From my Old Guy Blog: Blowface

I wrote this piece when I was 40, so 14 years ago (2006-ish).  The book I mention was Men of the Skull.

I'm re-posting it because it's a time capsule so to speak of who I was at that point.  Drinking was one of the most important part of my life.  It was part of my identity, and the cornerstone of my manhood was that I could out-drink almost anyone (German/Scots/Irish genes).

I'll insert comments here and there and they will be italicized. 

I did a light punctuation/grammar edit, but that aside it's exactly how I originally posted it (I also obscured an identity.)  Also, I'll close the entry by doing a "where is it now?" and such.

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As I’m at a writer’s block on the book, I thought to tell you a different albeit similar tale.  It’s really long, so I divided it into three parts.

 Not really- it was only in two parts.  Nice editing (eyeroll.)

The origin of Blowface is shrouded in mystery.  Perhaps it was brought by alien life forms to the ancient Mali Empire.  Is that Blowface depicted on the inside walls of the tomb of Ramesses II?  Most scholars place it in the mid to late 1980s.  I heard of it in 1989.  It was this legendary drinking game with all kinds of strange antics and guaranteed drunken good times; the type that blackmail pictures and denials are made of.

Of course, I had to play it!

                The problem was that no one had one.  The only person who might have one didn’t drink anymore.  I was told that the game boards were disposable, as they often became beer or vomit covered.  Shit.

I still haven't seen any other version, but then again, I haven't looked.

                So, being young, dumb, and full of cum, in 1991  I took it upon myself to make a Blowface game.  I gathered two people, like-minded, to join me.  We’ll call one of them M and the other C.  M had played the original many times.  C was a US Ranger standing by for deployment to Desert Storm.

The Result was a game of Blowface done on a large white poster board.  Previous versions were linear- you rolled dice and followed the path to the bitter end.  I figured it’d last longer (more drinking) if it were a ring, like monopoly.  M remembered many of the original spaces which we included, and we added new ones from our disturbed minds.  We added cards that you did NOT want to draw.  Physical challenges, like dancing.  We had all original artwork, as all three of [us] had some talent with the pencil.  We added fragments from every drinking game we knew, or spaces that had similar effects.  To be safe, I had it laminated.

The cards were "Punisher" cards, most of which involved chugging multiple beers.

It sucked.  No one wanted to play it more than once.  No repeat playability.  I mean, if you land on the “Talk like Mr. Ed and drink 6” space, that’s all you do.  In any case, it was our baby, and we played it once in a while when C wasn’t overseas.  Eventually, we lost interest, I got married, etc.

Jump ahead to 1996.  C is getting married.  Two nights before, M flies in from *************.  And I have a surprise for them- I found the Blowface board- and the pieces and Batman mask that went with it (for the “Bat-Fuck” space.)  So the three of us played.  Below, you see the results.

M is “Bat-fucked.”  C is amused by this turn of events

Yeah, I was first to puke.  I lose!

We agreed that the game was a lot rougher to play at our advanced ages (I was turning 30 the next day) and C had a great idea.  On that same day, twenty years hence we would play the game again.  He was given custody of board and pieces (but not of the Batman mask.  That was fucking expensive.)  I have not seen Blowface since, nor do I expect to.  See, C moves around a lot, and so I’m sure Blowface disappeared into oblivion during one of those moves.

I still have no idea if it still exists.  

Part 2

 

Years passed.  History became legend.  Legend became myth.  Then, at a company Christmas party in 2002, I talked about the game to some co-workers.  GW was a drinking company then- lots of people from the UK, and we all loved to drink.  Several of them expressed enthusiasm for the game.  So, being stupid, I decided to make Blowface II- my own drinking game.  After all, I worked at a Game company!  I should be able to do this easily!

So I did.  First- what did I NOT like about the last one.  Well, several things. 

One: We made it on white poster board.  This meant that there was a lot of white space (duh).  In fact, it looked like a bunch of scribbles on a big poster board.  It was ugly as hell.  Two:  as three of us worked on it, there were three different styles of handwriting on it, some of which was small and illegible.  Especially when smeared, which it was. Three:  Some of the spaces forced chugs and chugs and chugs.  One space could wipe a person out.  (See picture above).  Four, there wasn’t enough goofy shit.  The reason for drinking games are to 1) prove yourself and 2) laugh a LOT.  Aren't games supposed to be FUN as well?

Ok.  Fix number one: instead of white poster board, I used black.  That would mean that all artwork would have to be attached, which led to Fix number two: create the spaces on the computer to be uniform size and font.  Everything neat and legible.  The art would be painted onto the board or pictures would be drawn (or color photocopied) and attached.  Fix number three:  Simple enough.  Eliminate the really ugly drinking spaces.  Well, most of them.  I kept the deepest pit of Hell.

I wrote out all my possible ideas, made some sketches, and thought of other things.  How to make it more interactive?  Add spaces that involve everyone- but make them special.  Also, I stole from an old GW game (Curse of the Mummy's Tomb) the idea of a piece that everyone moves:  the Chug Monster.

The Chug Monster was simple enough.  If it passes over your piece, you drink.  If it lands in your space, you chug.  If you rolled doubles, you moved the Chug monster. (Talisman Reaper expansion, as well as other games, also use the concept.)

I also added a short cut- the “Bridge of Death.”  (Monty Python reference.  Duh.) This is where the interactive spaces went, and it features the biggest single drinking space on the board- up to 18 drinks.  Still, complete the short cut and you cut off time.

