They Made Me Angry

So, Monday something happened to REALLY piss me off. 

After throwing a pity party for a while, I decided to take action.  What follows is what happened, as I reported it to interested parties.  Names have been changed, and I've redacted some parts for privacy. 

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I changed my name legally in October 2016.  After I changed my SS card, passport, driver’s license, etc (all the government and bank stuff) I sent court stamped copies of the name change order to the registrar and the Alumni Association.  I also paid $80 to get my proper name on my diplomas (which are legal documents.)(That money came from friends, and I'm still very grateful!)

When I applied to PSU Harrisburg over a year ago, I created the FOPS [Friend of Penn State] account slk**** to do the application.  No problem.  Application, etc, sent.  (I didn't get accepted, but that's neither here nor there.)

When I attempted to send the application to PSU University Park (UPark), I was locked out.  I submitted a ticket to get it sorted.

And I was all out of bubblegum

Two hours later, I received a reply saying that the account was reset.  I tried it, and it didn't work.  So I called.  First I spoke to a pleasant young woman who told me that the account re-activated was lak***.  That was my account when I was studying for my master’s degree, and when I worked at PSU as an Instructional Designer.  I left PSU in Feb 2016, just before transition.  (That said, PSU HR was in the loop about my transition.)

The young woman didn't know how to fix the problem, and put me on hold.  Then IT Joe, IT consultant, picked up the phone.  He said that the accounts were merged last spring, and, since lak*** was my academic AND work one, they kept that. 

I pointed out to him that LAK was no longer an entity, neither legally nor physically.  Didn't matter.  I pointed out that I am transgender (which I shouldn't have had to do) and if I were to attend PSU for study, and I were stuck with lak***, I'd be misgendered and dead-named (called by my previous name) every time I logged onto a computer.  "To change it would be a long and complicated process, so this is your login."

I'd been very depressed of late , but this really hurt.  I posted the following on facebook:

Ok, so PSU asked me to submit my application for PhD. But I'm locked out of my account. I submit a ticket to the IT Support desk. Couple hours later, I get a reply: they insist I use the lak log in. I inform them that LAK no longer exists legally or physically.

PSU received legal copies of my name change paperwork years ago.

Nope, no dice. To change it would be too much work. I told him I'm transgender, and this would be misgendering, and it didn't matter. So I can go get a PhD and be misgendered the whole time, or just not go.

I told him that I'll be applying elsewhere. I have sent an almost word for word transcript to the people at PSU who wanted me to study there.

So JoeIT, thank you for saving me a lot of work and ruining another one of my dreams.

I can't believe my alma mater is doing this to me. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cry my eyes out for a while.


And so I did.  After a nap, I became very Angry.  I was angry that this happened.  I was angry at JoeIT's attitude.  I was angry that I, as a prospective student, a two time alumni (life member), and former employee was being treated in such a way.  I was angry that, as a human being, I was treated that way.

Before I transitioned, I had a very nasty temper (ask anyone who knew me then.)  These days, it's hard to make me angry.  JoeIT managed to do it.  I was boiling mad.  I decided then, at 11 pm, that I would go up to UPark first thing in the morning and make it right. 

I'd received messages from Dr. F about who to see.  I also received an email from my dear friend Lori, who was the contractor who designed the new PSU system.  (What are the odds?  I knew she worked for Universities, but...) She sent me the instructions for doing what needed to be done- three steps. 

I contacted some other friends in various organizations, and went to bed.

I woke up at 5 AM, and was on the road by 7.  My other friends responded over night that they stood ready to assist.  One (Joanne Carroll, Commissioner on the PA Governor’s Task Force for LGBTQ Equality) contacted the head of the PSU LGBT Center, Brian Patchcoski.  He is on the same commission.  At this point, I was still very angry, hurt, and very determined.

During the morning, I was also in touch with Dr. H and Dr. P (my PSU PhD contacts.)  Upon arrival, I stopped at the LGBT Center in Boucke building, and spoke to Brian.  From there, I went to Old Main to the office of Dr. Marcus Whitehurst, the Vice Provost for Educational Equity.

The assistant there was reluctant to schedule an appointment for me, until I mentioned that I wanted to lodge a complaint, and that I'd already spoken to some organizations (which I had.)  She made some calls, and made a 4 PM appointment for me with Dr. Sonia DeLuca Fernández, the Associate Vice Provost for Educational Equity.  It was, at that time, 11:30.  During the interim, I stopped to see Dr. P to keep her in the loop with my progress. 

At 4 PM I went to Dr. DeLuce Fernandez's office at 305 Grange building.  Also present was Brian Patchcoski. After I explained to Dr. DeLuca Fernandez what had happened, and showing my supporting documents (court order, passport, social security card,) Brian spoke. He'd been in touch with someone in IT (I forget whom) and was explaining about the merger of accounts, and the possible cause of the issue.  As I'm not IT savvy, most of what he said was over my head.  The bottom line was that my having been a student AND an employee was the difficulty.  The three of us spoke for a while.

The crux the solution was that, by eliminating lak***, my record of employment (seniority, etc) would be scrubbed.  Also, some documents in the system, like my previous application, may also be lost.  I said that if that was the price of a solution, so be it.  They did not ask for the paper I had from Lori with the solution, and I didn't offer it. 

