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Friday, 31 August 2001 (the wake-up bomb) 7:03am My cranial circumference is the same as it ever was. Granted, it's always been a little big, but that's just bad genes.
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Thursday, 30 August 2001 (this magic stuff) 4:57pm There's nothing quite like the hollow feeling that comes towards the end of a big project.
Unless I don't, I'm going to an end-of-the-month event thingy held by
TransGender San Francisco, a group our shrink
suggested I look into. Just to lurk, to see what's going on in the larger community to which
I have almost no connection. She also suggested the e'er-reliable Trannyshack, which is a surreal
concept. (Beats prozac, I suppose.)
I'd planned on going this week, but those plans got sideswiped by a combination
of a late night at work and a flareup of drama between Maddy and I. So next week, probably.
Unless I don't.
It went well. The weird thing was, I actually sat in the car for a while first, trying to figure out why I was so nervous about going in. I'm seldom so nervous about going to ostensibly straight (or, at least, non-queer) events; why should I be about something tranny-related? Probably, I eventually realized, because it's going to be the first time I've been to something of this nature, aside from the occasional Trannyshack trip, in a very long time, and certainly the first time since I've come into my own. Ergo, I'm going to be scrutinized like crazy. Not necessarily in a bad way, though. As at least one person observed (kindly), my hat probably won't fit tomorrow what with all the compliments I was receiving. And is that not one of the reasons I went? I could lie and say it isn't, but, well, y'know, then I'd be lying. I was loving every minute of it, and I think I've learned to graciously accept compliments. (Turns out it involves smiling and saying "Thank you," and not arguing the point. Simpler than I'd thought.) My red-and-black stripeys were a big hit, as they often are outside goth circles. I still tend to disbelieve the majority of the positive things people say about me, so the damn beret will fit tomorrow should I decide to wear it, but enough of it got through to be reassuring. A suggestion was even made by someone fairly high up in TGSF that I participate in the Cotillion pageant next year. A flattering offer, but one step at a time, I think. Surprisingly, I actually saw someone I recognized, though it took me a while to place her. My first thought was that I adored the skirt she was wearing, then it struck me that the face was familiar; eventually I realized that I'd seen her page on more than a few occasions—it's one of the relatively few tranny personal pages I have bookmarked—usually checking back every so often because I absolutely adore her fashion sense. She's not quite as tall as I am, but tall enough to have a similar body type. More importantly, I've lost enough weight to start to be in her range. Of course, I may be flattering myself; in any event, I still have a long way to go, however. For better or worse, it's the kind of thing that keeps me going. "It" in this context being pure vanity. if i can't save my soul, i'll save my body. So, trying my best not to sound like a gushing fan (and being only partially successful), I introduced myself to her. We talked for a while, and she commented that it was her first time at a TGSF event as well. Apparently she was hoping to meet some other trannies who aren't "bloody insane." Wow. Talk about a kindred spirit. Anyway, I think I've found a place.
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Wednesday, 29 August 2001 (salutary and medicinal) 9:19am In a dream last night I was at offered some food which contained large quantities of cheese, and I politely declined. Apparently even my subconscious is taking Courtney's advice to heart. Except for the bit about scales, anyway.
During a long and late Muni ride home last night, there was a girl standing near my seat
whom I suspected might be a tranny. She might not have been, but it was the vibe I was getting.
Something about her hairline and the texture of her face, the latter of which I thought looked
not unlike mine after yea-hundred hours of electro. Then again, it might have been acne scarring,
since it also resembled the way The Ex's face used to look. Which isn't to say she looked like
The Ex per se, just that there was a similar quality to the skin. (As a teenager, The Ex had very
bad acne, to the effect that she had countless different medications and washes and whatnot prescribed
to her, with mixed results. The evidence of it is probably still on her face to this day, but I couldn't
tell you, because it's something I'd long since noticed. I probably didn't even notice when it finally
went away, because A) it was a gradual process and B) I've been rightfully accused of poor observational
skills. At the time, her acne was never an issue with me, as it probably would have been with
other teenage boys; it was just the way she looked, and like certain other ways her body was different
from other girls her age, it was a detail which had to be pointed out to me.) Anyway, I was never
quite sure. Our eyes met a few times, but there was never that sense of i know what you are, i'm one
too, and it's okay. It's never actually happened to me. I'm not sure it exists. It's probably too
romantic a concept to be real.