The objective of the game remained the same: collect Golden Chair passes.  To go to the bathroom, you’d have to use a pass.  The new version made it easier with the short cut and two other possible spaces.  Like the old game, there is a section called Hell, but it’s not as bad (no “chug 1d6 beers”).  To balance it, the opposite corner is Heaven.  Mr. Ed stayed in the game, as did Captain Kirk, but those spaces were adapted to provide more variety.  Instead of everyone who lands on that space doing the same silly voice, a die roll would determine what voice the person would do.  (similar to Talisman) There are three of those spaces.  I also added spaces that I stole from another GW game- places to “explore” by rolling a die for various possible effects. (Talisman, again.)

I decorated the board with copies of pictures that I had of friends and other stuff.  In the end, the whole thing looked like this:

Colorful, isn’t it?  The shine you see in the pic is lamination.  I didn’t want it getting ruined.

The lamination and color photocopy cost me $50!!  I did the color photocopy so I'd have a backup copy, and to make it look "smoother."

Here’s a close up of Hell.

Heaven and hell were hand lettered.  Flames, arrows, and that thing in the corner (“Deepest Pit of Hell”) are all hand painted using acrylics. The devils were coworkers at the time, from Halloween parties.

Here’s Heaven:

Same thing: hand painted acrylics.  Photocopies of pictures.  The angel is the wife of a co-worker.  In any case, you can see what some of the spaces are like.

Here are the cards I made:

So- I had the board, I had cards, what next?  Playing pieces!  Working for a miniatures company, I figured that everyone who played would be co-workers and expect some miniatures as gaming pieces.  So I modified a few models to be holding Beer Mugs and painted them.  I then cobbled together a Chug Monster.  However, after a few games, people complained that the Chug Monster didn’t stand out- it just blended into the background.  It was a Chug Wuss.  So, in response to that I made a New & Improved Chug Monster.

Above (L-R): Pirate with Beer Mug, Chug Wuss, Chug Monster

Rear view, in case you like Chug Monster Ass

So then I tested it.  I called a gathering of souls to my house and we played a few times.  It was a LOT of fun, but still needed tweaking.  One person suggested I sell the idea.  Ok.  But what would Joe/Jane College think of the game? 

I tried to set up a group of Penn State students to test it, but after I arrived they all bailed out.  So, sitting alone in a bar with my game, I spied a group of four students eating and drinking.  A little bribe (free beer) later and they played.  They LOVED it!  (They suggested the same tweaks that the other group did.)  I still have their written suggestions for the game.

So the game floated around Maryland for a while.  I brought it to parties where it was played with much enthusiasm.  At one party, someone made a rule that everyone drinks double the amount prescribed.  That killed the game in a hurry.  Then, quietly, it was stored away as I moved back to Pa.  It’s been played once.

That therefore is the story of Blowface II: my drinking game.  I’m now 40 years old.  Would I still play it?  Is it something I should grow out of?  Well, HELL YEAH and maybe.  I’m sure that playing it would crush me for several days, as I don’t recover as gracefully as I used to even a few years ago.

I still have this game.  The board is in storage; the cards and minis are here in my apartment.   Would I play it now?  I really don't know.  I KNOW that I would be sick for days after.  Besides, at my age, who would play?  I could bring it over to the fraternity house, but I'm sure I'd get side-eye and laughed at. I keep it because it cost me so much to make, and because it's a relic of a time in my life long passed.  

The person who made that game was so different to who I am now.  I no longer have to "prove my manhood."  I also don't drink to deaden the howling Pain of my life.   My DUI has a lot to do with that as well.

Still, it LOOKS like fun...

Last Decade

I know I write about the past often.  I'm still trying to understand who I am, and why, so looking at the past is one way that I do this.  For that reason, I don't often do "year in review" things.  However, this time it's a new decade.  2020 marks the 7th decade in which I've lived.

I was born in 1966.  I only have a few vague memories of the 60s.  I remember watching the moon landing.  I remember falling down the stairs when I was two (I remember the sensation of falling and thinking "whee! I'm flying!) and breaking my arm (I don't remember that part.)

I remember the 70s.  I remember a dream from when I was three: a huge blob of living lava burned through a barn (this barn really existed, and had a huge hole in the one side, so...) Also in that dream there were a parade of brachiosauruses on the horizon, moving left to right.  Most of my childhood was the 70s.  However, it was also the decade of Star Wars, which changed my life as it did so many others.  

I began the 80s in junior high school.  I ended them as a college graduate.  In most ways that count, the 80s is when I "grew up."  Burned all my girl clothes because "men don't play dress up."  I fell into deep depression, from which I still haven't recovered.  Until recently, it was the decade of greatest change in my life.

In the 90s, I met and married my Wife.  I moved to Baltimore to work for Games Workshop.  Bought my first (and only) house.

00s... A decade of Hell.  We moved back to Pa to live with Wife's mother (MIL.)  My drinking was out of control.  Earned Masters degree.  I was angry at everything, especially myself.  I wrote a book, hoping to figure out why.  Daughter was born in 07.  Then my True self reemerged in 08 after 25 years of suppression.  Oh, and I started this blog on Myspace.

At the dawn of 2010, I was a VERY closeted cross dresser who was very confused and depressed.

I didn't know how deeply my femme self went, and I fought it as hard as I could.  In 2012, I finally stopped lying to my wife three and a half years after my "re-emergence" and told her all about Sophie. 

