The Human I Am.

I have a lot of posts to get through, and a lot of them are fairly serious and not as whimsical as my Trek-related posts. But I'll get to them later.

Six days ago, a good friend of mine got cleared to go to Tavistock Clinic in London. It's where the trans* kids get sent before they're 18, where I believe they go somewhere across the road to Charring Cross. It's really near the station, too, which is cool.

There is only one clinic because that way doctors can't disagree over treatment, and it helps everything run smoother. Because of that, the waiting list is very long. Four months, more or less.

That said, he has it set, and is making progress. And he's my age, only older by a month or so. And I'm somewhere between elation, because god knows he deserves this as much as anyone, and self-discontent because I haven't got to a point where I'm willing to do that and risk everything.

I want to. It crosses my mind consistently, but my family is holding me back.

They do not agree with my name choice, or the very idea that I might actually change it. They see it as disrespectful towards them, because they chose my name for me, and raised me on it, and what's wrong with it anyway? (I maintain that nothing is wrong. It's a brilliant name, and one I'm somewhat sad to leave behind. But it has never been my name. Also it's very difficult for me to pronounce in Swedish, which isn't good.)

But the truth is, I haven't started actually speaking to the NHS about it because I'm scared. There's a big difference between transitioning by choice, on my own, and speaking to adults about starting treatment. Treatment suggests something is wrong. I know there is, of course. I've known there was something wrong for a long time, but this makes it properly real.

Gender dysphoria is now recognised as a legitimate medical disorder to be treated by doctors, but 'disorder' sounds wrong. It is, as it suggests, order gone wrong. I've been placed in the wrong biology, and that's fucked me up, but it doesn't help that it sounds like there's something actually wrong with me as a human being.

It's absurd, really, that I'm so worried. It's already real, I'm changing my name in two weeks, at Pride, and there's not much else I can do on my own. But I'm more scared of this, of getting started on something like this, than I have been over anything else.

I'm fine with having a therapist, with going to new places to find help, but I'm going to be psychoanalysed by two professionals, they're going to ask me questions to work out if I'm insane or not. They're going to try to work out if I'm serious about transitioning. I'm only just 17. It's only going to take two years or so once it gets going, and then I'll be filling myself with testosterone every week or two, and I'll start actually changing in my appearance.

That's bloody confusing in itself. It's only in the last four months that I've come to any sort of acceptance of this body as it is. I only just managed to shake the habit of only showering in the dark. I know all of that is down to Moony showing me that she'll never see me as anything but male, no matter what. I couldn't do this without her.

She promised to come to Tavistock with me whenever I need to, regardless of when it is. I don't know if I could go alone, and she rightfully says this is our battle, so we'll have to handle it on our own. We're the only people it's going to actually affect.

I guess I'm just a little shocked that someone I know is actually getting somewhere. It's at times like this that I remember how many people across the country feel like me, but we all feel alone despite that fact. Everyone has different ways of handling it, different ways to live with being trans* and overcome dysphoria, if they ever get it. I only get it towards my facial structure and my hips, since I got my binder. And my voice, sometimes. But other people get it much worse.

It's such unmarked territory, and it's easy to feel isolated and lost. That's kind of why I started this blog. I wanted to stop that. And all the page views I see each time I check make me think that maybe, somewhere, someone is feeling a bit better about themselves, or like they're not alone.

Moony has work most of this week, and my bloody grandparents are staying tomorrow night, sleeping downstairs. That means they'll be up when I get up for school, which is horrible. I'm going to have to put up with hearing how much I look like my mum, maybe comments about my clothing choice, my hair (not sure they approve of the 'mess is good' theory), and name calling.

In short, I'm in for a tough week. I just hope I make it through. Moony will be here in 12 days. I can do this.

I'm going to ask for Kevin to send an letter to my GP, to ask about getting the analysis thing. Over The Rainbow might be coming to my school next year to broaden everyone's understanding of LGBT stuff, which is what I've been asking for since Easter. It would be fantastic to see the people who make me feel so sure of myself in a location that I feel needs more explanation of who I am. As I've always said, there's no point asking to be accepted it the people I'm asking aren't sure what they're accepting.

It was Rupert Graves' birthday today. He's 50. I celebrated by watching Different For Girls, which is a lovely film about him and his mate who transitioned to living full time as a woman with hormone treatment and surgery. It helped my slight dysphoria and I got to watch someone I have much affection for. Since Moony went to bed, I had to do something to keep my mind occupied.

SPACE. The Final Frontier.

Things are both looking up, in small ways.

I convinced my mum to get me a load of batteries, and with them I have given power to a model of the Moon that I have in my room. It's the size of a dinner plate and lights up when a control is pointed at it. The remote allows me to see what it looks like at different phases of the moon and freeze it at any point.

So I wanted this thing because, thanks to Star Trek, I've remember just how goddamn much I love space. When I was a kid me and my dad would spend ages in our garden, looking at the stars and working out which constellations there were in site. It's a hobby I fell out of touch with over time.

But I find it somehow comforting. There's so much life out there, and it's amazing to think that as I look out, there is probably something else looking back.

