Fourth of July holiday weekend

This three day weekend was a total loss. Friday I was suddenly very worried about infection. The infection in my ear piercings, which I first noticed Tuesday, had returned yesterday and so I had taken my earrings out and left them out to give my ears a chance to settle down. They hadn’t. The next day here, they had become bright red, fat, swollen, and tender. A hangnail on my finger had inexplicably become infected as well. A huge bulb of tissue was popping out of my finger next to the nail. It was painful and oozing puss. And then most alarming of all, the secretions in my trach tube had not only increased dramatically, but were now a dark yellow color and had a terrible odor. And it’s the Fourth of July–everything is closed, including doctors offices. Along with the infection, I felt like crap. My energy level was as low as it had been. Yes, I had a new camera with a “fireworks” exposure mode, and just outside was one of the best fireworks displays in the country. I sat indoors this year and just listened to the booms of the fireworks shells outside.

Listened and popped a movie in the DVD: Panic in the Year Zero. Total government propaganda to sell the cold war, but, highly entertaining.

Saturday morning it took a very long time to drag myself out of bed. I managed to do so just in time to call Holly and cancel plans with her. She had invited me over for the day. She was going to fix lunch, we were going to walk in the woods, and just hang out. I could barely sit up. Saturday passed like Friday: The highlight of the day was watching a movie in the evening. The flip side of last night’s DVD was “Last Man on Earth.” Kind of a zombie vampire thing with a fun twist in the end.

Also I started something with out realizing it. I had this new camera… I took a picture of myself. I wasn’t planning it or thinking of it at the time, but that turned out to be the first picture of a little project, taking a picture of myself every day, no matter what, and posting it on my Flickr site. We’ll see if I can keep it up. Take a picture no matter how I’m feeling or how I look. Will I get creative with the pictures? Will I learn anything? Will it change me? We’ll see.

Sunday was a repeat of Friday and Saturday. I felt like crap and sat around and did nothing. I was a bit relieved that I had survived the weekend without a trip to the emergency room. I’d done my best to keep all of these infection sites clean, keep myself fed, and otherwise just rest. It worked. I wasn’t exactly better, but I hadn’t gotten any worse.

Arriving at Stacy’s house at some point, I found a nice surprise. A day or two ago she had mentioned seeing a recipe at the grocery store and had some reason she thought it would be pointless to take it, and I told her no, that I would love to try the recipe. So today I walk in and find not only the recipe, “summer vegetable chowder,” but in the fridge, all of the vegetables. I did make it and it turned out perfect for me. All mild stuff that I could eat. It was really good. Maybe not Z Square good, but on the list of what I’ve been eating lately, it was way up there.

Speaking of food, the movie for the night was “Tampopo.” Very fun movie. I highly recommend it.

Monday after

Mom and Sharon were gone. Their visit had been really nice, but now it was back to routine. Out of the sleeping room before the cleaning crew, then oatmeal at Stacy’s first thing in the morning. One thing I was dying to do was a bit of laundry. I hand washed a couple of items before heading to my 8:30 radiation appointment. I had moved it early in the day to avoid a 12:15 dentist appointment. The radiation was routine, but during the Monday review with Dr. Lamb, she explained that my scheduled dentist visit for the afternoon was a bad idea with my mouth in the condition it’s in. Ugh!! Back to Stacy’s for some reason I don’t remember, then over to the dentist to reschedule. During the day, I read a post from Gunner about a fund raiser for Dianne Wilkerson at 5:30 at Club Cafe. Well why not?

I got myself away from work a little after five and got there by six, I’m sure. Gunner spotted me right away, was surprised I’m sure, and greeted me with a big smile. I signed in with my phone and email address and went to mingle. Holly was there, and was busy working the room. I got introduced to a number of people. The fun person for me to meet was Robyn. I had known her name from when I was exploring identifying as a bisexual, and had read her book “Getting Bi.” I think I might have even spotted her at an event or two, but I believe this was the first time I ever met her face to face.

Changing the subject, one thing I don’t understand is why so many of us t-girls have to be so darned clumsy and awkward. I waited until a number of other people had gotten plates of the cheese and cracker things they had before I got mine, then tried to eat while standing up. No, it was seconds before half of my food slid off the plate and on to the floor. It was right in the middle of the room, and it was a big pile of stuff. I couldn’t leave it there. There seemed to be no witnesses, so I bent my knees and picked it up with my napkin. The cocktail waiter was by my side in an instant, offering to help as i held a sandwich of napkin and dropped food against the bottom of my plate. I set the whole mess in his hand, gently lifted off my plate, and he disappeared with the mess. I found a chair and sat to finish what was left on my plate.