Also in 2012, I met a person who would affect my life profoundly: Lisa Empanada.  She was a friend and mentor, but more- she understood the Darkness in my soul, as she had it as well.

August 2012.  I was arrested for drunk driving.  I finally got help for my drinking.  I paid the price for my stupidity.

In December 2012, I decided, with Wife's consent, to start HRT.  I wasn't sure about transitioning, but heard that a low dose of estrogen helped with dysphoria.  It did.

Events escalated quickly.  I began getting more freelance work as an Instructional designer, so I was able to start paying off debts.  I also worked part time at Penn State Great Valley.  Then, in late summer of 2013,  MIL discovered I was transgender, and gave me 48 hours to move out.  Wife told me she was not coming with me, which crushed me.  I moved out on August 30, 2013. 

With Lisa at SCC

A week after I travelled to the Southern Comfort Conference (SCC), where I was "pinned in" as a sister of Vanity Club.  While there, I met someone who I didn't know would be a central figure of my life: Linda Lewis.  Lisa arrived the last day of the conference, which surprised me.  I didn't realize that this would be the last time we would ever speak. 

My birthday was September 13.  Four days later, on September 17, 2013, I was told that Lisa died of suicide.  After being thrown out, other issues, then her death, I tail-spinned into the Darkness.  I really don't know how I survived that month, and the next few. 

In late December 2013, Linda Lewis arrived from Michigan on her way to Florida.  Things fell apart while she was staying at the house where a dear friend graciously let me stay, and she stayed in Pa. 

March 2014.  I finally started living my Truth.  Lost 90% of my friends, and Instructional design calls stopped.

June 2014.  Linda and I found an apartment together, soon to be joined by Zoey, without whom we would've been homeless. 

June 2015, Linda and I moved to Phoenixville (Zoey previously moved back to Iowa) where I was closer to Wife and daughter. 

Cast of Dracula, 2019

November 2016.  The election puts a maniac in charge of our country.  Hate crimes against minorities, including transgender people, rise dramatically.  The end of the American experiment is a real possibility.

February 2017.  I made my stage debut as Sophie in the Vagina Monologues.  Sold out show. 

February 2018.  I lost my book store job after 14 years.  I was unemployed, except for odd jobs and Lyft, for over a year.  I felt absolutely worthless.

May 2018.  I travelled to the UK to reconnect with family and myself. 

January 2019.  I played a Maid in a local production of Dracula.  Sold out run. 

June 2019.  I played the courtesan Tintinabula in a local production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.  It will be my last play for a long time, as I have no time while studying.

August 2019: Linda and I moved to Penn State so I could begin my PhD studies in Adult and Continuing Education, after being accepted in March.

Linda and I in State College, 2019

Now it's January 2020.  I'm in my apartment in State College.  The new semester starts in a week.  How would I summarize the last decade?

Pain. 

Worst decade of my life. 

So many losses.  So much Pain.  Combined with deaths, and the uncertainty of who I really was, the Darkness was (and still is) still waiting to claim me as it did Lisa.  I am far from the same person who started the decade- in fact it was a whole different life.  Seems so distant, but it wasn't that long ago.   I started the decade as a "guy" in deep Pain, 

At the dawn of a New Decade, I feel useful.  I finished my first semester of doctoral study with a 3.97.  I work as a graduate assistant for the University.  Linda is also working.  I've made some new friends, and I'm mentoring an undergraduate transgender woman (still taking her earliest steps,) but for the most part keep to myself.  The colossal amount of homework precludes a social life. 

I'm living now as I have been for the past several years: day by day.  I don't make plans.  I do what I need to do.  People come and go.  Now in State College, I'll fade from more people's lives.  That's the way of things.

Cast of Forum

I still have no Hope.  45 is still in the White House, and it seems like weekly I lose more rights simply because I was born transgender.  Money is still a struggle, so surgeries are out of the question. 

Yet, I'm doing something here that may help others.  If I can help one transgender person have an easier time in transitioning, and/or survive, then this will all be worth it.  Nice to have purpose again.

So, this new decade brings so many challenges.  May it bring all of you happiness.

Be well.

Men of the Skull Chapter 48: Dream Dream

I know that we all have reoccuring dreams, whether we remember them or not.  I had this dream countless times in college and just after.  I'm guessing I was afraid that I was sliding into alcoholism.  Well, I was in a way- I was self-destructive and hoping to die before anyone learned my "dark secret."

I kept drinking heavily until 2012, when I was arrested for DUI.  I realized how lucky I was not to have hurt anyone all those years, and cut back considerably.  I learned later that many people considered me "a drunk."  They weren't wrong.

I still have reoccuring dreams.  Most of them center around a grotesque version of Penn State, which is maybe ten times larger and the buildings are cramped together on the outer parts of campus, like in a dystopian movie.  I know this "campus" so well, that I can even diagram it in waking hours.  In those dreams, there is always a class I haven't attended, work I haven't done, or somewhere I need to be.  My fraternity house is also much bigger, and populated by not just the guys who were there when I was (still at that age) but many others I don't know.  And all of them hate me.

Yes, I know Freud would have a field day with me.

So now the into is longer than the chapter.  Go figure.


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Chapter 48: Dream Dream

Monday, February 16, 1987 US nearly blundered at summit, report says

            It happens so many times.  The reoccurring dream.

