State of April

It's now April 2018.  And yet, this morning we received several inches of snow.  It melted away as the day went on, but it was odd.

I've been recovering from some kind of ick.  Maybe it was flu.  Maybe it was pneumonia.  Maybe it was bubonic plague.  I don't know, but it's hung on for almost two weeks.  It's made breathing a chore (which really sucks when working out- but maybe I'll come back to that.)  It's meant a constant headache as well as my mouth feeling pasty and having a horrible taste.  Food is bland, no matter how much I try to spice it. 

Job Interview last week

I'm three weeks into a Six Week Workout Challenge.  I go three times a week, and the trainers kick the shit out of me and maybe six other people over 50.  Still, I've managed to lose seven pounds in three weeks.  I'd hoped for more, but every little bit counts I guess.  The whole point of the thing is not to give up- to keep attending. 

Which segues neatly into this bit.  My dear friend Sabrina Pandora wrote this on Facialbook on March 31 (Transgender Day of Visibility.)  In the piece, she describes different people she knows.  I reprint it here unedited with her kind permission.


Over there is my sister the struggling writer, who so honestly chronicles her foibles and faults, along with her triumphs and victories, sharing her misadventures as she works to find a publisher and her place in the world. She is still seeking her own way, but part of her victory is that she's not taken the coward's way out, and she is still here. She refuses to give up, and she refuses stoop to the level of a world that is often less than kind to her. I hold out hope that she'll make some realizations and maybe catch a break or two, and maybe things might just fall into place for her.


And yes, I confirmed she was talking about me.

I don't give up easily.  In fact I'm a bit obnoxious in my tenaciousness.  (That's libril book-lernin' tawk fer "stubborn.")  Why else would I have stayed at a job where I was insulted almost every day I went in, and was paid below poverty wages?  I needed the job, and those jerks were NOT going to scare me off. 

I've been unemployed almost two months.  I have only been on a handful of interviews despite the hundreds of resumes I've submitted.  Obviously, I haven't found a job yet.  I submit resumes daily, but it does wear on me.  The constant rejection...

I need to feel useful.  I need to feel I'm doing my share.  I've held a job since I was 11.  Right now feels like an extended vacation in some ways, but in others...

There are days when the Darkness is so very strong.  When I feel that any effort I make is useless. 

Tonight, my roomie and bestie Linda made dinner- Hamburger Helper.  And as I ate, I thought of the futility of it.  Of eating.  Why bother?  I mean, what was the point?  It tasted like paste due to my cold.  And I was going to die anyway.  So, why not just end it now? 

Yeah, that was maybe three hours ago.

And it's every night, lying in bed staring at the ceiling.  Why should someone so fucking useless even take up space? 

Yet, here I am.  I can't go anywhere yet.  There are still things that need to be finished.  People that rely on me.  My Daughter. 

As I said.  Stubborn. 

Perhaps Sabrina is right- maybe all I need is to catch a break.  Or two.  I know what I WANT to be- a mentor.  An educator.  I want to make the world a better place for my Daughter.  I want to make it easier for the transgender kids who aren't even born yet, so they don't have to suffer as their elders have. 

I want to make a Difference again. 

And so I stay.  Here.  Trying.

Obnoxious in my tenaciousness.

Be well.