None of which comes as a surprise, particularly since Maddy and I have
been mutating into dirty stinky hippies—which is to say, we've been tending to eat vegan/vegetarian
as much as possible. (I am, however, too much of a pussy to actually call myself either of
those things, for fear of a backlash. Fear is a great motivator in my life.)
I don't think that has anything to do with the anemia, since it's a myth that those people who don't
like meat tend to be anemic because of their diet, I'm going to be calling the
doctor anyway to see what they recommend. Somehow, I doubt it'll be a big juicy steak.
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Tuesday, 28 August 2001 (table of the elements) 12:02pm Walking to the bus stop this morning, it occurred to me that there's a least one cigarette butt for every two or three square feet of pavement. That's just in my part of town, which has a comparatively light population. I can only imagine what it's like downtown. But I don't suppose it matters, because, after all, it isn't really littering, is it? And I certainly don't want to seem like I'm violating anyone's rights... 5:07pm Cologne should be outlawed.
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Monday, 27 August 2001 (the second fortress) 10:00am Okay, that's one down—I finished paying off one of my three student loans, to the tune of $3600. Not that I paid $3600 on it just now, but that was the overall amount. I'd like to think I'm over halfway to paying them off entirely, but that's unlikely. (I don't have the numbers in front of me, but I probably have at least another $4000 to go.) Certainly it's not the way the system is designed, being modern and wholly legal usury. Which I got myself into full well knowing the risks. Not going to college wasn't an option. I wanted to go, but more importantly, my mother really really really wanted me to, and disappointing her was unthinkable. At least, disappointing her too soon; I figured that once I graduated I would feel more free to start living my life without feeling the weight of her expectations. After all, I'd completed school, stayed out of trouble, worked relatively decent jobs, etc. Surely once I started making certain changes to my body, even stuff as simple as changing my hair, she would back me up. I was wrong, of course. To my mom's credit, though, even during my mom's fits of apoplexy about me dying my hair and cutting my bangs she kept a promise she'd made to help me pay back my student loans. Unfortunately, the windfall she'd expected from her aunt's recent death didn't quite pan out. (Yeah, I know how that sounds, but I think she was even more disappointed than I was.) As I was growing up, it was acknowledged that our father would be paying my college tuition, as he did for barefoot at Fresno State University in the eighties and for me at community college in the early nineties. (Better offers diverted jonco away from higher education while at community college—to our mother's chagrin—and Tom went to the Bukowski school, except with cocaine rather than alcohol.) By the time I reached SFSU his financial situation had changed considerably. Every so often I have to remind myself that the ten years barefoot spent at Fresno State University, delaying graduation so he could stay on KFSR, is irrelevant, that I still would have been on my own financially. About which I ultimately don't have any reason to complain, really. Considering the degree of aloofness with which I tend to regard my parents, I can't really expect them to subsidize me. It's certainly the necessary tradeoff for my almost obsessive need for independence. I suppose it's the spectre of potential unemployment which has gotten me thinking along these lines, that within a few weeks Maddy and I could both be out of work. And I don't even have the cold comfort of secretly—or not so secretly—hating my job and wanting to quit anyway. Assuming Damocles doesn't take a swipe next month, I still figure I'll be lucky to last long enough to get the rest of my loans paid off (to say nothing of the couple dozen hours of electro I probably still have coming). There's a wonderful circular irony to it: getting the degree, even one as useless as film, helped me get the job I have now, and all I can really hope for is to get to pay it off before I'm back at a video store. Still, I'm not on the street. Can't ask for more than that. Perspective, y'know.
