Dancing at the dawn of Armageddon part 1

First things first I have not made any updates for a few days as things have not been terribly well in the world of Jessica L so todays and tomorrows post will be a two part countdown of my top ten favorite albums of all time. I wanted something happy for me to write, something that might take my mind off of things.

10. Lordi-The Monsterican Dream

Release date: 2004

Genre: Hard rock/shock rock

I was first planning on placing this album higher on the list as it is an album I listen to quite frequently and I enjoy it immensely but sadly I am trying to not only share with you a few stories about why they mean so much to me but also to give a slight critical evaluation. Looking at the other albums on this list I felt that as fun as this album is the musicianship just isn’t as good as the others nor is the music as original. Lordi are a band that follows in roughly the same tradition as Kiss and Alice Cooper but with more of a modern edge and heavy metal stylings, image wise they also have monster costumes that gets them compared to GWAR *unfairly in my opinion* This is there second album and is lyrically darker to what came before and has come since, song titles such as “Blood Red Sandman” and “Children of the Night” should give you an idea of what you are in for. The music is much heavier and quite similar to Rob Zombie’s debut album “Hellbilly Deluxe” the guitars are tuned down low and all the songs have guitar solos set to an industrial-esque drumbeat.

This album does however have some flaws, Mr Lordi is not exactly the best or strongest singer and I feel a few of the songs are lyrically quite weak and could have been taken off to make the album stronger if fairly short. But I have fond memories of this album, when I went down to my GFs house for the first time I listened to this album on repeat so for me this album represents that wonderous day.

9. Five Iron Frenzy-Our Newest Album Ever

Release date: 1997

Genre: Christian Ska

There is often a certain stigma attached to a band when they label themselves as being “Christian” but in my opinion this band are so good and lyrically quite fantastic that I have read a lot of comments from fans saying they do not feel the need to be Christian to enjoy the bands music. Musically they set themselves apart from other “third wave ska bands” by incorporating other musical elements *to varying degrees of success* lyrically they often address problems and contradictions within the Christian religion, the plight of Native Americans, life in an underground band warts and all, and oddly a song about how great it is living in Canada *they make it sound so brilliant* being a somewhat Christian *I am transgender after all* the lyrics speak to me, how unafraid they are to point out faults and flaws within their own faith and that each of their albums have a handful of non-religious songs that are just damn good ska. Doug TenNapel *created Earthworm Jim and wrote and drew the comic mini series Gear* did the artwork for many of the bands albums including this one.

8. Black Grape-Its Great When Your Straight….. Yeah!

Release date: 1995

Genre: Experimental dance/Britpop

What can really be said  about a band who names themselves after their favorite flavor of fizzy pop? Formed by Shaun William Ryder after his previous band The Happy Mondays pretty much imploded in on themselves Black Grape was a duo with himself and British rapper Kermit performing cutting edge dance music infused with Britpop and acid house stylings. Lyrics that were often written freestyle in the studio and taking a tongue in cheek look at their drug use and career lows, this was an album that didn’t even have a British company backing them due to their reputations at the time, an album that everyone expected to fail and then took them back to the top of the charts the moment it was released. There is very little I can say about this album, it’s the perfect party record, manic, full of energy and is in the humble writers opinion the type of music people should still be sweating on the dance floor in clubs. Put it on at any boring party and it will be lively in no time.

7. Oingo Boingo-Dark At The End Of The Tunnel

Release date: 1990

Genre: alternative rock/new wave

Fronted by Danny Elfman who is now known as a film composer, primarily for Tim Burton, Oingo Boingo burst on to the scene in the 70s as an avante garde musical theatre troupe playing… Anything they felt like at the time, before trimming down its 20-strong member list and switching gears to performing manic new wave music with heavy political and socially conscious lyrics as well as singing about how great it is to die and other equally cheerful lyrics all sang with such gusto and enthusiasm by Elfman who is such an amazing singer with great range its sad that he barely ever sings at all anymore. Who doesn’t melt when they watch Nightmare Before Christmas and hear Jack sing? Over their career Elfman’s lofty ambitions were becoming apparent as the music became more subdued and orchestral, the horns were fazed out and Elfman started singing in a lower register addressing much more personal themes such as his divorce and this album contains a beautiful, haunting song about suicide “Out of Control” that I challenge anyone who has been low not to tear up at it. Its not totally recognizable as the group that brought you “Dead Mans Party” or the theme to Weird Science but all great bands change over time and whenever I am low or feel I’m the only one awake at 3am I stick this on.

