I just got thing in the mail “for my birthday” from Adam & Eve, purveyors of sex toys and cheezy porn DVDs.  They’re a cute enough place to pick up some toys from.  I’ve always found that sex is more fun when you play.  But A&E has this thing about sending you free movies every time you order.  If you enjoy a random collection of bad porno, it’s not such a bad thing.  But their free movies are pretty much always just random clips, straight sex scenes.  No real warm up.  No plot.  Just five minute “best of” clips from folks doing the nasty.  Meh.

The real beauty is the look on the woman’s face at the end of every scene.  She sticks her tongue out and closes her eyes while the guy squirts her up the nose.  And you can just feel the aura of disgust rolling off of her.  But then she realizes she’s on camera and puts on this big fake smile.  Sometimes she’ll even pretend to enjoy licking the jizz off of his cock.  And you can almost hear the suppressed gags.  Because that’s what I want to cum to!

The real full-length porno isn’t really much better though.  If you’ve ever needed a good laugh, try one out.  If you thought actors couldn’t act, try porn stars.  They really can’t act.  The only thing worse than their acting is the writing.  “Oh thank you Mr. Really Hung Fireman for saving my cat.  Can you come in and help me clean up my pussy?“  They call that a plot?  Bah!  Every production I’ve bothered with is a joke.

The funny thing is, it seems like the best actors are the ones that don’t actually have sex.  Which I guess kind of makes sense.  But then really, how far is it from pretending to have sex for a camera to actually having sex?  What, it makes you superior because you fake your orgasms?  (Well, fake more than the porn stars do.  You know those women don’t really enjoy it as much as they pretend to.)  I think Californication has got to be one of the best examples, even if they don’t really fake the sex that often.  But it’s great acting, good writing, and an all around wonderful show with no pretense that this is in any way for kids to watch.  Just good adult humor.

And it makes me ask the ultimate question:  Why the hell can’t anyone get a porno movie of that caliber?  Oh, sure, because it’s a porno you’d have to make the sex scenes take up a little more of the movie.  But honestly, not all that much.  Just make them real.  I don’t want to accidentally see the shadow of some guy’s schlong while they pretend to go at it but in reality he’s no where near her.  I want it to be real sex, with real orgasms.  And the rest to be real plot with good acting, great writing, and a real attempt to make believable sets.

Is that really too much to ask?

I mean sex isn’t just the sex.  It’s the games we play.  It’s the whole art of seduction.  I don’t just want Joe The Plumber coming in to “lay some pipe”.  I want John Q. Pubic and Betty Will playing coy at the bar, dancing, and going from here.  With characters that have depth.  And a point other than a purple helmet.

Or even better, to actually just streamline in a number of good sex scenes into an epic fantasy adventure.  Like turn a Meredith Gentry novel into a movie, with good film making.  I find it hard to believe that there’s no such thing as a halfway good actor willing to have sex in a movie.  Or that a writer can’t combine both a good storyline, character development, and sex scenes.

Or maybe it’s more about the budget?

I dunno.  All I know is I’m tired of the same old lame old, and the cum-a-minute collage.  I want a real movie … with real sex.  Is that too much to ask?

You ever reach that point where you just don’t know what you’re doing?  Where you’re so … blah … that it makes you want to scream, except you just don’t have the energy to?

I dunno.

I’m pretty sure that I’m depressed.

Or something.

It doesn’t help that I’m fighting up the nerve to just even talk to a doctor about beginning my transition.  Or fighting up the nerve to tell my wife that I want to.  To honestly, seriously, start.  I just … I dunno.  So many people I care about, my wife, my sister, my mom, my whole family … even if some of them do accept it, I know I’ll still hurt them.  I think my wife and maybe one cousin will be the only people in my life to even try to accept it from the beginning.  I think a handful more will come around … eventually.  But I really don’t want to hurt people.  And I especially don’t want to lose what I have with my wife.

So which is worse?  Hurting people I love to be me, or hurting me to save the people I love?

And then it gets more complicated because, no doubt, I’m only going to be less and less lovable if I can’t get myself out of my funk.

But is transition really the answer?

I’d like it to be.  But that doesn’t necessarily make it so.  I’m 100% certain that if I make the transition, I’m never ever going to want to go back.  That doesn’t worry me, at all.  But it’s the middle ground, the journey, that scares me.  Because at some point I’d have to “come out”.  To my family.  To my coworkers.  (Which I hope to one day have again.)  Hell, to the DMV and Uncle Sam and Big Brother.  Plus there’s the money, which right now I really don’t have.

