Tiffany Tuesday

Home after work, I found Stacy and Jessica sound asleep. Stacy had said earlier that she would like to come to Tiffany Club with me tonight. I was expecting her to be ready to go (and Jessica not ready yet, but wanting to come too.) I wanted to get there relatively early, so I didn’t wake them, just grabbed a couple of things and left. Stopped in my favorite sub shop on the way there and got a ham and cheese, walked out the door of the sub shop just in time to miss a 70 bus. The next bus came just as I was finishing the first half of my sandwich. I got to Tiffany Club by 7:30. Not bad.

It turned out to be a really great night there. Paula’s account of the night that she posted online mentioned several new girls, which I sadly didn’t talk to, but there was a good crowd of regulars, and a number of other people I knew that were pleasant surprises. Regulars I remember were Janet, Paula, Laura, Joan, Francis, Becka, Asta, and Terri, Nn, pretty sure Jennifer showed up later too. The first surprise to walk in was Mike. A total surprise because he’s suppose to be still resting after his surgery. I ran and gave him a big hug. Not too much of a surprise was Tori, because I had emailed her and encouraged her to come. Sharon was a surprise. June was a surprise. And following Mike by nearly two hours, I think, was Natasha.

I guess I missed the new girls because while most people stayed in the dining room, I spent most of the evening in the living room, talking TS issues with Terri, Tori, and a few others. The issue I was exploring was how TSs maintain a support network. I’ve been struck by how rich the support network can be for cross dressers, and how thin it often is for TSs. The theory I tossed out was that CDs get together for social events as an excuse to go out dressed, so these social events bring them together. TSs, on the other hand, have no need for “excuses to go out dressed” and therefore socialize with each other much less. Tiffany Club is a rare thing.

New to me and TC was having my new camera along! I really wanted to be Ashley and collect lots of pictures, but I’m afraid I did a poor job. I snapped pictures of just a few people at the end of the night. I’ll have to get much braver.

Mother and Sister Visit

My mother and sister flew in from Missouri Thursday and spent four days visiting me. The trip was a huge success and we all had a wonderful time with really very few problems.

Thursday

One of the problems was right at the start. I was going to meet them at the airport and that plan fell apart. Their plane from Kansas City had missed their connection in Philadelphia. In a relatively minor inconvenience for them, they got the flight just one hour later, but me without cell phone, had no way of knowing what was going on. I watched their flight number appear on the arrival and baggage claim screens, I watched people come and go, I didn’t see them of course. After 45 minutes all signs of their flight were gone and as I had no way of knowing if I had 15 minutes to wait (reality!) or if they were still in Kansas City, I left the airport. Now, me still not being the most punctual, I had arrived at the terminal just at the time their plane was due to arrive. I entertained the possibility that the plane was somehow rather early and that my mother and sister, not seeing me, had already hopped a cab to the hotel. I went to the hotel and asked if they had checked in. No, not yet. By then it was mid afternoon and I needed food. I’d had breakfast, but I was expecting them to get off the plane hungry and that we would all go out for lunch right away. A nice lunch of spinach pie and vegetable soup, one last check back at the hotel, and surprise, they had checked in!!!

Upstairs, kisses, hugs, airport stories. They had gifts for me! Most fun was a collection of scarves. Sharon (my sister) had offered to bring me some hand-me-downs from her closet, and I had told her no, that it was silly to haul stuff like that around the country. The scarves were a perfect use of that idea though. Easy for her to carry and I desparately needed them! One of the scarves is very special. It’s one my mother had bought on her recent vacation to Italy and is just beautiful. Other gifts were a scarf tying book, scented bath soaps, some photographs, some magazines, and a very special “hang in there” pin. My mother had a long career as an elementary school teacher and this pin was a gift from a parent of a particularly difficult child. It was cute.

While there was day left, it was time to make some use of it. Now, not having many resources with which to pamper my family, my plan for the weekend consisted mainly of showing them “my world” limited as it is by public transportation, for example. Greatly helping this was that their hotel was right across the street and just one block from the Lechemere Station. We walked to the station and bought seven day T passes for them. The T employee was frustrated, I think, that I was refusing his help with the machines, but I wasn’t about to let him deprive my mother and sister this local experience of navigating the screens on our new automated Charlie Ticket machines. I guided them through it, laughed with them when the machine timed out because we were taking too long to read the screens, and continued to ignore the exasperated T employee. Yes, there was a line behind us. But yes, there were a number of machines and the line moved quickly right around us. Nobody missed a train because I took a few minutes to share this experience with my family. We were headed for the 69 bus and Harvard Square though. It was a simple starting point for the visit. Kind of the center of my world, shops, places to eat, and a chance for me to run and gather some stuff I would need to spend the night with them. Of course on the bus ride over I pointed out and told about whatever I thought of interest. Once there, I pointed them in the general direction of the more interesting shops, and then left them to run and gather my stuff. Meeting them again in front of Au Bon Pain a bit later, it was dinner time.