The sky is a blank white, and the sound of the waves is a little strange.  The pale yellow foaming ocean swells push me up and down and I’m so tired I can’t swim.  It is a sea of beer.  I’m so tired.  As I sink, my lungs fill with beer.  I can taste it’s slightly bitter flavor as I drown.  Drown in a sea of cheap yellow beer.

And as I drown…

I’m smiling.

Collegian, Feb 16, 1987.  I did the guy a favor and redacted his last name.  I hope he's grown up since.

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

First Chapter

After a Year...

The other day I turned 51.   September 13th was my birthday.  A year ago on September 13th, I turned 50.  Yes, that's simple math.

However, I planned for months to kill myself that day.

Sept 13, 2016

I was going to drive to Valley Forge Park in the pre-dawn hours, and end this miserable life.  I drove there, and watched the sun come up, but, as I pointed out in a blog entry I wrote while there, I didn't have the courage: I didn't bring the method with me.  That method was five sharp knives.  I could have, if I wished, gone back to get them.  I knew where they were, (since they weren't in my car which I could have sworn I put them there,) but in any case I knew where they were- I could have gone back and gotten them and still made it back to VF before the sun came up and executed my plan... but I didn't.  (I threw the knives into the dumpster that day.)

I concluded in the entry that it's because I'm a Coward- despite of everything I know, and despite all that planning, I did not have the courage to execute the plan.

Now, it's a year later.

I have another year of experience living.  For example, living with Lisa's death, living barely affording the apartment, living with the Pain.  That said, I also have had a year of seeing my daughter grow up... oh wait, I really haven't have I?  And I've had a year of great times... yeah I've had some of those- being a bridesmaid in the wedding of dear friends, speaking to groups, seeing dear friends, meeting new people; and I've had a year of... wait a minute.  I kind of really didn't do much this year did I?

When it comes down to it, I still work at the bookstore- I couldn't find another job; I'm still barely seeing my daughter and my Wife.  What do I do at night?  I come home from work, and either I read, I write, or I watch TV.  Whoop-dee-doo for my Subaru (to quote an old ad.)

I must say, watching TV with my bestie Linda can be a lot of fun, though.

Out with Linda, Sept 2017

So the question I've been asking myself for the past couple days, starting the day before my birthday, is "Was it worth it? this extra year?"  This extra time; this bonus year, if you will- a full year after I would have been dead.

At this point my body would have been disposed of; at this point most people would have forgotten about me, except for maybe a few; at this point maybe two or three people would still be upset. But the rest, when you say the name Sophie Lynne, they'd say "who?" and that's that.

Thursday, I went to my therapist and we talked about Courage.  It is her point that it takes the Supreme amount of courage to transition- to walk out the door as your True self- as a woman; to be subjected to the ridicule; subjected to the abuse that I take Every Day at work.  Wherever I am, there is that risk that I am going to take abuse.  Now, in some cases, I would just say "put on your big girl panties and take it" but there is always a chance of physical violence, and there's always that chance that I will be killed just for being who I am.  (This is Trump's America after all isn't it?)  It is her point that I have courage, and yet I won't admit to it, and that I degrade my courage...

And she is correct.  I don't see what I did as courage- I really don't.  I see it as something I HAD to do- I had to transition.  The other option was to blow my head off.

If I had courage, I would have done the latter.  If I had the courage to pull that trigger; if I had the courage to bring those knives; if I had the courage to do what in my mind was Necessary.

I have done what was necessary so many times in my life.  I have run into those burning buildings. I've crawled into those wrecked cars to save lives- because it had to be done.  I accepted the punishment that was due me for drunk driving.  I did so many things that I Had to.  I HAD to transition.  I don't see any of those things as courage, because I truly believe that anyone else in my situation, given the same set of circumstances, would have done the same exact thing. I did what any decent human being would.

Dawn, Sept 13, 2016

Maybe there is a lack of decent human beings.

So.  I thought about ALL that has happened this past year.  My country fell into the Great Darkness of Trump's fascism.  Friends dead.  I looked dispassionately at the positives and negatives; the debits and credits of my life.

And, after it all, what did I conclude?


I should've gone back for the Knives.

Three Years Out

Today, December 10, 2015, marks three years since I started HRT.  (That's Hormone Replacement Therapy, for those who aren't familiar with the acronym.)

Three years.  I'm trying to wrap my head around that.

Three years ago, I was still serving my license suspension for DUI.  I was still living with my Wife and daughter.  Lisa was still alive.  There were many people I had yet to meet.

November 2012.  I have no December 2012 pics.

My "Big Sister" Mel drove me down to the Mazzoni Center, as I couldn't drive.  I remember being just a little frightened, but more excited.  After I picked up the prescription, we went to lunch at California Pizza Kitchen.  She dropped me off back at the house, and I took the two pills: one blue and one white.  Estrogen and spironolactone.  Not long after, they would be joined by finasteride.

Things started slowly... until I started injections.  Then the changes came fast and furious.  By May, I was no longer wearing breast forms, and I had to wear constriction shirts to work.  My skin softened.  People began to notice differences, but attributed it to weight loss.

May 2013.  Laptop Lounge.  No forms!

Wife noticed the differences as well, but ignored them.  I celebrated them.  I was still only going out once a month, but felt so much better.  Then, one night after Laptop, I looked in a full length mirror, wearing nothing but a wig and panties.. Earlier that day, I'd shaved my whole body, which I'd never done before.  I was used to seeing a hairy stomach.  Without that, and with small breasts, makeup and wig, I saw, for the first time, a Woman looking back at me.  I cried.

