Still here

…still in limbo.  There’s no special reason to write today.  It’s a random wet autumn day.

Yesterday:  Lied in bed late, sat at the computer, then dragged myself to the office around 3pm.  Rushed to get the important work finished by the end of the day so I could make it to a meeting of people working on transgender history in Boston.

The meeting was thoroughly depressing.  It’s a wonderful project but I came away feeling that I have absolutely nothing to contribute.  I feel like I should drop out.

Hungry after the meeting, I had Border Cafe on the brain because Alyson had eaten there yesterday and I had declined to go because I was running late.  I was thinking of their shrimp and crayfish salad, thinking that would be good for my diet that I started yesterday.  Border, though, turned out to be mobbed.  I got a beer at the bar and waited to see if a place to sit would open up, but no, just more and more people keep gushing in the door.  A short leap got me to Charlie’s, where it was the quiet hour with plenty of seating.  Still thinking seafood, I ordered a fish and garbanzo sandwich concoction from their seasonal menu.  Lisa asked how it was.  She hadn’t tried it yet and was probably genuinely interested, but I answered with my immediate condition of the sandwich falling apart in my hand, saying “I recommend eating it with a fork.”  Really it was nice.  The chick peas went well with fish and there was a little bit of seasoning stirred in as well.

I didn’t stick around after eating.  While I’d gotten the important asteroid work done earlier, there was still a pile more.  I went back to the office and processed data until 12:30.  Home at 1am, I snuggled up to Alyson and slept.

Weight (at some point over the weekend): 170
Food yesterday:  1/4 pumpkin pie, fish sandwich, fries, 2 beers.
Exercise:  about 70 minutes walking.

Photography!

Friday I tried something new. I’d been having so much fun with my camera that I decided to meet a group of local photographers for a “photowalk” around Boston. It turned out to be fun and I had the best time just trying to soak up as much photography wisdom as I could from these guys. I watched, listened, imitated what I saw them doing.  After pictures, I went with a couple of them to a bar for a couple more beers.  And on the way home, stopped in Charlie’s as well.

Weekend work

This Saturday was my one day a month to work on a Saturday. Tim gave me the option of not working it, but I said that no, it would be just fine. Around lunch time I was getting hungry and was happy to have the instant minestrone left over from yesterday. It was good, but only lasted me midway through the afternoon, when I went down to the square to get an early dinner.

I was starting to feel a little better and a little braver about what I could eat. I ordered the double cheese burger at Charlies. Waiting for the food, I played with my camera. Yesterday I finally found a Flickr home for my “Sonia every day” project. I found a Flickr group and pool called “365 Days” which is specifically for people taking a picture of themselves every day. The pictures posted to the pool were so creative! They challenged and inspired me to try something new, something more creative than a full body pose, which is all I had done for the first week of my project on my own. Here’s what I came up with for today, my first post to the pool:

Lesbian Friday

Amidst discussion of problems at Sisters of Boston, Wendy had suggested on the FoRCC list that Laurel would be a great place to meet on a Friday. I answered her post as a roll call and said I’d be there, but sadly nobody else comitted. I did some makeup before leaving work and got to Laurel about 9:00 to find the place absolutely jammed, like, breast to breast, with lesbians. I took a big breath and waded in. I made a pass through the crowd to look for anyone I recognized, (like Wendy?) but no, I’d have to do this alone for a bit. Not a problem with lesbians. They’re like the friendliest people in the world and wanted to invite me into their little circles of conversation and meet me and stuff. One girl introduced herself and then drew my face right to hers and kissed me. Now, I’d been to Laurel a number of times before, but never seen it like this! One thing I learned was that the first Friday of every month is a particularly big night there. The other factor certainly was timing. Probably most times before, I was there after Sisters of Boston, which would have a couple hours later in the evening, when things maybe were winding down. I think the place closes at Midnight. I got invited to march with Dykemarch next Friday. I’ll probably do that.

Not quite in the spirit of things, I know, one of my priorities was eating. I’m on this drug that makes me crazy hungry and I knew the kitchen there closed at 10:00 so I was happy when someone offered me their bar stool very early. I’d gotten a menu from the bartender, but getting more attention was going to take some time with the place so busy. In the meantime I was being kept totally occupied talking with all these women around me! Wendy did appear after a bit, relieving my stress a little bit, and almost immediately got the bar stool next to me. We had fun talking, I got my dinner–which Wendy paid for(!)–but then I was kind of done. Wendy was interested in flirting with the women there, and with me forgoing my crutch of alcohol, I was wasn’t getting into the progressive silliness of the evening. Giving the excuse that I needed to get to bed early, I said goodbye to Wendy and left.