Dr. DeLuca Fernandez said she didn't think it was an intentional misgendering.  I begged to differ, and repeated the conversation I'd had with JoeIT, and how my being transgender, and not wishing to be dead-named, made no difference to him.  I told her he needed some training, and that I was still filing a complaint against him.  She'd been taking comprehensive notes during the conversation, and wrote down his name. 

Before the meeting ended, both assured me that the issue would be solved.  Brian said I'd have access within 48 hours.  I contacted Dr. P about the application deadline, and she said it could be extended if necessary, for which I thanked her.

At the conclusion of the meeting, I left campus and drove home.  I did not get my hopes up, but was taking them both at their word.  If it were just me, I wouldn't be so upset.  However, I wondered if this was what happened to other transgender people applying.  That is what made me so angry. 

The next day, Wednesday, I received a phone call at 11:32 from a man from PSU IT.  He kindly informed me that slk**** was now active.  As I was in my car at the time, I couldn't check for myself.  When I arrived home at 4 pm, I logged in, and he was correct.  I discovered that much of the saved application was lost, including the uploaded pieces (resume, writing sample, references.)  My writing sample was my thesis, which is currently on a disc in storage.  I unsuccessfully tried to find it today, but I will try again tomorrow. 

That is the complete story to my knowledge.  I don't know what happened out of my knowledge, but it seems many people helped me, and for that I am profoundly grateful. I thank Dr. DeLuca Fernandez and Mr. Patchcoski for being generous with their time, knowledge, and compassion.

This incident really gets to the emotional heart of the research I wish to do at PSU.  JoeIT had no idea what being transgender meant, nor did he care.  In my opinion, he just didn't want to do the extra work.  Perhaps, if he'd been educated about the transgender experience, this would never had occurred.   As I wrote above, the incident made me very upset, depressed, then very angry.  These are common emotions daily for transgender people.  Another is frustration- why can't we just live our lives?  What is so difficult about letting others be who they truly are? 

As you see, I'm very passionate about this topic, about helping others, and about making the path easier for those who "come up" after me.  If all of my suffering, pain, and tears help just one person, than it will have been worth it all.  Melodramatic?  Maybe, but it is the Truth.  This Truth is why I want to study at Penn State for my PhD. 

*********************************************************************

With an Old Friend

I was completely exhausted when I got home.  I was still tired the next day, but I had things to do. 

I'm still exhausted.  I've had a lot of friends cheering me on.  My former therapist, Dr. O, said she was proud of me.  That helps, as does that support I received from friends. 

In any case, some people asked.  That's the story.

Be well.

Men of the Skull Chapter 28: Grocery Shopping

Again, this is a chapter that will be eliminated if the book is ever published.  The first paragraph will be folded into chapter 30.

It's odd- the things one remembers clearly.  I remember the look on Ashley's face as clear as crystal, as well as her jogging down the driveway at Beaver Hill.  These days it'd be called "triggering" as, back then, it's how I imagined any woman I'd ever asked out would look at me.

Silly?  Maybe.  But that's what I thought.  That's what a life of self-hatred does to one's perceptions.

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Chapter 28: Grocery Shopping

Tuesday, November 18, 1986 Reagan: No arms shipments planned

            Things were looking up!  Maybe the brothers were softening a bit- maybe the bullshit would stop soon.  After dinner the night before, Maple stopped to tell me that I could now attend pledge meetings.  They were Wednesdays and Sundays.

From that day's Collegian

            All of that was great, but it was yesterday.  Today I had to eat, and the refrigerator was empty.  Ashley drove me to the Weis market outside of town.  She seemed awkward and a little distant, but, being me, I really didn’t notice it.  My plan was to make her a nice dinner within the next few days and… continue what we started a couple of days ago.

            So after I carried my bag of groceries into Beaver Hill, Ashley said she had to go to class.  I walked her down the stairs and outside to the parking lot. 

            We stood looking at each other under the blue-gray cloudy sky.  She glanced around nervously. 

            “Thanks for the ride” I said.

            “You’re welcome” she said.  “I really have to go.”

            I moved closer to kiss her, and she pushed me away.

            What?

            “What’s wrong?”  I asked.

            She was several steps away, looking at me with panicked eyes.  I couldn’t understand.

            “Are you afraid of me?”  I asked. 

            She edged down the driveway.  “Yes” she said, her voice slightly cracking.

            “I…”  I shut up.  What could I say?

            She turned away and half jogged down the short steep hill to Beaver Avenue.  I watched her wait for a break in traffic, then run across the street.

            Stupid!  She opened her heart, and I was too dumb to take it!

            I felt the familiar hollowness- stupid and hollow.  I couldn’t even think about Judy and Virginia.  All I could think about was Ashley’s eyes and the fear, no- the pain, in them.

            Yet again, I was the dummy.

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

First Chapter

Bye Big Sister

The older one gets, the more used to "goodbyes" they become.

I'm only 52, and I've lost so many friends for so many reasons.  Most due to transition (yeah, I know- "not really friends" and all that); some to distance; others still because we no longer work together and our circles just no longer intersect.  I've lost far too many to Death already.  Seems to be a curse: friends of mine die young.  Maybe that's one of the reasons I never had many friends.

