Moon Memo: No Christmas Eve in Bethlehem
Good morning from the little house in the Foster-Powell triangle. It's Saturday, the day before christmas eve, and I'm trying to keep quiet. Listening to Autechre after having JUST discovered them last night. How could have this autistic jumble of electronic sounds been kept away from me until now? Turns out they are pretty famous in certain circles of autistic trans women. I hold you all responsible for not alerting me to them soon.
Have a new set up for writing. I push a couple of buttons, and everything on my screen goes black except the Drafts file I'm typing into. Another push of the button and the screen goes black and white, so all that is present is white letters on a black background. I have two other apps set up to be running at the same time: Spotify and my commonplace book, currently living in nvUltra. But with this set up I can't see them. I have to assume they are in the same place that I always set them up to be. That way when I click on them, they appear. All that's left is a place to type into.
End of year is coming up. Still adding poems to the pile. I always feel bad for these end of the year poems. They don't get the attention that they deserve. They are going to disappear into backups immediately, and into the plastic tubs that are sitting in the garage. They don't matter. Not really. The only time they will probably see the world is right now, in this liminal space between The Birth and The New Year.
Work is done for the year, basically. I have some back end stuff for orientation, but besides that I am done. The work of my agency continues, of course. Christmas is a very busy time. But for trainings: nothing here but us beauties being done.
I am not a Christian anymore.
I do not believe in guilt. I feel as a trans person who came out later in life, I carry enough guilt from my childhood. From my previous life. I don't have to feel guilt about something fundamental to myself. My sexuality. my gender.
I do, however, carry a lot of Jesus in
Mmy heart though. His hatred of the Rich. His work for the least of his culture. Christmas is beautiful. The coming of a child God in the new year to redeem the world. The light shines in everyone, regardless of their beliefs, sobriety, sexuality. this Christmas I cry over the pictures of slaughter in Jesus's homeland.
This year I celebrate the least of these.
Yesterday I lost my keys for a while, and had a full tilt panic attack. As y'all know, I'm very serious about being on time, and I was going to be late to see my friend Sabina for one of our first lunches in a long time. I tore the house apart. Every couch was pulled apart. Every spot I've been the entire day was decimated so that I could find my keys. And I couldn't find them.
People don't realize that a lot of my need to be really organized is to avoid meltdown. When I am panicked, and looking for some thing, and if I can't find it, something in my brain, just disintegrates. So I had my second horrible brain explosion in a week.
I found them eventually. They were in a jacket I had pulled on earlier in the day when it was really cold. But I completely shut down, cried, yelled, fell apart.
Sabina has a way with autistic trans women. I think enough of her friends fall into that category that she's very very understanding. She got us food to go. She came in, and held me for a minute, we ate some food, and we had a good time. Thank you so much Sabina. I really appreciate it.
It's later in the day. I've read about 50 pages of books that I'm in the middle of. I've watched a little bit of television. I'm about to take a nap. A proper day off. I hope that you all get a little bit of quiet time This holiday season. Tonight I'm going to see the iron claw. I'll give a full review next time. Love y'all so much.
Misha Moon
