October plans.

For the past few years, I've made a valiant effort, or considered, doing NaNoWriMo or Script Frenzy.

The main goal is either 50,000 words in a month or 100 pages of Script respectively, usually in November/August or April.

This year, I won't be able to take part in National Novel Writing Month due to coursework and all those 17-year old problems relating to school and stress. But my best friend wants to write his novel, and he doesn't know if he'll have too much time with work and sleeping in November.

The whole point of writing in November, usually, is to create a feeling that there are thousands doing this, and it isn't just you struggling through the daily word count. You get pep talks, you can talk to other people and join forums.

But Ivan didn't really get to the word count last year because of various reasons, and that's obviously fine. The main thing that kept him going was that I was powering through, too. Now, I really want to read this story he has planned this year, and he wants to do it in October so he's still psyched for it and has the enthusiasm, so I've made a compromise.

Each day in October, I'm going to write a blog post on here. They'll never be as long as the NaNo daily count (1667 or something, in November) but they'll be there. This'll work as a form of encouragement because at least I'm still writing.

I really think this could be good idea, not just because I really want to read about a Chess/Star Trek Mirror!Verse crossover.

Writing on my blog is a kind of therapeutic, since I haven't spoken to my therapist in several months and this doesn't cost me money I can barely get together. It seems like a good practice to write on here every day. Even if it's just a few lines about how my coursework is doing. Though all things considered, I have a couple of themed posts I'd like a reason to work on.

So this is my sign that I want to do this, I want to do something productive that isn't totally pressing and important, and I want to read that fic, Ivan. This is my sign that will hopefully get me to do it because now it's out there, and I don't want to look like an idiot by not finishing what I start.

I have 99 problems and right now Literature is a lot of them.

I have an exam tomorrow in Literature and I'm scared. I'm scared because sure, I know how to get the grades now, but I don't know how to learn the quotes. I need to be able to cover a lot of themes but I'll only end up using one. I need to write efficiently about Carol Ann Duffy poems so I need to know the poems well enough to look at the blank copy on my desk and work from it. I got a C and a D in the two halves of my mock, and my mate says you always do better in the real thing, but I'm still wary.

I've hardly eaten my dinner because I'm not hungry, I've watched Peter Pan Return To Neverland, drawn me and my mate Ivan as Lost Boys, and listened to most of Hank Green's music since I got home at 1pm, and revised a bit, but I should have spent it all revising. I also planned Ivan's birthday/whatever present, but he isn't allowed to know what it is and I don't know if he ever sees this page.

The problem is that I feel helpless whenever I do because I realise how much there is to know.

But this time tomorrow no more Literature AS level. So that's something.

And Supernatural is to be watched as soon as Moony gets home again, since we always watch together. I can't go on tumblr until I watch it. It's the finale, and I'm not entirely sure I'm ready for the emotional onslaught I'll undoubtedly get, but I'd rather have pain from characters than my actual life.

It's evaluation time!

Not much has happened recently, and yet so much has. I suppose only so much can to a kid who's still stuck in education with parents to tie him down.

But I've begun to notice a few things, found triggers that I can work to avoid, and discovered that my parents really don't know me, and I don't know them.

I've found a new friend, to start. His name is Ivan, and he lives in America, which sadly means that with work, he doesn't get home until 4pm, which is 9pm over here. Once the clocks go forward, it won't be until 10, meaning we only get a few hours each night apart from Fridays and days off. But he's probably one of my best finds when it comes to understandings and an ally. Not counting my partner, of course, who will forever be my number one, like Commander Riker is on the USS Enterprise for Captain Picard.
   Ivan's been a great help to me, providing extra backup and just somebody to vent to about Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran from Sherlock, if nothing else. I've been in contact with him for months and it's nice to finally get to a point where we can talk to each other properly.

Everything seems to be building recently. Slowly, bit by bit, I'm losing my patience for humanity. Not in any ways directly linked to my 'issues' but just everything. Why, even just now my dad drilled into me again about having milk in my earl grey, and I nearly snapped at him, saying I'll drink it how I like. It's never anything major, just me interpreting things badly more often than not.