I also have a miniature planetarium that I've never managed to get working before due to battery size, but now I do. Sadly the batteries seem to wear out rather quickly, but I can work with that. It's like a see-through globe with a bulb in the middle that represents the earth and the globe is covered in constellations. There are glow-in-the-dark dots on the surface that represent the brightest stars so they are visible even when the light is off.

As I said, it's comforting. Especially since Kirk said Vulcan is located near the left star of the belt of Orion. So when I see that constellation, I know where it is.

And one of my best mates might be giving me his space-theme bed set because he has a different sized bed now. It glows in the dark too, which is fantastic.

In non-space related news, I appear to be passing very well!

On the bus yesterday I was sprawled across two chairs, reading on my phone, and this loudly talking obnoxious guy came over and said 'can I sit here?' while actually moving my bag for me before I had time to react. Rude.

But he said 'thanks lady' or something as I adjusted so he could sit down, and I just accepted it with an inward sigh but the bloke's female friend said 'you can't say that!' and he answered 'oh, it's a bloke? Really sorry, mate.'

I cannot tell you how happy I was. I just smiled, said it was alright, and kept my head down, worried that if I looked up too much my softish features would give me away. I did feel him staring a few times but I got away with it, I think. He had also commented 'well I can't tell any more', which was probably a comment on how androgynous people are these days, especially my age group, but Jesus, he really believed it. I passed to one of the most stereotypical male specimens I've ever seen.

The woman had even heard me talking to my mate, so knowing my voice didn't even give me away as trans* is fantastic.

And when I got home mum got me powder to make chocolate milkshake because we have too much milk. I have been ordered to drink lots. In the words of Mr Chekov, I can do zat.

Tomorrow I'm going to Reading while Moony celebrates Midsummer with her best friend, and I took today off school because I'm working on a transcript that's going to take me a very long time (18 pages, each page takes half an hour and I've only done 1) I decided I could take the time. I only have Critical Thinking and we don't actually study that any more.

And my brother is away for four weeks meaning his girlfriend and him can't get incredibly intimate while I'm just next door trying to pretend I can't hear anything.

So who knows. For now, at least, I'm in a good place.

Life Update: Brighton (The Sequel)

Brighton was, in a word, perfect.

A long day, but one very well spent. I met with a good friend I hadn't yet met in person, and it was lovely that there was no awkward moment of' 'oh hello' between us.

We hung out at a cafe near the station for a while and I had a damn good panini while she cried over my birthmas (I missed sending both birthday and Christmas gifts so I just joined them) gifts, and I stared in awe at the autograph she got me from John Finnemore, a favourite comedian of ours who writes Cabin Pressure, John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme and sometimes turns up on BBC comedy series Miranda.

We had over two hours until the lecture I had to make it to, but decided to take a walk and find our bearings. There are so many nice shops in that town. We didn't let ourselves investigate due to lack of money but god, little antique shops with Spiderman tins and Trek figures...

We found a tourist information place that informed us Falmer Campus was in fact 25 minutes away by bus, and I had wildly underestimated just how far away it was. It's actually in the middle of nowhere, but there is a  train that goes from Brighton station directly to the campus for both Sussex and Brighton Falmer campus. (This might be foreshadowing)

The journey was nice, allowed us to see more of the city and how green the place is, with loads of cool wooden playgrounds, a duck pond with a massive fountain that looked like the birds were having some sort of water party, and then suddenly it was just countryside and thin lanes.

We arrived and wandered into campus but something felt wrong. The photos on the website didn't match up and I began to fear that I had made a significant miscalculation.

We found a lovely camp guy in an otherwise empty student union building and with his computer we deduced that we were on the wrong campus, having stumbled into Sussex instead of Brighton.

It felt a bit like being on the wrong side of an important cause. Like I was in Romulan Sith Lord who was supposed to be with Starfleet Padawan Academy.

In the end, after much dithering and regret on our parts when we saw how many steps we had to climb, we made it just in time for the lecture.

I won't bore you with details, but the place looks magnificent. The cost of living is good, the grants (while probably applying more of less nationwide) are reasonable, and it seemed genuinely welcoming. Hell, our lecturer had a rainbow umbrella. In a town such as Brighton I can't help but interpret it as the gay symbol that I usually do.

We went on a guided tour that wasn't the most helpful for me but nice to see the place anyway, and were lead to another lecture about joint degrees, including the one I have in mind: English Language And Linguistics.

No lies, Literature and Media look like awesome subjects, but I am stuck on them for 3 years and Linguistics is where my heart is.

There was no point staying around to ask questions, as I felt I had everything in Moony knowing all the linguistic things and my mate already at a Uni I'm visiting next week, so we went back to the town.

The Pier is one of Brighton's main attractions, so we figured it was best to check it out. I spent a while A) wondering how the fuck this place seems so familiar despite being sure I've never been - I settled on the acceptance that as my mind is bonded with Moony's, I remembered it through her eyes - B) Crying on the inside with a mix of extreme comfort and longing because Moony has actually been there, seen that view, walked that path, maybe literally where my feet were.

