A new Matrix film out? A trailer that references the bits in the first (and only) film of the trilogy, the bits that reference Lewis Carroll and a prominent trans director? Is it my birthday? Oh baby do you remember; he's been through all this before, spent the summer getting nowhere.
No. It is not.
A targeted malware attack on my place of work on Friday, meaning I had to hand in my personal portable HDD this morning. Cue feeling a little sick with worry - I have downloaded more than a few captions over the years, sometimes one has something to hide (should have hidden it, shouldn't you?). And musing on Section 28 and it's place as the Death Star hiding a moon, protected by that shield projector based on the self-same moon and run by the Empire. Not a cannibalistic teddy bear in sight - all the better to eat you with. From pain comes pity.
Pain on the feet, constant and irritating, coming and going; a day spent stressed at pushing a little bit further: brown alice-band, pink accented anti-glare glasses, baby-blue socks with white heart details (women's ankle socks). And, tonight, my back molar crumbled while eating tea. No, again, the whole nightmare scenario of the shattering of a bit of tooth. Of course, because I had been so blithe and, well, happy. It's how it always goes. I shouldn't be surprised. I'm the paper cut that kills you, I'm the priest that you ignore.
What will get me first this time, I wonder, what will bring the cascade down?
Already I have been moved sideways because I fell apart and confessed to my ultimate boss that I couldn't do what was requested of me, stating baldly that he needed to get someone else in my position as I was unable to do what he wanted. Dark calculus. An e-mail seeks clarification on pronouns because I have been using Mx, but on the work system. Am I tragic or a joke wrapped in my invisibility cloak? Well, quite. How long do I have?
Tomorrow I must phone my dentist, book the time off work when I get an appointment. I must await the return of my HDD with bated breath, be ready for the questions and potential recriminations. No one escapes judgement forever. I must actually phone my GP, seek an appointment for a referral to a gender clinic. My vector isn't so far removed from the locus of that potential co-ordinate. Indeed, it lies on the path I seem to have begun. Better all at once than never. Maybe revisit my visit to the psychotherapist and try again. Wary of AGP and misinterpretation, the sum of all my fears.
Because I've waited long enough.
One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small and the ones that mother gives you don't do anything at all. "Well, hello, my hollow Holofernes" I wink, but you don't get the joke.