It's Halloween. I'm going to see the Gossip tonight at this venue that was at one time a church. I'm pretty stoked. Liz and I are going. She's wonderful. Although we've only met here, she kind of feels like home.

Home is a big thing for me right now. I keep revisiting the thought that I want to know what home is. I saw a woman walking her dog the other day and it made me a little weepy. She was only walking and he was just sniffing along, but, to me, that represented a life with consistency, simple tasks, fulfilling life maintanence. I know that I have to be at home within myself before a place will ever feel right. I suspect that beginning to feel more at home in my skin and body is leading me to crave a home for my body, too. I have always craved the ability to keep going some place else, wrapped up in the possibility of somewhere else, and eager to start over and re-establish. But now that is making me feel weary. My life happens in three-month cycles (as many other Benningtonians can understand), which keeps me in the process of settling in and then just after getting ready to depart. Both of those adjustments take a while, at least a month, so very rarely do I get the chance to just be in a place without thinking of what came before or what's next. My mother asked me about a year ago, jokingly, if living the life that Bennington prescribes will make me finally feel like I could stay in one place for a while. I laughed it off, doubting that would ever happen, but now it seems she guessed it before me.

I don't know where home is for me. Riverside isn't it. I've been away so long that each time I go back, the city and I recognize each other less and less though it seems we understand each other more and more. Like my relationships with my parents, geographic distance seems to make it better. And the folks I know there I still adore, but sometimes I see the language barrier that emerged from the joining of time and distance. In preparing to go back, I see myself more as a visitor than I have in the past. I booked my trip for just three weeks. That's the shortest it's ever been. I want just a small chunk of time to enjoy being there and leave before my feelings of being stuck in the wrong place creep in an make me sour. Time to see mom and go for Monte Cristos at Millies and go for a movie that she will get annoyed when I can't sit through it, time to chill out at Dad's and have the two of us follow each other around and go for lunch and me watch him dig in the cactus garden (that is if the wife doesn't hate me an make me feel unwelcome), and time to spend with Nickolas and quench the hurt in my heart I have from having to talk just on the phone once a month and see for myself the love he and Uly have. And watch a couple of others in their lives that have relocated since I last checked in or that are on their way somewhere else. I want time for all of these things, and then I want time to go back to my life and live it some more. I can't stay too long in a place that used to be home but isn't anymore without eventually feeling stuck.

After that, I will be back in Bennington. When I think of a quiet home, I think of that place. The sense of home we cultivated this summer still sits with me, and returning in winter before the term starts I suspect I will get the quietude I'm looking for. It won't be Shingle, but Rachel will be there and that'll give me a lot. Also, working in the office is familiar, and I hope I keep my endurance up and enjoy it. The summer was filled with impatience and anticipation, but I'm looking to make the winter last as long as possible and take lots of time to saturate myself with the home I have there before everyone comes back. My car will be out in Vermont with me this time which I think will change my feeling about being there quite a lot. I will have the freedom to move around and feel like I live there. I'm really looking forward to that.

So that's the high flouted big life stuff, the little things are that I'm going to London in two weeks to see Mollie-o. I'm glad to be getting out of Glasgow for a bit, to be seeing her, and to be going to the Tate. I'm taking forever to get work done, but I guess that's okay. It's not like I'm in the same place with all of my familiar resources, so of course I'm gonna operate differently. I just thought for a while that I should be a little further along. I was worried about it, but now I'm just fighting off the apathy and trying to keep into it. On a shallow note, I did the Glasgow shopping circuit this weekend, gave myself a fresh look and I don't feel so frumpy, which is nice. I'm passing all over the place here and it makes me really happy and relaxed and excited all at the same time-- all these things and I've made it so that it's not a secret with my housemates, which also feels good. Now I just want to start T so that this high voice I have will kick itself down a notch. That part make me a little insecure in public. But that will come in due time, in due time.

I do believe that's enough for now. I love you folks. More people have told me they actually read this than I thought. I'm glad for that, because I can think of it as actually writing to someone instead of off into oblivion.

