Today I woke up to a creeping feeling of dysphoric malaise. I made it out of bed and to my morning pages and tea. I struggled to finish them. I felt flushed and shitty. I had breakfast and sat down to finish the last page and a half. One of the most valuable parts of my practice of morning pages has been to learn that how I feel is irrelevant. I made a commitment to do the work. Not part of the work, three pages. It doesn't matter at all what's on the page. Want to get done sooner? Write faster.

I did some basic mastering for my next release, an EP! Actually, it was going to be a 3 song EP, but I decided to split it into two two song EPs. One next week, and one the week following. Meeting with Michael Gilboe to review later, we'll see what the mastering master says!

It's funny how unceremonious releasing multiple tracks at once as an EP feels. I had expected my first EP to feel like a huge deal, but now that I'm working on a release schedule and have already had two releases live on Spotify and another pending, it feels pretty mellow. I think this is wonderful, because I'm continuing to push forward slowly put steadily with promo and marketing.

I've been thinking about a friend's post about FFS and other gender confirmation surgery. When I first came out as trans it was something that people would ask me about all the time, and my response was always that I didn't feel the need to answer those questions now, and in many ways I still don't. Yet I've definitely been feeling a lot of dysphoria lately. Partly because it's the COVID winter so I've been going out less, which means less intentional presentation around people more progressive people where I might wear something cute and more talking to repair men in my bathrobe (we'll get this fixed right away, Sir) and getting Sir this, Sir that'd on the phone.

I've been learning to take the opposite action, so after a bit of moping, I made this the morning that I sent out my new Patreon to a small group of close friends and family. I've been balking at doing this, because I feel like there has to be the "big moment." That there needs to be "enough" new and exciting work. That the project that is myself needs to be less of a work in progress and a little more spit-shined to be presentable. As I'm coming to understand that the most valuable offering that I, or any creative (read person), can offer is the vulnerable truth of the process itself. It's the rough edges that are the most endearing, where we see ourselves and our own struggles reflected the most, and where we find courage and strength in each other's struggles and triumphs. I don't want to interact with shiny people, so why do I try to be one? By that token, any moment is the right moment to invite someone in to be a witness and participant within your process. What "in" means is up to each of us.