"I want to do something that makes me feel like a man."

That's my sentiment. I wish I could pass, go somewhere public, like a mall, where people are always trying to talk to you (the salespeople) and just hear them say "Sir, would you like to try this out?" or "Sir, do you want this credit or debit?"
Unfortunately, there is nothing in this world I can do as of yet that can make me feel like a man. I wish my best friend was around; Sprout makes me feel, at least, like sex and gender are insignificant, and that if I'm a man, I'm a man. But he's not answering my text, and he's not online (what a surprise! He's not even on his online home, Tumblr!), and God, I hope he's not with Avalon. He was with Avalon last night, so I didn't want to go see him, because I get agitated whenever I even hear his name now. It just keeps getting worse.
My mom, my brother, and I went to go see Beauty and the Beast in 3D today. I really like that movie, but when the end came, I found myself wishing it ended differently. I found myself rewriting a Disney classic in my head. I wanted Belle to be too late, for her confession to come just a second after the rose fell. And for all of the people cursed to remain as they were. That movie places a lot of emphasis on the concept of beauty, and it tries to stress that what's on the inside is more important. I feel like it would have supported that concept so much better if Beast had remained a beast. And it would have been so much more beautiful, but instead he had to conform to the traditional, "normal" sense of "beautiful."
Hanging out with my family all day made me realize that neither of them will ever accept me as a man. The whole time they would be like, "you're a GIRL, stop acting like a boy, because you're not!" and they mean it as harmless teasing, but I want to punch my brother every time he says it. The only problem is my wrists will hurt me more than my punch will hurt him (stupid carpal tunnel; I can't wait for surgery!). He said something at one point that made me almost cry. He told me I looked like a boy with my short haircut, then turned around and said "But it's fake, because you're a giiiirrrrllll!" It's like any effort I put towards transitioning is fake, that even when I get surgery, my body will be medically constructed, and it'll be fake. I know this is not and will not be true for me, but I don't want others to think of me like that.
I decided long ago that anyone who wouldn't accept me, anyone who insisted on calling me "Sami" or "she" after my transition was complete wasn't worth being in my life. And I would cut those people out of my life forever. I don't want to lose my mom and my brother, or Avalon (I can't say he doesn't matter to me, even if I am mad at him), but if it comes to that, I feel like I have no choice.
This brings me to another point of mine. A friend of mine who is MTF is talking about getting an orchiectomy like it's not a big deal, and it seems like it might be so much easier for her to get that surgery than it will ever be for me to get a hysterectomy. (Then again, everything seems easier for her because her family has money, and I couldn't even afford to see the doctor, until I got health insurance that will go away in March and a job.) Sprout's mom was denied a hysterectomy and she as 46, and about to go through menopause! So my question for society, I guess, is: Why is it so much less acceptable for a woman (or female-born person) to become infertile?

Beauty and Medicine

I heard an interesting definition for the word "beauty" today. It went something like "It's how you identify yourself on the inside and show it on the outside, and don't you care about what anyone else thinks or says about it." There's a lot of emotion attached to that simple definition, although it's hard for me to say whether the person saying this meant for it to have such an impact, or if she was simply attempting to complete her assignment. It was during a speech.
One I also had to give. Not on the definition of beauty, but a speech nonetheless. And guess what? I didn't die! I didn't even have paralyzing nerves. Maybe it's because I had enough of nerves yesterday.

Oh, so I went to the doctor's yesterday. (This is something rare for me, being raised in a house with little money and no health insurance until recently. So this is a bit of an event.) Turns out my wrist pain is carpal tunnel...Let's hope I don't need surgery for that, or, if I do, the insurance will cover it. If not...well...I don't really know, it's not like I'll be getting any of my really important surgeries any time soon.
About the more important part of my appointment now! The doctor said he didn't know of anyone in the whole state who deals with hormone therapy, anyone who'd be experienced with it. (Fuck my shit for living in the first state to do anything bad, and the last one to do anything good.) So he recommended me to a therapist, one that  I hope will have at least some experience with or an idea of how to treat me; I want the luxury of not having to worry about how long it's going to take to be approved for hormones. I'd rather know what I'm getting into up-front.
This appointment wasn't anything like the last doctor's office, when I told the doctor I was transgender and he said, "oh, well, good luck with that..." That's what I get for going to a rich white people doctor, rather than the doctor who takes insurance (the one I went to yesterday). Thanks, mom, for that recommendation last year.
My mom yelled at me because I didn't leave the office with depression medication that she swears up and down I need, and my best friend told me my liver was going to shut down and I'm going to die because of how many Excedrin Migraine pills I take. That being said, I told the nurse I was "maybe" interested in preventative medication for my frequent migraines, but nobody said anything about it once the doctor was around...
In the end, I consider it a success. I'm getting a specialist to call me about carpal tunnel and I have the name of a psychiatrist.

In other terms, I survived my first week of term. Now I have to survive work tomorrow.

Signs & Looking up

Well, today was the first day of the semester. That being said, I survived, because I'm writing this. Nobody said a word about me cutting my hair, though if anyone asked I was prepared (and willing) to tell them I think it suits my gender identity better than the long ponytail I was donning before.
I'm still faced with the problem of using masculine endings in Spanish when talking about myself and getting away with it, but this is something I'll have to deal with. It's my major, after all, so I won't be quitting the language any time soon. If it comes to it, I could explain it to my teacher. She's cool, and she's also my advisor. That being said, she likes me already.
Tomorrow's going to be the hard part. I have...Speech. Me, the socially inept, too awkward to make a single college friend on his own shy guy I am...in front of a class, talking. I'll be lucky if I don't have to retake it over the summer.
I spent some time on my own today. And while the weather was nice, and campus was bustling, I managed to snag a nice table outside, all to myself. And ponder...
Maybe I'll post what I wrote during that time when I feel like copying it over and editing it.
Surprisingly, I noticed some good signs today. (However, the only literal sign I noticed today was the entrance to a place I guessed--rightly so--is an AIDS help center I never knew was there before...) Maybe things are finally changing for me.

Maybe this semester won't feel like I'm trudging along with cement shoes, like Fall did.

Maybe my appointment with my doctor (who I've never met before) on Wednesday will go well...

Maybe I'll finally be pushed in the right (or any) direction towards hormone therapy, towards my final sight of the end of my transition.

Or maybe I'll just feel better for a little while.

Any one of these things would be such a blessing, just to take the stress or unease of one of these problems away...

That awkward first post

Well, this is it. My first blog post. I'm Alaric, eighteen years old; the main reason I decided to make this blog is because I've been feeling rather dysphoric and depressed, and I don't want to annoy my friends with the problem too much. Maybe if I'm lucky (and by that I mean dedicated), this blog will follow me through the entirety of my transition (besides almost four years of anguish and waiting to do NOTHING) and will be interesting to look back on later.
I write a little--maybe if I feel in the mood for it I'll post short passages that I write. Most of what I write are long stories with characters and intricate plots (and fanfictions for my friends) but I also spend some time writing uncharacterized one-shot passages, though they're much harder for me.
I'm hoping this will be a safe place where I can just express myself. If you feel like coming along for the journey, be my guest!