In any case, I've often written about my "Big Sister" Mel.  From Codex Sophie:  Mel transitioned in 2003.  She is an incredibly intelligent woman, and very plain spoken.  My therapist asked Mel to advise and mentor me, and we've become good friends.  I wouldn't be where I am today with out her candid, sometimes brutal, advice.  Mel is very good friends with Donna Rose, who was HER big sister.

I met Mel in 2009, at Angela's Laptop Lounge.  She came specifically to meet me, she said.  She didn't do many transgender events anymore, as she was pretty much stealth.  That said, she loved Southern Comfort Conference, where she saw many friends (she and I roomed together at my only SCC in 2013.)

Dr. Osborne asked her to advise me since, when Mel transitioned, she had two young children.  When I started seeing Dr. Osborne, my daughter was just over a year old.  Aside from Laptop, I would see Mel once a month or so.  We'd go to lunch or happy hour.

She taught me many important lessons.  The most important was "Transition should be the last resort.  Don't transition unless you have no other choice."  She was absolutely right.  When I decided to transition, it was a decision literally between Transition vs Blow my head off.  (I've written about this a few times.)

Our relationship started as a "mentor-student" thing.  Eventually, it evolved to a solid friendship.  She is one of the most intelligent people I know (she predicted the crash of 2008 years before it happened, and exactly how it would happen.)  She worked on Wall Street in the early 80s, and does she ever have stories!  I keep telling her she should write a book, but she modestly demurs.  Aside from finance, she is a scholar of religious history.  Oh, and, like me, she's a MAJOR Bob Dylan fan.

She and I don't always see eye-to-eye.  Her politics are moderate/right (Rockefeller Republican), but she quit the party years ago, and hates what the party has become.  She's not shy when it comes to telling me when I screw up, yet she's always there to help me sort things out as well.

The day I was thrown out of MIL's house, I called both my therapist and Mel.  I went over to Mel's apartment, where we talked and I cried and cried.  God, that was a horrible day!

There was a bright spot: while I was walking from the car to Mel's door, I received an email telling me that I'd been accepted into Vanity Club.  On any other day, I would've been ecstatic.  But not that day.

On December 10, 2012, I was serving my license suspension.  Mel drove me to the Mazzoni Center, where I received my first prescription for HRT: Hormone Replacement Therapy.

She's been a rock on which I could depend.

Now, she's moving home.

Her elderly mother is ailing, and needs help, so Mel is moving back to her hometown in upper New York State.

We'll still talk, of course.  And text.  But there's nothing like face to face, and that will be VERY rare for a while, if not for good.

Heading out to see Mel last Monday.

Last Monday, we got together one last time at McKenzies.  (We used to go to Shangrila, but it closed.  She loved the sushi there.)  We had a drink or two, had some appetizers, talked a bit like we always did, and then parted.  I took a picture of the two of us, but I won't post it.  She's very strict about that- no pictures.  We hugged, and, when we were getting into our respective cars, I turned and thanked her for everything she's done for me.

She knows how I think of her.  I just wanted to say it publically as well.

Be well, Mel.  You're one of the main reasons that I'm alive to write this today.

Saturday Night Insomniac Talking

So it's late at night- 11:27 as I start dictating this.  November 10th, soon to be the 11th.  November 11, 2018 is the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I.

I've studied history.  I maintain that in many ways, we are still fighting WWI, particularly in the Middle East.  In many ways, we are still fighting the Civil War (see: "voter suppression in the South."). Though I thought World War II was over, apparently it isn't, as Nazis are here in the halls of power in the US.

We live in dangerous times.

 I was going to write a blog entry about the election and about how I volunteered. But I just couldn't be bothered. I started it, but I just couldn't finish it. I get depressed- very depressed- since the election.  I've spent more time lying in bed looking at the ceiling more than anything.   I can't even be bothered writing this- I'm dictating it voice to text. But I figured I'd put out something so my few readers will know I'm still alive.

 I am still unemployed. There's some agency who said they would help me find a job, but the only thing that they've come up with our cashier jobs in the city.  In the end, after transportation and city taxes, I'd be making less than minimum wage.   They said in my interview there's going to be hard time trying to find a job for "someone like me."  Transgender.

I can still fake smile.

 I want to apply to Penn State for my PhD but I haven't done it yet. I haven't even started my essays, or contacting people about letters, or anything. I just don't have the...

I don't have the energy or the drive.  For anything.  I feel fucking worthless.

There was this big class in Philadelphia today for doing transgender activism, and a friend went to it.  It was free, but I didn't go anyway. I didn't go, because I knew that everyone else there had a job, and a career, had a perfect transition, probably already had surgeries, and they were just having these wonderful lives- and here I am just a fat, useless nothing.

Yes, I know that's depression talking.

I don't want to be involved in anything.  Not the play I'm in, not writing... I'm seriously considering leaving Vanity Club.  VC is supposed to mean something, and I'm nothing. 

Early this week, rent was due.  I was very short on it.  I mentioned that online, and both dear friends and total strangers sent me enough money to cover rent.  I really appreciate their generosity- without it Linda and I would be homeless- but I hate taking charity.  I can't even earn my own way in the world.  Linda would be better off without me here.  A different roomie- one with a job.

