My Face for the World to See (Part II): The Diary of Sherilyn Connelly a fiction September 21 - 30, 2001

Sunday, 30 September 2001 (beautiful soul) 7:34am I did it again. My anniversary of going on hormones, September 18, went by without me noticing. Not that it really requires noticing or anything, but...I don't know, it's still something of a significant date. Significant in the broader scope of insignificant things, anyway. So, just out of curiosity, what the heck was I doing that day? Oh. Right. September 18. The Great Overshadowing + seven days = The Day I Lost My Job. Well. Let that be a lesson to me. The other lesson to be learned right now is one I already knew (and isn't that always the case?): when I awake, get the fuck out of bed. The last two mornings I've been waking up at five without an alarm (unless you count Oscar crying outside the bedroom door), and then going back to bed. Since there's no real need to be up, and I should take advantage of the extra rest while I can. (No gym this weekend for timing reasons.) Big mistake. I'd apparently forgotten that's when the really bad dreams hit. Dinner and the show went well last night. It was nice to finally meet Aleister and see Patti again, and as a bonus Pike came along for dinner. He had the slightly dazed look of someone whose three-week vacation is coming to a close, and who had to spend it in the last place in the world they wanted to be. Which is, of course, exactly what happened. I broke my promise to myself and had some of the last of the marijuana brownie Maddy had originally made last year. It wasn't particularly potent this time around, though I'm not sure if that's because of the age (we've kept in the freezer, but that might not have made any difference) or because I didn't eat very much. I still won't be smoking at home, though. Doing it while being out and actively enjoying myself is one thing, and sitting at home with little to distract myself from the bad thoughts is quite another. Today is the Folsom Street Fair. Tomorrow is the rest of my life. 7:18pm And I have a feeling I'm going to live for a long time. Last | Top | Next

Saturday, 29 September 2001 (sunshower) 6:40am Besides the steady income and sense of pride from actually having a job, I think what I'm going to miss most besides the free water (I drank about three liters a day) and being able to listen to Le Show and Over the Edge, since my computer at home is too retarded to play RealAudio. Well, that and being able to fire up Mame for a stress-relieving game of Scramble. And to think that we'd actually been hoping to play Alice on this machine? Now I'd settle for a twenty year-old arcade game. I think that's a metaphor for unemployment, but I'm not sure. Maddy's been very gracious about it so far, but I'm really going to have to find a way to integrate all the stuff from my office into the apartment. There are many paper bags with many things all over the place, and I know it's driving her nuts. Then there's the stacks of CD cases with my mp3s... So Thursday night Maddy and I went to a TGSF gathering at Asia SF. We'd never been before, primarily because we don't get out much and because going to places populated by Asian trannies is not conducive to maintaining a positive self-image. Still, I've enjoyed the previous TGSF outings, and besides, it was the eve of my last day at work. I figured there was just the slightest chance it might help me get my mind off that fact. We'd heard that the food was good but expensive, and that the staff was fairly rude and pushy. We arrived about fifteen minutes before the main show and were immediately ushered (well, pointed) to the bar downstairs, so we never did find out about the food. The latter certainly proved to be true, though. After the show the others started to filter downstairs as well, probably having been commanded to do so in the interest of bringing in more paying customers. Happily, I didn't spend a cent there, considering that one review I'd read suggested a potential bill of $40. Didn't get carded, either, which was odd. I spent most of the time dancing. The music was primarily anonymous queer dance music, with an anomalous EBM track finding its way into the mix. Almost felt like I was back at Shrine—this, I can dance to. More or less. It was suggested again that I enter the Cotillion. The more I read about it, the less it seems like a good idea. Just not my kind of thing. At the very least, Maddy and I will attend it next year and go from there. I was also told that I resemble one of the existing members, just smaller. I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've ever been described as smaller version of someone else. Usually it's the other way around. Did I say we don't get out much? Today Maddy and I are having Miguel do our hair (that particular indulgence will be going on hiatus soon), and later in the day we'll be meeting Aleister for sushi before going to see Margaret Cho. I'm particularly excited because Patti will be coming along; I haven't seen her since she left the company two years ago. Perhaps more importantly, she hasn't seen me since then. Oh, the pressure... Last | Top | Next

