Update...

Today was my fourth appointment at Charing Cross GIC so I am becoming quite used to that journey from Victoria Station, then to Hammersmith Tube Station then up Fulham Palace Road.  Nowhere near Charing Cross, rather oddly.


Here it is - in this picture.  No, not Sainsburys Local - above that.  Doesn't look like the place dreams are made of does it?


I think I am doing everything they want - basically if you are waiting to get your Gender Recognition Certificate (GRC) and surgery and everything else so that your life can start then you probably aren't ready.


It's one of those things - you have to show you can live without it in order to get it.  I think I have shown that.  I live as a female... and I can prove that I do.


The guy I saw today is the head clinician (they call them that, rather than 'psychiatrists') - James Barrett.  He is mad as a box of frogs but very charming - although likely to say rather contrary things.


Like last time I saw him he said I was unlikely to get my GRC - this time he seemed to think it would be fine.  Apparently 98% of people are successful - 1% of the others have filled out the form wrong, half a per cent have just failed and the other half a per cent are mad.


So hopefully I will be OK!


He is going to chase up the surgery on my 'adam's apple'.  I really want that to happen now - it will make such a difference to my confidence.


The delay is apparently nothing to do with budget cutbacks (people have been telling me the budget for gender identity stuff is being cut) - cutbacks in the NHS aren't affecting this yet.  According to James 'box of frogs' Barrett gender identity surgeries / treatment are quite cheap on the NHS really because there are so few of us.


You wouldn't think so when you look at all us trannies crammed into the waiting room above Sainsburys Local - but true transsexualism is actually pretty rare.


Anyway, he looked at me today and asked a wonderful question : 


'...so, is it time for surgery?'


I think it is - and he agreed.  Two shrinks have to agree that you need the surgery before it can happen so my next appointment in April is being described as a 'Surgical Review'...   wooooo!   It's with a new Shrink I haven't previously seen.


Assuming he agrees with Dr Barrett I suppose I will be referred after that.  I think the wait will probably be in the years rather than the months for the surgery to actually happen - we'll see.


Of course I am scared about it - it's obviously going to be terribly painful - I mean, well duh.   Some trans-women act as if the desire for it outweighs all possible considerations of fear - I think that's nonsense.  If you aren't scared, you aren't taking it seriously enough I reckon.


But walking out of there today I just felt immensely happy and excited about becoming a real girl (Pinocchio moment).  I've had enough now - I am ready.  
I want to be complete.  Not because it proves anything to anyone else - just because I am a girl and that's how my body should be.


Long way to go anyway - but every step is in the right direction now...

Manners...

Thought about it and I am going to talk about manners because of certain incidents which occurred last night.


It's time for a slight rant.


Now who is this beautiful lady pictured, you may be asking..?  It's actually Barbara Cartland - yes, the woman who ended up looking like a big pink monstrosity - bless her.  Wasn't she lovely?


She is there because I have a book which she wrote called 'The Etiquette Handbook'.  Actually it's very well written, beautiful prose.  There's an awful lot of stuff in there about how to behave at a supper party and whatnot - but she herself says that good manners are really just being kind and considerate to others.


She says : 


'If I had to write down the unwritten law of good behaviour in one simple phrase there would be no negative 'You Shall Not', but a strong 'You Shall'.  And first and foremost - 'You Shall Possess Tact'


So true, Barbara. 


When you are trans some people don't know how to behave and they throw the normal rules out of the window.  They don't see you as a person - just an object to be prodded and poked.  They also offer 'advice' - like last night when a man was trying to tell me what was wrong with what I was wearing.


No.  No.  No.  You mustn't do that shit.


Christ, the amount of time and effort and worry we girls put into picking an outfit for the Christmas party - or even just to go out the door in the morning...   I am hardly likely to be LESS self-conscious than the average woman.  I would argue a whole lot more.


So how cruel and mean to offer me 'advice' in this way - to tell me that what I am wearing is drawing attention to me.  What did that person know?  How fucking dare they.


Then he started asking about my voice and saying would it get less deep.


Now people have asked me that before - people I know well.  You can't ask someone personal questions like that when you've just met them.  I am obviously going to be sensitive about it - what a horrible thing to ask.


It's like saying to someone who is overweight :  'so when will you be losing weight then?'


And it doesn't mitigate it if you say 'I hope you don't mind me asking...' or 'you look really good but...'


NO!!  It doesn't make it right.


It all comes down to that old thing - if you are different people think you don't have feelings.


But while I may look different to you - I feel like a normal woman to myself - just a woman who has things wrong with her body.  OK?  


So just extend the same courtesy to me that you would to any other woman... and any other person.


That's all I have to say apart from (cover your ears Barbara) :


What a cunt he was.  What a fucking cunt.

Proust (long sentences)

I am fond of pointing out that if Proust had been able to type his novel(s) into Microsoft Word the whole thing would have been underlined in green for the reason : 


long sentence (suggest revision)


Imagine if he HAD revised the sentences - there would be no Proust, his style would be dead.


Getting your head round the long sentences is one of the most challenging and important things about reading Proust.  Probably it's where a lot of people give up, because it is very difficult at first.


