I have suddenly become extremely busy with a lot of stuff I either don’t need to or want to be doing. I guess that’s life. That said, I don’t know if I can blame my lack of posting on busyness or if there are other, more sinister elements at play. I want to examine this, but for just a second. I am extremely busy (see Sentence #1), but can always make time for a quick crisis.

Clinical analysis:

Month: February

Year: 2018

Length of ongoing crisis: Hard to say. The patient has been presenting with the immediate form of stuck-ass-itis for 3 years and 10 months, 7 years and 6 months, and 12 years and 2 months. However, adjacent strains of the condition have presented since puberty, birth, or possible even several lives ago.

Recommended treatment: Monitoring; investigation of potential sinister elements at play (see Sentence #3 of Paragraph #1).

It’s true I’m busy. It’s true I have to be doing some? most? Of the stuff I’m doing. But I’m not sure it’s taking up as much time as I actually think it’s taking up. There must be something else going on.

If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say there were two things.

1. I have no readers. Okay, not true. My mother and my friend (not the same person—two separate people, I swear) read my posts. It’s my fault. I guess I thought I would just start a blog and that would take care of itself. Then, it didn’t. So, I created a separate Facebook page for the blog site, and liked it, but then nothing happened. People liked the page but nobody went to the site because the page didn’t direct them there. Then, I gave up on life and fatalistically decided it must not be in the stars for me to be read by others. But I still want to write the blog. So here I am with, like, ten posts of memoir behind me and nobody has even seen it! What is the point of continuing to write about all of this? Sure, I have more posts in me, but I need this to not be my little secret anymore. And yet…..I’m not willing to put it out there. See, I’m weird about exposure. It scares me, but it’s the very thing I need. And, actually, I crave it. I fantasize about it. There is definitely a red carpet running through my brain. But even though I actually want the exposure, I am reluctant to actively seek it out. Oh, Christ! Why can’t I just be a well-adjusted attention whore like everybody else?! This is my trans life. I present as librarian. But I am torch singer. Torch singer trapped inside librarian. Somebody get me out of here! Get this fucking sweater vest off of me, rip off my coke-bottle glasses and put some fucking bourbon in my cocoa mug!

2. I forget the second thing. Like I said, this was going to be a short post. The next one is coming soon, but not until I manage to work up the guts to let at least five other people know about the blog. Not that they’ll read it, but I can at least pretend at that point.

Thanks for letting me vent. See you (two) next month.