Still, thank you so very much to those who helped.  Seriously.  I don't want to sound ungrateful, because I'm not.  I...

I'm not worth your friendship.

So here I sit on my couch, dictating.  It's now 12:03 am.  Armistice Day.  The temperature outside is below freezing for the first time this season, and I am inside, thanks to friends.  I'm waiting for the 2 melatonins I took to knock me out.  Been waiting over an hour.

God, I hate my life.

Men of the Skull Chapter 27: Dinner

As I mentioned two chapters ago, this chapter, like that one would be cut if this were to be published.  While "Ashley" was an important part of my PSU experience, her part was short, and the narrative flows better with her chapters removed.

Ashley was my first Penn State "crush," but I thought she was FAR out of my league.  We went to a play, then to Homecoming together, but I felt like she was not attracted to me.  I figure that after the Homecoming chapter, she would drop away (she is mentioned in later chapters, but not much.)

I've always been one of those weird people who could easily spot when someone "had the hots" for someone else.  It always seemed so obvious to me by reading body language, watching facial expressions, etc.  However, I could never tell when someone liked ME.  If I saw those signs in someone who may like me, I always explained them away one way or the other.

Having zero self esteem does that to a person.

So, while what Ashley did was a total surprise, my inability to handle the situation was as lame as I could ever expect.  I still wince when I think about this.  Worse- I can't imagine how she felt: she put herself out there on a limb, and I walked away.

Ashley, if you ever read this, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

**************************************************************************

Chapter 27: Dinner

Sunday, November 16, 1986 Sources: 50 covert plans OK’d

            I arrived at Ashley’s apartment at seven.  I wore nice pants and my purple sweater over the dark striped shirt- collar tucked in, of course.  Ashley was stunning.  She wore a white dress that reached her knees.  It was soft and feminine.  She looked better than she did at homecoming.  My jaw dropped.

            The table was already set.  She really went all out- white tablecloth, cloth napkins, even candles: light blue.  Playing in the background was Simon and Garfunkel’s “Concert in Central park.”

            Wow!

            “We'd like to help you learn to help yourself.  Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes”.

            She offered me a coke and we talked briefly about the day.  [Insert topical reference]  She made steak that she’d marinated, veggies, potatoes, and it was all great.  I felt comfortable.  I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.  Yet I felt guilty.  I was seeing Judy.  Kinda sorta.  But Judy kept saying I should find someone else.

Collegian Nov 18, 1986

            Ashley had another paper for me to check.  As I helped gather the dishes after dinner, she brought it over to me.  I sat and looked at it.  She leaned over my shoulder.  Her beautiful long brown hair draped down below her face as she watched and tickled my shoulder.  Goosebumps.

            Make your move, Lance!  What’s your problem?!?!?

             I asked about a particular sentence and she answered quietly- almost a husky whisper.  Her breath was warm on my neck.  I looked at her and our eyes met. 

            Old Friends.  Memory brushes the same years.  Silently sharing the same fear.

Her eyes were a beautiful blue.  They usually seemed so strong- determined- but now they seemed open vulnerable:  Like she’d opened her soul.  I’d never seen her look this way. 

I had such a hard on!

Kiss her you asshole!

I finished reading.  Then I saw the time- past ten.

Shit.

Judy wouldn’t be alone all night.  When did Rich leave?  When would Virginia be back?  If I were to have a chance to go down there and fuck her, I’d have to get going.  Of course, there was the issue of the fantastic dinner I just had and how rude it would be to leave so soon.  My mind was doing some quick calculations: Judy’s tits verses Ashley’s beautiful ass.  Which did I have a better chance of seeing?  Well…  I wasn’t going anywhere with Ashley…

Did I mention how incredibly stupid I was? 

Ashley and I talked about classes for a little while longer, and then I stood up. 

“I hate to do this, but one of brothers needs help with a paper so I have to head over to the house.”

Ashley’s expression didn’t change.  I didn’t think it would.  She stood too.

“Thanks for a fantastic dinner!”  I said.

“Thanks for coming over.  Are you sure you can’t stay?” she said.

“I really want to, but I should go.  Can I have a hug?”

She walked over slowly and instead of putting her arms around my body, she put them over my shoulders.  Our eyes met. 

Holy shit!

We started kissing, Tenderly.  She ran her hand through my hair.  We stopped and looked at each other.  She blushed ever so faintly.  I couldn’t believe this was happening!

We kissed again, deeper.  She pulled me closer.  Scenarios started running through my head.  Undoing her dress, caressing her, kissing her breasts, parting her legs, entering her.  I’d waited months for this.

But…

Judy was waiting for me.

Ashley caressed my back.  I couldn’t believe she made a move- that was so unlike her!  But she was a born again, so probably wouldn’t have sex before marriage.

Her lips were so soft!

I kissed her neck and she sighed.

Judy was waiting for me.  This night could be the night that I finally have sex with her.  But she kept saying I should date Ashley.  Ashley, who just ran her nails down my back and pulled me closer by the hips.

So Lance, who could you fuck tonight?

Ashley was making a very strong case.  I could get lost in her eyes.  Her body was soft and…

Shit.  I couldn’t get Judy out of my mind.

There’s an old saying that a bird in the hand is as good as two in the (hmmm) bush.  I could stay here.  After all, I’d wanted this for months.  I even took her to my formal!

