blood nerve and bone

It's the last day of May! A strange month for me, but I had some favourites along the way...  Favourite album: I Love My Computer - Ninajirachi I'm not usually one for EDM - I'm a core kid forever, I fear - but something about this album just scratches an itch for me. I got into Nina from Porter Robinson and I'm never looking back. I do, in fact, wanna fuck my computer. This record manages to feel nostalgic and brand new at the same time. It takes me back to being fifteen, on the beach with my friends, drinking stolen alcohol. What a time. Favourite track is iPod Touch, if you were wondering. Favourite game: I'm On Observation Duty 8 God, it took me so long to finally beat a level on this game. I've played every OD game since number four, and I have no regrets. The premise of this game is that you are a CCTV observer who has to spot - and fix - strange, creepy mismatches. Some are so obvious you'll jump out of your seat, some are so subtle you'll go an e...

I never saw the TV glow. I never had a moment of realisation, and sometimes I long for one. I was a very transgender child. When I was in nursery school, age three or so, I would have a tantrum if someone called me my deadname rather than ‘pingu.’ Even my teachers had to call me pingu, or God forbid. I hated those checkered primary school dresses - I wore a yellow polo shirt and grey trousers every day. When I was six or so, I remember - and so does a childhood friend - going around the playground, hopping my scotch, telling everyone my name was Lucas. I labelled toys ‘Lucas.’ Around this time, my younger sibling was three or four, and had a green monster shirt that read “I’m the little brother.” I got to wear that shirt one day, as ill-fitted as it was, and I was over the moon. I wanted everyone to see it, to see me. The next name I adopted, at about seven or eight, was Leo. There’s actually a video of me saying “I am Leo” while dressed as a surfer, my sibling playing the role of a v...

 As I write this, I'm in my last six days of my second year of my bachelors degree, yay! Everyone cheer! I didn't drop out this time! Today, I sat an international relations theory exam, and while I sat there pondering over normative theory, I wondered about how much nicer it'd be to write a blog post than an exam. So, I decided I'd write a historiography of my second year of university; my classes, my assignments, how I did, my favourite bits, all the rest. For my first semester, I took classes I didn't necessarily want to take, but they were the best of a mid bunch. I had one mandatory class this year - comparative politics. Comparative politics was sort of the bane of my little existence. I had a boring, monotone lecturer, classes with people I didn't like, and the topics just weren't of interest to me, and yet I had no choice. I remember I wrote my first assignment - a blog post, ironically - on Viktor Orban and election interference in Hungary. I didn...

 Today, I was discharged from the crisis and home resolution treatment team; an emergency outpatient mental health service. The first moment of recovery, I suppose. I have a lot on my mind. As a little mandatory note, all names I mention here have been changed, so I don't get in any trouble. This does feel like my first recovery win. Not that I'm someone who thinks recovery (whatever that means) is paramount - but, hey, it is quite nice to no longer be suicidal enough to have constant psychiatric involvement in my days. My referral came about when I presented to A&E quite desperately suicidal. I hadn't exactly made a plan, and I didn't quite have intent, but I had this palpable urge that I couldn't get out of my head. I couldn't feel safe without going somewhere and doing something about this, even if I really didn't want to do what I did. I spoke to a questionable man there, who had some not-so-nice things to say to me. One good example is that I might...