I’m at a place that feels a lot like New Culture Camp. A lot of concerns about, is everything packed, and logistics. Renee is with us. We go downstairs and plan what we’re going to do. I don’t really see the need for this kind of planning. I’m about to go to sleep; there are two beds in my room but my roommate hasn’t shown up yet, if I have one. My mother is in the den and I’m sitting on the couch (parts of it feel like the house). At one point my mother says that I left a bunch of stuff outside my door, toiletries or something, and this upsets her somehow.

I have a lot of transcription stuff to do, but our schedule was that we would go to lunch together. I wanted to participate in the whole schedule. I realize I need gas, so I go to the gas station at the center of Oxford (again, parts of this feel like home, parts not) and I ask for gas. They tell me I can get $10 at a time out of an ATM or from a clerk that they point to. So I go inside and there’s a room with a really sloped floor. When I look in the mirror, I see that the shirt I have on is a very feminine tank top thing that doesn’t really suit me. Someone gave it to me, and it says something on it, but I don’t remember what. I realize there are ways to adjust it and even give it sleeves somehow. I also put on this blonde wig, and when I look in the mirror, it just works. It doesn’t look anything like “me” but it WORKS. The colours, everything matches so well. A guy tells me, “Go ahead,” in the way he might say it to a woman, and it feels really good. I dance or at least I really want to dance. To the left of this lighter, sloped room is the cashier window. I decide to take $20 out and then think it might be a little too much — then realize I don’t have to use ALL of it for gas.

I go back to the sloped room. There are actually a lot of friends with me, all girls, and I see them all run up the slope and out a door into someplace else. I ask them, “Where are you going?” but they don’t answer me. So I run up and through the door and through so many different rooms and corridors, looking for them. I end up in a place where this other group is having a meeting. I ask them if they know where my group might have gone. They tell me my group left me. They overheard people in my group saying, quote, “I’m done giving my support to men.” This confuses me and hurts me and I have no idea what it means.,,



~ by dewiniaeth on March 26, 2014.

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