This was the start of a weekend of picking mostly simple meals, between a few different considerations. One of course is to not spend too much money, another is finding food soft enough and mild enough that I can eat with my radiation damaged mouth, but the killer is the simple taste preferences of my still very Midwestern family. I offered them Indian or Chinese. They had never had Indian and didn’t want to face the problem of not knowing what to order. It had to be Chinese. Simple enough. We popped in Yenching and they felt at home. Sharon ordered cashew chicken, my mom bravely asked me what the Mandarin Eggplant would be like. Ha! “Mom, read the first paragraph of the menu. They say they pride themselves on the Mandarin style. You order this and you’re ordering their best.” She and I both love eggplant. We determined it wouldn’t be too spicy, and so that was her order. I picked seafood noodle soup, guaranteed to be very mild and very soft, and yes, we were all completely happy with our dinner. The sad part for me was watching them eat the crab rangoon. Mmm….hopefully just a week or two and my mouth will be healed and I can eat crunchy food again!

Friday

I had the alarm set for 5:45 am to get to my 7:00 radiation treatment, but was awake at 5:30 anyway. It was nice to have a little extra time to get ready and I got to Lechemere at 6:15 as planned, thinking 45 minutes would be plenty of time to get from there to the hospital. Of course since I hadn’t looked at the 69 schedule ahead of time, bus karma guaranteed that it had just left moments earlier, at 6:10. I bought an ice coffee from the station coffee stand, now that I was slowed down to taking the train instead. And 45 turned out to be plenty. Radiation, then Stacy’s for oatmeal, then back to the hotel.

The sightseeing plan for the day wasn’t much more than wandering the waterfront. I took them to Haymarket Station, pointed out the Haymarket itself, and then showed them the Holocaust Memorial. We wandered down just one side of Faneuil Hall. It wasn’t really our destination, as Sharon and Mom had been there before and we weren’t on a shopping expedition, just sightseeing. We did browse a few of the sidewalk vendors on the way, but didn’t go into any of the shops. From there, we wandered through Columbus Park where they liked this fountain in particular. “It has some name…what is it?” “Infinity pool.” I leaned a new word. It’s a pool with the water level at a rounded edge so there is no visible “container” for the water. Our path through the park was toward the lunch destination I had in mind, the Sail Loft. A little less obvious than a couple other restaurants there, a little more local flavor. I had chowder and baked potato. Sharon said her fish and chips were the best she had ever had. Now, I challenged her on that, but she said that no, she meant it! Hmm…I tried one of her pieces of fish. It was good, but not Boston’s best, I assured her. After lunch we strolled out on Long Wharf just to look out on the harbor and watch boats. I pointed out whatever I knew that we could see from there. I also had in mind checking harbor Island boat schedules. We’d gotten only about that far when the sky turned black and threatened to pour rain. Mom and Sharon looked at me with eyes wide. I just smiled and pointed out with a smile, “And here’s the Blue Line! Just how convenient is this city, hm?” We dodged the first of the rain by ducking in the Aquarium Station, but it was indeed pouring when we arrived at Lechemere. We waited, watched the rain let up, then pour four a while longer, then let up again. We didn’t hesitate this time and scurried across the street to the hotel.

At the hotel we sat around and talked for just a short while when Sharon yawned and said she was taking a nap, Mom was ready to join her but I saw the rain had stopped and said I was walking to the Twin City Plaza to browse shops while they slept. This was too tempting to Mom. “No, I change my mind, I want to go to the strip mall too.” And then Sharon, “well but I don’t want to be left out! I’ll go too.” Uh uh, Sharon, you started the nap thing. You’re taking a nap.

Mom and I went to the mall. It was fun just the two of us! I was having fun thinking of it as our first time mother-daughter shopping. We went in Marshall’s and browsed just the shoe department, then Sew-Fisticated, Dots, Sally Beauty, and Dollar Tree. I…know the experience was different for Mom, but she seemed to be enjoying it all anyway.

Returning to the hotel and rousing Sharon, the easy choice that everybody liked for dinner was the food court at the CambridgeSide Galleria. Hey, its vacation, right? Sharon and Mom got Italian. I got Chinese again. Now, all Americans know that after dinner at a mall, the choice for entertainment is a movie, right? Actually we’d already talked about it on the way over, reading a Wall•E billboard looming over the McGrath Highway. So, Green Line from there to the Boston Common AMC, and let’s see…. A show just started, so there’s a bit of a wait for the next one and……as we consider waiting, it sells out too. The next show is very late. None of us have any interest in any of the other movies. Hmph. How about a movie on the hotel TV? Yes. First though, how about a walk in the park? Huh? Yes, I absentmindedly led us into the wrong entrance at Boyleston, forcing us to walk up to Park Street … *sigh* … while I explained to them about some of the idiotic limitations of the MBTA’s new Charlie system.

The movie we picked at the hotel was Over Her Dead Body. It was cute, and watching from bed was just fine–actually really nice–for the end of a long day.

Saturday

With no radiation treatment to get up for, it was nice to sleep in a bit. Still, I’d done well at taking medicine at the right times overnight, had slept very well, and was awake well before Sharon and Mom. I went out for breakfast alone and found pancakes at a cafe just around the corner from the hotel. Mmm, drowned in enough butter and syrup, they went down pretty easily.

The tourist destination I picked for the day was the Mapparium at the Christian Science Plaza. I’d had the Mapparium on my list of places to visit on the recommendation of Kim (from Texas) and it was perfect for the day because it was quick and was right next door to one of our main destinations for the day, Dorothy’s Boutique. It was cool! Again, just a little bit off the beaten tourist path. Fun. Fun to see the “hall of ideas.” Fun to read a few little displays about Mary Baker Eddy, homeopathy, and so on. Of course the church and plaza are spectacular sights themselves. Interestingly, I thought, the giant reflecting pool there was our second infinity pool for the weekend, and here I had just learned the word.

