I don't know if anyone still reads this thing, but I am thinking of quitting. My writing has been the most sporadic since I started this thing, despite almost my almost universal access to the web. It's not that I don't have anything else to say; it's just that I don't know if anyone is reading the blog. My last few posts generated a little feedback on Facebook, and a few of them have picked up +1s from Google+, but I don't think anyone is reading the actual blog. I haven't fielded a single comment all year, and that hurts.
I realize that I began this blog as yet another trans blog (did you know there is an actual Yet Another Trans Girl Blog out there?) in a crowd that was already jam-packed. Starting a blog was not the wellspring of inspiration I thought it would be. I thought that having an outlet for my writing would be enough, and for a time it was. My Muse bailed on me, though, and lately I have lacked the will to scale Parnassus to find her. See what I just wrote there? I CAN do this, it's just grown so damned hard. I could write, ad infinitum, about my ongoing love of video games, but I've gotten the sense no one wants to read that stuff here. There are scores of dedicated gamer blogs, blessedly unencumbered by the author's gender identity hang-ups. Ditto for any of the other things that have captured my fancy over the years. There are other sources for that stuff. Anything new to see here? Probably not.
The end of this blog isn't set in stone or anything. I just need to know if I still have an audience. I'm likely to write a little something later this month, if for no other reason because Bioware are releasing a new downloadable content pack for Mass Effect 3, and I may feel compelled to say a little something about it. If anyone actually is still reading me, please, please drop me a line. I'd even accept a well-worded rant at this point.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Something I'm Not Gonna Talk About
The internet in all its myriad forms has been up in arms these last few weeks regarding a statement made by the president of a fast food chain. The kerfuffle has spilled over into the physical world, with talk of boycotts, protests and counter-protests. I'm not going to say anything about it, other than to share this rather well-written piece by another blogger.
The Chicken Fellatio
Please don't let the title put you off. If it grabs your attention, then the work is done. The author puts everything into glaring clarity, far better than I could ever have expressed.
The Chicken Fellatio
Please don't let the title put you off. If it grabs your attention, then the work is done. The author puts everything into glaring clarity, far better than I could ever have expressed.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
I'm Walkin'
I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before all the walking I do. Some of the walking I do is necessary. For instance, the nearest bus stop to home is 1.4 miles away, I do this particular walk four or five times per week, either going to the stop, or heading home. I've reached a point where I can usually do this distance in about twenty minutes.
That's what I did today, but it wasn't fast enough. I got held up waiting for traffic at the crosswalk at Capital Circle. As I crossed the road, I saw my bus (early, naturally) making the turn into the stop, and it pulled away before I could catch up with it. The next bus wasn't due for another forty minutes. The routes don't sync up on the weekends the way they do on weekdays, and I was worried that I'd miss the transfer bus which carries me to work. I made a snap decision, and started walking toward the connection stop. I wasn't sure of the distance. I wasn't certain that I could make it, but I wasn't willing to hang around and take my chances with the next bus.
Google Maps tells me that the distance from my usual stop to the transfer point is 2.7 miles. I did that walk in a little under forty minutes. I made it to the stop with about ten minutes to spare. A few minutes after I arrived, so too did the bus I was afraid would miss the transfer. It arrived about five minutes before the bus I wanted to catch, even though the schedule shows it arriving later than that bus. I could have waited, I suppose, but I would have missed a heck of a walk.
The weather was beautiful today. It was sunny and hot, but there was a nice breeze. The last couple of times I went walking, it rained. Not so today. I did get a bit hot, especially toward the end of my walk, but the activity felt good. This was my second outing in a pair of sneakers I picked up at Payless this week. I think they're well broken-in now.
That's what I did today, but it wasn't fast enough. I got held up waiting for traffic at the crosswalk at Capital Circle. As I crossed the road, I saw my bus (early, naturally) making the turn into the stop, and it pulled away before I could catch up with it. The next bus wasn't due for another forty minutes. The routes don't sync up on the weekends the way they do on weekdays, and I was worried that I'd miss the transfer bus which carries me to work. I made a snap decision, and started walking toward the connection stop. I wasn't sure of the distance. I wasn't certain that I could make it, but I wasn't willing to hang around and take my chances with the next bus.
Google Maps tells me that the distance from my usual stop to the transfer point is 2.7 miles. I did that walk in a little under forty minutes. I made it to the stop with about ten minutes to spare. A few minutes after I arrived, so too did the bus I was afraid would miss the transfer. It arrived about five minutes before the bus I wanted to catch, even though the schedule shows it arriving later than that bus. I could have waited, I suppose, but I would have missed a heck of a walk.