6. Joydrop-Metasexual

Release date: 1999

Genre: post grunge/rock

Sadly breaking up after making only two albums Joydrop were a band that has been all but forgotten except for known as “ the band that made that Beautiful song that plays over the end credits of Ginger Snaps”  a sad fate considering those two albums are perfect slices of post-grunge, angsty, achingly melodic and sometimes quite beautiful music. Fronted by Tara Strong who made a fairly decent solo album after Joydrop broke up, her voice isn’t the strongest in rock but it is more than capable for what is required here and she veers away from the trappings of most female rock singers by keeping her voice in lower registers and not shrieking like a banshee when proclaiming to be sad and hopeless *I’m looking at you female fronted metal bands* Most people even at its time of release brought this purely for “Beautiful” but its not even my favourite song on the album, with such cuts as “Over and Under” a hard rock track that shows off how competent the band were at playing their instruments without slipping in to pretend metal mode and makes feel great sadness that they didn’t make a third album as they would probably have done some fantastic blues infused rock music *I.E. LA Woman era Doors* or the psychedelic tinged “Strawberry Marigold* a beautiful ode to a relationship with heartbreaking lyrics. I recently got a friend of mine in to Joydrop a few days ago and when looking on YouTube for more songs to recommend to her by them was in disbelief that so few of their songs are even there. For a band with a small back catalogue that is to me a crime. Their Wikipedia page is bare and their albums for those of us outside of America are hard to come by but for anyone who does they will find a brilliant rock band. Nothing more, nothing less just damn good rock music with superb and original lyrics. Maybe I love them so much because in my younger teens I discovered this band and was only ever able to find a few songs by them and played them endlessly wondering if their albums were just as good, it was only last year that my parents surprised me with both of them, it was such a wonderful, happy moment for me to say I at long last own Joydrop’s two albums on CD, I couldn’t even find them for download on the internet so that Christmas I finally got to find out that yes, they are just as good as the singles.   

Better dumb and happy than smart and without any friends

I know I’m putting up another blog post today but I realized at my GFs that I didn’t put enough before I went to compensate for the time I was gone and I have found that I truly enjoy blogging, the thought that there are people out there reading my words, hopefully enjoying them is just plain bliss to me. And with so much going on in my life at the minute and what has happened to me in my past, well, it helps me to get all of that out. To see everyone commenting on each others blogs, giving each other advice, feels like one big family almost.

Anywhoo, on with todays show! I have spoken here previously about not having the best at school , lets be honest it was Hell for me, but their was one moment in Primary School where if I had made a different choice my life probably would have gone off in a completely different direction. Its something I often think on these days, how with the smallest of events my whole life would so different, I might not even be blogging to you now. I may not have even met H, that to me is pretty frightening, because as much as I may gripe and everything on my plate right now I like my life, and have tremendous hope for my future.

What happened *or nearly happened* is this; when I was around seven or eight, before the bullying got so bad that I shut down and stopped working my test scores were apparently very high and the teachers were noticing my grammar and vocabulary were higher than what is normal for someone my age so they called in some specialists who work with “gifted children” to test me and find out if I reall do have the mutant gene, if so I would be sent off to a special school with some creepy bald guy to “work with me” well sadly it was a little to that but these people came in to the school to make me do some boring tests that I had to do when my friends were outside playing. Seven year old me was not best pleased and thought the guy who was making me do the tests smelled funny.

So I did some tests and they got my scores back a few days later and they were getting excited because apparently I possessed a genius IQ, which I found odd because all I cared about was Digimon and when would Ash finally get to the Pokemon League? Anyway they offered me a place at this school for gifted children, which horrified me to tell you the truth, gifted children? To me it sounded like some insufferable bunch of posh kids with rich parents who sit around all day telling jokes in Latin and debating who has the most designer clothes. Kids who would eventually grow old and fat and sit around listening to classical music on some decrepit old record player in the halls of a uni filled with even more posh, rich people *oddly enough I now love classical music and want to go to uni :P* their was no way in Hell or Valhalla I was going to one of those places. In my mind I was already different enough without being made to go to some school for nerds, the whole idea seemed awful, why make a child like me stand out even more? I was already wondering what would the kids on my street say or do! I promptly to the horror of everyone involved turned it down and asked them to never mention it again.

