Wednesday, 24th November, 2004

Last night's WiFi Weirdness

Woah

OK, so I'm sat here on another train, and I was about to write all sorts of stuff about my plans for the evening, when suddenly, Emer was sking me if I wanted to join a wireless network.

Except I'm on a train.

A. Train.

How weird is that?!

The network has gone away now though — I think it was the train that was beside us in the station. This is a Arriva Transpennnine train (I know! Transpennine chuckle) and the network belonged to GNER.

Sorry, I just wasn't expecting that...

...

Anyway. Siobhan, what are you plans for tonight?

Well. clears throat Right now, I'm on a train bound for Manchester. I'm stopping at Natalie's tonight because she's been rather kind and said she'd put me up.

Actually, my main excuse is that I really want to talk through with her some of the things I've been deliberating about recently — she's always good for that

I spoke with some colleagues about it, and well, the whole trannie thing doesn't really seem to be the issue — the issue is the distinction between personal and professional.

Oh, it's hard to explain I need a lot more time to get my head round what's going on. I really do True Story.

...

Pulling into Huddersfield — I wonder if I'll get another wireless signal...

...nope

...

I hate running. Really, I do It's like every muscle in my body is screaming in one unison voice "Nooooooooo!"

Except my feet that is. They, apart from the initial "Why the fuck are you putting this much pressure on us?!" response, are now saying "Ahhhhhhh"

Also, my brain is breathing a deep sigh of relief.

This, incident;y, is my little way of saying I had to run to get the train.

This pisses me off to be honest. Earlier on in the day, I'd spent a bit of time working out the best way home — avoiding Preston. And I figured I had to get this train (the one that I'm now on) in order to get home at a reasonable time, and avoid Preston...

...except, I've just passed up the opportunity of spending a considerable time walking to the station with a key member of a small group of abstract photographers in the UK.

That's what I like about my job — I meet some extremely interesting people

...

Anyway, back to The Dilemma.

I think I should point out here, that despite any kind of "Yes! I'm going to do this!" noise I might make here, I'm still

...

Oi! Bloke next to me! Stop reading what I'm typing!

...

Sorry.

...

I'm still in the 'thinking out loud' stage of doing anything. I was talking things through with Natalie last night, and I've been thinking a lot about what I can do.

I'm in a unique position really — I've got a wealth of resources and support lined up on all sides — I just have to try and work out what I'm doing.

And when I work that out, trust me, yous'll be the first to know. But don't take anything as gospel right now OK?

...

Beth, yes — I got it yesterday. Thanks honey. Sorry, I'd call back but I hate using the phone when I'm on a train hug

...

Bleurgh. I've done nothing except sit on trains all week. Tomorrow, I will rectify this by doing nothing but stay in bed

...

Something interesting that came out of last night's conversation:

I think there are two distinct aspects of what I do in terms of Siobhan. On the one had, there is the same Siobhan that has always been here — a manefestation of me as a transvestite. THe Siobhan that wears stockings and suspenders underneath her normal boy-clothes. The Siobhan that (oh, come on — we all have this) gets, quite frankly, turned on when she wears women's clothes.

That Siobhan is one thing — it's a someone I gave a name to once because I was in a sticky situation and had to think of a name.

That Siobhan isn't really Siobhan (maybe) — that's Graham the transvestite, wearing a dress...

On the other hand, there's Siobhan the online entity. The sum of all my witterings both here, in chatrooms and in mailing lists. That Siobhan is the sum total of a media, a preconception of femininity, and the way I write. That Siobhan is more like an online version of me than a trannie.

(I'm thinking out loud again BTW)

There's something else though. THe way I'm feeling at the moment — my desire to be more 'out' than I am right now, is more a desire to start looking the way I want to look, rather than shouting out "I'm a trannie! I'm a trannie!"

In the context of private vs public, my transvestism is private — but Siobhan is public.

Does that make sense?

...

7.51pm and I'm just pulling out of Manchester Picadilly. My feet smell, I'm slightly sobering up, so let's (a) nip to the toilet to smother my boots in deodorant, and (b) take a quick look at what I wrote earlier when I was slightly more under the influence...

...oh. I think I could have made more sense if I'd just banged my head repeatedly against the keyboard. In fact, let's try that shall we?

bnnbyhb

Wow — considerably less gobbledygook than you'd expect :Unsure:

...

While I was waiting in Picadilly, the automated voice kept apologising for the 19 minute delay in the service to Manchester Oxford Road. I couldn't help but think though, that what it should be announcing was "We're sorry for the delay to the Manchester Oxford Road Service. But really, lazy sods. You could walk it in five minutes"

...

I'm so tired tonight. Not surprising really when you take into account that I've had about 5 hours sleep each night since Monday. It's been an odd week — both productive and frustrating at the same time — but I do feel like I managed to get somewhere these past couple of days.

I finally got the access I wanted to the web server at work for a start. I nearly got there at lunchtime today, but the administrator managed to give the permissions to the guy in the Uni that has the same surname as me. So for about an hour, the entire website was under the control of a member of admin staff from a totally different department — although I don't think he realised.

It's OK now

All I need is access from home and I'll be happy

...

