I had an excellent conversation with my friend Robin who said I was a hot butch and did I really think seriously about this and I dunno, I started talking about my doubts. Like, the breast thing, that nipple issue, it was enough to put me off. She was talking about how masculinity can live in a female body.

I guess that’s what Shawna meant too, she told me about women who take on masculine pronouns but are still women. I’m not sure. Life’s pretty confusing.

Besides, I kind of like being a girl. I don’t know how to explain it. I love that I contradict myself over and over. Like, you would not believe how sexy this bra I’m wearing is.

I don’t know what else to say about the gender switch, but I do like being a butch. I think there’s something inherantly comfortable to me being butch. I just like it. I don’t know why. I used to feel really uncomfortable with it, but I haven’t been harrassed since I was in high school.

Of course, I lived in a big city for nine years.

The Vancouver Years. I miss them. I don’t miss being hungry though.

So life is ticking along. It’s almost Christmas. And it seems like September was only yesterday. I’m going tobogganing with my cousins at Diefenbaker Hill at night sometime soon.

I still miss the girl I went crazy on. Fuck I hate going crazy. Oh well. Heart break happens.

I think I’m finally getting over my depression. It’s taken me a long time. I was so depressed. Oh my god. It was agony. But now I’m doing way better.

It’s been hard recovering, but it’s been harder to try and put some meaning on my life. Feeling that life is meaningless leads to depression, and suicidal thoughts. I know I have potential, but I don’t feel like I have been living up to it.

Of course I’ve also applied for two grants, but I haven’t heard back if I have gotten them or not yet.

Anyway, I needed to give myself some new goals. So now, besides applying to CFC’s Directors Lab, I’m also applying to UBC and York to do my MFA. And I’ve decided that I have to apply for two residencies as well, one in Canada and one abroad, or in the US. SO THAT”S MY NEW GOAL1

Goals are important to have I think. I’m generally unhappy with my current lot in life, I have no girlfriend, I’m bummed out. I need a change. My life needs something drastically different. So grad school, residencies, yeah, that’s about right.

It’s been a year now since I saw UFO’s, two of them, in an event that scared the living shit out of me. Life is pretty boring right now. I never saw them again. And now I’m just recovering from recovery. I started a part time job doing phones. I swore I would never do phones again, but I don’t mind the work and I’m good at it.

Things in my life are pretty quiet.

I haven’t blogged in a while, so I thought I should. Sometimes, bein a writer, I feel this need to write something at least once in a while even if I feel down. Kind of like keeping a sick shark swimming so it doesn’t die. It’s been a long time anyway.

I’ve gotten stuck in a rut. I don’t know how to describe it. I think the psych ward kind of makes it’s own rut. Like they really do just try to keep crazy people fed and well slept, and that’s the most they can hope for and it’s the most you do to achieve. But the rest of life gets left out.

Plus I demolished some important relationships while I was crazy.

There’s this song by Outkast, Back of the Bus, that makes me think of mania. Like, uh oh, here it comes! Mania! Oh man, I hate it. Mania I mean, the song is great.

Anyway, right now I’m still kind of in recovery, and anyway I got stuck in this rut. I go over to my mom’s every day. But then I’ve always been like that. I used to visit Lynn and Stef a lot. But anyway, then I come home and smoke a joint and surf the net.

Maybe I’m depressed because I haven’t been writing. Mostly I’ve been thinking, about this new journey I’m on to become a man. Life’s weird.

Anyway, not much has changed in my life recently. I’ve been collecting EI and going around and around in a big circle through the city over to my mother’s house and back again, visiting my dog and cat, and mum of course. And she has television. I miss television. And she has a fridge. And anyway, that’s my rut. I do have some grants in to Canada Council and the Sask Arts Board. I’ll hear sometime next month if I get them. If I do I’ll be so relieved, then I’ll have something to do. Instead of this rut.

I’m not even mildly interested in anything. I’m totally stuck. And I’m not sure how to improve my life because I’m not sure what it is I’m missing. It’s like I’ve zoned out somewhere. I think being between writing projects is weird.

I feel kinda like a zombie. It’s gross. But I know I’m just missing something in my life.

Mania sucks ass. If you don’t believe me, ask any bipolar person. It’s embarrassing, like having a big mental shit all over the place. I’m so glad it is over.

I’m still looking for places to live. I saw one really nice apartment and put my name in, haven’t heard back yet. I hope I get it though, it’s just scuzzy enough to fit my tastes. I mean old, it’s in a really old building, which are the kinds of buildings I prefer.

What is it about an old building? I used to think I wouldn’t like them because of ghosts. But in truth, I’ve never had a ghost issue while I’ve lived in an old building. I did once have a poltergeist issue with a roommate of mine, she just always attracted that kind of energy. And I saw stuff move around while she was abouts, which was always kind of creepy. Not to disparage her, she’s pretty cool, but poltergeists, ai ai ai! Messy rude things.

Enough about ghosts, how am I?