I didn’t think that maybe it would be a better environment for me where I may not be bullied as much or the staff might be able to deal with my problems and get them sorted. No, to my young mind it was even worse than anything I had experienced at my school. But what scares me is that for a few moments I was considering it, if I had I would never have had all the experiences that made me who I am today. I never would have gone to the school where I met Mark and met one of the best friends I ever had, despite everything I have gone through making a lifelong friend like him was worth everything bad that happened. I certainly wouldn’t have met my wonderful GF, who through loving me has allowed me to love myself. I may have had, in some ways a better life, but certainly not one as rich and varied as what I went on to have. And that to me is better, a life without a little pain and loss is not one well lived, its barely a life at all if you ask me. If I had taken that offer I wouldn’t be me, I would be someone else looking back asking a completely different set of question, with different hopes and fears wondering what might have happened had I not accepted that schools offer, well I can say now with the upmost sincerity if I hadn’t gone to that school I would have had in many ways a wonderful and full life, I know because I am so happy to have lived such a life.

Now I’m wondering if anyone has had any experiences that they feel if they had gone differently would have had such a dramatic impact on their lives?

Consistently failing at life's most simple of tasks

Please allow me to make a little confession today; common sense is not a virtue that has been so heavily bestowed upon your humble narrator. The everyday skills required to live a trouble free existence do not come so easily to me, and as such the task of travelling across the country to see my dear GF is one that is both daunting and troublesome all at once.

The cost of the ticket is quite steep, well being honest it is vertical, so when I finally get that ticket in my hand I know I should cling on to it for dear life but I am very forgetful and regretfully must admit to having lost it more than once. But last week it seemed as if all of Heaven’s forces were working together to make the act of merely going back home one of the most painfully excruciating tasks possible. Or that I was just more scatty than usual.  But I prefer the flowery way I put it.

So I bought my return ticket and it all seemed wonderful, I was going to see her and it would be lovely, wondrous and everything it always is. Until three days before I am due to return home and she asked me if my ticket, of course I have! Am I the kind of person who would ever lose something as expensive as that? Going to my coat pocket where I know it has been the entirety of my time down there I expect to proudly retrieve it, because I am the new Jessica, the Jessica who does not lose things as important as my return ticket home…… And it isn’t there. Nope, gone, not even a trace of it. And I have no money left over to get home, certainly not the stupid amount for a ticket home. So we turn the house upside down, check her fathers car where it may have fallen out and it isn’t there. So with nothing else to do as without a ticket or money to get one I would be stranded there *not something I would lose sleep over apart from the fact I have to go back to college* I rang my parents. I really did not want to, things are not exactly great between us at the minute but I really had no other choice. Ringing my mother as she is the one I would say I am closest to and not as prone as the others to give me the whole “God” speech every two minutes about my life. Telling her what has happened I can hear my brother and father laughing in the background about my situation and telling me I am stuck there now. My mother too scared to say anything with them there says I have got nothing else to do and must ask my GF for the money or sell some of my stuff. Horrified when I start reading a list of my stuff my mother can sell for me my GF jumps in and offers to lend me the money upset that my family would let me sell my stuff rather than lend me money.

So the next day we go to the city center and get the money, then head on over to the coach station. Only to find the damn thing shut! Feeling a little despondent, me especially after walking round shops and seeing all the nice things I cannot buy, we move through crowds of shoppers in post-Christmas madness scrambling to get as much in the sales as they can, pretty much all useless stuff they will give to family members next Christmas that they despise. Well it seems in the fray something must have happened because when we get to the bus station my GF asks me to show her the money to make sure its still there and to my horror its gone! Everything else in the pockets of my Victorian frock coat are still there, I mean these are not small pockets I can reach down almost up to my elbows, just the money is gone.