Another cliché: there will never be another now. 

Ashley looked at me, kissed my earlobe, and whispered “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!  Everything is great!  I mean…  I’ve been wanting…”

I kissed her again.  She then started kissing my neck.  I ran my hand gently up her side and toward her breast.  She gently stopped and placed it on her face.  I put my other hand there as well and held her head as we kissed deeply. 

Judy.

Licking her lips.

We stopped kissing and held each other.  I wondered what was going through her head.  Ashley really put herself out on a limb- exposed her heart to me.

So now was the perfect time to be stupid.

I looked at her.  “I really have to go.  I don’t want to.  I really don’t want to.”

I kissed her forehead and picked up my coat from the chair where it waited.

“I…I…” my lips moved, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Tomorrow?”  I asked.  “Pick it up from here?”

Ashley smiled briefly.

“Sure.  Sure” she said.

I just stomped on her pride and her expression didn’t change.

“Thank you” I said quietly and kissed her again.  “I’ll call as soon as I’m done class.”

“Okay” Ashley said, smiling.

So I left and went out into the cold night, leaving Ashley in a beautiful white dress and dirty dishes.  All I could think of was Judy.  Judy was waiting for me.

I knocked on her apartment door, and Virginia answered.

           

Next Chapter

Last Chapter

First Chapter

           

November First

Back in college (1986) I wrote a short story for a writing class called "Nov. 1st."  It was, at the time, the best story I'd ever written- a ghost story told from the point of view of the ghost.

I have it saved on a Macintosh disk somewhere.  I also have a hard copy printed (I have a hard copy of every short story I wrote back then.)  Problem is, I can't find the folder holding those hard copies.  I remember taking it when I was thrown out in 2013, but haven't found it since.

It had some good ideas, I think; I'd love to see it again.  I think about it every November 1st.  Go figure.

Last Night's Costume

My fascination with this day goes further back.  When I was in junior high, I entered a Halloween window painting contest in Phoenixville.  I figured everyone else would be painting pumpkins, ghosts, etc.  My piece (sketched out in colored pencils in advance) was a sunrise.  There was a barn in the background.  The foreground was a cornfield after harvest.  There was a small burned out campfire, and next to it was a green domino mask with a large nose (the only green in a picture dominated with browns, oranges, black and red.)  In the middle, walking into the rising sun was a couple in silhouette, holding hands.  There may have been a small rooster crowing too.  I called that piece "November 1st."

It didn't win. 

The day after Halloween has always held an attraction to me.  As Halloween is my favorite holiday, I build up to it and anticipate it.  Then, it's over.  The day after.  World keeps turning.  That day after didn't even have an "afterglow."  It was like someone pulled the needle off the record- pulled the plug.  It just stopped.  I mean, people keep up Christmas decorations for weeks after the actual day, but Halloween?  Boom- done.

In my later years, November 1st also meant a nasty hangover.

However, November first has another significance.  November 1st, 1990 was the date of my first suicide attempt- somewhere after midnight.  I spent the next three days in a psych ward.  I will never, ever voluntarily go back to one.  It was appalling. 

All Saint's Day- a holiday created by the Catholic Church to "replace" Samhain.  That's November 1st as well. 

Out and About

So today is November first.  I woke up with a slight hangover, and my hair smelling of smoke.  I spent some time reading, and some time volunteering.  I saw my "big sister" Mel briefly.  Ten years ago, I was wrestling with the events of the night before.  Today, it's just another day.

I just felt like writing about it. 

Be well.

Ten For Sophie

Halloween.

My favorite holiday.

This year will be different.  This year, I mark an anniversary.  Ten years ago, on October 31, 2008, I went out to a party dressed as a woman for the first time.  That was the first time I'd dressed in 25 years.

Twenty

Five

Long

Years.

During those years, I fell into a deep depression, started drinking heavily, had a nasty habit of starting fights, attempted suicide, and somehow, got married and fathered a child.  In that order.

First photo of me as "Lois" after makeup.  Halloween 2008

After that Halloween, the "dam broke" or whatever cliche you wish to use.  I started researching transgender on the internet, something that didn't exist in the 1980s.    When I "dressed" in the 80s, I thought I was alone- that I was a Freak- that something was horribly wrong with me.  Society of the time did nothing but encourage that idea.  I managed to assemble a small feminine wardrobe (thank you Sears and JC Penney's catalogues) and kept it hidden.

You see, in the 80s it was common for kids to go home from school and be alone, since usually both parents worked.  On the days when I didn't work, I had to contend with my Older Brother (OB) coming home and making my life miserable.  After a few years of dressing in secret (and my brother catching me once) I decided to stop.  Men don't dress as women (and I'd been taught men were superior to women) and I was a MAN.  So one early August day in 1983, I took all of my feminine clothing out to the burn barrel in the yard, added lighter fluid, and burned it all.

Halloween 2007: "Clark Kent" 

I've written about this many, many times.  I've written about the depression, etc that followed.

I've written about Halloween 2008 many times as well.  Halloween 2007- Wife and I did Lois and Clark.   2008, she suggested we do the same thing, but switch roles.  Elizabeth helping me choose clothes at Lane Bryant.  Dawn doing my makeup.  Wife's reaction.  Reaction at the book store.  Going out to a bar.

