January 18, 1987: Baptized according to the rite of the Roman Catholic Church in Nampa, Idaho, United States of America. By the end of the year, my parents left both Idaho and the Church. Thank goodness.

Before school: Had two particularly close friends, Tucker and Libby. Tucker is still my BFF. Libby I hear about occasionally — apparently she married a Palestinian activist and converted to Islam? Her parents were Republicans so that's pretty funny.

Elementary school: Very good student. Got into computers early. We had an Apple IIe in every classroom, and my parents had a classic black and white Mac at home. I liked to type up "newspapers" and hand them out, like Philippe from Achewood. I also had a tape recorder that I would tell jokes into, etc. I was a kind of happy kid but often wracked with anxiety that I'd do the wrong thing. The first time I swore I had a panic attack. I pushed a kid against the wall and screamed at him for teasing me once and I saw fear in his eyes. I never touched another person in anger again. We went to the ballet on a school trip and I was imitating some of the moves afterward and I got made fun of. I was very careful not to do anything girly like that again.

I played soccer (mostly terrible, no coordination and afraid of the ball, although I could kick it really hard). Tried musical instruments (terrible, no coordination). Started a band with Tucker and played the drums (see previous). I remember leaving class in a crying fit once because I got a B on a test. A sweet girl came out and said that I shouldn't feel bad, everyone makes mistakes, and that I was a genius. I wasn't. I always knew that. I read a lot, had a big vocabulary I mostly mispronounced, had a lisp and a sibilant ess, got lice like five times for some reason, plucked out my eyebrows and eyelashes compulsively, hit myself in the hand with a ruler to soothe my anxiety, twitched and stimmed constantly. Was never diagnosed with anything other than a minor speech disorder, which they sent me to class to fix, and I mostly did. I also had ear infections often and badly enough that I needed surgery multiple times.

In fifth grade I remember feeling like I was on top of the world, though. Becoming an adult, it felt like. I played Macbeth in the school play, because I could project and remember the lines. I was friends with, and had a crush on, the girl who played Banquo. I don't think she liked me as much as I thought she did.

Middle school: Kind of a blur, really. I had my own computer and started learning to program, with QBasic and Visual Basic. I read a lot of computing books, including stuff for systems I'd never see. A lot of my distinct memories were of me being kind of insane, like wearing an entirely blue outfit that included jean shorts and a wool beret (even then, I liked blue, weird — I think I dress better now!). I thought I might be the reincarnation of Joan of Arc. (A lot of trans ladies have a Joan of Arc thing, which makes sense.) I wrote and drew a lot of garbage fantasy/SF stuff. I had lots of crushes on girls that I did nothing about other than following them around like puppy dogs sometimes. I kept on trying to learn music and kept failing, in part because the band teacher didn't want to teach me.

It's around here I start noticing that I keep getting weird exceptions from things. I didn't do normal band class, eventually, I would sit in a back room and organize sheet music. I was in the gifted program but didn't really do anything with it. I went to Outdoor School and got sent home early for allergies — I got along well with the nurse, though. I don't understand why, to this day, but I kept on getting sidelined, made an exception, separated out. Undiagnosed ADHD, ASD, gender dysphoria? Whatever it was, I felt like an outsider. By 8th grade I had long hair, usually greasy and stringy. I wore Doc Martens and a heavy German army marching coat (MODERN WEST GERMANY, THANK YOU VERY MUCH) even on the hottest days. I manned the audio board for school plays and concerts. There's a photo my dad has somewhere of me behind the panel. I look like a depressed burnout, with my mouth hanging open. (I was a mouth breather because of allergies.) It is one of those classic "before" photos you see in transition timelines.