I was feeling like such an idiot, but Gunner came and plopped down beside me, chatted with me a bit, and I felt better. As we sat, it became time for speeches and such, we happened to have front row seats, so that all worked well. Dianne gave an impressive little speech, the formal part of the fund raiser was over, and I left. I did, before leaving, leave a small contribution. It wasn’t even the $25 minimum suggested donation, but hey, I have no business giving money away. I just didn’t want to be a complete freeloader.

Wandering homward, I wanted dinner, wanted something easy. I wound up at Hong Kong where the bar happens to be empty on Monday nights. Perfect. Dinner alone. Just me and the bartender. I had fish and vegetables, surely the blandest, softest thing on the menu. I did visit Stacy after that, and did go back to the office after that. Shower before bed, lotion, medicine to knock me out.

Dykemarch

Last year I had a blast in the big Pride Parade; this year I’m really having fun participating in more of Pride Week. Tonight was Dykemarch. Home from work about 5:30, I wanted to drop off my bike and also get socks. My American Eagle flats are fine around the office without socks, but I was worried my heel might blister if I ended up walking too much. Jabbered with Stacy then until nearly 6:00. Got to gazebo on the common by 6:30. People were just then piling in. I found MTPC with a table set up and a number of people I knew just hanging around the MTPC table there. Also wandering the few tables, I found Kate giving out literature with her group that promotes communism or socialism or whatever it is. (I took some of her literature. I guess I should read it.)

The nature of Dykemarch, as I got it, is that it is a grass roots street march, undiluted by socially moderating forces now controlling the Saturday “Big” Pride. Big Pride is big enough that it is a little corporate, a little sanitized, a little family oriented. At Dykemarch, women carry signs saying things like “I FUCK WOMEN” which, I think might be frowned upon Saturday. I really loved all the crazy signs that people had made and thought they were the most fun element. I vowed to several people during the evening that I would have one next year. Also, while a duckboat lead the march, it was simply a march and not a parade, in the sense that there were no floats or anything–just people walking. It was a march in the sense that there really weren’t many spectators in the streets specifically to watch. And it was a march in the sense that we had I nice long route through Boston streets, I thought. Long enough that we held up traffic here and there as we closed off whatever streets we marched down and held up traffic on all cross streets as we passed. It was a march in the sense that we had drums! It was a march for me just be one of the numbers. Again, I was happy just to be there representing.

Holly had a surprise for me after the march. She had been invited to (I think I’m getting this right) a big pride organizing committee VIP party at a nearby hotel and offered to take me as her guest. I first said to Holly, “Oh, I don’t know… twist my arm,”, but of course I ended up going. The hostess checked Holly’s name on the list, we got our hands marked by the door usher, and Holly explained again that she was there to look for people. It took seconds before darted after someone she knew, and was then introducing me to Carl…Sciortino, that is, our State Rep that is sponsoring our HB1722 to provide us statewide gender protections. So I chatted with Carl for a while. How cool is that? Holly found enough people that she commented that she was really glad she went. Fun for me too, even if I didn’t know these VIPs. There were supposedly appetizers very early, but we (and I think most people, I heard grumbles) missed that. After a while though, we had a DJ spinning good dance music, and a special guest performer, a hunky guy with a nice deep voice that sang a few songs, dance songs, to get the party started. Holly explained to me that while he was there to sing, everybody in the room knew him as not a singer but a porn star. I looked at his crotch. Dang. I believed. Holly socialized more. I offered to wait in line and get us drinks. Back with drinks, Holly was ready to retreat to the most distant corner to rest legs and voice. We chatted for a while and that was the evening.

Pridelights

Pridelights is a little awards presentation and entertainment thing early in Pride Week. Still the student of queerness, I went to watch and see what it was all about.

Feeling like conserving my strength, I took the train to the bus that would go right past the event, to just watch for it and get off the bus when I saw it. It was conspicuous enough that it caught the attention of everybody on the full bus. All conversation suddenly went to “Wow, what’s going on?” “It’s a gay pride thing…” “Ahh…” “One of the events of Pride Week…” “Yeah, it goes on all week this week.” It was encouraging that lots of people knew what it was, knew what it was about, and that nobody was saying anything bad or indicating any negative opinions at all. Just general curiosity and answers. I hopped off with a couple of other people.