That’s another thing that’s got me down.  Right now I’m technically an independent software contractor between contracts.  But I’m not really looking for contracts anymore.  I’m looking to get back into regular employment.  I miss having coworkers.  I miss socializing.  I miss people.

So I’m not just depressed over my qualms about the transition.  I’m also depressed about applying for tons of jobs and being rejected.  (Which I can’t explain, because I’m damn good and been doing it for 13 years.)  And I’m depressed about having no social life whatsoever other than my wife.  Which also brings up another one, that my wife is having health problems.  And that those health problems are really hindering our sex life, which lately seems to be about once a month.

And, of course, I still have that damn monkey on my back as society’s unacceptance of gender bending gives me so much self loathing.  Can’t forget that.  I know that I shouldn’t hate myself for being who I am.  That I should just be able to tell society to go to hell and how to get there because I have every right to be me.  But aparently I can’t.

Which is actually … odd.  I’m not sure how else to express that.  I love me.  I mean I really love me.  Some of the most wonderful things that I love about me come from my femininity.

And yet I hate me for being just another woman trapped in a man’s body.  The world’s tiniest violin, playing just for me.  How sad.

See?

I mean, WTF?!

I really don’t understand.  Why do I hate myself for that?  And how can I hate myself for that, but love myself in everything else?

So I try hard not to escape into video games.  And instead I think I’m escaping into my blog.  Which I don’t know if I should resent or not.  But obviously I’ve got to escape into something because sitting around being depressed constantly doesn’t make for much of an improvement.  I am depressed.  I need to express it, deal with it, and find a way to move on.

But saying and doing are sooooo totally different.

I tried to escape into working on my house today.  It’s a brick house, but some overhangs are wood.  The paint is so incredibly many layers thick, and coming off in chips.  So it all needs to be stripped down to wood and painted anew.  I scraped the hell out of it.  And then I got my paint removing wire brush drill tip going.  And managed to work on that for a couple of hours before the flying paint dust just bugged my eyes too much.  I need goggles.  Or maybe SCUBA gear.  But so I tried to escape into something productive, and I even couldn’t do that right.

I want to say that I’m such a loser.  Only I refuse to say it, because I’m not.  I’m not a loser.  And I’m not going to give in to self-pity like that.  I’m better than that.

But fuck if I don’t want to just curl up into a ball on my bed and just cry my heart out until I collapse to sleep right now.

Why does life have to be so fucking hard some times?  Why can’t something go right for me for a change?  Why does everything have to hit all at once?  One thing, I can take.  Two things, I can take.  Three even I could maybe juggle.  But shit!  Did I mention I also have a house on the market that I just took off the market so that I can say screw it, cut the utilities and winterize it?  I’m pretty much just living on my savings right now, and my wife’s income is paying not just our house, but my old house as well!  I don’t feel as bad as I should about that because contractors intentionally save up for those dry spells between contracts, so I’m still technically paying my half of life.  But I’d feel infinitely better if I just had some real money coming in again instead of chump change from micro-contracts and shit work.

I dunno.  I’m ranting like a loon.  But then, that’s fair, since I am losing it right now.

And you know what’s really got my nerves right now?  Besides all of this shit?  Is that here I have this blog, and there’s like 30 visits a day.  I’m so very thankful for those of you who do visit and leave such nice comments.  You really make my day.

But what bugs me about that, is that days when I go on and on about sex, suddenly I see tons more visits.  I mean why don’t I just turn this blog into tranny porn?  I mean fucking hell!  What kind of sick twisted world is this when sex is so much more important to people than life?

I dunno.

It shouldn’t make me so mad.  That’s just the internet.  Porn, porn, and more porn.  Google search for bunnies, sunshine, and lollipops and you get “See super busty Bunny Girl stick a lollipop up her twat.”  That’s just the internet.

But I so don’t want that to be my blog.  I’m a real person, with a real life.

But damned if I don’t sometimes want that validation.  If I don’t sometimes consider pandering to the public at large by just writing about dicks and clits and nipples and vaginas and labias and vibrators and dildos oh my!

I guess it’s a good thing that I’m an ugly as sin woman.  It at least provides that extra measure of sanity check to keep me from wagging the ol’ willy in front of my camera.

Well, anyway…

Sorry for the basically senseless rant.  Maybe I’ll even delete it.  Or maybe I’ll just keep it for posterity.  I can look back one day when I’m going through changes on my HRT, my wife still loves me, I’ve got a good job, and am down to just one mortgage, and I’ll get to laugh and laugh.

Meanwhile, I think the bed is calling.  Time for that cry.