Friday, 28 September 2001 (endscape) 6:40am January 4, 1999 through September 28, 2001. That's not a bad run by dot-com standards, really. Apparently today is also the last day of the HR reprenstative who was at the meeting last week, the one who walked me through the paperwork. He isn't losing his job; turns out he's quitting. There's something vaguely chilling in that thought. Maybe he'd been through one too many blubberfests like mine. 10:55am The bedsheets are down off the wall (hey! the walls are actually white!), 95% of my stuff has been moved out, and I've picked up my last paycheck. I'm now burning my personal data to CD, and that should pretty much be that. I haven't asked if I can leave early, but there hardly seems much point to staying the whole day... 12:38pm And I won't be. 1:11pm Every round of layoffs in the past is accompanied by company-wide emails sent by many of the affected, saying goodbye, giving contact info, etc. I'd always told myself that when my time came, I wouldn't do that. And I haven't. I don't have to, even, because to prevent people from doing that a page has been set up in the intranet for that very purpose. (How generous.) Anyway, since it would only be seen by those who want to, I went ahead and left a message: The whole world is a circus if you look at it the right way. Every time you pick up a handful of dust, you see not the dust, but a mystery, a marvel, there in your hand. Every time you stop and think, "I’m alive, and being alive is fantastic." Every time such a thing happens, you are part of the circus of Dr. Lao. Not everyone will get the joke. The right people will get the joke. Last | Top | Next

Thursday, 27 September 2001 (shine) 6:05am I think this is when the Fear sets in. 11:55am Took a rather glum elevator ride this morning with Lew. After a few moments of silence, he asked about my last day, which I told him was tomorrow. He said that when he saw me leaving Amy's office—his is across the hall—he was wondering if he should come talk to me. I was a little suprised to hear that, but it's just as well that he didn't. I wasn't exactly at my best after getting the news. I sent off my first two resumes this morning. Not my first job application, mind you. That would be for the other job inside the company, the one to which I never got any kind of confirmation. I'm taking it to be a sign that it's just as well I get out of here. Partially at our shrinks' suggestion, my resume now refers to me as Sherilyn; with any luck, this will reduce the level of confusion to merely whoever interviews me, and I won't have to deal with the whole transitioning-on-the-job thing which I narrowly avoided here. (Almost makes it sound like it's good thing I got laid off. Frankly, the jury's still very much out on that one. Guess I'll have to see what happens to the company after this.) It's scary as hell, even scarier than simply having to job hunt at all. But this is how my life is now. The urge to comfort-munch has been strong lately. Earlier this week, after my standard legumemich/carrots/broccoli lunch, I went in search of something else. I wasn't sure what. I ended up getting prepackaged sushi from a nearby deli. Big mistake. I suppose traditional sushi has a certain amount of salt and sugar, but this stuff had way too much, no doubt to make it more palatable to the average consumer. My willpower has held out pretty well since then. It helps that I've sworn off grass for the time being; even beyond the munchies, the last thing I need right now is the swirling hyperthought of being stoned. I can only keep the panic at bay when I'm sober. Last | Top | Next

Wednesday, 26 September 2001 (the sordid light of morning) 10:01am For as long as I've been here, a building across the street from my office has had a pirate flag on the roof. Now it's an American flag. I wonder what they did with the old one. Maybe if I asked nicely... 11:58am Enterprise premieres tonight. I'm almost surprised by how much I'm looking forward to it. I was rather skeptical at first (though I didn't get onto the "Scott Bakula? he'll RUIN it!" bandwagon), but now I'm simply excited. It is, after all, more Star Trek. Besides, I was very fond of Voyager, and people with better taste than I have for years informed me that it was sucky and I shouldn't have been enjoying it. (And yet many of them kept watching in spite of the pain it caused. Never figured that one out.) Maybe I just need something to look forward to. 2:15pm This would have been incredibly helpful when I was eight years old. 4:43pm My office is now lacking skulls and flamingos. (There were previously two of each, you see.) sometime after midnight Well, I liked it, anyway, and intend to keep watching. It had its flaws, but everything does (nobody was in the room when he said "Rosebud"). I'll leave it to others to obsess and endlessly bitch and moan and take it as a personal affront. Last | Top | Next

