Howling.

To say that I am completely human is incorrect. To say that I am not human is equally so.

I am, and have always been, a wolf. I am not in a sheep’s clothing, nor girl’s clothing, nor woman’s clothing, nor any other such creature. I see myself as a wolf sometimes, moreso than any other time, with thick fur and piercing eyes. Sometimes others spot it, and it frightens them.

And there is an immeasurable sadness in that realization. I am naturally off-putting and naturally unaware of the fact that I frighten others until I’m told or I sense it, which is when I typically run away, as this is somewhat embarrassing to me. Wolves are misunderstood creatures.

There was a time when I would stare at photos of wolves for hours. There was once a librarian in my grade school with long, curly grey hair that framed her head and shoulders who shared this fascination. Every year, she would adopt a wolf through one of the protection organizations, and she would display the photos and letters of thanks in the library. I never spoke to my peers about my appreciation of her tradition, but I do remember telling her that I loved wolves. She nodded, knowingly. She later told us that she loved Oscar Wilde, too. All these things make sense, you understand.

As a woman, I cannot identify with furry culture, as it is typically considered to be a gay male culture by nature. Nor do I identify with cartoonish recreations of the creatures I love so much. Nor would I want to have sex in a mascot suit. I’m already a wolf, so why would I need a wolf outfit? The parts are already there, in theory. There’s no need to adorn myself in fake bits.

This is a transformative statement, but there are really no transformations involved. Nothing changes visually, nor necessarily in the way that I openly identify myself. As I said, I have always felt this way. The people that know me best are capable of sensing this identification long before I ever mention it, which is an exceedingly rare occasion.

Perhaps they sense it because of the way I interact. I’m silent and tend to observe from a distance unless I feel the need to interject some kind of howl as to mark my presence. A howl is a plead is a word is a need. It is the act of distancing and begging.

But I am a noble beast. There’s too much dignity within me to stand for abuse of myself or anyone else.

I promise I won’t bite, though. Hard, anyway.

You’ll still keep your distance, despite this. I know it.

Hmmph.

I suffered some setbacks. Lost about sixty posters, somehow...and my soup bowl...and $20-worth of frozen food thanks to my old roommates. But I now live in my own apartment for the first time ever. Alone. I'm nearly finished moving in.

I've taken at least five naps on the couch that came with this space. Tonight I finally broke in the kitchen with a large vegetable omelette dinner, shared with Jacki. I shall finish my organization this evening. I'm excited.

NO, NO, NO.

An awesome week ended with a bad time. BALLS.

I met Deerhunter on Wednesday. Bradford Cox signed a poster. As did Dan Deacon, despite my "mixed feelings" regarding his music. He was really cool.

I also won the Twin Peaks Gold Box (the entire series) in a WIUX/S Alumni scavenger hunt. Also, the complete original Star Trek, and complete I Love Lucy. Totally stoked.

Also, friends threw me a birthday party a week before my real birthday because our lease is up on Friday, the day after my real birthday. I was also very excited about that.

But my crush didn't come. Nor did many of the people who said they were going to. And I was very upset.

And today I locked my keys in my truck and consequently sacrificed $40 to the lock gods to get them back because I didn't make the simple $2 investment of getting a spare made.

And now I feel that every bit of excitement and glowing awesomeness has just been sucked out of the past week for me. And I hate myself for getting so negative so quickly.

Premonition.

"I can sense it, something important is about to happen. Something huge is coming up, and we're both included."

That's how I feel this time around. Also, I've already had some weird moments occur that I've dreamt of before. Things I've seen that I hadn't seen before.

Keep it together. Don't get too attached. What if it's like all the others?

But what if this time it's different? What do I have to lose?

My bravery will eventually pay off, right?