Friday, July 30, 2010

The night I ended UP Under A Car

this is not related to the post at all!

I was indirectly reminded of this earlier and decided to share the story:

I was out with some friends one night. I had a long-board with me and we were all "bombing" a hill. It wasn't the biggest or steepest hill around but we didn't intend on doing anything very reckless so we stuck with this one. It didn't really enter our minds at the time, but this was a fairly high traffic road where all the rev-heads (gear heads) would drive up and down being cool and such and it was one of the busiest nights for these guys to show off their cars and stupidity skills. 

Which is probably why we were out there.

After a while I decided to get down the hill as fast as possible. About half way down I decided to take a break and lay down and pretend the skateboard was a luge. No big deal, I'd done it a million times. But what I didn't expect was one of these rev-heads deciding to pull out in front of me in his Ute (pickup truck).

Needless to say I freaked the fluff out as I disappeared under the back of his Ute. Luckily this was a work Ute and not the usual low and lean beasts that ran down that road. So I didn't crash into him and I managed to grab hold of it's tow bar so I didn't move further underneath. A friend of mine that was skating down at the same time told the guy to, slowly, stop so I could get out. Surprisingly I walked away without a scratch.

I'm not sure if it was me or everyone else that was more freaked out. But, I didn't skate another hill for a week after that! (yeah, no brains)

Saturday, July 24, 2010


When you have a regular commute you usually end up seeing the same people, day to day, week to week. Even though you will probably never speak or know anything more about them than their commuting habits, these people can become, Travel Buddies, of sorts.

You may wonder from time to time; should I say hi? Could we be best friends? But you probably never do, so you'll never find out if your silent, stranger of a travel buddy is in fact your best friend.

This is why we have mp3 players, and, if you're a little old school, books. So we don't sit on the train, bored, while awkwardly trying not to stare at your travel buddies. And if you do get stuck without a distraction or a reason not to notice your fellow commuters and then simultaneously 'not look' at each other. You may accidentally let out a hello.

This can be okay and you may be able to recover your oblivious co-existence.


You accidentally, half intentionally, become confident that you may enjoy a conversation with a 'Travel Buddy'.

I'm not saying this will definitely be a complete and utter disaster, akin to stepping on doggydoo and then slipping and falling onto your behind. But, it probably will be.

Usually one of two things will happen. Either the other person responds, and they turn out to be an annoying douche. That for some reason, thinks your best friends. So you try to convince them that you need to make an important phone call to get out of the conversation.
That person awkwardly tries to make themselves believe they didn't notice you by pulling out their phone and making an important call. And thats when you realize...YOU, are the annoying douche that everybody else is trying to avoid by bringing an mp3 player or a book on the train.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

What About Me! (Warning: this is just an angry rant)

Why is it the only place I can be alone is in public?

I take all my friendships very seriously and I hate being a bad friend.

There are a few friends of mine that always seem to come to me for advice or even just a shoulder to cry on. There's nothing wrong with that and I actually feel quite honored that they would come to me at all. It does make me feel good that I can be there for them. And I do have rather large shoulders, that are pretty darn good for crying on. Even if I do say so myself.

The problem is, most of these friends don't seem to care if I have a problem. I'm not saying they have to be my shoulder because I was theirs. What I'm saying is, sometimes I'm dealing with my own stuff and I'm probably not the best person for you, at that particular time. The worst part of that is people get PISSED if for some reason I can't be there for them at that exact point in time.

Some of them don't get bothered at all. They'll come over and say "I need you to..." and I try to be a good friend and put my junk to the side for a moment while I explain to them that I'm dealing with my own stuff.
they usually reply with ", (some trivial problem and a bunch of tears)"

Just tonight a, drunkin' bogan (Aussie red neck), girl I went to school with from about grade 5 came to my door.  And asked if it was okay to "...hang out. I'm lonely and drunk" I told her "It's not a good idea. I'm in a really crappy mood and I need to be by myself at the moment" to which she replied "but I'm lonely and I've got more drinks I'll just come in and we'll do whatever...can you do my makeup?"