Tuesday, 25 September 2001 (one red year) 9:34am In downtown St. Petersburg, South Central Tattoo Studio is offering 25 percent off patriotic tattoos. The manager, Robby Gill, had an interesting customer the other day -- a U.S. Army special forces sniper about to head overseas. The sniper's brand-new tattoo features a skull centered inside rifle sights, accompanied by a slogan: "Run and you'll die tired." And these are the good guys. 1:33pm Although interviews are supposed to be conducted with "appropriate internal applicants during the first few days of the week of September 24," I haven't heard back about my application. I figure I'll give them until tomorrow. I'd like to think that if they don't feel I qualify they'll at least tell me. But—all together, now!—I'd like to think a lot of things. In any event, it's time to start sending out the resumes, pounding the pavement, et cetera. I've had a week to sulk. That should be enough. Though I suppose that means I'll have to update my resume, which is always unpleasant. The most annoying part of the timing (well, not really) is that I won't be able to take a laptop to Vegas. Not that we'll be gone as long as the Midwest trip, nor would it be as necessary for catharsis this time around (gawd willing), but it would still be nice to play a few rounds of Tac/Scan during the inevitable airport delays. On that note, I have to hand it to San Francisco International; on their front page they refer to "the many new extraordinary high security measures now in place." It's as if they're acknowledging overreacting. Like Harry Shearer said, eliminating curbside check-in isn't going to make anyone safer—it's pure show business, doing their part even though doing their part doesn't really do anything. Like getting "God Bless the USA" tattooed on your forehead. 5:11pm Citizen Kane was released on DVD today. 5:30pm WEEE! (No, it's not the squirrel.) 7:28pm I paid rent tonight; the prewritten receipt was to, for the first time, "Sherilyn Connelly." Oh, but it's nice not to worry about that anymore. Now my main concern is potential employers. I'd only spoken to the husband about it before, when he came by a few weeks back, so this was the first time I'd seen the wife since then. She's very cool with it as well. Being a lifelong San Franciscan, she ain't exactly new to this sort of thing. Her only question (after I used the "rhymes with Marilyn" hack to help with her with the pronounciation) was if I had any difficulty coming up with the name. I simply said that once it came to me, I knew it was right. (No point in bringing up Twin Peaks.) Besides—as I didn't actually point out to them—there already enough trannies named Jennifer (the most readily apparent feminazation of my birth name) and a genuine Jennifer Connelly to boot. No need for another. Last | Top | Next

Monday, 24 September 2001 (dreamlanding) 10:40am The last week. Unless I get another job here, which I'm not really expecting to happen. The only person in my family I've told is barefoot; it seemed only fair, since he told me about his layoff back in April before widely announcing it. (Yes, it's in my diary, but I'm not aware of anyone in my family who reads it on anything resembling a regular basis.) I'm keeping that and the engagement to myself until after the Vegas trip, as so not to upstage jonco. Seems only right. Not that there's much to tell about the latter. The wedding, most likely a kind of handfasting, will be a very low-key affair. Us, whoever's performing it (we have someone in mind but haven't asked him yet) (and it's not The Leader), a witness if need be, Orky to take a few pictures, and that'll be that. No fuss, no muss. Plans to do acid or 'shrooms afterwards to celebrate are, of course, subject to availability. Which means we aren't getting our hopes up. 2:29pm I dreamed I saw Maggie last night. She immediately started using my birth name, acting like she wasn't sure what she should call me, particularly when she'd known me for so long by that name. I told her that if she did that, I'd feel obliged to use her birth name. It got the point across. The scary thing is, that's how I've always imagined the exchange would go, when the inevitable reunion occurs. I'll certainly be keeping an eye out at Folsom this weekend. 6:53pm Thunderstorm!!! Not quite up the standards of September '99, but still the only real one we've had since then, not counting San Jose the night of the Manson show in January. It's Mina's first real exposure to thunder, having moved away from Kansas when she was two months old, and as such she's hiding in the closet. Meanwhile, Madeline and I are amusing ourselves by saying "Flash!" every time either of us sees lightning, followed by "Aaaah-ah!" We then ask the other who he's going to save—the answer, of course, being every one of us. The rule of thumb is: the dumber the joke, the more we enjoy. It's a good dynamic. Last | Top | Next