Dorothy’s was on the list because Mom and Sharon had declared early that they wanted to take me wig shopping. (Oh my, was my wig really looking that bad? Horror.) Never mind, I hesitated for only the briefest instant before agreeing. Yes, it is getting worn, and yes, I was quite aware when I bought it that the style is a bit edgy. That’s why I bought it. I just didn’t plan to wear it every day at the time. So anyway, it had been fun but yes, I was ready for a change too. Dorothy’s is a fun place and is where I bought the two blonde wigs that I wore much of last year. They have costumes of all sorts, costume jewelry, makeup, dance wear, shoes, and wigs! Starting to try on wigs then, it was fascinating to me that Mom and Sharon both gravitated initially to a wig that was much like the very first wig I picked out for myself. We tried a number of different styles then, decided which one we liked best, but didn’t buy because the plan was to compare at Wig World. Mom did, however buy me a pair of shoes there. I know she wanted to do nice things like that for me, and they did have some practical every day shoes there for cheap.

Green line to Downtown Crossing and we were at Wig World, where I bought the black wig I have been wearing since the beginning of this year. Knowing now kind of what we all had in mind, we picked one that we all immediately loved. It was human hair, which I had come to really like, and they must have seen the difference as well. To be thorough, we tried a few other styles and colors, but there was no contest really, we were going to buy that first one. Now, the sales gimmick they have at Wig World is always buy one get one half off. They always say it is a special, but they always have the special. Anyway, it was irresistible to Mom and Sharon. There was a synthetic wig that we all liked, and it being much cheaper than the human hair wig, seemed too good to pass up. I didn’t argue long, and left with two new wigs. The second wig really is beautiful. It is black for consistency with my other black wigs I’ve been wearing, but also has some brown highlights. I think it will be good for when I want to dress up a little.

We move slowly and time flies and it was 2:00, I think, but everybody still liked the idea of Sarah’s for lunch. It was part of the theme of letting them see “my world.” Red line to Harvard and then the 72 bus to Sarah’s. Mom liked having a chance ride the electric trolley. After lunch was the one block walk down to my office where I did a couple of quick things. I changed into my new wig for one! Also dropped off a few things I didn’t want to drag back to the hotel, checked email, replenished my supplies of medicine, and printed a bus schedule for Sharon and I to get to Randolph Country Club later that evening. I had told her that some girls were meeting there and she liked the idea of going. Fatefully though, while I printed the schedule, I didn’t bother to read it then. More on that later.

Back at the hotel at the end of the afternoon, Sharon and Mom were exhausted and lied down for nap. My energy was fine though, so I walked down to the grocery store in search of pudding. We’d been talking about it and it sounded so good and like something I could eat. I wandered all over the store of course before I found the packs of pre-made pudding that don’t have to be refrigerated. Wandering through the produce department to see if there was anything I thought I could eat there, I found figs. They seemed a good bet for something I could eat so I picked them up too. Before going out for the evening, I just had to get freshened up a bit. I spent some time in the bathroom, then Sharon took a turn doing the same, and we were off to RCC expecting to be home late, sometime after midnight. On the train, I opened the bus schedule and read. I’d messed up. The Saturday buses run a bit infrequently and there was no way we were going to make connections to catch the last reasonable bus for us to catch and still have any time to spend at the club. RCC was off. Very sad, and I felt a little foolish for not having planned better.

*sigh* Plan B wasn’t so bad. It was to go someplace nice for dinner, an idea we had talked about before. My pick was Z Square, a relatively new place in Harvard Square, and wow, what a good pick that was. Sharon, midwest girl, had steak, and I had Salmon and a side order of mashed sweet potatoes. My Salmon was beautifully arranged on a bed of corn pudding and topped with grilled asparagus. Even with my mouth a mess, the flavors came through and I have to say, I haven’t had a meal so nice in a long time. I tried to thank Sharon as much as I dared, but really, really, I loved that dinner.

Besides dinner, I had to drag Sharon along for a couple more stops to get Medicine. I actually took her up to Stacy’s where I had some of my medicine. Stacy either wasn’t home or was asleep, so Sharon didn’t get to meet her, but she did get a quick glimpse of the place, and I gave her a quick look at my wardrobe. Second medicine stop was CVS, then we were back at the hotel, surprising Mom by being home so early. It wasn’t all that early though. It was bedtime for all of us and I’m sure we all slept hard.

Sunday

Our last day. Sharon and I were up first and went down to breakfast together. Me, always wanting to be ethical, I was planning on eating my figs and pudding, but it didn’t take too much urging from Sharon before I broke down and went through the complimentary breakfast line as if I were a paying hotel guest. I got french toast and again, it was was really good. Upstairs, Mom and Sharon got everything packed. Downstairs, they checked out at the front desk, checked bags to pick up later in the day, and the day was ours. …Except that I think it was close to noon by then. Anyway, their flight wasn’t until evening, and there was one thing left that I really really wanted them to see–Community Boating. The plan was to sit on the dock and watch boats and people. That’s all, but I just wanted them to see it.

