The Intro of Big M
Today's laugh: "Look at me like a human boy!"
Today's song: Dionysos Ft. Olivia Ruiz - Tais Toi Mon Coeur
Today's topic(s): The Intro of Big M
Welcome to the blog of the Almighty Milo. Think of me like a magician, only my slight of hand is so bad that you demand your money back. I pun, I ramble, I digress, and I write in a manner of carefully edited word vomit. We can call that either irony or stupidity, but the actual reason to my methods is I'm as an imperfect perfectionist. But first, some background. I'll admit this initial post may be longer than consequential ones. Unless I'm ranty, in which case you'll witness blog length to the likes you've never seen before.
I was born and bred in Pennsyl-tucky, which has too many ups and downs worth mentioning at the moment. When I was growing up, I was largely surrounded by cornfields and farmland. These days, not so much. Thank financially-driven "progress" for that one. My home is now one of the top ten fastest growing counties in the nation. Coming to Boston actually helped me relieve some of the congestion.
And yet my family hasn't lost their traditions. We are still avid deer hunters and fishermen. If you were born male in my family, you were taught how to shoot, catch, skin, gut, and cook. There are few delicacies better than homemade deer jerky and pierogi. (As you can tell, my palette is quite refined.) We are a dying breed of respectable hunters. Sure, we kill ultimately for sport, I guess you could say, but we mount the heads, eat the meat, and use the skins. We don't shoot, take a picture, and then walk away. Although such hunting still helps keep the environmental balance of good ol' PA in check, I find such behavior less than admirable and far less respectable to the animals in question.
I say "we" as if I'm involved here. Alas, I'm a transman, which for me means I was born genetically female, but identify as male and am trying to fully and medically transition as such. It can quite suck, the trans life, but I'm sure you'll hear all about that as time goes on and I itch to move forward with my transition. In the meantime, holla to my peeps? Yeah no? If there are other trans students at Simmons, particularly those that are transmasculine in some way, drop me a line. A proper supportive community is essential to psychological success in medical transition. We could certainly benefit each other.
But I digress. A former pharmacy technician with an unkempt flair for Western medicine conspiracy theories, I have and actually still prefer to refer to myself as a writer by unpaid trade. This is probably my highest excitement regarding this blogging gig. I get to do what I love and, for the first time, get paid for it. Not only is this satisfying in itself, but it'll look wicked on a resume, hopefully provoking future writing opportunities. As I continue in my quest, I hope to finally get my first of six novels finished before acquiring my MA. My first written work should have been done at least three years ago, but I took an unexpected coming-out "hiatus" for quite a bit of time. But such is life. You think you finally have your stuff together, and fate suddenly throws you a situation that shatters the fabric of modern civilization and the fundamentals of your supposed a priori knowledge. Hence why you stuffed it downed and numbed yourself up for so long to begin with.
Aside from wanting to become an openly trans professor--thus providing psychological aid, mentoring, and a positive role model to future generations--writing is indeed my passion in life. Lucky me that both professions easily go hand-in-hand. Graduating with a BA in both Philosophy and Gender Theory, I am now in Simmons' Gender/Cultural Studies program for my MA. Beyond that, I hope to procure a doctorate in Philosophy and then be on my merry way. In the meantime, I'm quite content with Simmons. For one of the first times in my life, I feel I am where I should be. The program/students/institution have been accepting and respectful of me since the first day, and the curriculum is the best I could have hoped for. Indeed, it was the curriculum that ultimately and immediately swayed me to Simmons as opposed to the other institutions that were available. While all others seem to teach along the lines of "social work," Simmons is the only one that gives the opportunity of hardcore theory. I'm all over that. With the majors that I have, theory-laden professorship is my only chance at decent life-long employment. That way, I can slough my employment problem off to future generations at exponential speed. It's the academic circle of life.
Also, at the risk of sounding like a pet, Dr. Jyoti Puri, current head of GCS, already has gained so much of my respect that I intend to follow her like a duckling for the rest of my program's longevity. I now get the image of Dr. Puri reading this and saying, "Oh my no! Not clingy, whiny, misguided Milo! Anybody but him!" But no worries, Dr. Puri. If I'm lucky enough to land my future goals, I'm sure I'll get mine in spades.
Back to digression and narcissism. In my loosely-defined spare time, I'm a hardcore Super Nintendo addict. If the game was worth its salt, I know it inside and out. Feel free to come to me with your SNES questions on tips, tricks, secrets, and general impassibilities.(Because, after all, nothing is smarter than a nonproductive hobby during graduate school.) If I don't know the answer, no worries; you just need to refine your taste.
If you haven't picked up by this point, I'm 99% sarcastic/dry with my humor, which in American culture usually means I'm not funny at all. I don't know where that remaining 1% is hiding, but an admitted margin of error always keeps one out of the courthouse. I personally can't get enough of dry wit, albeit mine tends to lack an essential cognitive-verbal filter in everyday life. Regardless, dryness keeps people thinking for themselves what is funny and what isn't. No cowbell is rung for an audience to indicate their laughter. I may like cowbell as much as the next Christopher Walken, but some areas of life need to stay unadulterated.
In the end, I mix my serious with my light-hearted, determined to entertain either way. When it's 2am and your dilated pupils can't look at your thesis anymore without attempting to gnaw on the white glare, you're welcome to check and see what recent shenanigans Milo's been up to in the efforts of a breather. Enjoy.