Anyway she's still here sitting on my couch trying to get my attention to tell me about the pixies that are running around my house. So I better go...yeah, I can be a bitch!

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Cancer Causes...

This reminded me of how special yet tiring kids are...

So I've been growing my hair for the past 12 months now, because I want to donate my hair to Wigs For Kids or Beautiful Lengths. To be honest I'm not really sure how I decided this, there isn't really much history of any cancer in my family and I have never been very close to anyone that has suffered with cancer. But my hair is in pretty good condition and it grows really friggen quick. So why not!

And, on a slightly selfish note, it does make me feel happier when I'm a little blue. Thinking, a little girl (I think hair is more important for a little girl), that has been dealt some pretty awful cards in her relatively new life, might find a small amount of comfort or even a slight reason to smile even for a second because I'm donating my hair.

Even though I have a ~really amazing, non style~ going on right now. I'm finding it really hard to stick at it and resist the temptation to have it cut lately. But I think I can handle it for another six months. That way I'll have more than the minimum length required and I could keep a couple of inches on my head.

Although, I've been thinking lately. Maybe I should milk this for everything I can and try to raise donations for a cancer charity and shave my head completely. It would mean looking VERY man like for a few months longer than otherwise. Which is actually pretty scary for me, but it is for a good cause...

I can't decide

What do you think. Should I keep a little for myself. Or stop being selfish and start organizing my fundraising efforts?

Friday, July 16, 2010


When I take my cameras out, I'm never sure I'll even use them. They are just something I lug around with me most days.
~Almost as fundamental as lip gloss~
But I've been thinking, for a while now, that I need to set up a shoot or at least go out with a specific goal for my pictures. Not all the time, but every once in a while could be good. It's not like I have never planned a shot before, but it was usually on request, for friends or whoever else.

For now though, heres a few more random pictures of people...

This seems to be a prime seat for the accommodation deficient citizens of this fair city

This was just one of those moments that caught my eye as I was walking past

It seems this man believes if he scratches himself (usually inappropriately) the girls he is so blatantly ogling won't notice him
This guy has been performing here for at least 10 years now. He does change it up to keep his act fresh from time to time...kinda

Thursday, July 15, 2010

I Can't Scramble My Words

Lately theres been a few things I want to talk about
I've had trouble coming up with an appropriate scramble of words that make any sense at all...even to me
Instead of not posting anything again. I went and took some pictures of people to share...

Shooting this was pretty dodgy/awkward.
They were little more than one step away from me trying to get out of my shot...
gotta love wide angle.

I was taking a photo of something else when these guys caught my eye

This guy was sitting on the floor, watching people. So I took a photo...

I promise I'll try to get some words up soon (but there may be more pictures before then)
xx Sophie Neutron xx

Saturday, July 3, 2010

A Song...For Us Freaks

Even though it hurt to be called a freak growing up. I always identified as a freak.

But not always in a bad way

I've always believed, everyone, has something about them that is special. I would see people, all the time, that I couldn't describe without using the word "beautiful"

It would upset me though

Because these people that I saw so much beauty in were often ridiculed by others and tormented with the word "freak". After a while, I started to associate the word freak, with these beautiful people I would see. And I hoped I was one of them

One of the beautiful freaks...


Hearing this song for the first time was quite surreal. For so long, I thought I was alone with my love of the abnormally beautiful. It was like someone had been watching the incomprehensible scramble of thoughts and ideas in my head, as if it were a film, and decoded it into a song

Friday, July 2, 2010

My Hidden Life...and a couple of pictures

The moon from my front porch @ 4.45am
Rosie; f 4.5 iso3200 about 4 second exposure 

Even though I knew I hated being male and felt female from a young age I tried to be a guy for so long. For some reason I felt it would be better, for everyone, if I just kept my feelings to myself and suffered through life.