Today is better. I don't have much to say at the moment, but I didn't want the tone of the last one to stay un-updated for too long.

And Paul, I love you. go'head, take those dibbs! oh and I'm kind of sad we can't talk as much while I'm here.

This does not feel like the best place to be right now- I came back to Glasgow from a pretty great weekend touring the Highlands and found a mess. First, even before I could put my bags down I saw a really distraught friend- he told was going home for a friend's funeral. She went missing in Vermont and was just found murdered. I was pretty much speechless, as anyone would be. I just hugged him. I couldn't help but think about my past, but I couldn't breathe a word of it to anyone around because it wasn't the time for that. It still hung in my head. I cried. I got pissed. I still feel that way, but I also feel like ignoring all of it and trying to push through. That's what I've been trying to do since I got here.

Feeling alone after I went to my room, I found another friend who made me feel better, but then I made him feel like shit. I'll save the description of this one, but I feel like I fucked up. It wasn't my intention to give him more to worry about, but that's what I ultimately did. He's important to me, and I worry that this is damaging.

These two things come after a couple of stressful weeks that have passed, but still have left their mark. Someone who was also studying abroad here, but has now left, had a few outbursts of cutting herself then going to the hospital. The first night it happened I found her bleeding on the stairs. Another incident here that took me back to things I don't like to remember. The last couple of years at Bennington have been wrought by death and injury, and seeing this made me feel trapped in seeing those things everywhere I go. After the first night I kept my distance from her and any of the other situations, just because I didn't want to see anymore. Even then, it was still around. That situation passed and is not happening anymore here, but having that happen in the first weeks left me feeling like the ground we're starting with here is a bit shaky.

Also last night I saw that a kid from our house had been jumped outside of the library. I don't know much about that situation, but again, it felt like everything was kind of fucked up everywhere. Added to the load, of course, is my own transition. The place where all these things come together is where I have to fight off my own depression.

So basically, I'm completely uncomfortable and trying to cling close to those things that make me feel alright. It will get better, but I have to admit, at the moment it sucks.

It's October 12th.

I feel pretty happy this morning. There's blue sky outside, and I slept well (except for this cough I can't seem to get rid of). I came out as trans recently, and it seems like every morning I'm more willing to get out of bed. I have changed my name to Cyle (Kyle with a C so I don't have to change my initials or my signature). My frustrations and discomfort with gender have always been a very private thing for me. Other than my mother, I don't think many people in my life have any idea that this has been part of my relationship to myself- well, I assume that folks don't know, but then I don't know what I look like or sound like from the outside. Most of us don't really know, but part of that for me is because I have never been comfortable really looking at my physical self (that has gotten better too). My own thoughts and feelings never made sense to me, so I assume that they don't make sense to anyone else. But once I just decided to go with this feeling of wanting to explore transitioning, I have felt and thought things about myself that I never have before- I don't feel so annoyed with myself, and I'm less critical and afraid of what I am.

Because I don't talk about it much, actually telling people feels a little awkward- how exactly do you start such a conversation? You just do I guess- I feel better once I just throw the words out off my tongue. My mom was the first to know, and she's incredible. My mama, yep yep yep. She wasn't surprised and she even went ahead and told her family for me. I'm known as Cyle here in Glasgow, so they all know, and I'm slowly finding opportunities to let my friends in VT and California know. I want to let my friends into this, I just want to do it sincerely, so timing is important. (BTW- this blog isn't meant to be in place for that- being far away, the chances for long conversations with some people are few and far between. I just want to have a place to write about this. Know that I really want to have those conversations whenever it's possible).