The next day I get more money *that yes I will pay back* from my GF and I head off to town myself to get the ticket. I was sure this time I would get a ticket, everything would go smoothly, it had to as today I checked beforehand that the bus station was open. Unfortunately life cannot resist kicking me down as when I was standing waiting for my bus in to town and lovely and oh so literate man feels the need to lean out of his van window and shout a horribly disgusting transphobic slur at me. Beautiful, just simply beautiful, his argument was so concise and spot on as to why I should throw myself under a bus because of what I am….

Moving on past that ugly scene I get to the coach station and the woman behind the counter tells me its 60p more than I have on me! Its at that point that most people I feel would break down, cry, and climb the nearest bell tower and start picking people off. But hey, ive got no time for that, I have exams coming up and I am sure you will see me on the news for some similar rampage due to exam stress. My wonderful GF *I mean the fact she puts up with all of this really shows how wonderful she is* tells me she will head in to town to bring me 60 GODDAMN PENCE! While I am waiting a rain storm starts so I’m stood in my lovely designer coat huddled in to a corner trying to stay warm for over 40min and possibly looking like I’m about to run out and steal someone’s kid.

But thankfully we got the ticket that time and I don’t even want to think of how much I owe my GF and not to mention that when she makes me listen to her music I cannot make one joke for at least the next ten years. Such fun.

Welcome back to Andalucia

Just making a quick post to let everyone know that I neither dead nor was I arrested for a string of public nudity charges that advancements in thong DNA analysing have made possible to convict me for. I have returned from seeing my beloved GF her wonderful city who I already miss dearly. After travelling from around eight this morning to mid afternoon I am back in the place where even the denisens of Silent Hill and Twin Peaks would turn up their noses and call us lower class scum and wind the windows up on their cars as they drive through all one mile of my village.
Tomorrow I should have up a few posts that are longer and more substantial than this one but I could not resist typing up something quickly as I have been deprived of my cutey, pink laptop for too long now and the white page on the screen is mocking me for not creating anything.
I thought why not do a New Years post? Everyone else has and it doesn't take much thought which after so long on a coach listening to children scream and people scream at their better half's is not something I am apt to doing right now!

So what has happened this year? Well, a lot actually, it has been one of the most blissful, wonderful and painful years of my life, whereupon I have grown emotionally and mentally and lost and won many friendships. A few I hope will come back in to my life as I miss them so terribly. I have come out the closet after many painful years in the wilderness, me and my GF celebrated four wonderful years together. Though with my coming out it really felt like the first proper one as we were together as we should be, no lies or mask upon my part and when I received my card and saw the differences in names upon it I burst in to tears, such a cherished moment, I am sure my kids will love screaming at me as I tell them the story over and over again.

I am currently finishing my A-Levels and have applied to university, I am also looking at flats near my GF and hope to get accepted in to the university where she lives. I am in gender therapy and hope this year to be starting HRT which means that like it or not mine and my families differences must be worked out despite how apprehensive they are at talking about it.

So yes last year it seems has set up a lot of things for my life that shall hopefully come to fruition this year, it all seems very exciting and full of change and hope for a better life. Such a shame that this year our Lord Cthulhu shall finally awaken from his slumber to kill us all, I was hoping to see what I get for Christmas this year....

The great and secret show

Okay this post is all about Lucid Dreaming and my experiences with Sleep Paralysis, I decided to do this after Fang mentioned on his blog is interest in Lucid Dreaming and when he asked me in the comment section of his blog about Sleep Paralysis. Now I was going to ask him about it but thought it would be more interesting and I could explain more with a full length blog post.

I cannot in the space of one blog post explain all about Lucid Dreaming but I will simply say it is the act of entering your dreams fully conscious and being able to control them. Many people, such as your humble narrator, experience them with alarming regularity, then others have great trouble entering a “lucid state” altogether.