Thinking about that, I've found that I'm more likely to actually do things when I've got the ability to update/administrate/modify things there and then. It's like what I was saying (was I?) the other night about making things easy for people, and then the content will flow. I think the reason I've spent so much time over the past few years tweaking this website is because the majority of the time, it's sat under the desk beside me. When I first started it, when it was hosted on a paid-for server, it was so much more of a faff to update.

When I have control over things, I get things done

...

So, what's the next step in the old research thingumy then?

Well. I was thinking this morning, that I spend a lot of my time with students trying to get them to stop making Grand Plans about what they're going to do with their time. I was talking to one of them today specifically about not attempting to plunge into some carefully thought out 'final piece' and that what he should do is attack his subject from the leftfield — doing little subversive things all over the place. And that something Grand will come from that without him having to initiate it himself.

So that (she said, taking a bit of her own medicine) is exactly what I'm going to do.

There's a few directions I'd like to develop in right now: for a start, I'm wanting to investigate what I can do with the new camera. I'm still on the quest for the perfect trannie photograph — the quintissential performance piece of "OMG, is that a man?!". I'm also keen to see what (if anything) it will do to my stripey work. The original stripes were, to some extent, a product of the low resolution of my little camera. Now that I have something that's approaching film-resolution, it will be interesting to see what I can do with pictures I take.

Those stripes were an attempt to (a) mask the true origins of the images, and (b) make something out a low-resolution image.

The interesting thing for me though is that the first time I started making stripes, it was prompted by the sudden acquisition of a set of stunning images — some microscopic slides — that I felt I had to treat in some way that would respect how gorgeous they were.

Funny then that the stripe process turned into a way of compensation for shite, rather than a celebration of stunningness.

So yeah, step one: take some amazing pictures.

Step two: ??

Step three: Profit!!!!

(Sorry)

Step two is the banging my head against the desk repeatedly trying to pull something amazing out of the bag. I know I'm sounding like the 'tortured artist' here, but reallyy, I've done it before — I can do it again.

There is though, and this is something I really need to keep reminding myself, a vast difference between making work about transvestism, and making trannie work (although, actually, I'm not really making either — it's just an offshoot of my main focus). What I'm trying to do is strip out the egotistical, self-obsessed side of what I do online, and turn that into something that can give a new insight into what it means to be online.

I just happen to do most of my online-life in a dress that's all

...

Speaking of dresses, I know Kath will be waiting for me when I get home, and I know she'll be wanting a hug, but I'm in dire need of just spending 10 minutes swishing in something frothy at some point tonight. You have to feel sorry for/admire her sometimes — putting up with my princessness is probably more than you can expect from any human being. But she does

It's almost a year since we got together, and I'm still absolutely totally in love with her. In fact more so I think.

That's gotta be a good sign

...

Tomorrow is going to be a two-fold day. On the one hand, I need to just take a few hours to myself and relax a bit — on the other, there's shitloads of work I need to do. I also need to hoover the house a bit too But that can wait. I figure I've earnt myself a bit of a rest this week. And I want to play with my camera too.

...

You must forgive me for the complete randomness of tonight's witterings by the way. The reason I write a lot on trains is that it helps me pass the time. If it was daytime, then I could stare out of the window and look at things, and maybe take pictures — but all I can see outside is this:

(Note to self: do that again when there's more lights. That could be quite a nice picture...)

Actually, all I can see in the window is my own refection — which is odd really. I've been thinking for years (I guess) about what it is that makes me look like a man, rather than a woman. Sort of what it is about that most recent photo (the gothy one that isn't very good) that gives me away as being a guy. I used to think that it was my nose that was the most blokey part of me (with an obvious, but less visible under clothes, exception), but I dunno — maybe it's my chin after all.

I know one of the most striking differences between men and women is the jawline, and I'm afraid I fall prey to that just as much as anyone else. (You should see the state of pictures taken from below my head-height — I look fucking terrible in them )

I think though, that I've got two main things going for me: my cheek-bones, and my eyes. THey're the two things that I always get complimented on, so in any photograph I take of Siobhan, they're the two things I try and emphasise. My eyes by going heavy on the eye-liner, and my cheekbones by pulling big grins I don't quite know what to do about my jaw — I guess I just have to find the right angle to take pictures from that minimises its squareness.

That's not to say I have a particularly square jaw I think it's fair to say that I'm quite a feminine-looking guy even when I'm not done up. It's just that when trying to look exactly like a girl, anything that gives me away becomes really noticeable. It's like a complete reversal of the way I normally look I guess — some things make me look feminine when I'm dressed as a boy (like my eyes), and some things make me look masculine when I'm dressed as a girl (like my cock. Ha ha ha)

Interestingly, this idea came up in last night's conversation. I am not, despite my hair-growing attempts at the moment, trying to look like a girl full-time. What I'm trying to do is find a look that suits me, that isn't constrained my notions of what men or women should look like. I'm loathe to use the word 'androgeny', because it suggests something that I'm not trying to achieve — I'm trying to achieve a state of not really giving a shit what people think I should look like I guess.

Maybe.

Who knows?

Sorry — not really thought this one through, and I'm going to stop writing now because some woman on board has just sprayed deodorant all over the place, and it's making me feel a little embarassed, as if she can smell my feet and is compensating for it.

Did I mention that my feet smell tonight?