Before school age I didn't know my thoughts and feelings were different so I just accepted them. There wasn't any discussion of it really. Whenever I would say things like "I want to be like her" or "I want to be a girl" my parents would either think I was talking about the particular activity the girl was doing (Like, Tank Girl) or they would say "everyone wants that at some stage" thinking I just wanted to know what it feels like to be a girl. Like in those movies when a guy and girl swap bodies to learn a lesson (which further reinforced my belief that it was normal).

But then school started and I realized, very quickly, I had a very definite role to play as a boy. And I wasn't normal.

I was able to get through a lot of hard periods by Immersing  myself completely in something else, like sports or art. The problem with that was I still spent a lot of time looking inside myself trying to make myself "better" at whatever I was doing. This isn't very helpful when your hiding from yourself. It made me hate myself more for not being able to be normal.

Because of this total immersion, coping mechanism, I lost sight of everything else in my life. I didn't care about school, work or whatever else was happening at the time. And the future wasn't of any concern to me. I actually believed I wouldn't live very long anyway, so I didn't care about much. Because of this, everything became harder for me. To everyone else I just seemed like a rebellious kid (which I was and probably still am).

The reason I started sports was because I was getting bullied, a lot, when I was young. People would call me queer and freak and beat me in the playground. They would even search the school for me to do so, because I would walk around the corridors away from the recess areas to stay away from people. Even the girls I was "friends" with would bully me sometimes. So I thought if I was doing guy things people would leave me alone.

By the time I got to high school I could jump higher, run faster, throw farther than anyone else in my school and would compete with the seniors. So instead of being the queer kid I became the geeky kid that was good at sports.

A street light @ 4.40am
Same settings as above picture

After school I still didn't care about much, but I realized I couldn't just sit around doing nothing all day. So I kicked around doing crappy jobs for a while. During this "limbo" period I went to a wedding, with my girlfriend of the time. Because I was bored, I started drawing people at the reception. Two of the people that were sitting at my table during this boredom were her cousins. One a Graphic designer/Illustrator the other an Architect. They were sitting there looking over my shoulder for a while. I didn't really care, I hardly knew them and by that stage I was used to people staring at me for being weird.

One of them eventually introduced himself and his cousin properly. They asked me what I did "I dig holes and carry shit for people" was my eloquent way of telling them I was a laborer. They both looked a little shocked and then asked me what I really wanted to do "I don't really care. As long as I can make enough to live I s'pose it's good enough". They told me what they did and asked "have you ever thought of doing something like that?" I laughed and told them I couldn't imagine that because I couldn't even draw. They both looked at each other and back to me and told me they were both embarrassed to admit it "but you're better than us...and we draw for a living"

So, I went to art school. And I LOVED it! (not so much the pretentiousness and arrogance)

Just as I was beginning to come to terms with "my feminine side" and was starting to "find myself" through my art, I became a parent. As a result, I threw everything to the side again and tried to "harden the fuck up and be a man" (a common line I heard while working construction). This is when EVERYTHING started to get too much. I spent another 5 years hiding, in a massive depression, from myself. I worked as a laborer and got into a trade. I absolutely hated every second of it. I became loud and manly just to fit in on the construction sites I worked on. I became everything I didn't want to be.

The worst part of this time in my life, was, instead of throwing myself into something productive, I threw myself into drugs and alcohol.

After a couple of years I sobered up and I went back to school and studied design. To get away from the work and life I hated and back to being creative. Things started to get okay again, although I was still severely depressed. My ex and I developed a more civil relationship and we started to talk.

One night, when I was visiting my daughter, my ex asked me to stay for a while. I didn't mind, I knew she was lonely and got scared of being by herself at night. We just talked, about nothing in particular and watched a little TV. After a while, she randomly told me she had thought I was a gay, and I liked men, which is why she was so hateful toward me when we were together. I told her I thought I was at one stage, but I just wasn't attracted to guys. That I hated that I was a guy and wanted to become the woman I was always supposed to be.

That was the first time I had ever told someone, without any confusion, that I was Transgendered. What she did I was not expecting and gave me the biggest shock of my life, up to that moment.

She held me, and told me it was okay. I cried for hours in her arms.

I was finally free