Mom had missed breakfast and Sharon and I wanted her to have food ASAP. I walked us to the breakfast place where I had had pancakes before, but rats, it was closed on Sundays! Plan B, get something on the way to CBI. The coffee stand at Lechemere? Closed. CVS at Charles/MGH. What would we do without CVS? We all got snacks and drinks for the afternoon and walked across the bridge to one of my favorite worlds, the Charles. I stopped us for a bit on the far side of the bridge to look out over the river, then we went and did Community Boating. I talked, maybe too much? I don’t know. All about Community Boating and what I did there and what other things go on there. I pointed out all the different kinds of boats and talked all about them. And…I suppose they got to see where I was socially, which, I know, is a little bit strange. I didn’t introduce them to a single person. Only one person said hello to me–one of the crew for the Sunday racing which was going on that day.  He recognized me as one who had taken him out for instruction last year and helped him learn sail. I didn’t remember him at all but happily talked with him for a bit, hearing from him how he was now racing, and him leanring from me that the tracheostomy was related to my cancer diagnosis.  Anyway, I explained to Mom and Sharon that this was typical, that I take so many people out for instruction. Writing in my journal here, I kind of have to come clean and confess that that the truth isn’t quite like that. I didn’t, in fact, give instruction but a few times last year. It seems quite a coincidence that I ran into this guy that remembered me. Anyway, Sharon and Mom watched the clock until it seemed there was about the right amount of time to get some lunch, get bags from the hotel, and get to the Airport, we had seen all there was to see at Community Boating, and our little four day vacation was almost over. It was time to leave.

I assured them that there were lots of places nearby for lunch and walked them to King and I, the Thai restaurant that is our favorite after harbor trips, favorite for one reason among many that it is the very first restaurant you come to on Charles street, just right there by the T station. Oops, though. Thai food? What is it? Preposterous as Indian food to midwesterners. Ok, we keep walking. It’s a few blocks before the really good concentration of restaurants and the first place that got everybody’s approval was another old reliable, Sevens, with good inexpensive bar food. The place was pretty full, but there was a free table and we snagged it. Things should have gone well then, except that on this nice Sunday there was only one waitress working the whole floor, and only one person cooking. It took a long time to get food, and it seemed like even longer to get the check. The delay was pushing poor Mom over her limit of nervousness and at one point I had to point out to her that she was clutching a wad of cash and shaking it as her eyes frantically searched out into the bar for the waitress. The waitress, I pointed out, was scurrying to handle tables in order and had just brought the check to the table ahead of us. I’m sure Mom was worried about missing the flight, and in fairness, Sharon was expressing her desire as well to expedite things. Yes, we did get our check next. Red line, Green line, hotel, ask the desk to call a cab, 10 minute estimate for the cab, get the bags, wait outside. Sharon was relaxed enough with the remaining time, but Mom still couldn’t think clearly. While she wanted to get to the airport in time to catch the flight, she still wanted to take care of me. She had this idea that the taxi would have to drop me off at Harvard Square before taking me to the Airport. Mom, no. I have my T Pass and all the time in the world. I don’t need a taxi ride for no reason. It’s the wrong way. You’re not late now, but if you’re worried about such things, dropping me off first will lose you half an hour of time and cost you an extra 15 dollars–for no reason at all. Speaking of T passes–your T pass is still valid for another three days, and would get you to the airport probably 15 minutes behind the taxi and save you 30 dollars or so. *sigh* No, I didn’t really say all of that. I didn’t say a word about the nonsense of them taking the taxi over public transportation. I knew that they were in a hurry to get to the airport, that they were tired, and sensed that they were just done with public transportation. All I overruled was Mom’s nonsense of taking me back to Harvard Square. When the cab arrived, she explained to the driver that I needed to be dropped off “in Cambridge” first, and I quickly told him, no, I’m going to the airport too. “Same airline?” was all he wanted to know.

Airport, check bags and get boarding passes, one hour forty five minutes left before flight time. Well…in these days of state imposed terror, I know they wanted to be there two hours before flight time. Sorry…Sevens killed us. Anyway, with boarding passes in hand, Mom and Sharon were breathing easier and decided they could sit with me for 30 minutes or so before going though security. That was really nice and I really appreciated that last little bit of time to…I don’t know what…just reflect, make small talk and unwind a bit, and say goodbye in not so much of a rush.

We had several good conversations over the weekend where we talked about substantive stuff–my problems and stuff. A couple of conversations were the three of us, and then Sharon and I had a couple of deeper conversations alone. Mom’s having more trouble accepting me as Sonia, but she’s not rejecting me either. Conversation on our trip to the Twin City Plaza, for example, stayed relatively light, but the two of us still had fun together, still really enjoyed being together. It’s huge, and really wonderful.

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!

Catsup

…and poppa tomato says “Catch up.” I have been here before, a week behind, that is (no, I don’t mean county) so here’s a multi-day entry to Catch up.

Monday April 14 was the day before court again. I stayed home, piddled, worried. It was too late to do anything to prepared. Tuesday morning as I left, I told Stacy I was pretty sure they were going to send me back to jail. I had to tell her so she would know where I was when I didn’t come back. As it turned out, they didn’t want to see me in court today. Never mind that it was the Tuesday after a completed sentence, I had a date for May 20, so they just told me to come back then. Woohoo! I was free for a month anyway. I headed back to the house to find Stacy gone. I thought she was out shopping and running errands, but I learned from her later that she had gone looking for me. She was so sad over the thought of me going back to jail that she wanted to be there with me at court. Of course I was gone from there early and she had no chance of catching up with me. She told me the story later of how she had to go to three different places looking for me but how people somehow knew to ask her, “Are you looking for xxxx? (my boy name, still my legal name)” and then tell her that I had left already.