Still, there was something wrong.  My injections were two weeks apart, and after nine days, I became angry, moody, and depressed- exactly what I was like before I rediscovered myself.  Dr. Goodman increased the frequency of my injections to once every ten days.  This solved that little issue fairly nicely.

August and September were horrible.  I was thrown out of MIL's house and Lisa killed herself.  I came close to falling into the Darkness as well.  But, thanks to dear friends, I am still here.

December 2013, at Sandy's house, wearing one of Lisa's push ups

In March 2014, I finally ditched the compression shirts when I went full time as a woman.  I was now Me.  That also meant wearing a bra full time.  I remember reading long ago that the difference between a crossdresser and a transwoman is that one can't wait to get home and put on her bra, while the other can't wait to get home and take her bra off!  There is some truth to this. But, I took it as a dream come true.  I had breasts, and needed a bra.  And like Donna Rose once wrote, she still enjoys putting on makeup because she's earned that right.  I feel the same way.

December 2014 at King of Prussia Mall

Since then, I keep growing as a woman, and the hormones keep working.  I am now a natural D cup.  Yes, I am very blessed by good genetics.  I will never have hips or, realistically, an hourglass figure like my friends Olivia and Kayden, but I will take the blessings I have been given.  One thing that makes me very happy is that my roomie and bestie Linda Lewis is now also on HRT injections, and is seeing wonderful results!  As it happens, we inject on the same day, so it makes remembering easier.

December 2015

As I type this, I am in my PJs.  Braless, as I usually am when at the apartment.  Reflecting back on the past three years, I ask myself- If I knew all that would happen when I took those two pills three years ago... would I still have done it?

If I understood all the life changes that this decision would cause; all the heartbreaks people would suffer, that I would endure, all the changes, would I have swallowed those pills so eagerly?

Absolutely.  This journey is one of many small steps.  There was getting my ears pierced.  Laser treatments.  Growing out my hair.  All conscious decisions, but all reversible.  HRT was where the possible futures diverged.  HRT was where my transition truly started.  Once I headed down this path, there truly was no turning back.

And now, three years later, I'm living my truth.  I have a woman's breasts and other features, and someday, maybe, I will be a complete Woman.  I love having breasts- it's everything I ever dreamed it would be.  I love being a Woman.  For the first time in my life, I love being Me.

I took the road less travelled by, and it has made all the difference.

Ringing

I rang in 2014 among Friends.

Linda, me, Sandy, Jake, Hayden

I spent the last hours of 2013, then the first hour of 2014 at the Raven in New Hope, PA.  And, believe it or not, I didn't drink.

Really.  I swear.

I don't go out for New Years anymore.  As the ancient saying goes it's "Amateur night in Dixie." Every moron would be out on the roads driving drunk, and every cop on the payroll would be out waiting for them. 

I really didn't need the hassle or danger.  Been there; Done that.

But Sandy Empanada was coming north to go to the Raven.  And Linda Lewis was in town.  She is temporarily living in the same house as I am as she awaits her place in Florida to open.  She was willing to go out, and I wanted to introduce her around to the Trans Community.  That's one thing she didn't have in Saginaw, Michigan: a Community.  

I wanted to be there for Sandy.  So I went.  I asked Linda to do my makeup and hair, as I screwed up the chance I had at SCC.  And she generously agreed.  She taught me some techniques I never knew and a different way to do my wig.  She teased it up a bit- a bit more than my usual look, but it looked great!

And I received so many compliments all night.  

The Raven was crowded- not as crowded as during a Jen Bryant party, but still crowded.  Linda met many people of the Philly Trans scene.  And she danced the night away.  My knee still hurt from a bone bruise suffered in a work place accident a couple of weeks before, so I didn't dance much.

The clock counted down to the New Year and I almost cried.  (I discussed why here.)  But Time is unstopping and unstoppable.  It is now 2014.  

I hung around until the 1 AM buffet and sat with Sandy, Hayden, and others eating finger hoagies that were simply amazing.

Eventually the night was ending.  I was a little worried about the trip.  The night was VERY cold and I worried not only about the drunks, but also about ice.  But, with Linda happily tipsy in the passenger seat, we arrived back at the house without incident.

With Linda near the end of the Night

I down loaded the pictures from my camera and fell asleep after 3 AM.

Several of the ladies at the Raven discussed Resolutions.  I wrote once on TG Forum that I try to avoid resolutions.  But I made one last year, over Lisa's coffin, and let that be my 2014 Resolution.  I WILL be the Woman I was born to be.  This is the year I go Full time.  This year will be either a monumental success or a spectacular failure.  I can't see much in between, really.


But there's another component.  I'm remaking my entire life.  Completely.  So why not try to re-make my attitude as well.  My Dream is coming true- I will live my Truth.  So there's no need to be so pessimistic.  If I am Living my Dream, then I shall do so Happily... and positively.

Tall Order.

But I think I can do it.  it will be hard to change a lifetime of attitude, but if I can change my entire body, I can change my mind.  Right?

So welcome, 2014.  May you be a year that more than my Dreams come true, but many others' dreams as well!

Casual Look.  I did my own makeup

A Graphic Graphic

One of the people who read this column (well, she admitted only that she read one entry) sent me a very nice email.

Yes, I read all correspondence as long as it doesn't start with "U look HOT let's sex." 

No, I DON'T "Sext"

Anyway, Allison Morris was kind enough to send me a VERY interesting graphic.  She said I could post it as long as I attribute it, both of which I'm happy to do.