The first time it happened to me I was not intending to Lucid Dream at all, in fact I did not even know what was happening at all. I shall share this story with you all know; I awoke in my bedroom, feeling hazy and more than a little disorientated, sitting up I looked around, nothing in my bedroom was out of place whatsoever; my wallpaper still the deep shame of blood red, the stone, lion bust above my bed glaring out around the room as a King casting a judgmental eye over his kingdom. My oil lamps either side of my black, ornate bookcase illuminating the works of the Victorian greats. Getting out of bed I feel like I am walking through syrup, my head still muddy with a rush not unlike passion, like I am falling endlessly through silk sheets. Moving over to my book case I pull out a copy of The Divine Pantomime, flicking through the pages it is filled with half-finished sentences, jumbled words and phrases, nothing at all makes sense to me. Exiting my room I catch a glance at the bronze clock above my door it is set to 5 30am but turning around to look out my black curtains I notice it is broad daylight, my watch too is at a different time, 2 45pm. Outside the room my landing is exactly as it always is, suddenly it all makes sense, I am in a dream, I am literally in my own dreamscape. Wondering of all the possibilities that are in front of me, lifting up my hand I start to imagine white hot fire bursting forth from the palms of my hand and to my amazement it appears just like, I feel positively like Prometheus. With another slight gesture of will I am far away and standing alone in a forest, the early morning sun shining through the canopy of trees. Walking in to the distance I can hear and feel the crunch of twigs beneath my feet, the distance sounds of parrots singing in the tree branches, smiling to myself I feel at such peace, alone my solitude, my life in the real world a distant memory, I can just live in this solitary bliss for an eternity. Sadly shortly afterwards I can feel myself being pulled away back to my cold, grey reality.

With these experiences and many others I can see why people would strive for Lucid Dreaming, it is a truly intoxicating experience. Well here are my tips and tricks for gaining a lucid state.

1.       Stay awake for as long as possible, the more tired you are the better, preferably stay awake until around 2-3am.

2.       When you go to sleep, lie on your back *this is very important* and begin to daydream, keep your mind occupied, try everything you can to stay awake and focus upon this daydream.

3.       The secret to Lucid Dreaming is that you stop at the stage of REM sleep before the final one, a part of your brain is still conscious; this is why you can control the dream, because you are conscious, you are you in a dreamworld.

4.       As you drift off keep the dream in your mind and should see actually be in that dream, but able to control it.

Now on to Sleep Paralysis, no one yet knows exactly what causes Sleep Paralysis or even really what it is exactly. But what happens to me is this; I awake, usually in the middle of the night, and can feel my entire body slowly becoming paralyzed, as if someone is filling my veins with ice, I feel cold all over, my body completely immoveable and often stinging with a burning, white hot pain. Sometimes my eyes are open and I can see the room shrouded in darkness, but sometimes, I see the door opening, a tall, thin, black figure approaches, when he reaches the bed I black out and awake in the morning. If I am conscious long enough I feel a pressing down upon my chest, African’s used to call Sleep Paralysis “the witch riding your back” they used to believe that in the night a witch would come to sit upon your chest and cast curses on your soul. Now because many sufferers have had the same experience of seeing tall, thin creatures during episodes of Sleep Paralysis people often believe that it is actually alien abduction. My brother has suffered with it too and has claimed to see these creatures and more than once says before blacking out he saw a great flash of light filling his room!

Well if I ramble on much more I may sound crazy LOL so what are your thoughts upon this? I do hope I have helped Fang or at least provided something interest for him to read.

Constantinople *a short story piece by me*

Awakening slowly with fractured images of muddled dreams still lingering in the back of my mind I lay on the cool grass for a few precious minutes, my eyes closed to the world, keeping the wondrous majesties of my Dreamscape alive.

"I don't want to leave.. Can it not be so that I stay here forever and a day?" Dancing lights of neon colours twirl and prance with boundless abandon behind my eyelids, strikes of purples and gold’s bring light to the darkness as I plead to some unknown force to take me back to my Dreamscape, to my most secret place. My place where I can once more walk in endless grassy fields, sparkling blankets of morning dew protecting nature from the icy touch of a winter’s sun. And yet the bright light of early dawn creates almost a living symphony of Ice Fairies from the morning dew, I stand still for a moment, watching the Fairies dance above daffodils and prance between rose thorns. The soft voices of my most dearest of friends; Barker and Fawn call to me from beneath the Hollow, the sounds of their voices intermingling through the perfume scented air wakes me from my trance.