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Sunday, 26 August 2001 (summer heat) 3:39pm ...after having made the circuit of the Community Thrift Store, Aquarius Records and Herbivore, and we were there mainly out of curiosity. After we'd browsed around for a bit, being painfully reminded that the difference between "thrift" and "vintage" is usually about $20 (I'd just bought a dress at the Community Thrift Store which surely would have cost at least three times as much in this place), the girl behind the counter asked if we needed any help. We didn't—we were gearing up to leave, in fact—and she then said that since we were apparently fond of black, they had stuff we might like. She pointed me towards a hooded robe which looked like a leftover costume from The Devil's Rain (maybe she thought we needed to plan ahead for next Walpurgisnacht), and then commented that they also had some cloaks and capes. We thanked her and left. The "g" word was never actually spoken, of course, though part of me was surprised that in this post-Columbine epoch she didn't suggest a black trenchcoat.
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Saturday, 25 August 2001 (sun blindness music) 7:25pm So we're in a vintage store on Valencia...
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Thursday, 23 August 2001 (edge of the world) 10:27am It was foggy this morning. It's easy to forget that San Francisco is supposed to be foggy. 4:51pm I wish I was sufficiently isolated from mainstream pop culture to be unaware of the existence of Lil' Romeo. Unfortunately, I'm not so lucky.
Of course, to be a faithful namesake he'll have to commit suicide as a teenager, but I don't suppose
that's going to happen.
It's amazing to think that ten years after her association with David Lynch, Julee has somehow gotten even weirder, almost cadaverous in a way which brings to mind an older Laura Palmer. It's a good thing, mind you. I'd been tempted to get all goffed out for the show—it's Julee Cruise, damnit, so I gotta wear something flowy—but decided I'd be overdressed for what would essentially be a techno show, so I just went with a black tank top, two-tiered skirt and stripeys. Turns out Julee'd had a similar thought—I'm Julee Cruise, damnit, so I gotta wear something flowy—and followed through on it. Black lace, and lots of it. Now I know for next time.
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Wednesday, 22 August 2001 (woodpecker from mars) 2:55pm And my weight was 181. So said the same scale which added extra height onto me, so maybe it all evens out. I've decided that my short-term physical goal is for my mom, when I see her in Vegas in October for jonco's wedding, to ask if I'm anorexic like she did when I lost weight a few years back. I wasn't then, and I'm not now, but she has a tendency to fear the worst. As most mothers do, I suppose. After I got back home Maddy and I went on a very needed sushi run. We'd had plans for the last two weekends in Santa Cruz and San Jose (with The Ex and Phred, respectively) which both fell through for various reasons. So it was just the two of us at our favorite wallhole in Pacifica, and the spot was hit. I left having eaten too much, one of the few places where I'll allow myself to do that, and imminently satsfied. Hell, we have leftovers. That's a new one. Back at work, everything was more or less as I left it. There's been a rash of thefts lately, but I don't appear to have been targeted just yet, probably because they seem to be focusing on laptops. I have a number which I'd rather not lose, but the only things of real value to me in here are the several 48-pack CD holders containing mp3'd albums. Not much resell value there. The axes are starting to fall once again, though. It's been about a month since the beginning of the six-week thinning out, and at least one person I know in another department has been given their notice. In a company this size, that's getting uncomfortably close to home. I suppose I'll know one way or the other in a few weeks.
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Tuesday, 21 August 2001 (the morning after) 6:35pm The latest estimate of my height? 6'2", according to the nurse at the doctor's office. I don't know where the extra inch and a half came from, but I hope it goes away. My license says 6'1", and when I went to the DMV this morning to apply for a new photo ID I was tempted to amend it to 6', since I learned a couple years back that I was a half an inch shorter than I'd previously thought. Feh. Can't it just officially be "taller than I'd like" and left at that? During my physical, I got both a breast and a prostate exam. If that doesn't define being transgendered, I don't know what does.
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