It's the endless parentheses, you see, which break up the sentence so that by the end of it, if you are able to get that far, and if you haven't given up in the way that so many readers do when faced with Proust's masterpiece, usually about the time they reach the third volume, by the end of it, and yes there may often be a small recap of what he just said in case you've forgotten, you may have forgotten what he was talking about.


Proust has to be not just read but re-read - as you go along as well as by volume.  You often have to start again at the beginning of the sentence and pick it apart - it's a manner of reading to which people are not very accustomed, but it does actually serve well as a method.


There's no rush - what else are you going to be reading?  Another work of comparable genius?   Good luck finding one.  Your brain is adaptable and will reach up to Proust's level if given the chance.  Talk about brain training - that is what a genius does.


Great writers have to be read a page, a setence, even a word at a time.  There is a sheer pleasure in the placing of one word next to another which can be forgotten about in the rush of plot and narrative which drives most fiction.


Proust provides an atmosphere - a sensual portrait of the universe, heavily laden with sights, sounds, and particularly smells.  He is the cosmic laureate of smell.


The basic point is : the length of the sentences captures the meandering nature of his own thought structure in the most perfect marriage of form and content yet achieved in the novel.


That's what the long sentences are really all about - and they are part of the joy of Proust.  I am discovering that joy anew and finding that 'In Search of Lost Time' just has more and more to give. 

Thoughts provoked by Josie's Make Up Blog...

Well, I think makeup does improve the appearance of most people - if it's done right.  Including men.

Although it's true that when you see those pics of celebs with no make up on they often do look better.... maybe that's because they tend to be pretty anyway and so their natural beauty can shine through!

That's OK if you have natural beauty.  Actually that's something that all women have, and I suppose make up in its ideal form accentuates it rather than covers it up. 

Men tend to say they prefer women with less or no make up - I'm not sure they appreciate the artifice of it all in most cases.  It's a bit like when people say you should be 'real' and be 'yourself'.  What's so great about being 'yourself'?

Make up and clothes allow you to play different characters.

'Give a man a mask and he'll tell you the truth' Oscar Wilde said...

I feel a bit self-piteous having read Josie's blog because I would rather like someone to say I was beautiful without make up.  Becca says that of course - but I think it's in a 'why do you put all that crap on?' kind of way.  Kind of the way blokes say it really - not that Becca is butch because she's not - and she used to be a dedicated make up wearer herself so she's recanted the Holy ways of cosmetics and become all natural coz she's a gardener probably!

Anyway, I don't think I can possibly be beautiful without makeup because I look like a man.  I probably look like a man with it on too - just a man with make up on!!   Hence all the fuckwits who should 'tranny' at me constantly - they're saying that predominantly because they can see my face - and it's my face I cover up when I don't want people to shout at me.

A bit self piteous then but there's no point.  Fact is I have a male body and therefore a male face and that's that - no point crying about it (anymore).  And it's not quite as male these days because hormonally at least I am pretty much female now.

My face has changed a bit because of fat redistribution so I will look more female as I progress with HRT - so that's good.  I still rely on my make up though - although I can go to the shops without it.  But I feel rather uneasily 'male' if I do - at least appearance wise, not inside.

Make up for me makes me feel authentic - and I kind of feel I need it to be a woman.  Also there are issues with covering up my, thankfully small, amount of facial hair - which is rapidly decreasing these days. 

But on the whole I do need it to have my identity.  But, you know, as time goes by I think I might stop needing it.  Then it'll just be fun without dependency.  I'll wear make up because I want to.

I wonder how many other women wear make up for similar reasons?  Not because they look male - but to reinforce their identity.

Feel a bit emotional now.  Time to take my make up off anyway...

Heroes...

I don't keep up with the farce which is the singles chart these days (who above the age of 13 does?) so I hadn't heard the X Factor finalist's version of Bowie's 'Heroes' until today. 


I am annoyed about it.


I hardly think that was what Bowie had in mind when he wrote that song - it's about heroism in your own life - about self realisation.  There's also that famous bit about the two lovers standing by the Berlin wall - it's use in this most recent context seems very inappropriate to me.


So much of this talk of 'heroes' in the army these days is basically a reaction to protest about the wars - it just has that taste to it.  I think we all know that's what it's really about.  I think you can tell this because the pictures of wounded soldiers is not accompanied by any message of 'this shouldn't be happening'.  


It's not inevitable.  Unlike the soldiers and everyday people who lived through World War II when this country was under direct, tangible threat.  No one could say 'this shouldn't be happening' - only 'it's sad - but this must happen if we are to survive' - when we saw pictures of the consequences of war.


But the more recent conflicts we've been involved in are much more complicated and difficult than that.  