I remember going home that night.  I was on the "on ramp" to 422 when I looked down at myself.  I saw my breasts (made of birdseed in pantyhose) protruding under my black sweater.  I saw my skirt.  I knew even then that something changed- That I couldn't go back, even if I wanted to do so.

I was scared.

After i got back to the house I shared with Wife, my then 1 year old daughter, and MIL, I stayed up until 3.  I figured as this was the "Last time" I'd ever dress, I wanted to take a LOT of pictures to remember the occasion (sound familiar?)  I was up until 3:30 AM.

The next time I worked, I was the talk of the store.  You see, none of them recognized me at first.  The store manager said I was a "really ugly woman."  Other coworkers commented on my courage.  I was teased for weeks.

I told my therapist at the time about the night.  She asked if I wanted to be a woman.  I told her that "it was an interesting experience, but no."  Within three months, I'd switch doctors to one of the foremost gender specialists: Dr. Maureen Osborne.

I think about who I was the week before that Halloween.  I was an asshole.  I drank WAY too much.  A dear friend said I "radiated hate."  I hated my life desperately.  I was a failure at everything I tried.  I was in agony inside.  And I'd buried my fem self SO deep, that I couldn't figure out why I hurt.  I even wrote a book trying to dig out the reason- if only to give me a reason to live just one more day.  That book was soundly rejected by any and all publishers to this very day- even with my rewrite idea of changing the perspective.

I've written about the internet searches, and of my first transformation makeover, with Karen at Femme fever in New York, in early December 2008.  She gave me my name: Sophie.  Later that month, December 21st, I found Renaissance Transgender Support group.  And Angela's Laptop Lounge.  I met so many amazing people that night, some of whom have passed, others who have "hung up the purse," but most are still with me.  Jennifer, Tina, Kristyn, Jone, Angela... so many!  They took me under their wing that night, and there I've stayed.  And that night, this blog was born!

Halloween Through the Years

For years, I lived for my monthly "Sophie time."  Then, in March 2014, I left my battered male shell behind.

Now ten years have passed since that Halloween.  I still have the skirt, sweater, necklace, and bra I wore that night.  A couple of years ago, I took a picture of me wearing them.  The cheap corset, horrible shoes, bad wig, clip earrings, and birdseed breasts are LONG gone.  I'm still here.

How does this make me feel, ten years on?

I can't help but think about all that I lost because of this one night reopening this "Pandora's Box."  My life was turned completely upside down.  I've written about this often as well- I lost my marriage, career, 90% of my friends, and Lisa.  I've pondered whether or not the losses were all worth it.  (My answer was "No."

Yet, here I am.  A few weeks ago the Darkness had a strong hold on me, and I planned that Today (the 10th anniversary) would be the Last Day.  I'd end it on a day of significance to me.  After all, I can't find a job, the US government is determined to erase me from existence, I'm almost out of unemployment funding, and I lost any and all hope long ago. And people say I'm an inspiration?  I say I'm a warning- this is what can happen if you destroy everything in your life.

Don't worry- I'm not going anywhere intentionally.  I have to do my part by voting the treasonous GOP out of office next week.  Good vs Evil and all that.  I'm ok as long as I have a purpose.

So how do I feel today?

Empty.

I'm 52.  Unemployed.  I'll never be able to retire even if I can find a job (transgender discrimination is now LEGAL in this country.)  It's not because of the events a decade ago- no, I was born this way.  But 10 years ago, my Truth raged back into my dying light.

Truth has a way of causing Pain.

Ms. Marvel

Tonight, I intend to go out, if only for a bit.  I'm broke, so I can't drink, but I feel I should mark the occasion somehow.


For my friends who worship the Goddess, Blessed Samhain.  To all others, Happy Halloween.

It's Happening

On Sunday, October 21, 2018, the New York Times published an article about how the GOP, led by their lord and savior Trump, are trying to eliminate legislate transgender people out of existence. This is something that I've written about before several times- both here in the blog and in my column at TG forum.

Headline, NYT Oct 21, 2018

The last time I discussed this, I was called an alarmist, and told that there was no way that anything like this would ever happen.  Well, it's happening.  The GOP are trying to legislate transgender people out of existence.  They're trying to say that, despite all of the scientific evidence to the contrary, gender is only a binary-that there are only two possibilities for chromosomes: XX and XY.  Never mind the over thirty other possible combinations .

History has shown us time and time again what happens next.  They are dehumanizing transgender people, and from there it's just a matter of time before they come for us.  Incarceration. Extermination.

OK, call me an alarmist again.  Well, guess what folks- I haven't been wrong yet on this topic.  Neither has Brynn Tannehill, and she's been saying the same things (except to a wider audience as she is published at Huffington Post and other places.)  Not that I'm jealous.  Meow.

Dear readers, I am Terrified.  I know they're coming. And if I get a gun, then I know I'll use it.  That is not a good thing.  Besides, I haven't held a gun (well, "my" gun- I've held other people's weapons) since I was 13.   I have been looking up prices for a Kay-bar knife to defend myself.  I have a sword- a very sharp Claymore- but that's no good in close quarters, and this apartment is close quarters.

