Parental Guidance - and Mark Gatiss appreciation

In my Critical Thinking (which starts tomorrow) we have to bring in an article showing persuasive text. So, instantly, I remembered there is a double page spread on exactly that every month in Doctor Who Magazine. It is literally perfect for the assignment criteria and I don't really have any other magazines that can fit the bill better than this.

I mentioned it happily to my parents, and was greeted with 'just an idea, but this time try not to make every assignment and essay about Sherlock Holmes or Doctor Who.' I got this speech a few years ago when I was told to make a leaflet about something of interest to try to inform other people, and chose Doctor Who, since I'm very well informed and others are not. I did one leaflet on it, in year eight. That's pretty much it.

  Apparently my primary school teachers had told me the same - or more, my parents, that everything I did was Apocalypse, Doctor Who or Zombies. It was year six. What other things were there? Were they expecting boy bands and make up?
 The point is that in my primary school, I don't ever remember being told that, or doing any of that. No one I knew liked Doctor Who. My parents didn't listen. I had no phone, no outside source. Of course my work would be about what I love, because no one but the blank page would listen to me.
  To add to this, the first thing I thought of was Mark Gatiss. This is him.

 Isn't he wonderful. He is my idol and everything I want to be when I get around to growing up. Or at least being an adult. It was through a signing with him that I met my fantastic understanding partner. I owe him everything. He was obsessed with Hammer Horror as a child, and everything he did in school was a horror story. He had the task 'a day at the beach' or some such thing, and made the family/kid in his story find a severed head in a bucket because that was what interested him. Not severed heads, horror. And he has gone on to be magnificent. He has been involved with and worked on everything he could have wanted. Sherlock, Horror in many forms, James Bond, Doctor Who. Literally everything. Actor, writer (including one instance of gay erotica), scriptwriter, idol.
  So if he can center all his school work around one subject, why the hell can't I?


I was also told that my brother's girlfriend is the nicest he's had, and I should feel lucky she's in my sixth form in the year above because if I need to talk to anyone about directions or anything, she'll be there.
  If I want to talk to anyone in the year above about directions I'll ask ex boyfriend and all around awesome guy Max. We parted on good terms, there's no tension and he's just generally brilliant. Not a girl who stressed out my brother to the point of him breaking his non smoking rule, cries and refuses to say why, thus destroying the point of crying to get comfort, and most importantly to me, has sex with him next door beyond a thin wooden wall. I can't do that. I'm distressed enough that I have to put up with that at night, with her always hanging around. I'm not befriending her.
 Really, in so many ways, we're not cut out for friendship. I don't like that my brother's girlfriend is in my school. My parents just can't understand that. They still don't understand my discomfort with sex. Sure, I know it, know how it works. Doesn't mean I'm ready to be nice to someone who does it with my brother.

So to sum up, lots of small things have built up and I'm left in a state of not quite knowing how to feel any more. Let's hope it's better tomorrow for school. 

The Return Of The Grandparents

As  the title suggests, my grandparents visited today. They're the only relatives living in Britain that visit and that we really keep in contact with. But they're from my mum's side and me and my dad aren't that keen on them. Dad, luckily, gets to hide in his man cave, because there aren't enough seats for everyone downstairs, but I have no choice.

Regular questions I get every time they visit usually include whether or not I have a boyfriend yet. I always tell them no, of course not. Happened twice.

Instance number one.
'Who are you texting?'
'My friend.'
'Girl or boy?' Knowing smile.
'Girl. Her name is Sophie. She's a friend.'
'Not a boy?'
'No.'
'No boyfriend?'
Laughter. 'No. God, no. I'm not doing that.'

Instance number two.
Mindless talking '-when I meet with Emmett next week'
'Who's Emmett?'
'Friend in Dorchester.'
'Male friend?'
'Grandad, Emmett is the campest person I know. He's fabulously gay and definately not my type, nor am I his. The only two boys in my life are gay.'

I also mentioned where I plan to get a job, and my bro interjected with 'That's a gay club!' I know it is. It's also a cafe in the day. 'But it's a gay bar!' Yes, it is. I'm aware. In honesty, it's why I'm asking to work there. I feel comfortable around gay people. They don't expect anything of me, I can be myself (not completely of course. Not unless I know them very well) and I find camp people are very calming people to be around.

It's always rather stressful when they visit. Full of things that are expected of me and bloody repeated questions. Everyone was insisting I frame my 'basic first aid' certificate and hang it up. I have nowhere to hang such a thing, and if I did, I would hang up my signed Colin Baker photograph. That's much more important than a certificate. I'm not going into nursing, my partner is, so why would I need to hang it up?

We watched my brother's christening, and I couldn't help but think back to a conversation me and my partner had not days ago about our son, when he is adopted eventually, being christened. Well, more a strong agreement that it will not be happening. Churches go completely about everything we are and love. The idea of going into a church for our son to be christened is disturbing. If the priest knew who I am, what I am, and how strongly we both adore and support the gay community, he'd probably have a fit.
  Although my brother was christened, I wasn't. My grandmother was the one who enforced it anyway, and for some unknown reason, despite him being the most troublesome, he's always been the favourite of hers. She's rather stuck in the old ways, believing women should know there place etc; and through disliking that that applies to me, I can't stand that way of thinking.

I think these two people will be the ones I'll have difficulty convincing that I'm Trans*. After my parents that are apparently convinced it doesn't exist.

Oh, in better news, my partner's friend is training to be a tailor, and offered to make my suit when we get around to our wedding. Awesome!!!