The Pier itself reminds me of a fair that visits my town every yea, but in daylight and overlooking the sea, but the sentiment allowed me to feel a little more grounded, because that's always around Hallowe'en, and I love that time of year.

There was time to kill so we aimlessly searched for a sleazy cafe with cheap food to dine at.

We found nothing. Damnit Brighton you're too lovely.

However, we did eventually find a cute little cafe near the sudden London Eye Brighton Wheel. I'll edit this in with photos as soon as I get sent them, but we got one of four options of hot chocolate called Bees Nuts, I swear, and it was made of peanut butter and honeycomb. I can't tell you how beautiful it was. It came with an adorable little grater and some chocolate, too.

It was joined by a bowl of nachos to share, and the thing had many different dips on top. God, I miss it so much.

The cutest thing was that the waiters kept coming and checking that we were alright. One of them offered us blankets and turned the heater on for us because we were in the shade. I think I'll try to get a job there some time.

I'm fairly sure that cafe, called Terrace by the way, actually had more of an impact that the University did, because it was so unexpected and I knew all the lecture stuff already.

My friend and I got a little lost on the way back to the station but made it with 10 minutes to spare, and there was none of the sadness that I'd expected, because we're seeing each other next week for my next open day, so that's pretty good.

And to round up my Brighton news, I'm going to try my best to get me and Moony there for a day when we're both in the country before we go to Sweden so we can see her old school, have a picnic on the beach, and experience the city together. Padfoot and Moony usually end up in Brighton in their summer holidays together, so it'll be nice to do the same.

Life Update

This is the First Officer Lorcan's log, stardate 91062.73

As it stands, I've had a fairly okay first week back, and I finished with a trip to the only Brighton University open day for my course, with one of my best friends that I'd never actually met face to face. 

Looking at it all, I have every right to be overjoyed by where my life is. This time next month (one of my favourite games is 'this time next/last week/month/yesterday/tomorrow) Moony will be with me, we'll be in Bournemouth after Pride, or just heading back to my house, and hopefully we'll be pretty elated at the month we have ahead of us together.

If you hadn't already noticed, Star Trek has become a heavier influence for me. I've lost track of the amount of times I've dreamed of being this man.

Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy Reboot vs Original

I don't even know why. Sure, he's my favourite aside from Spock and Kirk, but why do I never dream as either of those two?

If I were to play psychoanalysts I could claim it's because Bones is strong, and though he has many responsibilities as the senior medical officer, he's not constantly called upon. More often than not he ends up hanging around on the bridge because he doesn't seem to have much else to do. He's Jim Kirk's best friend and a sarcastic little shit, but I adore him. 

Moony and I got Kirk and Spock uniforms (sort of for Pride, mostly because cosplaying is the best thing) and we both know I'm Spock, but I feel if Bones and Spock were thrown into those pods like the The Fly, I would happen.

I'd love to keep this post going, but I think I'm going to split it. So part two is all about my adventures to Brighton which you obviously already know since I'm about to post it and it's going to show up before this one.

Starfleet Academy (A Mighty Longing)

I said a while back that I was beginning to appreciate the lives of Sam and Dean Winchester.

Well, like that, I've started to have the same feelings towards Starfleet Academy.

Sure, we don't know a hell of a lot about what goes on in Starfleet, but I know I want to be there. I still have another week off school, and I love that, but then I'm going back. Then I have to put up with Media (possibly for a whole year if Critical Thinking doesn't pull through) and things will start to suck again. But imagine what you'd learn at Starfleet. Depending on the course, you could study languages of species we regularly interact with like Uhura does, or go down the logical path like Mr Spock and learn about how the ships navigate through space. Or how they work in the hull, like Scotty. Or just plain multispecies medicine like Bones.

A few times, we've seen kid geniuses fresh to/from the Academy. Most notable are Wesley Crusher and the lovely Pavel Chekov.

Wesley Crusher is one of my favourites.

Moony knows how I feel about Chekov already.

In the 2009 reboot, we see James Tiberius Kirk and his friend Leonard (Bones) McCoy outside one of the main Academy buildings.

And although it isn't much, everyone looks like they know where they're going. And of course, they're going to space. It takes Kirk 3 years to become Captain of the Enterprise, and Bones is chief of medicine, and they rock it perfectly.

You know when you're a kid, and after you've been reading about Hogwarts for a while you realise how stunningly boring your muggle school is? It feels like that. I want to go into space. I want to boldly go where no-one has gone before on a five year voyage in the Enterprise.

I want to work on the Bridge every day, or in Engineering, or the medical bay. Or Ten Forward, the bar in Next Generation.

Geordie is in the middle sat alone. Poor Geordie.

My point is, I suddenly have a desperate urge to be studying at Starfleet academy. I know it's pointless, and I have more chance at Hogwarts, but space has always fascinated me. And if I could ever get to here:

This pretty much sums up Bones' and Kirk's relationship in one frame.

Well, I'd be very happy. Why does Kirk always sit like that Spock isn't even in direct line.