Sunday, 23 September 2001 (for you) 5:33pm This is the frist Sunday in at least a month in which I haven't gone to the gym in the morning. I've been pretty good about it; in addition to weekends and the daily crunch session in the morning, during the week of The Great Overshadowing I even managed to go on Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings. I wasn't able to maintain that level of fidelity through this last week, though I'm hovering around 175. The main reason I didn't go is because Maddy uncharacteristically got up shortly after me, around a quarter past seven. Normally she's still in bed when I leave (around 7:50, and the gym opens at 8), and sometimes is still asleep when I get back after 10. But to my surprise and hers she stayed up, and I found I lost my will to go. It's a rather fragile thing to begin with. We decided to go to Berkeley to buy engagement rings from a street vendor on Telegraph. It was the only place we could think of that would both have styles we'd like and be affordable. (Seeing as how two-thirds of our income was just sacrificed in order to keep the company profitable, you understand.) Besides, apparently that's where us peaceniks can still be found. It's a shame. I've always liked Wasteland on Haight, but I don't know that I'll be shopping there anymore, what with the manager of the store hanging a 10-foot tall flag in the window. Something about it just doesn't feel right anymore. Other symbols of hope and resolve -- such as peace stickers, lapel ribbons and "U.S.A." tattoos -- are being snapped up by men, women and teens eager to show off their concern over the deaths in Washington, New York and Pennsylvania. Eager to "show off" their concern. In America, I suppose that's the same thing as genuine concern. Lookit me, I'm all concerned and stuff! A variety of symbols can help people grieve, but "the flag is the most immediate and logical symbol that people can embrace, to show that you care about the country," says Scot Guenter, an American studies professor at the California State University at San Jose. "It's the most important symbol in American civil religion." "American civil religion." Those may be the three most chilling words I've ever heard. Although these sentiments come in a close second: Guenter, author of "The American Flag, 1777-1924," and Alan Dundes, an professor of anthropology and folklore at the University of California at Berkeley, say it's too early to tell whether the U.S. flag will become a long- term symbol of this month's tragedy, as red ribbons now are for AIDS. But in the short term, people are turning to the flag -- whether consciously or not -- because it represents strength and "masculinity," Dundes says. "We have to get these flags up, as a symbol of life," he explains. "Even liberals don't want to be emasculated." Ah, the L-word; I suspect that it's entering a period of vilification not seen since the days of Bush I. Still, one can hope that the dark-skin-and-turban set is safe for now, because the forces of patriotism are turning to face their old adversary. "I did two flag (tattoos) on Saturday -- both on women, both on their lower back," says Les Taylor, a tattoo artist at Zebra, a store on Telegraph Avenue. The women, says Taylor, were in their mid-30s and appeared "pretty liberal." The aforementioned manager of Wasteland is also described as "looking liberal." But he's proven that he isn't, not really. He says he was glad that Barbara Lee voted against the use of force. But it's okay, because to make up for it, he has a the biggest flag on the street. Strength and masculinity indeed. Being someone who A) won't display a flag, B) opposes military retaliation (in spite of the alleged bandwagon) and C) has willingly emasculated themself, is it any wonder I'm nervous about where this is all going? Oh, we did get the rings. They're quite beautiful. Last | Top | Next

Saturday, 22 September 2001 (failing yesterday) 6:54am When you think about it, all we really know for sure is that the WTC towers were destroyed last week by plane. Beyond that, there's no telling what's true. The public doesn't know if Osama bin Laden is remotely involved, or if he's even alive. After all, the government has lied in the past to justify going to war. Although it's a safe bet that whatever's truly going on, our civil liberties will suffer. Oh well. Nobody really wanted them anyway. On the way home, we went by Anton LaVey's old house on California street, just a few blocks off one of our driving-home routes. It's been boarded and gated off for a few years now, but it's still pretty neat. I wish I'd seen it while it was still in operation. Still, though, talk about a fixer-upper... sometime after midnight Tonight, at the end of a very good (and inexpensive) meal at our favorite sushi place in Pacifica, Maddy asked me to marry her. I said yes. Last | Top | Next

Friday, 21 September 2001 (overcast) 2:04pm Finally, discussions about staff reductions that resumed this week have for the most part been completed. Making these changes has not been easy. I’d like to personally acknowledge the contributions of those employees who will be leaving and thank you for your part in shaping the company. Hey, don't mention it. Although I technically have another week, I've started packing and hope to take a lot of stuff home tonight. It's amazing how much can accumulate in a few years. 3:11pm The guy usually at the front desk is on vacation, and as I was returning from taking a load of stuff out to my car, his replacement—after apparently not having noticed me for the last couple days—stopped me and asked who I was. I didn't react very well. Last | Top | Next