The Drop

It's amazing the amount of difference a small stuffed toy can make...

His name is Sparky, he's a rabbit, and he's been with me for about the same amount of time as I've been alive.

I've taken a week visiting friends down south, and I left him behind.

It's made me crack a little, if this can be considered cracking, but I've been relying on an old imaginary (invisible!) friend to ferry messages between the two of us. Each night giving Blob a message to take back to Sparky, and waiting for Blob to return the next day to give him the next message. On Friday (9/10/09) I went shopping and bought a new stuffed toy from a charity shop here (as well as a wonderful PVC coat) to present to Sparky as a new friend and apology for my own stupidity in leaving him behind.

It was a girl kangaroo, with a joey. I took a little time, in my room here to sit and talk to them, to find out what their names were.

The joey, Suzie, came to me quite easily. Her name just leapt out at me, but learning her mother's name was much harder. After a little more conversing it came out that her name was Seris. I've been telling both of them about Sparky, and I'm hoping they'll get along really well.

I'm having fun, although last night was almost an all-nighter so I'm pretty much falling to pieces right now.

I have made some new friends down here; here's a shout-out to Rachel in particular. The next few days will be fun too, I am thinking I will go for a little wander tomorrow, but I shall see.

This is enough for now though (I'm going to sleep soon I think...)

Crazily Yours...

Wait! Nope, I'm not done yet.

I've been meeting a few others too, and was talking to a Transsexual girl who is currently fighting the NHS, and the conversation was thoroughly depressing. She had a lot to say, and her knowledge was a more than mine. I feel like I need to go do some more research now.

The general upshot of it all though has brought up questions; Questions like: Why the hell am I putting myself through this? What degree of insanity is going on that I think this is the best for me? How in hell am I going to survive the crap I'm going to have to put up with in order to make my transformation? I occasionally ask myself these questions, because I have a lazy streak and this is by no means a small and easy thing to do, but the situation this time has made it quite difficult to brush them aside with an “I'll cope”. The whole thing is madness, because of the ineptitude of the NHS many girls are suffering from depression, which could easily be prevented if they put a little more effort and funding into it.

Like I said, thoroughly depressing, but at least I have one thing going for it at the moment. A friend back in Sheffield, who is waiting for the GIC too, looking into the complaints procedure because the lines are crazy long. She thinks that my case, where I'm living full time already, should have an effect on the amount of time I should have to wait until they see me. I'm at least going to send a letter to them and see what the heck is going on.

In the meantime though, I'll cope, somehow...

But really, this is enough for now...