off because I don’t care. Or more so, I hate the attention that stems from acknowledging it.
There’s a lot going on in my brain. I’m teetering on a line right now. Teetering on a lot of lines right now.
Line 1: Am I going to stop having sex outside of my marriage, and what does it matter, when I’ve always done whatever felt right for me at the time? Why do I even waste time contemplating it, when it is what it is? More so, I need to stop having sex with people who don’t understand what having sex outside my marriage means. Because the fuck buddies that turn into guys thinking they are going to steal me from Dan are fucking retarded and annoying.
Line 2: Project “x” and do I really want it to succeed? Am I ready for it if it succeeds? I’ve never put so much effort into something for myself outside of therapy, but it goes hand in hand with therapy. The fact that it terrifies me so much because of how deeply I’m exposing myself to the world needs to change into fuel to finish it up so I can launch it. Then we get into the subject of time and how much I hate the hands tick tick ticking away at my life, telling me there’s not enough moments in a day.
Line 3: Girl/Boy/Boy/Girl/Limbo should I do something about these feelings? Should I research more? Why do I feel like I have to be a boy in order to be a shemale and everything else that goes with it? Tonya is right, I should get one of those wearable penises so I can just get a feel for it, and see if that makes me feel any better. Dan said it wouldn’t bother him if I wore one to wear one. I feel like there’s been a serious injustice because I wasn’t born with a penis.
Line 4: Am I really happy with SHiT not being a serious project? Not that it’s not serious, because as far as touring, and all the other functions that go with being in a band, it’s the most serious project I’ve ever been in. But am I really happy with the lack of serious content in the music? I don’t know. I don’t think “happy” is the correct word. My heart is pulling me more into Zebrana Bastard, and I have to make a decision, or do I? Granted, it’s fun playing songs about farting and shitting blood because I’m almost always constipated, but is that really the sum of my music career. I’ve been down this path before with Bastard Child. It’s fun, I’m good at it, but I’m more of a meat and potatoes kind of girl. I don’t think Aaron realizes that he doesn’t really need anyone to go on the road with him, his solo project is better than SHiT. Sometimes I kinda feel like we both use SHiT as a scapegoat to avoid stepping out on our own. The passion, the heart, and the fire comes when we’re playing our solo projects more so than when we are SHiT. Idunno, this is still a fresh project, and it’s still new and experimental. I don’t hate it by any means, but I don’t love it either as I would something that I can put my all into. It’s hard to put my all into dick and fart jokes.
This is all my shit that I have to figure out, and only time will tell. I don’t really feel confused so much as I’m still just trying to sort it all out. Find my own definitions and categories.
I love this song so much. Can’t stand the band really, but this song…it’s a whirlwind of fire swooping up in quick flames, then dying down again until it finds something new to burn. It speaks to me.
I can listen to this on repeat hundreds of times
Here they come, here they come
Here they come and they might as well
Too many birds in my confusion now
Now they’ll circle over this house till we take them in
You show me a sign
To rise up from the world we know
And she’s strung out on life
He soon rolls his teeth
Spilling out from a mouth into overflow back into me
She moves and it’s fire
Speaks and it’s flame
She speaks my name…
Well they all really want you
If only you had wanted them
Lights move to the chalk line
Change into dream that I am
Here we are again
How could I have seen
Always she’s driving…
How could I have known
Right through the strange calling
Straight through the sound
Gramarye I’ve found
See how she’s driving me down
Straight from the sound
She is seen as a bright sun to anyone
Hollow in mind
With the weight of the world
Trailing out ’til the last stream discovers me
Alive on vine
I used to see something in the idea
But only once did my hands reach anything beautiful
Now she’s turned away and I’m so…
I’m going to bed. It’s past 6am, and when I saw last night, it really means the night before. Today really means yesterday, as the lines have completely blurred at this point. Time is fucking stupid anyway.