I started wandering the vendor tables and hadn’t been there but a few minutes when Holly spotted me and said hello. She had mentioned yesterday at the MTPC meeting that she would be there, so we I expecting to see her at some point. It was cool that she found me right away. Holly’s been in the community for a long time, knows the political scene, knows lots of people, and she explained that she was there to run into people. I expected her to spend a few minutes socializing with me and then wander off to see and be seen. No, she’s done that for years. People can come to her. It turned out she was more than happy to just hang in the back of the crowd with me all evening and we spent the whole time talking and trading stories and pretty much ignoring the festivities on the stage. This was all fine. I was happy to be there just as a attendee, representing the trans community to the GLBT community, and representing the GLBT community to the greater public. Of course a number of people Holly knew did wander by and exchange greetings over the course of the night, including Diego, who was part of the evening ceremonies.

They mentioned dinner. Holly hadn’t made time for dinner before the event. Diego was in the same boat but was going to be caught up with event responsibilities for some time afterward. So it was too predictable. Never mind I had eaten a super burrito at 7:00 pm before going there, my Dexamethasone prescription had me sitting with Holly in a restaurant a couple of hours later ordering more food. I was good, I had a salad and that’s all. Holly and I were still having fun talking.

10:30 pm them, riding back to Cambridge on the train, I was feeling totally wiped out. I rode with my eyes closed and concentrated on staying upright and counting the stops. Lack of sleep had caught up to me and Dexamethasone or not, I was going to sleep well. In bed by midnight for once.

MTPC meeting

It had been months since I’d been to an MTPC meeting, and months since I’d pretended to be interested in participating even. I went to listen and learn and maybe ease my way back in the direction of contributing in some way or another, at some point in the future. I missed out on the whole Judiciary Committee thing while I was under house arrest and just kind of dropped out of sight for a while there. Gunner, of course, didn’t blink as his first reaction on seeing me was to ask what T-shirt size I wanted and toss me a newly printed Trans Rights shirt to wear in the upcoming Pride Parade. Gulp. I guess I’m marching in the parade again this year!  I also promised Holly to see her at Dykemarch on Friday, since I was already planning on going to that.  Otherwise sat quietly during the meeting and just paid attention.

A fun surprise was remeeting Rachel, whom I met last October at Gender Crash.  I had seen her Saturday even, and we made eye contact but didn’t talk and I couldn’t remember who she was.  At MTPC I sat by her at the table and she remembered me from that night at Gender Crash.  What fun to see her all out and active in the community when the  only time I saw her before was when she had just arrived in Boston and was seeming like such a shy person.

The C word

For the first time today a doctor was brave enough to tell me it might be cancer. We should know next week after surgery. Best case is I end up with a little scar on my throat. Worst case is that I never talk again and so can’t complain as I die of cancer over the next few months. Sorry, but I’m really grumpy and cynical these days. I feel like shit, I have a cough that will clear a subway car of all passengers in a single stop, I feel so weak, so tired, I ache. I don’t like the idea of having a blow hole punched in my neck. I get asked all the time how long this has been going on. My answer lately is that I guess it’s been getting worse over a period of years. Of course, two years ago I weighed 70-80 pounds more than I do today. It was easy to shrug it off, saying “of course I get out of breath, I’m fat!” But then I lost all of that weight and people still often commented on how easily I would get out of breath. I still ignored it. Just today Lisa stopped by my office to check on me and was asking this question, and I was saying that it had only been really bad recently. She immediately countered “that’s not right, you were telling me last summer how you couldn’t swim across a pond.” Whoa. Smart cookie, that Lisa, she was referring to this story from last August. It made me wonder, did I document earlier cases of breathing problems? I searched, but apparently the answer is no. It’s not that I didn’t have problems. See, by August there, I was so familiar with having trouble breathing that I just mentioned it in passing in that story. I was just ignoring the unusualness of it, and the seriousness of it. It wasn’t until I started having those terrible muscle spasms that I finally went in to see Dr. Bershel. Then that little jail sentence got in the way, then the house arrest, so here six months later I have doctors scheduling surgery for me on a day they previously had scheduled vacation time. It’s scary.