That evening then, I felt like getting out and doing something with my trans community. I considered Natick, but the train costs money, it’s a long trip, and I wasn’t up for it. I went to Tiffany Club’s Tuesday Open House instead. I’d never been! I’d been to a couple of their Saturday house parties, but never on a Tuesday. I kind of expected to feel like I was crashing their party. After all, I know their organization well enough that I don’t need it explained to me, yet I’m not a member. In the end, I was really glad I went. I got to hang out with some of the members as they talked about various club-related issues. It certainly did give me a new insight into TCNE.

On the way home, I seemed to be collateral damage in a racial discrimination incident. I’d bought a bad-for-me snack at Wendy’s walked down the block to the nearest bus stop and decided to wait there. I expected to have five to ten minutes yet before the bus came and thought it would be good to get as much of my snack eaten as possible before getting on the bus. There was another guy already waiting at this stop, standing with his back against the bus stop sign, facing the oncoming traffic, right on the edge of the street where he couldn’t possibly be missed by the bus driver and where he could see the bus coming from a couple of blocks away. This made me feel confident to sit on a step and eat so I could manage the food better. The step was one or two feet from the sidewalk, the sidewalk abutted the street, so I could see the bus coming as well. I got almost everything down when I saw the bus coming, about half a block away. I stuffed everything in my purse, the other guy waiting stood so he was no longer leaning against the bus stop sign, and in fact stood in the street to make himself as visible as possible. I was in the middle of the sidewalk, walking perpendicular to the street and sidewalk, toward the street and the other guy standing there, when the bus blew by us at full speed. No, it was not an express bus, a limited stops bus, or anything of the sort. The driver was supposed to stop. You know what I think? The guy waiting was black and it was 11:45 at night and the driver chose not to stop.

Wednesday, I still wanted to do “something trans” but thought I had better stay away from Sisters of Worcester, for this week anyway. Ashley had already announced that she planned to be there, and I didn’t want any chance of Sisters of Boston politics detracting from the atmosphere at Sisters of Worcester. Searching around for alternatives, I decided to go to the CineMental / Aliza Shapiro showing of “The Living End” at the Brattle Theater. Ten bucks, a block from home, gay culture, no alcohol, and home at a reasonable hour. Perfect. What I took away from the movie was that AIDS had, for the main characters in the movie, turned life into death, and death into life. The gun, an instrument of death and therefore symbolic of AIDS, was enabling them to live, as in live with wildly enhanced vibrancy. In the closing scene…sorry, but I’m going to spoil it for you here…Luke yields the gun, thus ending their escapade and yielding the two of them to the dreaded living death that surely awaited them. (Now hey, don’t lecture me about misconceptions about living with HIV. That’s just the way the movie was.)

Thursday I went to the Transcend group meeting. It was great. There were actually several programs on different topics. It was interesting, I learned, and also got to socialize a bit with some of the girls. I was surprised when Stacy showed up part way through the evening! The poor thing should have been sleeping, as she had to work that night as usual, but she had a special interest in one of the programs and so sacrificed sleep.

By Friday then, I was feeling all caught up on tranny socializing, the weather was warm and sunny, and so after work I just went for a walk through the Boston Common and Public Garden to see what was budding and what was blooming. The willow trees were bright green with buds, tulips were well up, although none were blooming yet, cherry trees were heavy with buds. The star though, was the dogwood trees. They were all at their peak, and practically opaque with blooms. I was there just before sunset so they were all lit from the side and presented more as sculpture installations than flowering trees. Redbuds were beautiful too. Home for salad with the girls, I started watching a movie with them but couldn’t do it. I fell over asleep half way through, probably before 11pm. Woke up at 2:30 and crawled under the covers.

Saturday, I was back out on the town and out of control. I took the bus to TCNE again, this time for the Saturday House Party. Sharon had emailed me earlier in the week and told me that she was hostessing, so how could I not go? It was great to see her and lots of other peeps. Fun conversation and lots of bad-for-girls snack food to pig out on.

Walk to Waltham Center this time, still feeling bitten from Tuesday’s incident, I arrived just in time to see the outbound bus dropping people off. One guy said to me as he walked by, your bus will be late. We’re were about 20 minutes late. Crap, I realized–that bus was my bus, but it still had to go to the end of the line, turn around, and come back. Now I was worried that the last trains would be gone already by the time the bus arrived in Central Square. I decided on a plan: If the last outbound train was gone, I would walk home (a short and easy walk) otherwise I would take the train downtown and go to RISE. There, how’s that for absolving myself from guilt? I didn’t choose to spend all my money dancing, it was fate! The bus reappeared shortly, now only eight minutes late by my watch. I told the bus driver “Good job making up some time there” and he laughed. It seemed certain I was going dancing until the bus had to hit every, single, red, light as we approached Central Square. I watched my watch and visualized the last train leaving Alewife, Davis, Porter, Harvard Square… “Entering, Central Square” I imagined the automated announcement on the train saying as the bus stopped at the next to the last stop before the subway entrance. Here a bunch of people stood up to get off, and out the window I saw another bunch of people heading toward the bus to board. I didn’t have time for this. I skipped out the door, sprinted around the corner and down the stairs, and, yes, people were still waiting for the last train. Thirty seconds later I was stepping onto the train and was off for a night of dancing.