Well, I’m still getting better in increments. I’m still excited and waiting to get on hormones. I’m not sure when it will happen, it seems to involve a lot of waiting time to see people, beyond when I’m finally officially stabilized in the eyes of my doctor. I think she’s waiting for me to be less depressed, which is slowly abating. In truth I don’t think I’m depressed so much as bored. Not working has been boring. Tomorrow I start at this psych rehab place for eight weeks, I think it’s a lot of group activities and so on, but I’ll be getting out with other people which is good. I have also started applying for jobs again, although my EI doesn’t run out for nine months. But I think I’d rather be out in the world than stuck at home on EI.

That’s from a Cranberries song line. I like it, because it’s so generalized. You’re ALWAYS putting me down. ALWAYS. Without fail.

Anyway, I am working on a grant right now to make a short film based on a short piece of prose I once wrote about vampires, it will probably only be a three minute film. Film! I’m going to shoot it on a bolex and edit on a steenbeck. It should be ridiculously fun to make. I haven’t touched celluloid in quite a while!

I just deleted my maniac blog, which made me feel really happy. I hate havin to delete blogs, but this is the second maniac blog I’ve deleted in my life. I sense a pattern. And that makes this, I guess, my post maniac blog, which is what Fit of Pique was for so long.

I’m kinda proud of fit of pique, and I kind of miss it, but I’m glad to be moving into a different territory. This one I’m assuming will be about trying to get Bunnyhug made, and making different shorts, and stuff like that. I’m working on a short and a longer project. The longer project is about coming out as trans and so on. I’m hoping it turns out well.

I have an apartment to look at tomorrow, which is exciting because I really really really want to move. It’s a studio apartment and I can have my cat there, which is also good. I’m waiting to live with my dog again for when I move into this rainbow co-op housing. I dunno what else to say in this blog. I’m still getting better by increments. I was kind of down this morning, but I’m quitting smoking, so that could be it. Because I’m always putting me down . . . Actually I got a budget done for one of my projects, so I am happy about that.

I found out that I am not getting that place in October or November, I guess the guys living there decided to stay. Unfortunately there is a housing crisis here in Saskatoon, which means things are a little lean on the home front. My mom’s going to be keeping my dog until I get into a housing co-op, which has a waiting list of about a year. I feel bad for having to leave my dog behind, but he’s pretty happy here, and I’ll visit him all the time.

I finally wrote my final report for Canada Council for my screenplay, now all I have to do is throw it in the mail. yay! That means I’ll be able to write my next grant, for XX Marks The Spot, a look at gender and the genome, and my homelands.

Aside from that I am just struggling with a mild depression. I am wondering if people can die from boredom. According to the sign at the bin, boredom is a choice. Who would choose it though?

Well I’m here in Banff for the Interactive Screen 0.7. Last night someone got accidentally hit in the head with a video projector. All I can say is dude, that totally sucks! I’d feel so guilty if I accidentally hit someone in the head with a large heavy object like that. The projector was okay but he still has a headache and some neck pain.

I’m working on my dangerous bird project, I’ve been having issues with it, but I think it finally makes some sense now. It’s not so complicated as I thought it would be. I want to go take some pictures out at Cranberry Flats when I get back to town.

I’m thinking I want to go see the St. Louis Ghost Train when I get back too. I don’t know when. But I went last summer and was disappointed, so I want to go again and see if it makes any sense this time. Anyway, yeah.

My transitioning is weird, I am supposed to wait for myself to stabilize, but I feel pretty stable right now. Hmm. Recovering from a manic episode sucks ass man. I’m glad the rough parts of it are over though.

Anyway, I think I might deek into the dining hall and eat early, so that’s where I’m headed now.

Stoned love . . . I’m supposed to quit pot, but I don’t wanna. I guess it’s my one weak spot in the armour, but I can’t help it. Everyone needs at least one vice in order to be a fully rounded member of society in my view. Unfortunately I also have the vice of smoking, which is an unruly, expensive, smelly habit, with little to no redeeming value. I had quit for a number of months until I ended up back in the bin.

I don’t know how to describe smoking and being in the bin. I think it’s really difficult to quit in that kind of situation, because it’s often the only socially acceptable behaviour that everyone can agree on. Plus at the bin I was in, it was the only excuse to leave the ward and go stand by the river in nearly idyllic surroundings. You would not believe the number of smokers in the bin.

But the nice part about smoking is that it was a chance to bond with fellow patients. Leaving the judgemental gaze of the nurses was nice, and people could swap tips on how to get out quicker.

I got released MOSTLY because I was ready to be released, but also partially because there was a looming strike vote among the social workers and pharmacists, and they needed people out as quick as possible. For a brief time, the only requirements for release was that you had somewhere to sleep. I remember one fellow patient telling me “I prayed to God so hard that they would strike!” They didn’t strike, but they did go from having 30 beds to having 10, and that was extreme. Luckily I was ready to leave.

Recovery from a manic episode takes a long damn time though. I keep feeling better with each week that passes, but it’s hard. I do notice a difference though, as time slowly ticks by I have more energy, slightly more optimism. I don’t know how to explain the humiliation that happens after each episode abates, but it’s crushing. Luckily for the most part I can forget it, except that I ruined an awfully lovely relationship of sorts with an awfully lovely person, and that it probably what still haunts me today. I don’t know how to get over that.

Don’t bogart that joint my friend . . .