I've not been sleeping enough, either. I mostly put it down to Ivan and our stupid time differences, but it's also just that I can't get to sleep even when I try to. My thoughts are too loud. In school, usually in Critical Thinking, I nearly faded out most days. Everything would become difficult to focus on, my eyes would become heavy, words kept shaking on the page and trying to shift and unfocus on them made it worse. But as soon as I close my eyes all I can think about is all the shit that's going on. All the things I can't do yet because I'm not old enough.

Recently I've taken to the notion that when I get to University, I won't have to go through my parents for anything, so I can be 'me' wherever I choose to go. I'll be able to change my name. They won't even have to know about it, which seems selfish, mean, against everything I'd ever thought I'd do, but might be all I can do. I might have to change my name, otherwise Uni will address me by my given name. By then I'll have a binder, I'll hopefully have settled for a way of being that suits me. I'll undoubtedly be a very camp man, but what can you do about that? Not that there is anything to do. I don't want to be butch anyway. I'll get a new haircut to start me off, so people don't misgender me and get to know what to refer to me as before anybody gets confused, I'll wear tight shirts so people can see that I'm a bloke. I'll have to get my own room, probably, but hopefully in shared accommodation. That said, by then my certificate might say that I'm a man anyway, so it won't matter so much if I'm put in shared with all guys or all girls only.
  The only downside will be people finding out. I don't have a facebook, so there is no way people could know that way, but what if somebody there knew me when I was female. Or if it just gets out. I've already said I'm accepting of the fact that eventually I'm going to get bullied in some way or another, but I'm not sure how soon I'm willing to have to face it. I won't be able to tell anyone, but maybe I can book an appointment with the psychologist there or something, if I need to.

I know it's all just under two years away, but once I got this into my head, the possibility of being myself in my own country is amazing. To Ivan, and everybody he mentions me to, I'm Lorcan. In Sweden, my partner, her family and friends, they all know me by that, too. They knew me before I admitted it to myself too, so my gratitude to them is very high. But my own country... That's something entirely different. To be me, in person. To be spoken to properly, with correct pronouns.

The first time I tried to tell my parents, two years ago, they sort of steered me around it, saying I was too young. I was 14, granted, but my best friend knew he was gay when he was 11, and John Barrowman always knew he was. So did Mark Gatiss, apart from one afternoon of uncertainty. I was told to stop it all, to come back in a few years, and if I still felt the same, they'd talk it through with me. So I did, in August. Sat them down, started it with 'well it hasn't gone away'. But I just got the same thing. I've been treated like I'm making it up. They even went so far as to suggest that it isn't real. I bet people assumed homosexuality wasn't real to stay with. To suggest a way of life isn't real has to be the most insulting thing I'll ever hear, so surely the worst has passed. Anything else I have to take will be easy... hopefully. Either way, in two years time, I'm doing it again. I've gone from meekly running back into the closet, going back grudgingly, and this time I'm just not going back. No way. Four years will have been too much and I'll be an adult. I don't need their consent, but it would be nice to have their understanding.

Now, triggers. I've come to notice that it's mostly when I'm brushing my teeth. I don't actually know why, but I'm putting it down - judging by how I can always replay sentences I was thrown and a bitter anger that settled over me - to the fact that I must have thought over that conversation that night. While I brushed my teeth. It hits every single night but I've started trying to intently think about something else.

I've found a way to combat everything, though. I'm not sure if it will work or not, but I can hope.
It's a set of meditation methods from a blog I mentioned before, here. The plan is, whenever I'm feeling stressed, dysphoric, out of sync with the world, in need of some down time, I can use any of these techniques. Some work so that you can calm down while in public where meditation isn't possible, and they obviously work for anybody, not just Trans* or queer folk.

I've spent the entire day typing this entry, on an off. I think it's about time it was posted.