Not That Bad, Really

Depression is a funny thing.  I don't mean that it's entertaining, though I suppose that it can be.  What I do mean is that it's an up-and-down situation.  Last Sunday I was feeling down on myself, but Saturday was actually a pretty good day, and it took some introspection to recognize it for what it was.  20/20 hindsight is nice, but I wouldn't mind being able to seeing the good for what it is, when it is.

Last Saturday I spent my time at the first ever Florida Secular Rally.  We got off to a bit of a late start (the stage wasn't delivered until late), but a good time was had by all.  There were speeches from various luminaries of the secular/atheist movement, entertainment by Shelley Segal and Greydon Square.  We had some of the best food truck catering on the planet, courtesy of Sir Cheezy and The Great American Sandwich Station.  I got to spend the day with some really awesome people, all of whom were totally okay with me en femme (and they all used the correct pronouns).

Oddly enough, there was one trans blogger there, and I watched her presentation, but somehow never worked up the nerve to introduce myself.  That was Zinnia Jones, and you'll find a link to her blog on the right side of the page here.  I am embarrassed that I had never heard of her before this event was organized.  Months ago, I was asked if I knew any LGBT bloggers who wrote about the secular life, and I all but drew a blank.  I knew of Greta Christina, but knowing of is not knowing, if you know what I mean.  The months whizzed by, and one of the organizers told me they got Zinnia Jones, and I said "Who?"  Anyway, her bit is on Youtube, and you can see it here.

True story: all night long, people came up to me at the after party and told me they loved my presentation.  Zinnia looked to be about six inches shorter than me, with long dark hair.  I was dressed all in black, with only my flaming red hair to break up the monochromatic theme.  I don't know how anyone could have confused us, but if I must resemble someone else, I could do a lot worse.

Pulling the Plug

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.