Well I was telling the truth, but I didn’t go straight home. I should have. I might have been tired enough to sleep, but it was still so early, I was still so hungry, I stopped at Charlie’s Kitchen and ate and drank more. Over to Stacy’s about midnight then, to get supplies for tomorrow, back to the office for shower and sleep, probably about 2:00.

Attempted elegance

Tuesday morning it was terribly hard to get dressed.   This cold was kind at it’s peak, which left me at new depths of misery.  Drainage from the could would go below the obstruction in my throat, then the obstruction was enough that coughing was unproductive in getting it up.  Sometimes it would help to get the drainage out if I bent over so that was head was lowered.  Tuesday morning I got up but was too exhausted to get dressed.  I lied down on the floor in the dining room, just stretched out on my stomach.  The house, I don’t know if I had ever mentioned, leans.  It leans like a house of cards about to topple over and so the floor is not level, but slopes alarmingly.  (Really, of course, the alarming thing isn’t just that the floor slopes, but that whole house leans like the famous tower in Pisa.)  This was nice for me though, to lie with my headdownslope and let the drainage work it’s way up my throat.  After lying there for an hour or so, I finally coughed up a plum-sized ball of goo, and then slowly began to start my day.

The scheduled highlight of the day was attending a play with Diane and a number of friends that evening.  Diane had somehow acquired a block of tickets, and after meeting me at Natick last December, thought of me and invited me to join her group.  With all my troubles, what amazingly fortunate timing that I was able to go this night!

For my look, I wanted to do elegance.  This is a professional theater performance at the Boston Opera House.  I peeked online at the price of tickets and the price astonished me it was so high.  (Shows how much I know about theater!)  So I wanted an ankle length dress.  I didn’t have one.  I tried to imagine anything I have suitable at my old apartment and couldn’t think of a thing.  In the closet at here was one ankle length gown, just a little bit racier than what I wanted, but for a while, I actually had myself talked myself into wearing it.  Finally I came to my senses that the dress was unacceptable simply because it didn’t fit well.  The fabric was very stretchy, so I fit into it, but skin tight on a 46-yo just isn’t elegant.  I went shopping.  I went with Stacy and found a dress I liked at the Goodwill store for $6.  Duh.  I needed shoes, across the street atPayless were some $20 heels on clearance for $12.  The customer in line in front of me bought one pair of shoes, Payless has their buy-one-second-one-half-price deal, so my shoes rang up at $6.  The final purchase for the outfit was found at Garment District–a vintage gold clutch–$6 as well.  Paired with some gold jewelry I already owned, I was done.

I wanted my face to look it’s best too, but long out of practice at getting dressed up to go out, I ended up taking some shortcuts with it.  I dunno.  I did okay.  I was clean and smooth and smelled nice, had a complete and appropriate outfit, and had well, some make up anyway.  I looked nicer than I had in a long time and I was out of time, it was all I could do.

I left the house on time, but things went downhill quickly and getting to theater turned into a terrible ordeal.  I had the wrong location, and the wrong time.  My fault for not checking and double checking everything ahead of time.  If I had done that I would have discovered the misinformation I had. ehem.

Found my seat eventually, with the play underway of course, and — o, m, g — professional plays are amazing.  I big professional production is nothing like a smaller play.  The acting talent, the singing, the dancing, the sets, the costumes!  All truly amazing.

After the play, girls wanted pictures.  It must be my lack of Prozac, but I have lots I want to rant about here.

…

…

…

hmph.

Ok, I’ll be good.

On paper, anyway.  After pictures, our group kind of got split somehow.  A few of the girls disappeared and we never found them.  The rest of us ended up in a nearby hotel lounge for a drink and conversation.  I had the best time talking with Frannie, whom I had never met.

After we all said goodnight, the evening was still young enough for me for a stop at Charlie’s.  Almost as good as Prozac.

Binge, fast

Monday I piddled around the office pretty late into the evening. I processed a little asteroid data, misused the office computer with a little bit of personal stuff, but also spend a lot of time plucking my face in preparation of my CT scan the next day. I’d never had a CT scan and didn’t know if they would be strapping my head down to hold it still, sticking targets to it, or otherwise working in close proximity to my face. I wanted it to look its best. Lastly, I took a shower here. The shower at home is as gross and as cumbersome as ever and it’s nice to have the ankle bracelet off just so I can shower here outside of regular working hours. I’d stayed late enough that I’d missed Stacy, I had eight dollars in my pocket, so I decided to spend it at Charlie’s on a little indulgence before having to fast for this CT scan. I had chicken fingers and a diet coke, chatted just a bit with Chris, and headed home for the second course. Yep, Stacy had left me a salad in the fridge and Jessica was half way into Star Wars: Episode I. A chocolate bar, a glass of water, and I was ready to sleep.