1am, RISE was opening at 1:30 (that’s half an hour early) but I needed to pee. Next door at Flash’s, there were quite a few people on the sidewalk, talking and smoking, I cut through them but the door was blocked by a bouncer with his arms crossed. A big sign was taped to the doorway stating that restrooms were for customers only. “Are you open?” I asked. He evaluated me, I tried my best to look like I didn’t have to pee, his expression changed subtly as if to say “I suppose so, but you’d better not just pee and come right back out this door.” He nodded and stepped aside. I went straight to the bar and–what else could I do?–ordered a drink. I’d barely started on it, when someone across the bar standing up to leave caught my eye. She was very tall. She was…Beverly! “Hm!” I thought, “who will Beverly be with?” Trailing just behind was…Dina! This was perfect because I had been thinking of Dina recently, missing her, and, well, mentioning her name in conversation with a mutual friend of a friend. I waited for them to thread their way through the crowd toward my seat by the door. I said Beverly’s name as she walked by but it must have all been too out of context to register with her. Then I stood and faced Dina as she walked by. “Dina.” Blink, blink, “Sonia?!?” What fun. I talked with them for just a moment though, as I didn’t want to interupt their evening. Before long it was 1:30, I was slurping the last of my drink, stopping in the restroom on my way out. (Well? It’s easier to wait when you can sit with your legs crossed!)

RISE was really good. It was a Craig Mitchell birthday party with him upstaris and Etiquitte in the lounge. One funny scene was in the lounge, early in the night, when a guy approached me with a bit of nervousness, asking “Is this a gay club?” “Oh, yeah!” I said with a big smile. He looked distraught. “I mean, uh, lots of people here are gay, but it’s a mix…” I backpeddaled quickly. “There are gays, straights…and me” I explained with a little bounce and a gesture towards myself. He looked a little bit relieved to have “me” to talk to. I’ll never know…did he think I was a straight biological woman? Anyway, I must have seemed safe to him in this scary place full of gays, and he had more questions. “What kind of place is this? What kind of music is this? Do I like it? What do I like about it?” He didn’t think he could dance to it. My encouragement to “feel” it, didn’t make sense to him. “Have you been upstairs yet?” “Oh yeah, that was nasty” he exclaimed with wide eyes. I sighed. I didn’t think I could help him but I tried to explain one more time that the people here are friendly, the music very cool, and that he should hang out for a while and give it a chance. I don’t think I saw him after that. Poor guy. The cover charge most likely made that an expensive lesson for him.

Sunday I slept late of course, did some laundry, and listened to Ethan’s internet radio show.

Social anxiety illness

This continues to plague me. I still don’t understand it. Medication helps, but obviously my problems aren’t solved. I’m still so incredibly slow at working on my legal problems. Why? I dread most of all being asked to explain something that I don’t have an explanation for. Or, that’s my best understanding of my problem so far.

But…there also seems to be some element of me making life unnecessarily miserable for myself. For example, I’ve been miserable because I haven’t seen a paycheck in a couple of months. The court put a lien on my bank accounts rendering them useless to me. My paychecks are direct deposited to one of these accounts, so that’s how I haven’t gotten any money in two months. Why can’t I do things that are good for me? Why do I just sit and let bad things happen to me? I don’t understand myself.

Still, I don’t seem to take just all opportunities to punish myself. Mostly just ones where I’m attempting to avoid interacting with people. With authority figures? I seem to mostly avoid administrators. How weird is that? Like, writing this entry compelled me to going back to sending the emails required to get my direct deposit stopped. So I sent one email, got a response, sent another, waiting for the response now, and, my heart is beating fast with nervousness because I dread this so.

I’ve also done nothing in two weeks to get the legal help I need.  I have to make a phone call next.  I hate phone calls.

And I haven’t sent any holiday emails in a few days.  I think maybe I was stopped in my tracks there after chatting with Sharon recently.  She was asking about my legal situation and I was having to confess that I hadn’t been doing everything I could.  I hated that.  Did I stop sending emails to avoid having to have that conversation with more friends?  *sigh*  Don’t know, don’t know….

Gender Genie

I need to document a couple of changes occurring simultaneously here. First, as mentioned, I’m full time now, and second, I’m suddenly poor. This is a result of court last week. Alex was one of the people I had told about my court date so he wanted to hear the outcome. “They ordered me to be female–poor, that is” I texted him. So I’m going to have to adjust to going out clubbing much less, drinking much less, going out for expensive dinners much less, and spending less on clothes and such. The drinking thing will be good. I haven’t had a drink in a week or so now, and I’m not missing it at all. Maybe I’m not an alcoholic after all? Really it’ll all be good for me. I’ll like cooking more rather than going out, and my roommate Al will like me better for living closer to his austere lifestyle.

Part of being full time is that in a sense, I’ve arrived. “Dressing” for me is now what it is for most of the population–getting up in the morning and putting on clothes for the day. Going out in public is being normal and boring. So one question is what am I writing about here? I heard one TS recently say that it would be absurd for her to journal everything she does every day because it’s all the boring stuff of life like going to the grocery store and stuff. I’m kind of there myself now. Do I keep documenting all this boring stuff? I think I will to some extent. I think much of what I’ve been documenting here has been boring all along, just mixed in with the far more interesting chronicles of my insane social life over the last few months. My purpose in writing wasn’t initially for the entertainment of URNA readers, it was for me, to document changes in my life. I think I’ll stick to that if nothing else.