The weather was beautiful today. It was sunny and hot, but there was a nice breeze. The last couple of times I went walking, it rained. Not so today. I did get a bit hot, especially toward the end of my walk, but the activity felt good. This was my second outing in a pair of sneakers I picked up at Payless this week. I think they're well broken-in now.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Beginning Again, for the First Time
This blog is full of my dissembling about transition. I've always said that I intend to transition, but in three years I have not taken one action to further that process. Sure, there have been some obstacles thrown into my way, but I could still have at least spoken to someone in a position to help me, and I haven't. Well, there will be no more of that. Last week I spoke to my case worker at Apalachee Center about finding a specialist in gender identity, and he said he would find me one. I've got my follow-up appointment in June, and we'll see what he comes up with.
Chloe Sevigny Feels Unattractive
Chloe Sevigny Fears She's Unattractive
I saw this today and immediately thought of my post of two months ago about not feeling attractive. If she's playing a pre-op transsexual character, I suppose it's only fair if she experiences some of the negativity that we all feel about ourselves at some point. Gods know I've always felt wrong about that thing down below.
I saw this today and immediately thought of my post of two months ago about not feeling attractive. If she's playing a pre-op transsexual character, I suppose it's only fair if she experiences some of the negativity that we all feel about ourselves at some point. Gods know I've always felt wrong about that thing down below.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Back from the Brink
Just like that, I went a couple of months without updating the blog. I didn't mean to leave it so long, it's just that there's been a lot going on, and I haven't always been able to shape my thoughts into something coherent, or that anyone would necessarily want to read.
Now, my head's a little clearer. To say that the last couple of months have been eventful would be an understatement. Mass Effect 3 was finally released, and it was okay. Shortly after, I started getting meds again, and I'll hopefully be starting therapy soon. A little over a month ago, my father died. Last but not least, I've started going out and about again, interacting with folks in my feminine persona, and I've largely been accepted. Is it any wonder I've had trouble making sense of it all? I've laid it all out in chronological order, but I hope you'll forgive me if I jump around a bit.
I finally got around to seeing a case worker at the Apalachee Center at the end of February. A couple of weeks after, I saw an ARNP, who gave me scrips for my previous medications, along with a new one, a drug called Abilify. The drugs have helped banish most of my dark thoughts, but they haven't quite un-fogged my brain this time around. I've got another appointment next week, and I'll see if they can adjust things. I haven't made it into any therapy, mostly because I'm not sure where I fit into their programs. When I first came to them last summer, I was jobless and nearly homeless. Today I have a regular job, and make a little more money than their average patient. Hopefully I'll find out something positive next week.
The next paragraph includes spoilers for the game Mass Effect 3. If you haven't played the game, or don't want to know about it, skip the next few bits, and I'll try to signal you when I get past all that.
As you may have heard, Mass Effect 3 was released in March to much fanfare. It is a great game, but it's a little hard for me to play, and not because the gameplay is difficult. ME3 is the end of a series, and it's one of the darkest games I've ever played. There is death and destruction of unparallelled levels; planets fall, people die in the millions, and even your own party members can die. Worst of all, all but one of the possible endings includes the death of Commander Shepard, the hero. That's tough. After three games and countless hours of playing through to different ends and outcomes, I am Commander Shepard. The people who die are my crew, my squadmates. I felt their deaths as acutely as if they were real people.
Okay, anyone who checked out because of my video game nonsense can come back in now.
Dad died April 9th, of lung cancer. Apparently, he went quietly, and not in pain. Losing him hurts, but somehow it doesn't hurt as much as the way I learned of his death. Dad apparently went into the hospital in mid-March. He was there for about three weeks before the end. His nurse called a couple of hours before, to let us know he had maybe a couple of days. She called back less than two hours later to inform us of his passing. I would've liked to know he was sick. I might've been able to work out a way to visit him, had I known. When I finally learned, I was broke (till payday, anyway) and not in a position to come to a funeral.
I've had a hard time grieving. I've cried a little, but I'm emotionally worn. I've been tired, irritable and somewhat emotional, and that's with the aid of antidepressants. Who knows what a wreck I might be left to my own devices?
