Nerves of steely heels

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The weather has been warmer this week, although winter is nearing closer. I cast my mind back to the sweltering of Rarotonga…that was a time in my life I shall probably not forget, mostly because I did not enjoy being there at all.

The hostility of love when neither partner can fathom feelings, let them go and simply enjoy the surrounds. I can’t go back and change things though…maybe it’s all history forever.

I’d like to think not.

I’m fretting a little as a ready myself for a nighttime cigarette before an early night. I’ll be getting up early before the camera crew and interviewer arrive. Luckily I know the person interviewing me.

I’m a bit scared about opening up to a faceless audience, revealing my traumas. When I commit to talk story as research it’s always powerful. I definitely know my shit and I have aeons of ancestors within my throat, they can be heard in the resonance which bewitches. I lull minds to awaken with my talk-story voice…it’s ancient and lyrical.

But still, it’s me…people will watch their TVs and through the feature, people will know how fallable I am. I need to keep reminding myself I came back from the dead and have rewoven myself, and that’s a transformative tale to uplift others.

Sleep, sing songs of echoed anachronisms, like lullabys of words forgotten and out of their use by dates. Fates collide in the stillness of a body that sways between states.

Maketh me through mimicry, pretend my heart still beats, neatly folded away within layers of forgetting. The sun it rises and falls so slowly. I tamed it to give myself time to shine.

It’s all mine, a minefield of yielding but never stopping, bending but never ending. Begin again and again and again.

Otown news

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Tears of sorrow, joyfully trace soothing rivers upon my cheeks. They are ancient memories, like glaciers melting that set the past free.

In the wee hours of the morning as the heavy fog sets auroras alogow, I alight into the mist…I must dance in the haze.

Amaze me, every days and all of the nights, set sights higher and envision peace amidst the screaming collision of worldy chaos.

Adiós my friend, I love you.

Yesterday was the first day of a funded two day media training workshop I applied to attend. It was intense but I enjoyed that I’ve become fluid and adept in an interview situation, even in front of a camera. Today I’ll pitch my PhD research to a panel of journalists. I already know it’s newsworthyness.

My PhD is filled with so much anguish, negative experience, abuse, trauma healing and beautiful love. It’s so me.

I’m about to let my research fly beyond gender binaries and barriers to good knowledge about sexual identity.  

Adiós my friend. I love you.

Becoming me

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Pic by Roÿmata Holmes

Imaging pathways beyond, the fronds of overhanging forest leaves and branches no longer block momentum…no more hangovers.

I imbibe life, leaving me immune to the decaying past, which is all just memories.

Last night I had feverish dreams. I stood in the old house remembering the youth I had forgotten, my dead father smiling at me because he was proud. I see a good future ahead.

I no longer live and walk dead, I am the person who refused to be beaten and instead forced myself from the slumber of sedate sanity – normalcy and the nine to five fracas will never be my street party. I gave that vision up for the challenging existence from the margins.

I’m lying in bed today, and yesterday too. I have orders from the doctors that it’s ok to chill…I have been so busy. I sent my PhD thesis edits off to my creative supervisors. It’s fucking epic. I am excited to submit it and let it fly because it’s the most engaging artwork I have ever made – a self portrait of intense and honest change to a status quo of dying every day.

I have been working on a lit review to assess access to healthcare for Māori transgender people. It is part of a 3 year project to survey takatāpui wellbeing. The literature spells out an intensely complex web of barriers that will only change when someone is able to understand where the flaws in the system are entrenched and offer ways to strategically challenge them. That person is me.

I got news yesterday that another project I supported to survey and account for transgender people in Aotearoa New Zealand just got funded. I can’t believe that as soon as I am about to submit my PhD thesis on tradtional Māori weaving processes, and the ways they can heal historical sexuality and gender trauma, opportunities to practice my theory arise.

I applied for a job as a curator.

The universe is goodness and fair x.

Its raining again

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I woke up feeling my alien self again.

Refrain, hold back from feels of pain, the game has only just begun – there’s still more songs to be sung – the ceremony is only just beginning.

Grinning, I greet the sunmaiden, her glistening mists mirroring my inner sinner, sentiments of my debauched nighttime liasons fading fast – like the darkness.

I run, I sing, I live yet another day more.