I’ll write here from some notes I made on Monday. I was in the middle of an observing run then, sleeping during the day and being awake at the telescope at night. This the day that Tom from the boat house had said I should go watch rigging class, so I’d set my alarm for 4:30 pm. I woke up on my own an hour before that and made myself lie there and doze to try and be as rested as possible for the night. The alarm went off, I got up, dressed quickly, and got to the boat house on time for the class. Tom was right, the instructor was good. It was Keith, whom I remember sitting with at lunch on the work day just before opening day this year. (See? I should remember him from three years of sailing before, but I don’t. I was such a basket case as a guy.) After class, I decided to splurge on pizza at Uno. While waiting for the pizza, I went outside to return a phone call to Erica. She was calling to just catch up on stuff with me, give me her new phone number, and find out what I’d been up to. I’m afraid she’s still suffering some jealousy. She was dying to ask me who I’d been seeing and who I had plans with in the near future, but at the same time she was catching herself, repeating “you know, I don’t need to know.” Poor thing. It’ll take time. I think she’ll be at RCC this weekend. That should be a really fun night. I think lots of fun people will be there and that it’s going to be a great party. While I was on the phone with her, I was surprised to see Craig Mitchell walking toward me on the sidewalk! We recognized each other and I held out my arms to give him a big hug. I was on the phone, he was going somewhere, so we just said hi and that it was fun to run into each other like this and, that was all. He walked on, and I went back to talking to Erica. But really, just how cool is Harvard Square? That a tranny, hanging out on the sidewalk outside a pizza joint, talking on her cell phone, could see one of the area’s best house music DJs, exchange hugs, and just, go on with life. Pizza was good. Yes, I drank diet coke instead of alcohol, and walked through Cambridge Common on my way to work as the sun was setting. Just out of being in a great mood, I called Deedee. We talked for a few minutes before she told me that she was with a client. Oops! At the office, I emailed Wendy with some plans for Saturday. I told her that I had a bottle of champagne (the one mentioned in my last journal entry) to contribute to the hotel room party. Also, reading emails there was a post from someone leading to a fun toy on the web (http://bookblog.net/gender/genie.php) that characterizes your writing as male-like or female-like. It’s fun, try it! I tried it on my URNA journal here, and, no surprise, it says I’m a girl. Later in the evening, Deedee called me back. Her client was gone, but I was busy with the telescope, so she had to put up with me setting the phone down every now and then to move the telescope. Mm, otherwise, I did post a reply to Kim. I’d met Kim at first event and just in the last day or two she had joined Sisters and made an introductory post. I don’t know, is this life boring? It’s still the life of a very new t-girl, all caught up in socializing with other t-girls.

A post I haven’t responded to yet is Sharon’s. Sharon asked on one of the mailing lists, “How come I don’t see more t-girls out in public?” She quickly got the obvious answers from others on the list. All the transitioned girls said “we’re there standing right next to you, but we pass and you don’t notice us.” All the closet dressers said “we choose not to go out in public and be ridiculed and humiliated” So that left me thinking about myself. I don’t pass completely, but I’m out there anyway. I guess that makes me pretty rare. I got me thinking that I am the public face of transgenders. What does the public see? Not the passable TSs, not the closet dressers. If they go to a drag show they see drag queens, if they’re on certain streets at night they’ll see prostitutes. But in the grocery store or in the office at work? It’s me. Coincident with Sharon’s post was an excellent thread debating the merits of gender therapy, the standards of care, and the real life test. Now, I have my therapist, but she’s not a gender therapist. I haven’t read the standards of care, I’m not doing any formal real life test in order to qualify for hormones or surgery, and yet, here I am going full time. How crazy is that? One of the arguments against the real life test is that it’s hazing. Forcing a person to go out in public in a non-passable state as a prerequisite for medical treatments to become passable is just wrong. But then my experience hasn’t been that bad. If fact, the reason I’m going full time is that I felt so well accepted while I was part time. This chain of thought led me to appreciate again the environment of Somerville, Cambridge, and Boston. Others have prepared the way for me and made these places accepting and welcoming. Cambridge and Boston have gender expression explicitly protected in their municipal codes. I heard recently that the reason Somerville doesn’t is that it was one of the pioneers in getting sexual orientation protected by municipal code, and that gender expression wasn’t even on the radar back then. Now we have new legislation introduced, 1722 at the state level and ENDA at federal level. The future is looking even brighter.

So I’m writing this up at work, and Gareth pokes his head in my office and says “I read your blog…” Oh-my-god. My face was beet red. I suppose I should get back to work…

I’m full time!

Yes, I’m still way behind on writing, but this news couldn’t wait. I’m full time now! I’m breaking all kinds of rules by updating my journal at work, but not by being dressed at work. Everything’s been discussed with everone, everyone’s been notified, so, here I am! I got hugs and kisses and congratulations from people, and when I got back from lunch there was a bouquet of roses for me. It’s a *really* happy day.

