I'm not paying any more attention to detail than before

or I believe my head weighs something different.

I do however feel softer. not that I am softer but I require a subtler amount of force to process the environment. the parallel universe where everyone is a different gender of me watching me, here, in this dimension, on the screens of their choosing. they are waiting with bated breath for this season to unfold.

I was talking to my student about their dreams & they said they didn't dream as themselves until returning from their home country as a young adult. in my home country, recently, I can only remember dreams of domesticity plays where I am the housewife with unnamed interiority. the man I love always has the same lines & he never knows his blocking until his exit in the ambiguous third act. two/thirds of every performance, I try to claim as my executive production.

a white lady just said she was envious of my legs. I guess the hormones are working. (that's a joke). gag. I've had these legs for a while. I did take it as a genuine compliment. Compliments from women are more telling than from men. A man can call you beautiful & want to kill you. a woman will just want to wear your skin. I understand costume more than consumption. I can relate to specific things making all the difference.

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