So:  this graphic comes from  http://www.onlineeducation.net/2013/02/11/binge-drinking

Yes, it's a bit small.  And I had to photoshop it to get it to THIS size!


Note:  This doesn''t mean I'm going to be a bulletin board for everyone's pet cause.  But Ms. Morris correctly deduced that I might be interested in this graphic.

Faithful readers of this blog know why.

 

Arrested VI: The Final Cut

For those of you who haven't been following along (there will be a quiz), here are the other parts of this magnum opus:

Arrested
Arrested II: Preliminary Hearing
Arrested III: Psych Evaluation
Arrested IV: Alcohol Highway Safety School
Arrested V: Judged


Right.  So on December 26, I received a letter from the PENNDOT.  It was my reinstatement, valid on the 27th, and my driver's licence.

On the morning of December 27, I climbed into the driver's seat of my Subaru and drove to work.  And I have to say, it felt great.

My thirty day suspension was OVER!  Done!  Finito!  Fertig!


The whole thing is behind me now.  Nearly five months.

Well, not quite over.  There's applying for my record expungement in six months.  Then there's the whole TEN YEARS of never being caught again.  I can manage that.

A lot can happen in five months.  I learned that sobriety isn't an issue for me.  I didn't miss drinking.  Many many people expressed their support, for which I am very grateful. 

Am I still sober?  No.  As I planned, on Dec 29, I rose a glass to toast a departed friend.  I had two glasses of champagne on New years eve.  A glass of wine with dinner the other night.  Nothing even close to what I used to drink.

Some people would look back on this and say "Bad luck" and just go right on their way.  I've met people like that.  Some were in the DUI class I attended.  Me?  I see this as a Life Lesson.

I broke the law.  I pled guilty to this crime.  The Commonwealth gave me my penalty, and I served it.  It SUCKED, but I served it.  (What would be the deterrent if it didn't suck?) 

I NEVER EVER want to go through this again. 

Mirrors Hide Nothing

To ensure this, I had to take a hard look at myself, and my life.  I'm used to looking into the mirror and not liking what I see.  Most Transpeople have this issue.  I also see every little fault in my life; every misstep, every wound I've unintentionally caused others, every hypocrisy.  And this?  This was more than a misstep.

I could've killed someone due to my stupidity.  Or worse.

I remember my friend who died in my arms back in the 1980s, his last breath gurgling blood.  His last words on this plane addressed to me.  "Don't let me..."  The bubbles of blood from his mouth as his last breath left his body.  His car was crushed by a drunk driver.  

And I could've done that to someone else.  To someone I've never met.

Trust me when I say that if I had done this, I would not be breathing now.  I could not have lived with it.


I have a second chance.  God gave it to me.  The Commonwealth gave it to me.  My friends have given it to me.  Now I have to not only accept it, but take it.  And be worthy of it.


Those are the lessons I learned.  That I needed to change, and that maybe I'm worthy of that second chance. 

Arrested V: Judged

So, the Saga continues.

Tuesday, November 29 was a snowy, cold, miserable day here in PA.  I awoke early, before dawn, as the dog stuck her paw in my face to indicate she wanted to go out.  (She's more efficient than an alarm clock.)

By the time I finished showering, my wife was awake.  She was coming with me.  As she went through her morning routine, I put on my suit.  My drab suit, not my beloved skirt suit. 

Yes, your Honor?

I drove down to West Chester, the county seat where I live.  It was Judgement Day. 

the first order of business was finding parking, which wasn't easy.  After circling for a bit, I found a small parking lot that had a couple spaces left.  By then, the snow had become a driving cold rain.  Cold rain and snow.  (Or was it a Cold November Rain?)

In any case, we shared an umbrella and went to the courthouse.  First was checking in with the ARD coordinator.  I signed a pile of papers, and *sigh* turned in my driver's license.  I won't see it again until after Christmas.

Then I had to go to another room and pay my fine and fees. 

Then, I met my Parole officer.

That's right- parole officer.  Technically I was on parole.  She was a stout woman, and no nonsense.  I was not about to mess with her!  I was "Yes ma'am" and "No ma'am."

After that, it was a matter of waiting until my time in court.  Both my wife and I were hungry and one of my favorite pubs was nearby- Kildares.  So we walked through the rain to have lunch there.  My lawyer met us there.

At 1:30, I was in courtroom 16 along with thirty others with the same offense.  First the baliff arrainged us into three groups.  The first group, of which I was part, were the ones who had paid their fees and fines in full.  The second were those who hadn't paid in full, be it a payment plan or whatever.  The third were those who were looking for "continuances"- to have their trial date moved until later, usually so they could raise the money necessary for their fines.

The the judge entered.  It would've been funny if she said "I am the LAW!" or something, but that wasn't likely. 

The judge did the continuances first.  One person didn't show...for the third time.  They issued a bench warrant for her arrest.  Sucks to be her. 

Then it my groups turn.  One by one we stood in front of the judge with our lawyers, and stated our names.  The assistant DA read the charges, the person's BAC number, and that we had applied for ARD.  The judge read the conditions of ARD, and the penalties for messing up.  She then asked if we understood what she's read.  I answered "yes your honor" to all her questions.  Then she said I was admitted to the ARD program and "Good luck."

And it was done.  I was in court maybe fifteen minutes.  Wife, lawyer and I left the court house and parted ways.  Wife drove me home. 

