Inspiration

I am long over due an update to this blog - something which my regular readers have either waited very patiently for or, more likely, not stressed over quite as much as I have. At the time of writing this however I am also grossly over due a long sleep before a busy day. Ergo allow me to apologise now for a sporadic and liberal application of care to my work as I simply want to get an idea down before my brain starts to metaphorically kick my back side into a lying down position.

My inability to come up with something for the blog is, humorously enough, the topic of this post. Possibly the one great thing about a writing project so personal to myself is that I can relate almost anything to transgender issues using myself as the conduit of passable reading material. Let me assure you before I get stuck in that I'm not taking the piss here. I genuinely have a modest sense of cock-sure arrogance in what I'm doing here and I hope you will indulge me! First though, allow me to leech off someone else's brilliance...

 This is a video of the film director Lana Wachowski giving a speech after she is given an award by the Human Rights Convention. It's thirty minutes long and entirely worth watching. In it, she quantifies and demystifies why she won the award without ever wholly trusting the point of being awarded it. That in itself is probably worth an award, but considering she wrote The Matrix, the feat is not wholly unlikely. More importantly though, with those same pen strokes that etch out a most eloquent form of "thanks for whatever this is", she uses the backdrop of her "coming out" story to illustriously shine a spotlight of brilliance on the unappreciated tale of almost all LGBT people growing up.

Watching her nervously but charismatically deliver her ode to being different in a world that pretends to be monotone, I found myself more-or-less nodding along to every milestone; the childhood frustration at understanding the limitations of binary standards, the closeted behaviour and outlets of expression, the deep ravines of depression when validation becomes a pinnacle of unattainable necessity and the hearth fire-warmth of those closest to you loving you for whoever you are: both regardless and all-encompassing of your character traits. In so many ways her story is not remarkable, and yet given the window into someone else's tale it is astounding just how much shit we survive just to be the people we are. In that respect I don't even think one could limit that revelation to those of correlating gender issues: every one can look inside and see a leather-bound tome of their life, and it's pages are detailed with grossly unlikely pictures that jut out from the pages like flags of incredibly oddity. Life is damn remarkable and I like to think that anyone who finds the drivel I pour out onto this site interesting, only does so because they've re-read their own story so many times that they briefly forget how fucking astounding their own life is.

So yes, the slightly cheesy point of this post is that my lack of ideas lead me to realise that there's no point being half-arsed about a self-absorbed writing project. In parallel to my issues, it's about time I crack on with writing more so that I might get to the golden nuggets of me. I spend so much time worrying about being crap that I forget to work on being better and building on the crazy foundations that make me the man/woman/thing I am today.

You should write something too and then we can all marvel at how cool it is to be messed up, brilliant, boring and exciting all at the same time.

With all my love
xx