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We went to The Red Vic tonight to see
3 Women, a rare 1977 Robert Altman film. Since it's an old movie that dares to be even remotely stylish,
the audience was laughing the whole way through, whatever was happening onscreen.
It's not often that Red Vic audiences act so much like those at Castro.
It was kinda disturbing. We're going to see Lost Highway tomorrow.
I'm sure it won't be as bad.
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On the way to the train station last night, I saw
Frank Chu hock a loogie into
the gutter. It was a quintessential City moment.
Earlier on the street I passed an old coworker, someone I haven't seen in nearly two years. He
recognized me, nodded, and said hello. To the best of my knowledge, I'd never been outed to
him. I wonder if he recognized me but wasn't sure from where, or how I was dressed didn't
register on him, or what. Is it any wonder I don't feel entirely real?
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I didn't shave today, nor did I wear any makeup. I got called "sir"
at the store. There's a lesson to be learned.
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After my first full day (back?) at the office yesterday we went to the studio
to work on kittypr0n. It was a five hour session, and four of them
were spent on the second episode, which we'd started on last time. It's
amazing how much effort can go into what looks like little more than
twenty-eight and a half minutes of cat footage with weird noise in the
background. Which is essentially all it is, but damn, it can be a lot of
work. It's fun, though, and we're not burned out yet.
For a myriad of reasons, our wedding plans have changed. Instead of a handfasting
sometime this spring, we're now planning on getting married—more accurately
(and/or ironically), committed—in Las Vegas on Halloween. It just feels right.
It also changes our "no guests" policy a little. We're not sure yet if the place
in question allows guests, but if they do, I know my mom would want to be there.
She was asking us about our handfasting plans when we were in Fresno last weekend,
hoping that there was some kind of loophole that would allow her to attend.
(She initially called it a "handgrasping," which struck Madeline as terribly cute.)
Of all my family I believe me getting married (or handfasted or committed) would mean the most to her, and again it goes to show how much I've beaten the odds with her. A lot of people in
my position have no contact with their families whatsoever—I was certainly preparing
for that eventuality when I came out a few years back—let alone having their mother
wanting to attend a non-legal queer wedding. If that isn't pure acceptance, I don't
know what is. Maybe it's because she's seen her three sons married (one of them twice),
and doesn't want to miss out on the wedding of the daughter she'd always wanted and
didn't get until she least expected it. Better late than never.
On a completely different note, we were going to go see Mulholland Drive today
but have decided against it. It's playing at The Red Vic, but when we got there for
the 2pm showing I discovered I'd stupidly left my regular glasses at home. The last
time I did that was Chinatown at the Castro, and it's a bright enough movie that
I could watch it when my sunglasses on. Not so Mulholland, so we went back home.
The next showing was at 7pm, which is a really bad time to try to deal with getting into
the Haight from our direction, so that wasn't going to happen. Coincidentally it's also
playing at The Roxie, but parking around it just doesn't exist. The third theater
it's at is the Balboa, in double feature with The Man Who Wasn't There by the
Coens, and we considered it for a while before I got cold feet. Whatever theater
we went to, there was bound to be a laughing audience. People were laughing
at (not with) it on the opening weekend, even before word had spread about the movie's
weirdness. I'm not sure I can handle that, so I guess we'll be waiting for the DVD.
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I just installed Dreamweaver.
Lord have mercy on my soul.
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Although today's my first day in the temp position (I'm trying not to call it
a "contract job" for assorted legal reasons) at the old company, I'm not
supposed to be there until 2pm. According to Lew, my system won't be ready
until at least noon. I'm not expecting it'll be ready when I actually get
there, either, but that's okay. As anyone in this business knows, you never
do any real work on the first day. Just doesn't happen. I'm half-expecting
to get a call from Lew telling me not to come in at all today, which would
suck only because I'm getting paid by the hour.
The construction next door—not the garage north of us, that's been done
for weeks, but the one to the south—is in full gear. Lots of jackhammering
and other loud noises. Makes me glad I'll be gone during the day again.
On the way out of the Muni station, I got a doubletake followed by a nudge-n-nod
two different times. Not what my nerves needed on the first day of work.
I went to the sushi buffet place in Japantown for lunch, eating way too much (which
is kinda the point when I go there) to commemorate either my last day of relative
freedom or my first day of indefinite employment. I'm not sure which yet.
It's the same place we went on the day I was laid off, if that helps.
When I got to the company's new building I had to wait for a while in the lobby for Lew, but much
to my surprise my new ID card was waiting for me, and my name was even spelled correctly. It gives
my title as "Contractor," in spite of the aforementioned fact that ex-employees aren't supposed to
return as contractors. Ah, semantics: the lifeblood of bureaucracy. Brian hadn't been able to get
Leigh hired way back when until he was able to convince The Big Boss that we needed someone with
her title. What she would actually be doing wasn't as important to him.
The office, as I knew it would be, is bright. Another of the The Big Boss's legacies.
As I write this, I don't have my computer yet. (Unlike the badge, no surprise there.) I might
get it today, I might not. Breath is not being held.
I'm feeling very...exposed. There's no good way to keep my screen private from traffic.
I keep reminding myself that it would have been the case even if I'd been here straight through
from September.
Sitting next to me is another returning temp, Dino. He was only with the company for a few months
last year (as a temp/contractor/what have you) and I never got to know him very well. (Part of
that, of course, was due to the fact that my inherent tendency to keep to myself was exacerbated
by having a door I could close.) Hence, to the best of my knowledge I'd never been outed to him.
I suppose he might have been one of those who suspected something just by looking at me, as many
did. Anyway, he took it in stride. I have a hunch I'm not the first he's encountered.
I'm having this recurring fear that it'll really turn into Old Home Week and The Fidget Queen
will return. How shallow is that? This all feels like those dreams where you're living in
your childhood home—or, more to the point, the Le Video dreams. Which, now that I think
about it, I don't have as often anymore. The analgogy doesn't hold up, though. Enduring TFQ
(whom I've actually seen in the Castro a few times lately) would be a small price to pay for
being back a job which pays a hell of a lot more. It's been so hard over the last five months
to listen to people bitching about their well-paying jobs, although I realize I used to be one
of them. I hope I'll be more humble about it from now on.
Particularly because it won't last.
Dino asked me if I'd been productive during my involuntary vacation. I said that I hadn't
been able to find any other jobs, but that wasn't what he meant. He meant productive.
Did I get anything accomplished? I decided that I have: being full-time, with the ID cards
to prove it. I left the company as Jeff and returned as Sherilyn. The cliched aspects
notwithstanding, I think that qualifies as an accomplishment.
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