julien pacaud

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Estrella Circus Girl

Life and times of a circus runaway


Truth or dare
julien pacaud
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Cal/Alder/user_undefined and I are playing truth or dare on Tumblr.  I gave them a dare and asked for a truth; this is what I got: I wanna know about your woo-tendencies, bro.  Talk about one deity who scares you, one who intrigues you, and one who inspires you to acts you would never consider otherwise.  (They don't have to be three different deities.)

This is what I said:

Oh god(s).

HERE YOU GO: I was raised Christian/Jewish interfaith, and it was really important to me for a long time, but even when I was studying it I knew that it wasn’t my god I was learning to talk to.  For a long time I thought of myself an atheist, but in my heart of hearts I knew that wasn’t right either.  Sometimes I think I understood the power behind everything better when I was a teenager experimenting with a made-up version of Wicca than I ever will again.


When I am at a rock show, and the music is sounding a sympathetic frequency in my ribcage and thrumming in my every cell, and I become an instrument.  When I am working with a horse, and I ask her kindly to please follow my lead; this massive, wild creature; and she does.  When I run harder and faster and longer than I thought I could and I think my lungs will give up and crawl out my throat and my legs are burning and shaking, but then that one song comes on, and I feel like I could run another five miles.  These are times when I know something with certainty that I can’t possibly know, and the knowledge fades when the moment passes.
The god that answers all three of your requirements is Loki.

Now I have a dare: I dare you to post selfies portraying three different genders. If you don’t feel comfortable putting them on your own blog, you can send them to me, to post or just to see. The drag is the thing here. But bonus points if you post them.

So, stay tuned.

(no subject)
julien pacaud
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Hold music is perfectly formulated to give me ulcers and panic attacks. Not because it is a poor-quality recording of (usually) poor-quality music, but because the recording is SO poor that any quiet portions of the tune are obliterated, creating long, silent pauses that make me snap to attention because it sounds like someone picked up. Then the tinny kazoo-through-a-distortion-pedal music comes back, or gets interrupted again by the polite robot reciting dadaist poetry with postmodern/nihilistic influences:

thank you
for your patience

all representative
are still busy assisting other callers

your call is important to us
please remain on the line

your call will be answered
in the order it was
received

Since December 26, I have called the Washington Health Benefit Exchange, trying to get help with the error message I get with my online application, about thirty times. This is the first time I've actually gotten through to a machine instead of my call getting disconnected due to "high call volume", and I feel like I should think this is progress, but I just want to tear my own head off. Tell my mother I love her.

Night writing
sol
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Tonight I cooked a really fabulous meal with my dad for his birthday.  It started snowing, fluffy, quarter-sized flakes, around 5pm, and it it didn't stop until about an hour ago.  After an episode each of Foyle's War and Orange is the New Black (I'm on vacation, what do you want), we looked outside and there was about three inches of snow on the ground.  So we went for a walk at about 12:15am, in the snow.

I still don't know what I am but it's been easier to see myself being it.  Hanging around with sixbitsforfact helped a lot.  

Home, sick
julien pacaud
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Things I have already accomplished today:

  • made rad get-healthy scramble for breakfast (onion, kale, orange pepper, eggs)

  • cleaned toilet

  • scooped litterbox

  • swept bathroom floor

Things I could do today:

  • mend favorite sweater

  • order new glasses

  • get a dentist appointment

  • work on comic page

  • make sick day comics

  • watch TV (Bones, Upstairs/Downstairs, Xena, Voyager)

  • fold laundry

  • do dishes

  • update LJ

The weather is cooperating by being the kind of gross that I would never want to go out in, so I don't feel lazy blobbing around the house.  How much of that list will I actually accomplish?  We'll see.

Dear LJ friends, I am doing okay.  Things are actually looking way sunnier than my last couple of posts make it seem.  I am taking care of myself, Emma is taking care of me.  Soon we have some dear friends visiting us for a weekend, and the next week I start scientific illustration classes at UW and then turn around and fly to the east coast for my brother's (second) wedding.  Work is hard but it doesn't suck, and I'm actually making pretty good money.