We walk away from the fields, passing beyond the Hollow and in to the woods beyond, leaving behind the calm, tranquil turquoise skies for an altogether cozier, more personal stage. Walking in between rows of trees I turned my head skyward and saw the branches coiled together in a passionate, almost sexual embrace. They appeared as though desperate to interlock with the opposite trees branches, in the dim light that could shine through the canopy they took upon almost malformed human shapes, my raced with images of amorphous, humanoids engaged in acts of passion, the sunlight illuminating their unholy, concubine acts. Down upon the ground our feet make an odd crescendo of crunching noises, over branches and fallen trees we make our way home, to our “motherland” where our ancestors blood is as much a part of the earth as any legacy of some long lost God, some ruins of an ancient civilization sleeping in the dirt between skeletal remains forever frozen in the throes of death, their final moments preserved below for any voyeur with a shovel to unearth.

Along the way we spoke of many things, oh how we could talk on endlessly whenever chance would have it that we were together at once! We brought the world to rights between us, three friends walking a well-trodden path bringing up subjects ranging from the government of our day, trouble within the upper echelons of the church and this new art just beginning to gain prominence that Barker told me was being dubbed “Romantic” quite a name I thought for a style that sounded to my ears devoid of any heart or love and so self-involved with personal tragedy, an “existential crisis on canvas for public viewing” I decried it. Still I shall see how it fares, but of course when the majority of its creators sound like; pompous, rich boys so busy with pretense and image and the majority of critics are no different than I can imagine it will do quite well.

At noon we had passed beyond the woods and stood upon a cliffs edge looking out over my home, my motherland, my Dreamscape. The City of Constantinople, the city of the living, life teems within every inch of its buildings, corner, markets, libraries and universities. Everywhere you look you shall nothing less than the absolute, purest celebration of the human soul.

I stood perfectly still for a moment, my eyes never wavering from the sight that forever holds pride of place in my heart. Tears started to roll down my cheeks, blood rushed to my head making me appear flushed, I could not no matter how hard I tried contain this emotion within me. This eternal fear that I shall not know whence I can return to my home, when I can walk through her crowded streets, life all around me, people of every race, creed and persuasion singing, filling the air with so many dialects it is positively dizzying. To walk through the market is to see food and wine importing from every country in all the world, you can watch as fearless sailors unload cargo behind stalls, see the venders place foods the likes of which I can imagine the Gods and Goddess’ themselves feast upon at banquets, the air becomes scented with such wondrous smells I could close my eyes and be content to stand there all day. Truly Constantinople is such a perfect place, her embrace around my heart is greater than that of any love, more passionate than any words to be found in a trite poem professing of love, the sight of her temples make me more alive with white heat than the sight of any flesh ever could.

All of this I did not know when I could possibly see again, I prayed silently to whatever God above commanded the power of dreams. Who was it that held the power to send me to sleep forever and carry me to my paradise, a place thousands of years ago, a place my mortal eyes have never seen, but of what importance is that? This world is real to me, that grey, concrete prison never was my reality, I defied it years ago! Here was where I belonged where I could be truly alive.

“Oh please Lord, please take me back to my precious Constantinople” And with that quiet plea I opened my eyes and found myself laying on my backgarden.

I'm going to a town that has already been burnt down

I wasn’t terribly old when I came out the closet, I was about 13-14 when I started coming out to people, as a side note I am not sure anyone ever is “out” in the complete sense. How can anyone be? Growing up every time I met someone they would assume I was straight, we would be getting to know each other and they would ask me some variation upon “so I bet you chase the girls around don’t you?” these days my girlfriend is constantly asked who her boyfriend is, no one ever says “so do you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend?” The point I am trying to make is this; no one will ever be completely out as every time you meet someone your sexuality will come up at some point, even if it isn’t an issue for them it will still come up when you discuss your relationship.

But what about when someone has not come out by their middle age? It was a month or two before I went to college that I had the deep misfortune of meeting someone who was evidently in the closet late in his life. Now I believe that everyone should come out of the closet, the more of his out and proud the better as far as I am concerned but I respect that not everyone has the circumstances where they feel comfortable or even safe coming out. But when you are in the closet one thing you should never ever do is attack those who are out and trying to make life work for them, sadly this man, let’s call him;   “Padre” was my officer after I left the farm I worked at and was tasked with helping me find the course that was right for me.

When I left school they signed me on to a separate who handles young people in “alternative education” until they are sixteen, so in that sense it is not unlike school, and since I was roughly 15 when I left the farm they were still in control of me for a short time. Unfortunately in that short time they had to put me on a course and obviously I would still be on that course when out of their care, their actions would have consequences for far longer than I be their ward.