The CT scan the next day was relatively quick and easy. The only crazy part of it was that it was hard to hold my head straight. The machine is in a room with an ordinary sort of drop ceiling with rectangular tiles but the machine sits at an angle. I was instructed to lie on my back and hold my head “straight.” Where is straight? I’m staring at this ceiling with it’s rectangular grid, and being instructed verbally to lie straight. “No, straight” The technician poked at my head to prompt me to make it straight. I looked up at the ceiling tiles and had no idea which way she wanted me to turn my head. I tried turning it a random direction a little bit. She poked at me again. I tried a differernt way at random. I started to explain that it would be easier if there were a line or something on the ceiling for reference. “Just hold your head straight” she repeated. (lol) crazy. Anyway, the machine whirled and I was out of there in a few minutes time. Pretty easy.

Drinking

Drinking doesn’t seem to go so well with my health problems these days.  One or two last Friday wasn’t a problem but the next night I went drinking at Charlie’s….

I walked in in the evening and the place was packed.  I threaded my way through the downstairs crowd toward the far end of the bar were the “crazies” hang out, but didn’t see but a couple people I knew, no empty bar stools of course, and really not even much space to stand.  For that, I might as well listen to music, I thought, and went upstairs.

Here I recognized no one, except Amy behind the bar.  That was fine.  With my voice, I couldn’t talk anyway.  I really just wanted to drink and daydream and listen to music.  I got expensive beer for a change, Ipswitch.  I used to drink it at Witherspoon and liked it.  I stood and drank, sometimes watching “Deadliest Catch” but mostly letting my mind wander.  The crowd mostly ignored me.  People came and went occasionally vacating bar stools, but always there were people desperate to sit.

Finally three people were leaving but only only two replacing them.  Well, actually three, but two girls were choosing to sit on the same stool.  I asked if the stool was available and a girl said yes… “and so is he” she added, pointing to the guy on the stool next me.  “Very available” she clarified.  He was gorgeous, but I couldn’t get a single look out of him.  I had no chance while the two girls on the one stool had his full attention.  They sat on each other’s laps, trading places ocassionally, and always with their arms around each other, playing with each other’s hair, entwining legs, and looking silly with happiness.  *sigh*  Again, I wasn’t there to talk.  Sarah didn’t know that.  She was also bartending, and while we knew each other by sight, hadn’t learned each other’s names yet.  She bought me a kamakazi, I took a little sip, mmm, so good.  A little bigger drink to prime my throat, and then I downed it, to maintain the spirit of a shooter you know.  We talked a little bit.  About what I don’t remember.  It was just to pass a little time and learn each other’s names.

Available guy left, the two girls disentangled and sat on separate stools, ending the lesbian tease show.  At one point, one left to use the restroom and a guy tried to take her stool.  He was ignoring signals from others that the seat was taken.  So i tried.  I put my hand on his chest and made a little scratching motion to get his attention.  He looked down into my face.  I answered, “Somebody was sitting here?  She just went to the restroom and is coming right back.”  I think he could ignore others, but couldn’t ignore an aging tranny scratching his chest.  He stood up then, but by that time had lost favor with the bartenders.  They refused to serve him.  The girl came back.  Rude guy left and everone started talking about him.  I told my part of the story:  “He started talking about Detroit and I chimed in that Detroit was the latest city to pass a law providing discrimination protection for transgenders.”  “You said that!!???” The girls asked, practically laughing.  “Wait, is that really true?”  “It is!  It was in all the tranny news just today.”  (Press release here, btw. )

The night turned out fun after all.  It was the next day that wasn’t.  Talk about a hangover, I was wrecked for like 24 hours.  That on just four drinks.  Something is seriously wrong with me.

Jessica love

I was happy enough that I couldn’t resist buying a Dunkin muffin on the way back to work. The muffin held me until dinner time, when Stacy fed me chili on rice. Jessica happened to be out so I used the opportunity to on her computer to update my journal here. Omg, it had been so long. Jessica came home before too long though, and for some reason had money burning a hole in her pocket. She wanted to take me to Charlie’s. How could I refuse?! Two beers, hello’s to all the regulars there, home to sleep with Jessica.