I have posted about this article several times on facialbook. I have implored my cisgender friends to stand up- to help us; because without allies we are lost.   The estimate of the transgender population here in the United States is 1.4 million.  That's all. We are a distinct minority, and we could disappear in one fell swoop.

So what's next?

Well, the election is coming up in a couple of weeks. Obviously, many of us are going to go out and vote.  If we can.  If our vote is still counted.  After all, the Republicans have raised voter suppression to an art form.  They're doing everything they can to keep people from voting that they don't want to vote.   And their followers are cheering it on.

I've said many times that Republicans don't see transgender people as human.  Just like they don't see any non-white as people.  To them, we just don't count.  We are an inconvenience to be eliminated.   How do I know this?  Simple: I listen to with their politicians say, and I see what people say in the comments section after articles, such as the one in the New York Times. Or the article in USA Today which discusses the article in the New York Times. To them we are an "It."  A sickness.

Whenever I write something like this, I pray to God that I am wrong. I hope I am this time. But I haven't been yet.

If you care about civil rights in the United States- if you care about this country at all- and, on a personal level, if you care about any Transgender people, be it myself or perhaps a transgender person in your life, then for God's sake: get out and VOTE!  Get out and make your voice heard!

Vote the party of Trump OUT, up and down the ballot.

Please stand with us.  They are coming for us, and we need your help.

Men of the Skull Chapter 26: Almost

It's amazing how enthusiastic one can become about a game that others are playing.  I don't play football, but when the team representing my University won, everyone said "WE won!"  I think that's a major part of what we felt at Penn State in the 80s, that our football team was part of the identity of our school, and our school was part of our own identities.

In this chapter, I avoid a Skull party.  I did that a lot my first semester, as I knew I wasn't welcome.  Also, the girl I wanted to be with would be at a different party.  Problem was that her boyfriend was there as well.

So in this chapter I did something that I absolutely Hated (but had become VERY good at doing)- I lied to someone.  Looked into his eyes and lied.

How was I so good at it?  Well, I was lying to myself and the rest of the world by representing myself as male.  I knew the truth deep down, but had become SO good at lying to myself, that I'd almost completely buried it.  My Truth would remain buried for over 20 more years, until 2008.

That said, I showed that I COULD learn from my mistakes.  Or did I?


***************************************************************************

Chap 26:  Almost

Saturday, November 15, 1986 A Wall St. trader fined $100 million

            He dropped it!  He fucking dropped it!  Holy shit!  He dropped it!  That was fucking close!

            Notre Dame had 4^th and goal, the guy was wide open in the end zone, and he just dropped the ball.  Penn State wins!  We were still undefeated!  One more game and we’d be headed to the National Championship.  And that one game was against Pitt.  Penn State- Pitt: our biggest rivalry.  The only thing that could stop was overconfidence.  After all there was no way that pitiful Pitt could beat the Nittany Lions!  They’d sucked since Dan Marino graduated.

            You could hear the Lion roar in the voices of thousands of students cheering in their apartments, their dorms, the bars, and in the fraternity houses.  Everyone was glued to their TVs.

            Everyone spilled out of their apartments onto Beaver Avenue.  It was so cold and windy!  The throng was tightly packed between the “Canyon” between Alexander Court and Cedarbrook, Penn Tower and Kappa Sig.  We jumped up and down shouting and cheering.  The balconies above us were packed with people screaming and throwing rolls of toilet paper like streamers. 

            From above: “WE ARE!”

            “PENN STATE!”  we shouted back. 

            “WE ARE!  “PENN STATE!”          

            Eventually ending as always with “THANK YOU!” “YOU’RE WELCOME!”      And random screaming. 

Some people on balconies cut loose with fire extinguishers.  Others threw cups of beer.  Various other cheers rose from the crowd: “JOE-PAH!”  “WE WANT THE LION!”

And, inevitably: “SHIT ON PITT!  SHIT ON PITT! SHIT ON PITT!”

I figure I was on the street for an hour or so.  Didn’t feel cold at first, but as the beer splashes started to freeze, I began to shiver.  The crowd started dispersing so I went to the House.  The party wasn’t supposed to start until ten, but at eight the kegs were already tapped.  The big screen TV was in the club room (with its 40 inch screen) and all the chairs and couches were turned toward it.  Plastic cups were everywhere- empty, full, filled with drowned cigarettes, whatever.  I hung out for a beer or three, but everyone was busy upstairs getting high or whatever, leaving the pledges to set up the party. 

So I left.  Went back to the apartment, showered, shaved, changed clothes, ate (and other unnecessary stuff).  Headed to Crow around elevenish. 

As usual, my name was on the guest list at Crow.  I kinda didn’t know if it would be after recent events.  The line to get into Crow was always short, so it wasn’t long before I was downstairs at the bar.  Virginia was, as always, one of many people drinking behind the bar and doling out beers, and as always the game was Flip a Cup. 

“An-gels fall like rain…And love love love love - is all of heaven away. 

Inside you the times moves, and she don't fade. 

The ghost in you- She don't fade.”

Virginia gave me a beer and smiled.  The party went on as always.  Eventually Judy showed up with Rich.  She tapped me on the shoulder, and I bent down for her to shout in my ear.

“You must explain why this must be. 

Did you lie when you spoke to me? 