On a more positive note, as I mentioned before, I've been getting out a bit. Two weeks ago I stepped out for a pedicure, my first since last year. Last week I got out for a Tallahassee Atheist event, a rally in front of the Capitol in support of a National Day of Reason. I remember joking with someone that being transgendered was more acceptable to some people than being an atheist. I had a good time, and we had a nice dinner afterward. It's nice to have friends and be part of something again.
Now, my head's a little clearer. To say that the last couple of months have been eventful would be an understatement. Mass Effect 3 was finally released, and it was okay. Shortly after, I started getting meds again, and I'll hopefully be starting therapy soon. A little over a month ago, my father died. Last but not least, I've started going out and about again, interacting with folks in my feminine persona, and I've largely been accepted. Is it any wonder I've had trouble making sense of it all? I've laid it all out in chronological order, but I hope you'll forgive me if I jump around a bit.
I finally got around to seeing a case worker at the Apalachee Center at the end of February. A couple of weeks after, I saw an ARNP, who gave me scrips for my previous medications, along with a new one, a drug called Abilify. The drugs have helped banish most of my dark thoughts, but they haven't quite un-fogged my brain this time around. I've got another appointment next week, and I'll see if they can adjust things. I haven't made it into any therapy, mostly because I'm not sure where I fit into their programs. When I first came to them last summer, I was jobless and nearly homeless. Today I have a regular job, and make a little more money than their average patient. Hopefully I'll find out something positive next week.
The next paragraph includes spoilers for the game Mass Effect 3. If you haven't played the game, or don't want to know about it, skip the next few bits, and I'll try to signal you when I get past all that.
As you may have heard, Mass Effect 3 was released in March to much fanfare. It is a great game, but it's a little hard for me to play, and not because the gameplay is difficult. ME3 is the end of a series, and it's one of the darkest games I've ever played. There is death and destruction of unparallelled levels; planets fall, people die in the millions, and even your own party members can die. Worst of all, all but one of the possible endings includes the death of Commander Shepard, the hero. That's tough. After three games and countless hours of playing through to different ends and outcomes, I am Commander Shepard. The people who die are my crew, my squadmates. I felt their deaths as acutely as if they were real people.
Okay, anyone who checked out because of my video game nonsense can come back in now.
Dad died April 9th, of lung cancer. Apparently, he went quietly, and not in pain. Losing him hurts, but somehow it doesn't hurt as much as the way I learned of his death. Dad apparently went into the hospital in mid-March. He was there for about three weeks before the end. His nurse called a couple of hours before, to let us know he had maybe a couple of days. She called back less than two hours later to inform us of his passing. I would've liked to know he was sick. I might've been able to work out a way to visit him, had I known. When I finally learned, I was broke (till payday, anyway) and not in a position to come to a funeral.
I've had a hard time grieving. I've cried a little, but I'm emotionally worn. I've been tired, irritable and somewhat emotional, and that's with the aid of antidepressants. Who knows what a wreck I might be left to my own devices?
On a more positive note, as I mentioned before, I've been getting out a bit. Two weeks ago I stepped out for a pedicure, my first since last year. Last week I got out for a Tallahassee Atheist event, a rally in front of the Capitol in support of a National Day of Reason. I remember joking with someone that being transgendered was more acceptable to some people than being an atheist. I had a good time, and we had a nice dinner afterward. It's nice to have friends and be part of something again.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Pretty is not something I often feel
Let me open this one with a link:
Pretty is not something I often feel
Heather Ryan writes from the perspective of the plus-sized woman, and I guess I know something about that life, being somewhat large myself. It's not the same, but I think I understand something of how she feels.
I have not entered into any sort of a relationship since my marriage ended. I've had one casual hookup, and kissed a couple of people, but I've not dated or gotten as far as being "involved" with anyone. I'm not sure I know how anymore. I miss certain elements of being in a relationship, but I just don't know if I'm capable anymore.
The woman I married knew what I was when we tied the knot. I think she knew better than I did, yet she still tried to engineer it out of me. "I don't need you to do that anymore" was a common refrain. I know better now. Anyone I was to become involved with now would have to know all, and accept me, and love me for things to work. "Maybe I'm just 2 demanding," so the song goes, but I've become an all or nothing lover, and I don't want it any other way.
It's not like I haven't been attracted to anyone. It's just that my feelings are seldom reciprocated. There are always caveats. Can't be in a relationship with anyone I work with. A lot of women who like me are turned off by the gender identity stuff. I mean, they're cool with me being the way I am; they just don't want to be with me that way. Some men find me attractive, but either they like the male side of me and not the female, or they're turned off because I'm too far to the male side of the spectrum to be attractive to them. Those guys who used to message me on Facebook were much the same.