Happy Sonia news is that I had lots of fun Friday at the goth/fetish “Night of the Dolls” at TT The Bear’s Place. I went with Jessica, the only one I could claim for sure as being there with me. But then Ashley ended up bringing the whole Sisters of Boston gang, so I had a wonderful time seeing lots of my friends. I was really struggling with the coughing and stuff and so stayed off the dance floor for the whole night. Finally had a nice conversation with Michelle, after we had traded emails over the last couple of months. Also–I know I’ll miss people–but also seen that night was Holly, Jacinda, Danielle, Wendy, Denise, and Sabrina!

Saturday I was at Jacque’s for a FoRCC Diana roll call. Again lots of fun. Three girls there were kind of Sisters of Boston girls and sat together. I wanted to get them to meet Diana and mix with some of the other girls but was only partially successful. Diana is always in demand and I’m too timid to just interrupt and say “Diana, I have some friends I’d like you to meet…” Lace kind of stepped up to that role though. She was great at talking with everybody. Fun girl. I do hope I don’t die, so I get more chances to go dancing with her. They came with Michelle, but then there were I think four Michelle t-girls there before the night was over. There ended up being a nice little crowd from FoRCC. Sharon came! Rebecca. Paula! Again, lots I’m forgetting.

Stay tuned for tomorrow. Busy day. I’m going to start with a visit to Dr. Bershel’s office. Then work, I think, and then the theater!

One last night with Sisters of Boston

Ok, so a quick check in my journal reveals that September 11 was the last time I appeared at Sisters of Boston. It’s an interesting numerological coincidence then, that it turned out to be the 11th of April, seven months later, when I reappeared. The first two of those seven months were spent with me simply burned out on making the two hour trek to the meeting location. The last five months I had other problems. All this time, I’d missed it. I’d missed meeting so many new girls, missed the fun of seeing their giddy excitement, missed the fun of going out dancing. So I was all ready to return. I just needed the courts to set me free. They did so Friday afternoon and I was in my groove again.

Home from work, I decided to go to Sisters dressed just in work clothes, but with a little makeup, with which I so rarely grace my coworkers these days. Knowing there would be dancing later, I packed a miniskirt and a barrette, and was out the door at 6pm. The Red Line and Orange Line were both miraculously waiting for me to step onto without breaking my stride and I got to Wellington in 40 minutes, with 20 minutes still to spare before the 7pm bus to Woburn. 40 more minutes later, it dropped me a block from the hotel where Sisters meets, and I walked in the door actually being the first Sister to arrive for the evening.

I was amused that as a supposed leader within this group, I had to stop at the hostess stand and explain that I was looking for Sisters of Boston, that it was my first time there, and so on. With a bit of nervousness (that I ignored at the moment) she said I could have a seat at the bar. “Do you serve food at the bar?” “Oh yes, of course.” “Wonderful” I looked happy to have things settled. She relaxed and smiled. At the bar, the two girls next to me looked so darned familiar! I hate it when that happens! I didn’t ask though. I got no look of recognition from them, so I just let it go. I ordered a rum and coke and pizza and sat and did my usual bar thing. Sometimes I would look up at the TVs, but really I didn’t care to watch whatever was there. Really, right in front of me was just mirror, rather than a TV. The mirror showed how meager my prospects were of blending at this place. Now, my sense was that it didn’t have anything to do with me being trans. Rather, I was very obviously a Cambridge-ite, far from Cambridge. Black hair, black cat eye glasses…

Omg! I hadn’t written yet about my new glasses. In a night of drunken confusion at the indescribably cluttered home where I live, my last pair of contacts got thrown out with the dishwater somehow. I was blind and forced to return to the optician and get new glasses. I got these really great (and really expensive ) cat eye frames that are very femmie, and also a little something like geek, punk, or retro, I don’t know what.

Where was I? Yes, hair, glasses, and hot pink and black layered tops. *sigh* So I exchanged polite smiles with people around me, listened obviously to stories told in voices loud enough to advertise that they were fair game for anyone who cared to listen, and that was about it. It was cool. It reminded me somewhat of the time that I waited alone for Danielle once at a TGIF. In both cases, it was obviously the local, after work crowd where lots of people knew each other. Don’t be an ass, and you’re welcome too no problems. Come again another time, learn the bartender’s name, chat a few people up, come again, and you’re a regular–no matter how you dress. Acceptance isn’t automatic in the ‘burbs, but it can be earned.