And so it was over.  That fast.  Now I'm a week into my thirty day suspension.  Just 23 days left.  It's been a long week- a week of taxis and waiting for my wife to be ready to take me to work.  Today was a day off my first job, and, as no taxis operate where I live, I'm "telecommuting" for my second job.

I've been conversing with people via text, phone and Facialbook.  I summarized this experience for my TG Forum column. 

Tomorrow will be FOUR months sober.  No problem.  That said, I've determined when and why my first drink will be.  My friend who moved to China will be back for a couple weeks.  On December 29, all my old friends will gather for a long belated wake for my other friend who died a year ago and whose funeral the China friend couldn't attend.  My first drink will be Glenmorangie Scotch, the last of my late friend's bottle, and it will be toasted to his memory.  This gathering will happen at a hotel, and yes, I will be getting a room.

Drinking OR driving, remember?

And so this little drama plays itself out. 

Nearly four months ago it began, no that's not true.  It started so much earlier.  You could say that I've heading for this moment of time.  Ever since i started drinking heavily in college. 

It's all fun and games until there are consequences. 

After my month suspension, I will be on probation for six months.  After that, I have to not get caught drinking or driving for ten years or I'm in deep trouble.

I managed to NOT get caught for over twenty five years before that.

That was then.  This is now.

I'm getting a little too old for that sort of fun and games.

I have too much to lose.

I promise- my next entry will be happier.  After all, in less than a week, I will start HRT.

I can't wait!

Arrested IV: Alcohol Highway Safety School

Saturday November 3, 2012.  Cold, windy, cloudy.  A perfect day to stay inside. 

Not that I had a choice.

That weekend would be spent indoors.  From 9 til 4, I'd be sitting in a building outside West Chester, PA, in a classroom with 29 others in the same trouble as me.  Or worse.

It was time for my court mandated Alcohol Highway Safety School.

AHSS is a two day class for those who have been pulled over for DUI.  In their words:

"The objectives of the AHSS are to provide students with a basic knowledge and understanding of alcohol and controlled substances and their effects on metabolism and judgment, alcoholism and drug addiction, as well as highway safety, to encourage a positive change in student’s attitude concerning driving under the influence of alcohol or a controlled substance." (see link above for reference.)


So there we all were.  23 men, 7 women.  Only one person a known TG (me).  Not that they knew, as I was in drab.  Sitting in a room on a Saturday morning wishing we were anywhere else.  Six of these people were on their second offense, and two wore their House Arrest ankle bracelets.

The instructor was a parole officer and she understood how we felt.  So she did her best to keep us engaged in the class.  I'll call her "P."

We did a couple group exercises, the had a "victim panel" come in and speak.  In this case, it was a mother, father, and sister of a drunk driving victim.  Rather then recount their truly horrible tale, I'll refer you to their website.  Yes, website.

http://www.trooperiwaniec.org/Welcome.html

The father spoke first, then the sister, then the mother.  You could see it in the parents' eyes- they were broken people.  Absolutely shattered.  So sad.

At the end of their talk, P went to the front of the silent class to get some feedback, or so it seemed.  Nope- stalling tactic, and a brilliant one at that.  While she did that, the family of the victim walked to the back of the room to stand by the only door.  Then P dismissed us for lunch.  And to leave, we couldn't help but see that family by the door.  I expressed my condolences to them.  Inadequately. 

But what could I say? 

We had homework that night.  It was going to be tough, as I was going to Laptop that night.  Directly after class, I drove up to Amanda Richards' studio and once again put on my Halloween finery.  I went to Laptop Lounge (where I briefly worked the door) and had a good time.  My "Big sister" was there, as were many others including some people I didn't know.  I had fun, but left early.  After all, I had class the next day.

Class?  Not here!

As it stood, I got only about six hours sleep.

The next day, P checked our homework.  If we didn't do it she said there would be "dire consequences."  We all had it finished.  I did mine while waiting for Amanda to finish working on Antoinette who was ahead of me.

The first part was "who, aside from you, is affected by your DUI."  For me it was my wife, both my jobs, my friends (one in particular), and my daughter.  Mostly for the time and money this whole thing is taking up.

The second worksheet was calculating how much this whole thing is costing me.  My estimate was $4,104.50.  And that's with getting a good deal from my lawyer!  Then was the last two boxes on that sheet; "Number of Drinks" and "Cost per drink." 

For me, my cost for each of my seven drinks that night came to $586.36.  Each.

NO, repeat NO drink was worth $586.36. 

The person with the highest number was over $30K.  He was arrested twice in a week in two different counties.  His first stop was after sideswiping five cars, running through a chain link fence and hitting a house.  He doesn't remember any of this.  A few days, later he was pulled over again after some drinks at a bar.  Am i the only one who thinks this kid MAY have a problem?

We then went around the room and discussed How we were stopped.  I was in the middle of the pack on this.  Thirty people, thirty different stories.  I felt bad for only one of the people, "G."  He had been out for his 40th the night before with his friends.  There was a designated driver, and G got Ripped.  They took him home, dropped him off safe and sound, and he went to bed.  Next morning, his wife asked him to go to Wawa for a couple things.  he went to his car, and his young daughter jumped in for the ride.  he was stopped for not coming to a complete stop at a Stop sign.  They did a Breathalyzer, and then arrested him in front of his daughter.  0.08 is the legal limit.  He was .082.  From the night before!  And as his daughter was in the car, he isn't eligible for ARD.  So he gets a year suspension, etc.  The whole thing.  Ouch.