And, I hate doing this, but since I’m so far behind, here are my notes on what I should have written about:

More on Sunday: , Sheila, Terri from Fla, bubble bath, Jessica, phone, no trash.
Monday — MTPC, Flash’s, Ashley phone,
Tuesday — Uno male mode, Alex sleepover.
Wednesday — Eva, CBI, Miracle of Science, Middlesex, La Spina
Thursday — hesitant to go to Gender Crash, then went, Yuri’s night
Friday – Sisters, Xmortis
Saturday – sailing, new wig, Rise
Sunday – sleep, laundry, sleep
Monday – home at lunch time, Sharon
Tuesday – Court, Sharon, Alex, Johanna, Jessica, Dave, Work

Why are Sabrina and I the only ones who bothered to dress for Xmortis?

Triangles!

Saturday was the Triangles party, but first, I had a laser appointment scheduled for the morning. Yes, I knew what I was asking for, but I was desperate for another laser treatment. This was my fourth treatment. Here’s a little review of first three: The first one started about as expected, it hurt, burned whiskers stayed embedded in my face for a week and a half, then my face cleared enough that I could shave as cleanly as before. There were lots of whiskers left all over, but MOST of them just fell out. It was so cool. The real breath of fresh air was discovering that with my beard now thinner and growing more slowly, I could hide my beard under makeup, and have it stay hidden for more than a couple of hours. The second appointment was 5 weeks later. This was enough time for my skin to recover completely, for all of the whiskers to purge that were going to purge, and for new growth to come in. Results from the second treatment were fantastic, well, initially anyway. EVERY last whisker came out. Although–they only came out when I discovered that pinching them like pimples would pop them right out. A week or two later, they were growing back all over my face. I was devastated, and I blamed myself, thinking that my pinching technique had stimulated all this regrowth. Ok, so maybe it didn’t help, but in retrospect, I doubt it was that bad. I think probably this was normal regrowth, but now brought into phase, so to speak, from the laser treatments. Beard Amplification by Synchronized Exfoliation and Regrowth. Made ya groan! The worst part of this period was that I had now drained my bank account and had to push my next appointment back from 5 weeks to 8 weeks. I was frustrated with how dark my beard was, afraid I had squandered a treatment, but the truth was that as thick as my beard was, the slower growth rate had stayed, and this continued to give me the freedom to be out in public for a whole day at a time. The laser tech told me that she thought I would like the results of the third treatment, and she was right. It took a couple of weeks for whiskers to purge, I was a little more gentle on my face this time than last, most hairs fell out and stayed out for like 6 weeks or so. That was 6 weeks where I could go out with very light makeup. This was a new kind of fresh air, and I loved it. Finally, just a couple of weeks ago, the regrowth started. When it was obviously ramping up quickly over just a week’s time, I went back the laser salon in a near panic, desperate for the next available appointment. That was today, the morning of Triangles. So yes, I signed up to go to Triangles with burned whisker crumbs on my face and no makeup. I had my priorities!

Email to Sharon, sent after Triangles:

Hey Sharon,

Sorry I didn’t call on Saturday, I was just preoccupied with getting to Triangles. Triangles turned out to be a blast of course. Got to meet a few new people, and got to have nice conversations with a few people whom I’d met maybe once before, but hardly knew at all. Danced a little bit. Drank too much. So many of the girls were so pretty!! Wendy and I had a room together, and Mellisa, Amber, Valerie, and Yvette joined us for a little after party. Valerie brought snacks, and…I thought I was supplying the wine, but when I told the story about how I’d stolen the wine from Dr. Z’s room at First Event, Valerie, who had been studying the label on the wine, burst out with, “I knew it! I bought this bottle of wine!” Turns out she had done some shopping for Dr. Z after he was missing wine the first night. We had a good laugh over that.

See you around, girlfriend,
Hugs!
Sonia

Yvette, mmm, Yvette. Ok, ok…what happens in the Comfort Suites stays in the Comfort Suites.

Oh, I’d better tell about Angela. When Wendy and I got to the hotel, there was a girl walking through the lobby looking just a little disoriented, but she smiled and said hi and we said hi back to her. A couple of hours later, we had cleaned up and changed and were leaving the hotel for Triangles, and there she was again. “Um…are you girls going to Triangles? Do you mind if I follow you? Because, I just tried to find it and I got lost.” She followed us, we got out of our cars at Triangles, and I was wanting to show this girl some friendship by trading introductions. “Wendy, I’m going to go say hello to this girl” I said, but Wendy had been thinking too. She went first, saying “Angela?” Turns out that this was someone Wendy had found online, and and promised to meet here at Triangles! Oh, just a little embarrassing! Inside, Angela was happy to have me as a new friend. We talked quite a bit and before long, she was, um, wanting me. Now, she was very attractive and I liked her a lot, I would have had her over to the hotel room but for a couple of little problems. First, I felt a little awkward because she was originally talking to Wendy online, and here, was I stealing her from Wendy? But it didn’t seem that she and Wendy had developed that much of a connection over the night. Had Wendy decided that she wanted to keep some distance from this girl? If so, gosh, my loyalty is to Wendy. And besides anything with Wendy, Angela was scaring me a little by being just a little bit too taken with me. This was just her second time dressed in public, (her first time just got a makeover and went to Walgreen’s) and this was her first time to really interact with people. I wasn’t sure it was healthy for her to be falling into…bed…so fast. So, poor Angela didn’t have a room. She wanted to come with me and when I told her no, she was only around the bar for a little while longer and then left to go home. Hope I didn’t hurt her. Hope she had a great first night out on the town. Hope I see her again.