I can definitely relate to not feeling pretty. It's not that I see myself as ugly. I like to think my inner beauty at least partly shines through to the outside. It's this body that puts me off myself. I've got great legs, and all the walking has certainly helped me there. My lumpy torso, on the other hand... It's frustrating.
During my one of my trips out in January, I bought a new bra from Victoria's Secret. I remember being overjoyed that they had something I could wear. I got one of their "Biofit Uplift" bras. "Biofit Uplift" is fancy VS language for "push-up". I've never worn a push-up bra before, at least not with real breast forms, and so I wasn't prepared for the "uplift" feature. One of the last times I tried to go out, I had to keep changing my top because of the bra. I could've gotten away with showing a bit of cleavage, except that my breasts don't look that realistic without fabric covering them. I ended up changing both the bra and my top, so it ceased to be an issue, but it left me feeling depressed, and that led to me canceling the trip outright.
Last month I went out to Skeptics in the Pub. Walking from the bus stop to the bar, I bumped into a pleasant-seeming fellow who walked with me a ways before turning home. We had a nice chat, I thought, except that he seemed to want me to come home with him, and I was reluctant to run off with a complete stranger. I do have some feminine instincts. Leaving out the usual self-preservation stuff, I didn't go with him because I got a little of a "tranny chaser" vibe from him. Maybe I read him wrong, but I don't want to be with somebody who just wants me for the novelty of sleeping with a girl who has something extra. I did give him my phone number, but it's almost a month on, and I haven't heard from him. I guess I sent him all the wrong signals, too.
Pretty is not something I often feel
Heather Ryan writes from the perspective of the plus-sized woman, and I guess I know something about that life, being somewhat large myself. It's not the same, but I think I understand something of how she feels.
I have not entered into any sort of a relationship since my marriage ended. I've had one casual hookup, and kissed a couple of people, but I've not dated or gotten as far as being "involved" with anyone. I'm not sure I know how anymore. I miss certain elements of being in a relationship, but I just don't know if I'm capable anymore.
The woman I married knew what I was when we tied the knot. I think she knew better than I did, yet she still tried to engineer it out of me. "I don't need you to do that anymore" was a common refrain. I know better now. Anyone I was to become involved with now would have to know all, and accept me, and love me for things to work. "Maybe I'm just 2 demanding," so the song goes, but I've become an all or nothing lover, and I don't want it any other way.
It's not like I haven't been attracted to anyone. It's just that my feelings are seldom reciprocated. There are always caveats. Can't be in a relationship with anyone I work with. A lot of women who like me are turned off by the gender identity stuff. I mean, they're cool with me being the way I am; they just don't want to be with me that way. Some men find me attractive, but either they like the male side of me and not the female, or they're turned off because I'm too far to the male side of the spectrum to be attractive to them. Those guys who used to message me on Facebook were much the same.
I can definitely relate to not feeling pretty. It's not that I see myself as ugly. I like to think my inner beauty at least partly shines through to the outside. It's this body that puts me off myself. I've got great legs, and all the walking has certainly helped me there. My lumpy torso, on the other hand... It's frustrating.
During my one of my trips out in January, I bought a new bra from Victoria's Secret. I remember being overjoyed that they had something I could wear. I got one of their "Biofit Uplift" bras. "Biofit Uplift" is fancy VS language for "push-up". I've never worn a push-up bra before, at least not with real breast forms, and so I wasn't prepared for the "uplift" feature. One of the last times I tried to go out, I had to keep changing my top because of the bra. I could've gotten away with showing a bit of cleavage, except that my breasts don't look that realistic without fabric covering them. I ended up changing both the bra and my top, so it ceased to be an issue, but it left me feeling depressed, and that led to me canceling the trip outright.
Last month I went out to Skeptics in the Pub. Walking from the bus stop to the bar, I bumped into a pleasant-seeming fellow who walked with me a ways before turning home. We had a nice chat, I thought, except that he seemed to want me to come home with him, and I was reluctant to run off with a complete stranger. I do have some feminine instincts. Leaving out the usual self-preservation stuff, I didn't go with him because I got a little of a "tranny chaser" vibe from him. Maybe I read him wrong, but I don't want to be with somebody who just wants me for the novelty of sleeping with a girl who has something extra. I did give him my phone number, but it's almost a month on, and I haven't heard from him. I guess I sent him all the wrong signals, too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)