The hardest one to tell so far was my father. Coming out as gay like 7 years ago was hard enough, so I knew introducing him to this would not be simple. He called one evening while I was on my way to a pub and I had the thought of telling him on my mind for so long that I couldn't say anything else before I told him that. I first told him I've been going by Cyle, then he said (with kind of a defensive, snotty attitude)"why?". He got the idea when I said it's because that's what mom would have named me if I had been born a boy. He was quiet for a moment, and then came back quickly with "well, I'm sorry but you'll always be Carlie to me". I wouldn't have admitted it then, but I felt kind of crushed by his immediate unwillingness. My response was that he could do what he wanted with it, I just wanted to let him into that part of my life. What I really wanted to say was "fuck you". and then why is it such an issue for you. but that wouldn't get me anywhere. He left me with a glimmer of hope when he ended the conversation with "I'll have to think about that one". Whatever. Maybe he'll come around, maybe he wont. There are lots of question marks with daddy-o at the moment, but just getting the balls to tell him got rid of so so much of my nervousness about being open with it to other people. This one is about me, anyway.

This is definitely a process I have to feel myself through... legal issues, financial issues, health issues, social issues... it'll all fall together, I know. I can't tackle it all at once, but I'm making my way through it. I'm aware that lots of changes will be happening in my life for the next while and I'm super excited. I also know that in telling friends, I'm not just letting them in on my life so they can just know about something, but I'm also making sure that I have the support I need. I used to deny needing other people, but the last year has shown me that connectivity is important- essential. So, my friends, when you read this, know these things: I love you, I wanted you to know this but I just couldn't find the moment to tell you myself, and I need you to love me.

So there you have it. In other news, Glasgow is good. Going up to the Highlands this weekend and it should be quite beautiful. Been having a good time.

The last couple of weeks have been incredible: gut-wrenching, exciting, nerve-wracking, exhausting, endearing- a whole mix of things that only now do I have the facilities to talk about it.

First of all, for a school with such a name this place can't seem to make anything happen smoothly. Some of us have been pushed from second year to third year and back to second again, faculty are like ghosts that I have to try to catch so they know I'm alive, and of course housing cant seem to tell me why my window won't shut (doesn't seem to be the most challenging issue to tackle, but somehow it's completely perplexing to them.)
To counter all of that, I have to say that the flip side is the group of really great people I've met. Once the sense of familiarity set in with them, the adjustment was like taking my feet off the bike pedals going down hill- all I have to do is hold on.

Time is spent most usually going to the studio during the day, or class on Tuesday, or smoking in front of the MaggyMac House (where we live), or around the dinner table eating dinner together, or the occasional pub visit. It's all pretty simple and I like it that way.

Last weekend, however was an exception... I went to do a home stay with a family on the east coast of Scotland. I was super nervous- in a lot of ways the set up is quite strange. Random American students are set up with (screened but none the less) random families to chill out for a weekend. The family turned out to be really fantastic though. I lucked out in getting a good match- some of the other students I went with didn't click so well with their families. The mom was really great, my favorite kind of mom- a mix of slightly cynical but still doting. The dad was a sweetheart, and the kids were inspiring. The seven year-old boy hammed it up quite a bit and charmed me with his spark. The thirteen year-old boy was a calm, good hearted middle child- I felt for him a bit as I could tell he was kind of annoyed with his position. At the top was the 15 year-old girl who, again, was great. She was a bit quiet, but not at all absent, she adored her baby brother, and I related to her position as surrogate mother.
The night I arrived, I shared a bottle of wine with the parents and stayed up chatting into the evening. It was a good start, well worth the hangover the mom and I both woke up with the next morning (I was relieved I wasn't the only one- the American shmuck waking up hungover at 10am, not so much) Saturday we had a pic-nic on the beach, threw frizbees around for a while, then went for icecream and to a party with the other students that evening. Fortunately this country isn't quite as critical of alcohol consumption because I cant seem to attend a party sober without being so nervous I choke on my words.
Sunday, woke up late again (the mom insisted I didn't wake up to an alarm) walked around a castle ruin on a cliff, got some fish and chips and then it was time to go. I came back to the city missing the rock in my belly I had left with.

This week, the pressure is on with studio work, so I'm going to call this one quits here and go do what I'm supposed to be doing.

more photos on photobucket soon. the internet connection to my computer is all backasswards and aint workin.