Gender: yes, please.

Life has been so full of petty annoyances lately that I do not even know where to begin, so I just won't. I know that doesn't make for good blog reading, but do you really want to hear about how I had to work late and the neighbor was pissed that Ruby was barking and how I got a $163 bill from the radiologists for my chest CT scan and how I'm worried that I'm going to get two more big bills like that for my sternum CT scan and my shoulder MRI and that maybe this new health insurance company isn't all it's cracked up to be and how my dentist called today and left a message on my machine saying that they day I had my teeth cleaned my dental insurance wasn't in effect and how I have to go get fitted for some brace I have to wear after my shoulder surgery but I don't know when I'm going to do it because work is overloading me lately and I just found out that not enough taxes are being taken out of my paycheck and I owe the government nearly $500 this year and I had to go to Wal-Mart to get a baby gate to keep the dogs penned in the kitchen while we're at work and they were all out of the size I wanted so I had to buy this monstrosity that cost a lot and doesn't fit the doorway that well and I tried to log onto my healthcare provider's website to see if my surgery is even covered but it wouldn't let me for some unknown reason and I forgot to give the dude at work $3 for the Girl Scout cookies I ordered and I couldn't pick up the photos I was supposed to pick up today since this is they last day they're free because I had to work for twelve hours today and...and...and...and I keep waking up at night *this close* to puking and I have to swallow and take deep breaths and sit up and I'm all scared that the surgery is going to tighten some tendon in some agonizing way that is going to suck a whole lot and...

well.

I am trying to resign myself to the fact that things are just going to be cruddy for the next two months or so. But of course the part of me that has positive energy is rebelling mightily against this. How can I resign myself to suck! I want to fight it! But alas. I am going to be right-arm-less for at least four weeks after the surgery, and possibly more. In addition to the past two weeks of minimal usage and maximal pain. Nine more days 'till the knife.

I want to go outside and scream DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT really loud, but apparently the next door neighbor came over here twice while I was working late to yell at M about Ruby barking, since Ruby won't come inside for M, just for me, and I really don't want to piss that guy off anymore than he is already pissed off.

...grumble grumble grumble...

I know this blog has become a bitch-fest over the past few weeks. I expect that to continue as long as I can type, which will be...nine more days or so. Then there will probably be some silence while I recover, and then hopefully I will resume a more normal tone that does not include endless complaining and moaning and woe-is-me angst about the way shit's going.

I meant to write about this a hundred years ago but I never did. I've never identified myself by gender on this blog. There are three or four readers who know what gender I am...but the rest of you are guessing. Some of you are certain I'm female. Some of you are certain I'm male. Am I a boy? Am I a girl? Am I a girl in a boy's body, or a boy in a girl's body? I'm not keeping it secret to jerk anyone's chain. When I started blogging, I decided I wanted to be genderless, to be dealt with as, simply, a human being with ideas and emotions and opinions. I didn't want anyone to stereotype me according to whether they thought my characteristics were feminine or masculine. I wondered if people would ascribe a gender to me...for a while, no one did, but eventually it happened. You know I've dated both men and women. I'm with a man now. I support gay rights and advocate for complete equality. I love dogs. My dogs have genders, but they're first and foremost dogs. I have a gender, but I'm first and foremost a human. One story I've posted on my writing blog is from the point of view of a female; the other is from the point of view of a male. You know what my eye looks like. You know I know how to spackle and that I like to ski, skate and wakeboard. I don't wear makeup or go to the bathroom in groups. I studied Bruce Lee's JKD for three years. I shop at thrift stores and buy used books. I am kind to animals and softhearted to a fault. I love flowers. I'm an occasional insomniac and I can't remember the last time I cried or had a night in which I didn't dream something utterly bizarre. I like to cook.

One of the exercises I do sometimes with writing is to write a story and then go back and switch the gender of the main character and see if the resulting person is more interesting because he or she acts in ways that seem to contrast with the gender I originally assigned to them when I conceived them in my head. I sometimes flip back through my posts here and read them as if the writer, me, were the other gender than the one I am.

Sometimes it teaches me things, sometimes it doesn't.

Anyway.