Did you stand by me?
No, not at all.”

“What?” I shouted back.

“Are you walking Virginia home?” she shouted again.

            “Should I?”

            She looked at me strangely- a mixture of confusion and dread.  And something else that I couldn’t figure out.

            “If she needs you to, yes” she finally answered. 

            Rich stood next to me at the bar, and a pledge handed him two beers.  He smiled at me, gave a beer to Judy, and they disappeared into the crowd.

            Dice appeared from somewhere, so there were two cups going for Flip a Cup AND a game of three man going at the bar.

            After playing for too long, I found myself in the “living room” (the one with the couches.)  The music from the nearby “dance floor” (the neighboring room) was loud, but a person could still talk to someone else without shouting.  Still, I could hear everyone singing along.

“So bye-bye, miss American pie.

Drove my Chevy to the levee, But the levee was dry.”

I was talking to Rich.  Judy was nowhere in sight. 

            “So I heard you banged Virginia!” he said with a drunken smile.

            “Does everybody know?”  I asked then took a hefty gulp of the flattening beer.

            “I don’t know.  Judy told me.  Better watch it with her.  She gets nutty in a hurry.”

            “In what way?”

            “Really possessive.  Weird.”  He drank a gulp of beer.

            “Oh great.  How would you know?”

            “I, um, saw it happen the summer she was up here.  She got really clingy with a brother in a hurry, and really jealous and shit.”

            “Shit!”

            “That’s right!  Have fun!”  He smiled and swigged some more beer.

            “Thanks” I finished my beer.  “Where’s Judy?  Haven’t seen her in a while.”

            “I don’t know.  Probably in the other room.  All the little sisters love to sing along to this song.  Weird.”

I could hear lots of people singing along, not a key among them.

“And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye,

Singin’, this’ll be the day that I die.”

“Y-know” Rich continued, “I thought you were chasing her, and it pissed me off.  Now I see that I was wrong.

I looked back at him.  “Seems that way.”

Well, I’m sorry that I mis-mis judged you.”  Rich put out his hand.

So he knew.  I guess he’s not stupid.  I looked down at his hand, then shook it.  A lie.  Have some balls, Lance.  Tell him the truth.  It’s only a matter of time until he finds out anyway.

The truth.  What was the fucking truth anyway?  I fucked up two possibilities chasing some girl who already had a boyfriend and wouldn’t leave him.  I couldn’t even get up the guts to fuck her.  Then, just when things were getting interesting, I went and fucked her roommate.  Destroyed everything I had going.  And the one I DID fuck has all kinds of baggage I don’t need.  THAT’S the fucking truth.

“Hey!  You still with me?”  Rich asked.

I snapped out of it.  “Oh!  Sorry!  Lost in thought.”

“Yeah, well think twice before getting too involved with Virginia.  All you’ll find there is a whole world of shit.”

Great.

I drifted back downstairs.  The front of the bar was shouting “Tastes great!” then the people in back of the bar would shout “Less Filling!” and back and forth, drowning out the speakers.

“Your eyes are blue like the heavens above.

Talk to me darlin’ with a Message of Love!”  

the Pretenders snarled.

I almost bumped into Judy, who was carrying two beers.

“She’s still back there!” she shouted over the noise, the walked toward the stairs.  I nosed through the crowd to the edge of the bar.  Virginia was down at the other end.  The dice were gone, but the two cups were still going.  Virginia landed one face up, looked over at me and shouted.

“Skull!  Imbibe!”

Fuck.  I chugged a beer handed to me by someone filling them behind the bar, accepted another, and headed back upstairs.  Rich and Judy were slow dancing on the darkened dance floor.

“You know I love you but I just can’t take this. 

You know I love you but I’m in too deep”

Phil Collins crooned.

Collegian Monday, Nov 17, 1986

Getting close to one thirty.  I was drunk and alone and feeling really stupid.  I found a corner of the living room to stand in and slowly finish my beer.  Several Crow little sisters smiled and waved at me as they bounced by, but none stopped to talk.  A couple was passionately making out on the couch across the room.

Finished the beer.  Dropped the cup.  Landed face down.  Why couldn’t I do that downstairs?  Went up front.  Found my battered blue coat behind DJ.  Wrestled it on.  Looked over to see dance floor empty. 

“Taaaaaaaaake onnnnnnn meeeeeeee (take on me) Taaaaaaaaaake meeeeeeee hoooooommmmmmme (take on me!)”

Virginia walked up behind me.

“Walk me home?” she asked without emotion.

“Sure.  I’ll be waiting out front.”

“Well, I don’t want to fucking inconvenience you.  Don’t bother, asshole!”

“Whatever.  I’ll be waiting out front.”

“Fuck you” she gestured in sign language.

Went out front.  The cold air felt good and crisp after the noise and the smoke.  Night still buzzed with energy.  Like a distant cheering.  The Lion purring.  Waited a couple minutes.  Started to head down the walk when Virginia came out.  Looked at me.  I waited for her.  Walked her home- same route as always.

Didn’t come within three feet of each other.  Music at Pika. 

“We built this city.  We built this city from rock and roll!”

Ugh.  Ignored it.  Didn’t talk.  Got to Sutton Court.  She went in.  I didn’t.

Walked back to the apt.  Alone.

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