Naturally I was nervous as to what their decision would be, yes I could protest it but ultimately they could stick me on a course and have done with me. My nervousness was not helped when I met my officer, camp as absolutely anything, the man minced when he walked, now I am not one to stereotype but straight men this effeminate typically understand how they come across and are not homophobic. However he winced as if in pain when he saw me dressed in women’s clothing, right away I knew two things; in the closet and directing homophobia towards others so no one suspects him. I actually noticed my old tutor laugh out the corner of my eye when he tried to hit on a woman….

When I first met Padre, we spoke about why I left the farm and I told him about my difficulties with the younger students mocking me and how I wanted to move on to higher education. He simply told me to dress as a man and don’t I think I look a little bit “weird” wanting to get away from this slimeball as quickly as possible and he said he could not get me in to college before I was 16 but I had to go on to a course now, a year long course that would finish halfway through a college’s academic year, so when it finished I would be doing nothing for over five months until I could apply for college. Not really a thought that made him happy.

I argued with him that surely he could just leave me for a month to apply for college or whatever but he kept saying no, no and I had to do something he put me on. Such as an animal care course. Well actually an animal care course with math’s and English, at a primary level, that’s right I was being made to do maths and English at the level of 12yos.

I was placed in a classroom with people my own age, and some older, who could not even read or write their own name! Don’t get me wrong I’m not being big headed or attacking anyone with dyslexia *my GF suffers with it and its not laughing matter* but I shouldn’t have been there and could not understand why he made this decision. When I quizzed him about it all he said was “well you missed so much school, you are only qualified for this level” *later on I spoke to my college tutor about this and he told me he should have been fired and I could have gone to college at 15 despite my qualifications*

That was not the happiest time of my life, the people I was with were not suffering from any dyslexia or mental illness, they were simply chavs or shall I say “jocks” for any American’s who either didn’t care or had smoked their brains dead. All I could do was adopt a persona, tried to act as hard and crazy as possible so they would not attack me outside lesson. First day I was there some meathead tried to insult me for wearing a skirt and I think my response was “unless you want a kicking from a girl I suggest you back off before I show you how a high heel shoe can be a sex aid.” Now that may sound stupid when read but when you are a six foot-oh my God inches meatbrain with bigger biceps than my head and have that screamed at you by a “boy” in girls clothes who is half your size and size zero skinny the very fact that they dare to do this is gonna make them seem crazy enough you don’t wanna tangle with them. Plus I learned later on his friend fancied me……. Ewww.

I can’t remember how long I lasted in that place but I looked up college application dates one day, found out I had a week or so to apply and went to see Padre.

“I’m leaving the course”

*crosses legs, places hands on knees and looks down at me* “oh and why is this? You can’t just leave the course”

“Well I am, you know as well as I do that I shouldn’t be here, half these people can’t spell their own names and want to play football with my head and the other half are trying to sleep with me! I am sorry but I’m leaving here, you can say what you want about it but at the end of the day you can’t do anything to stop me”

“Well I never, I’ve tried to help you and then you do this, if you leave her I don’t get paid as much, I only get paid by how many I help” *he seriously said this… When he started talking I actually felt bad for him and wondering if I was being overly harsh or something, but he sounded like some sleazy salesman who worked on commission.*

“So you only want to keep me here because you get paid? How can you do something like that? All this time I didn’t’ really have to come here you just didn’t want to lose your paycheck”

With that I stormed off, behind me I heard him mutter something nasty, something directed at my gender. The next day I sent my application off to college, a course that was at the right level for me. The reason this memory sticks so vividly in my mind is that I can’t understand how he could treat me this way, he was clearly struggling to accept himself but why lash out at those who do accept themselves, because at the end of the day gay, straight, BI, trans whatever we all find life difficult sometimes, especially when humans are such a mess from the word go, nothing in our minds fits the right way, we are all trying to accept ourselves in a society that promotes anything but acceptance so why make it harder for those who are born out of a mold and just want to be treated the same?

Maybe you can tell me your thoughts on this in the comments section below, perhaps I am a little innocent minded but it was quite distressing that someone could be so cold.