I'm also debating coming out to my parents/family (almost in time for National Coming Out Day!) the weekend that we'll be on the east coast.  I'm trying to figure out the most considerate, controlled-environment way of doing it.  The wedding weekend seems selfish, like I'm co-opting my brother's big moment, but over the phone is too impersonal and I think it would be nerve-wracking not to be able to see my parents' faces.  And I could wait until December and Christmas, but I've already lied several times (or not lied exactly but withheld the whole truth) and I really hate it.

Coming out as what, anyway?
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Am I doing it right
julien pacaud
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This is the day I had.

Source: Hyperbole and a Half

(no subject)
julien pacaud
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Nightblogging.  Great.

I haven't listened to My Chemical Romance in a while (due mostly to the fact that the one album I want isn't in the library system, and the newer one they did have is dumb), but I've been mainlining The Secret Machines, especially Ten Silver Drops.

I was running in the arboretum today, and I had the clearest thought about my gender that I've had in weeks, and now I've forgotten it.  It was like dreaming.  The thought felt completely clear and obvious at the time, and I had the thought that I think clearest when I'm exhausting myself physically.  And now it's gone.

I only update when I feel like shit, so my journal makes it look like I feel like shit all the time.  This is inaccurate.

More later.

I'm not okay (I promise)
julien pacaud
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I am super fucking embarrassed by this but I am falling back on songs and images of Gerard Way and mid-'00s My Chemical Romance as a sort of emotional crutch/self-harm method slash gender inspiration.  Gerard Way's image epitomized the kind of boi/boy I wished I was throughout high school--damaged, effeminate, obviously vulnerable and viciously defensive.

I'm not embarrassed because the band is embarrassing, but because Way has vehemently denied the band's frequent 'emo' classification and described the whole genre as "fucking garbage" which, come on asshole, look at your existence.  You are advertising yourself as a Christ figure for the downtrodden freaks, of fucking course all the damaged kids who want to open up their insides are flocking to you.  Get a little accountability and maybe don't stomp all over the things that make them feel a little better.

But god, his fucking face.  I wanted to be able to flip my hair like that, but not as who I was.  I wanted to be that kind of wounded, but not as a girl.

I am not afraid to keep on living.


Prodigal child
julien pacaud
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I can't believe I'm doing this.  But I know exactly why I'm doing this.

Please comment if you are reading this, and would continue to read if I posted.
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Farewell, fair Livejournal
sol
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Okay guys.

It's going on a year since I posted to this thing, so I think it's finally time to pour one out and close up shop.  I am keeping up No Horse Studio, a tumblr of the art (and other stuff) that I make.  It's not the most personal of journals--nothing like this was--but possibly in the future I may start up another one for the more personal, feeeeelings-oriented stuff in my life.  Please come say hi at NHS or on Facebook, and please keep in touch!  

Love and smooches,

Liz

Oh hello
julien pacaud
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We are moving, somewhere, next month. There are two apartments that look great and the landlord and -lady of both are pretty much ready to offer them to us.

I am FREAKING OUT. One is a dream apartment that's at the upper end of what we can afford, huge, wood floors, finished attic, ridiculously fabulous view, rooftop deck, etc. The other is lots smaller and has a sort of weird layout and a seriously tiny kitchen, but is still quite nice and a bit cheaper.  WHAT TO DOOOO

Really this is silly because when we split the rent for the two of us, the smaller place is only a little more than $100 cheaper per month, and that doesn't include utilities.  I still feel pretty sure the bigger place is worth the extra cash.  I'm only flipping out because I had to avert a crisis at work where I double-booked myself in the flying trapeze tent and in the gym.  I was about to whine about it on Facebook, but I've already posted a lot today, and then I remembered livejournal, which is practically formatted specifically for whining.  

Hey guys!  I'm alive!  What's up?

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