For tonight though, I was just waiting for friends. My pizza had just arrived when, watching in the bar mirror, I recognized Caroline walk in. She had no chance of recognizing the back of my head, but after getting settled in the bar area herself, getting something cold to drink, and unwinding a bit, she finally read me as trans and walked over to confirm her suspicions. Still not recognizing me, she guessed I must be the new girl expected to visit from Maine that night. “Hello, are you Paula?” “No,” I said, smiling ear to ear and standing up. At this point, I think words failed her as her eyes were telling her something she thought impossible. “Caroline!” I said, and gave her a big hug. We talked excitedly for a few minutes, and that kind of set the tone for the whole night. I got to see old friends Jackie, Deedee, Sally, LiLLi, Kristen, Steffanie, Mike, Jean, and of course Ashley. I got to meet this new Paula from Maine, and also Corrine, Holly, Madison, and Mitzzy, some of whom I knew of and had been dying to meet. Blame it on the soybeans, but when Jean walked in, I was so overcome with emotion that I started crying and couldn’t stop without going to the restroom.

I’ll save my restroom rant for a separate post and mention that we went from Tony Pilla’s to Pearl, for the lesbian dance club experience that apparently the girls are addicted to now. Riding in Deedee’s car on the way over, I peeled off my pink and black tops and replaced only the black one, pulled my hair back neatly with the large barrette, replaced my ankle-length denim skirt with a mini with outdoorsy-inspired details, and took off my goofy striped toe socks. I’d gone from geek girl to urban club girl in a few minutes. Deedee hardly batted an eye. She’d seen my Sisters Friday routine many times before.

At Pearl, sadly, I didn’t recognize anyone I knew (other than Sisters, of course.) I’d been away too long Dancing was fun though, as usual. I felt very out of practice and awkward on the floor, and I couldn’t dance for more than one or two songs at a time with my breathing problems, but that was no problem with this group. I especially liked dancing with Madison, who, very high on gender euphoria, smiles ear to ear the whole time. Nn, also at Pearl, a girl named Sarah (I think) visiting from Germany(!) caught up with us. I had fun dancing with her as well. Gosh, so young and pretty, and having such a hard time understanding anything I said!

I danced until 1:30, then left the group to go catch up with Deedee at RISE. On the way I stopped for food at 7 Eleven and had much of it to finish yet when I arrived at RISE. I stood on the street and people watched. A group of four guys and one girl was also hanging out on the sidewalk outside RISE. One started in my direction and the others grabbed him and pulled him back, saying things like “uh uh, just let it go.” We all watched with amusement as some people went inside to find out what the place was all about came scurrying right back out. Done with my dinner, I walked around the corner to drop my trash in a bin, walked right through the middle of group outside the door, and disappeared inside. “Hi, I’ve been away for a while…” “You certainly have!” the doorman said. “…and my membership has long expired…” I started to explain. He already had a guest ticket in his hand. “Oh thank you!” I exclaimed, and scampered up the stairs, imagining puzzlement of the group outside that I didn’t come back out. Inside, I did find Deedee before long. Also saw Mandy, but as Deedee explained, most other faces I would have known from last year had moved on and were gone from RISE. The group from outside showed up before long. The guy that had started toward me on the sidewalk watched me dance and the expression on his face said “huh, I guess you do belong.” Deedee and I danced, talked, and were both tired relatively early. I think we left about 4:00.

Sure was good to be back.

More psycho astronomer drama

Monday brought more psycho astronomer drama. Psyco astronomer, the one I told about threatening violence against my supervisor, had over the weekend submitted some data that he expected me to publish. Um, hello? You phone in hatred and threats and then expect me to congratulate you? Wrong. Supervisor had since gone on vacation so this is my call. I decide to set his data aside until supervisor returns. Sound reasonable? Not to psyco ex-director of my office. He comes to my office to interrogate me and call me unprofessional. I told him to go F himself. Well, not really, but basically I said I didn’t care and he was done talking to me then.

Hmm…somehow that night I ended up at Charlie’s Kitchen for food and drink. I walk in and who is sitting at the bar but Holly and Steve! Holly was full of compliments as usual. Steve was more interested in his dinner. Both were fun to talk to. It was fun to catch up a little bit and trade a couple of stories.

Tuesday and Wednesday were just work–observing.