So I suggest this - much more appropriate to recent conflicts, although it was written about an older one : 


Is it worth it?
A new winter coat and shoes for the wife
And a bicycle on the boy's birthday
It's just a rumour that was spread around town
By the women and children
Soon we'll be shipbuilding

Well I ask you
The boy said, "Dad they're going to take me to task
But I'll be back by Christmas"
It's just a rumour that was spread around town
Somebody said that someone got filled in
For saying that people get killed
in the result of this shipbuilding

With all the will in the world
Diving for dear life
When we could be diving for pearls

It's just a rumour that was spread around town
A telegram or a picture-postcard
Within weeks they'll be re-opening the shipyard
And notifying the next of kin once again

It's all we're skilled in
We will be shipbuilding

With all the will in the world
Diving for dear life
When we could be diving for pearls

The Mike Leigh blog 8

Crikey - this is becoming an epic!!  Nearly there now...

Secrets and Lies  (1996)


I won't go on about this film too much because I think I've sung its praises before on here.  Anyway, it's a very unusual Mike Leigh film in that it's actually possible to 'spoil' the story.  Usually in his films plot is character - in this one there is a perfect balance between plot and character.  


There is an EVENT - something is revealed, and the film is about everyone's reaction.  If you haven't seen it the film will work much better if you just watch it with no knowledge of what's going to occur.  


Odd for a Leigh film to be like this.  It's not what we would expect.  Maybe Secrets and Lies is a bigger departure from the Leigh 'norm' than any other film for this reason - although his signature style is in place as much as ever.


I don't know.  But I can tell you that this is Mike Leigh's best film to date.  
I don't think there can be much argument - it is a perfect piece of sublime genius.  


'Secrets and Lies... we're all in pain... why can't we share our pain?'


Those words are etched into my heart.

Career Girls  (1997)


Hmm - no, not quite as good.  Went a little bit wrong here, Mike.  Basically this film suffers from the old Mike Leigh problem - no one told the actors to bring it down.  The performances are too much.  


The three main performances of the film are like bad impressions of someone else - that's the best way to describe it.  They are, in fact, a twitchy, annoying  fucking nightmare, especially Lynda Steadman.  Awful.  There are also quite a few moments of 'meeting people from the past' which remind me of Anthony Powell's 'A Dance to the Music of Time' in that they are, frankly, absurd.    


But if you can get past all that it's got some funny bits in it and is quite sweet I suppose.   Still, a bit of a dip in Mike Leigh's golden period (an era which is still ongoing).































  

The Mike Leigh blog 7 - NAKED

Naked (1993)


'Naked' was the first Mike Leigh film I saw and I don't think any film since has ever changed me quite as much.  It's rather like when I read '1984' when I was a teenager - nothing was the same afterwards.  For one thing it kick started my love of Leigh's work and instigated that thrill of excitement whenever I hear he has a new film coming out.  But I also experienced once again that rare feeling that an artist is telling me the truth in a world of lies.


It's about Johnny, played by David Thewlis, who is a fucked up genius who wanders round London spitting sagacious venom at everyone he meets.  It's difficult to describe this performance but he's rather like Jesus - he is Messianic and I suppose you could get deep here about Mike Leigh being Jewish and searching for a Messiah - I don't know... could you?

He is frightening, cowardly - the film opens with him apparently raping a woman - and yet we grow to feel deep affection for this character who is so vulnerable and so astonishing.  He spends some time with an optimistic security guard and poisons his mind, we feel, with his thoughts about the end of the world - taken from the Bible, from the book of revelation.


'the BAR CODE Brian, the ubiquitous fucking BAR CODE'


I just can't explain it to you the way he does. You have to see him shout at Brian in a dark room, the two of them in shadow, the camera fixed there forever it seems.  What is this obsession with the future Brian?  There IS no future...


When asked how his mother is he says : 


'she's dead actually.  She's still a good fuck though.  Course I get it at a cheaper rate being her son and all...'


His dark eyes probe mercilessly into the hearts of every other lost, lonely, abandoned character on the screen and into YOU as you watch.  There is no escaping him - he will own you after you have seen this film - if you have a glimmer of imagination, he might just become someone you want in your life,
even though he smells and is covered in his own blood.


He asks :  'what's it like being you?' - without irony.  He wants to know.


I'm not quite sure where 'Naked' came from - it bucks the trend of sweet and sour social observation - it's still intimate but on a grand scale, if that makes sense.


I borrowed it from Strood Library and the Librarian gazed at me with excited eyes as she handed it over and told me how good it was.  She must have been another Mike Leigh type person.


Like Well Self - I saw him interviewing Leigh once and he did nothing but talk about 'Naked'.  Is it any wonder?


This is Ballard.  This is Joyce.  This is Dante.  


Don't get me wrong, kids, this isn't an easy film to watch.  In fact, it's fucking harrowing and difficult and terrifying - but essential.


A true work of utter, utter, utter, utter fucking genius - ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mike Leigh's 

'Was I bored? No, I wasn't fuckin' bored. I'm never bored. That's the trouble with everybody - you're all so bored. You've had nature explained to you and you're bored with it, you've had the living body explained to you and you're bored with it, you've had the universe explained to you and you're bored with it, so now you want cheap thrills and, like, plenty of them, and it doesn't matter how tawdry or vacuous they are as long as it's new as long as it's new as long as it flashes and fuckin' bleeps in forty fuckin' different colors. So whatever else you can say about me, I'm not fuckin' bored.'