There was also a sixteen year old who was stopped for driving while stoned on pot.  I got the vibe that this kid was an FtoM. 

After that, we had a demonstration using special glasses of what impairment looks like and also watched a video. 

Soon it was over, and I went to work for my Sunday night shift.

Did I learn anything?

Yes, lots.  Some I already knew, like coffee doesn't sober you up- it makes you a wired drunk.  Only time sobers you.  Also that at ANY given time, 1 in 6 people on the road are drunk.  On a given weekend night, that's 1 in 3.  Think of that next time you're out.

Ok, Soapbox time, folks.

Why am I telling you all of this? 

I'll be blunt.

This entire process sucks MAJOR league donkey dick.  Big style. 

I'm pissing away $4,000 and for what?  NOTHING.  Zero.  That's a LOT of money.  And thank God I hadn't hurt anyone- I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had.

If I get caught again, it's 60-90 days in jail, $15,000 fine, loss of license for two years, and a breathalyzer installer in my car, which costs $1,700 to install.  $15K is more than the best breast implants.  And I want those far more than I want a drink!

I'm taking my punishment.  I did what I am accused of many times, and was caught.  It was just a matter of time.  The average drunk driver has driven drunk 380 times before their first arrest.  Sounds about right.

I was lucky.  A drunk driving death occurs approximately every ten minutes in the US.  I never crashed.  No one was ever hurt.

Here's my point- We in the trans community are Serious drinkers.  At every conference I attend, the bar is where all the action is, and that isn't because we all love pub food.  Alcohol masks pain, and we are Creatures of Pain.  We live with it most of our lives, until (and often after) we transition as well. 

And sometimes we pay the price.  I have.  Can you imagine if one of us (non full time) is caught while en femme?  Especially in a place where we aren't exactly tolerated?  Which is most places.  Consequences.

I'm writing this so you can Learn from MY pain. 

I'm living it, and as I said, it SUCKS.  Learn from my mistake.  It's a simple matter of a conjunction.  Remember conjunctions?  And, But, Or? 

Instead of Drinking AND driving, make it Drinking OR Driving.  That simple.  One or the other.  Never the twain shall meet.

That way, you don't suffer.  And no one gets hurt.

I'm NOT saying don't drink.  Far from it.  Enjoy!  Just don't drive.  I'll be at the bar at the Keystone Conference, making an ass of myself as always, because I won't be driving. 

*Gets off soapbox*

So now I'm finished AHSS.  And I'm finished 5 of the mandatory 8 Alcohol classes.  And on November 27, I'll hand in my license for thirty days.

On December 28, this will all be behind me.  As will be Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

All good! 

Arrested III: Psych Evaluation

Ok, if you've been following along, I've had my preliminary hearing and applied for the ARD program.

Now it's time to start jumping through the required hoops to get this behind me.

If you HAVEN'T been following along, here are the predecessors to this post:  Here and Here.

Here's the summary: I was arrested for DUI back in August.  I had my preliminary hearing at the end of September, where I applied for the ARD program, which will mean I am punished, but due to it being first offense, I attend programs for rehabilitation.

Right. With me?

Anyway, the next step in the process was to be evaluated by the authorities so they could determine whether or not I required alcohol intervention of some kind.  So on Monday, I headed down to the county seat in West Chester for my appointment.  There could be two possible results: I could either pass and not need any form of counseling, or be referred to a psychologist for further testing.

The receptionist in the department was literally a model.  Absolutely gorgeous.  I know she was a model because a co-worker asked about a photoshoot she had last weekend.  A swimsuit shoot.  Not that I'm jealous.  Really jealous.  Or anything.  Meow.

My evaluation was done by a very cute woman who was a fellow Penn State alumnus.  She was 24, and a Criminal Justice grad.  I couldn't help but wonder how many guys hit on her during the course of her work day.  She went through a long series of questions on her computer, occasionally asking for clarification on a point.  I was completely honest in my answers, as I have nothing to hide.

The conclusion?

The computer, through its complex algorithm, determined I have enough of a drinking problem.  So I had an appointment made for Wednesday 10/17 at 8 PM. 

Last night.

In any case, I scheduled my mandatory driver safety school (Oct 29 and 30) and was told that by completing that and by making progress on any rehab program I could have my fifty hours of community service waived.  That's good news!

From That Night in August

So I couldn't go to my usual gathering at New Concepts Med Spa (where they do amazing work, like waxing and electrolysis at reasonable prices AND are TG friendly), and instead went to a converted factory which now houses a school, doctor's offices, and other offices.

The therapist looked tired.  No doubt she'd had a long day dealing with all kinds of rough issues.  After filling out the paperwork, we spoke about the night of the arrest.  She also had a long battery of questions, which I answered.  She asked for many more expansions, and had many more probing questions. 

The conclusion here was that I have to attend an eight week "Alcohol Awareness" program.  The was the least of all the programs I could be given, the worst being sent to a rehab center.  So that starts this weekend.

So that's where it stands. 

I may have said this before, but I'll point it out again:

The only person in my "drab" life that knows about the DUI (aside from my lawyer and the justice system and my therapist) is my wife.

Yet I  discuss it openly to all my friends on my Sophie life, and here on this blog.  Is it because you already know the real me?  my "biggest secret"?  Or is it because I'm more comfortable and open as a woman than I ever was otherwise?

I have no idea.

I do know this:  9 weeks sober.