Monday, July 13, 2020

Dreams of Old Revisited

On November 20, 2016, I posted a blog entry called Dreams of Old, which was about things I dreamed of eventually doing.  I thought it may be fun to revisit it, almost four years later.  Below is the original text.  I've added new comments in italics, and some small corrections to spelling.  Oh, and changed some pictures.

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Dreams.  I write about them a lot.  I talk about them.  Everyone has them supposedly.  I was speaking with a friend about childhood dreams.

I have stated many times that my dreams are Dead.  But are they?  (Yes.) What dreams have I had in this life?

So, I decided to make a list.  What are all the dreams for my life that I remember having?  And what happened to them?  I put these in order the best I could.


Firefighter:  One of my earliest dreams.  I lived across the street from the firehouse, and would see the volunteers sprint to it when the whistle blew.  I would then see the large firetrucks (Gray first, then Yellow) leave the firehouse, sirens blaring!  I wanted to help as well!


I'm on the left

Status:  I became an EMT in 1984, and went on to be a paramedic until the early 1990s.  So, I'd say I fulfilled that one.  (I did.  The cost was PTSD and feeling I've accomplished nothing since.)

Astronaut:
Another early dream.  One of my earliest memories was watching the moon landing on TV.  And, like so many people, I would look at the night sky and wish that I could explore the stars.  Having been born nearly the same day as Star Trek helped that a lot!  When I was a child, NASA launched several moon missions, and I was glued to the TV for them.

Status:  When I was in third grade, I had to get glasses.  Back then, to be an astronaut, you had to have 20/20 uncorrected vision.  So my dreams of flight were dashed, leaving me with really ugly horn rimmed glasses.

A Day of Peace and Quiet:
Sounds unusual for a kid, right?  Well, I was an odd kid.  Whenever my brother got bored, he would come pick on me, causing a fight.  And I would get in trouble (sometimes he would too.)  I remember wishing for a day when I could just do whatever without being picked on or yelled at.  I could just sit and read or whatever.

Status:  When I started working at Burger King, my parents no longer required me to go on family vacations, as I was working.  My brother usually still went, because he liked fishing, etc.  So, I would have the house to myself, and I would take care of the family dog.  Just me.  It was then that I started "crossdressing."  I remember the hot summer days, walking Sabre by the river, reading, watching MTV (which my parents forbade), and going to work for a few hours.  It was heaven for my tortured teenage soul.  So yes, that one was fulfilled.

Becoming A Girl:
The dream of so many transgender people- to magically wake up in the body which you should've been born with.  I used to take long walks when I was a teen (see: Peace and Quiet, above) to sort out my head.  Hormones were rushing, causing changes I didn't want.  The girls were becoming women, and, due to delayed adolescence, I was still me.  It wasn't fair!  In any case, I didn't WANT the changes that were coming my way.  But, come they did, and there was nothing I could do about it.  All the wishes in the world weren't going to prevent it.

Status: Well, there was no magical solution.  Now I'm on HRT and living as a woman.  I'd say that this one, due to its nature and timing, didn't come true. (And never will.)

Yearbook pic: 1984.  See below.

Happiness:
So, this seems basic, especially if you look at Maslow.  I even put it in my yearbook- all I wanted to be was Happy.  It seems so easy, yet is so hard to achieve.  I have come to believe that Happiness is something you are born with.  You either are or you aren't.  Others say it's a choice.  I'll entertain that argument, but I don't believe it.

Maslow's Hierarchy Source:  https://www.simplypsychology.org/maslow.html


Status:  Unfulfilled now and forever

Go to College:
College.  Higher education.  Back when I was growing up, I was always told that College was the gateway to a better life.  That if I worked hard at school, and went to college, my future would be set.  And going to college was by no means assured.  But that is what I wanted.  Long story short, I worked hard and made it to college.  Then a Masters.  Then Unemployment.  Now, going for PhD.

Status:  This dream came true.


A Girlfriend:
I always figured that people could see right through me- that my "secret" was no secret at all.  In any case, I was a late bloomer, so I was undersized and looked like a little boy while my classmates were shaving daily.  So of course, the girls wanted them, not me.  Yet, I dreamed of finding someone who would see ME, not just a runt.  And of course, my dating someone would cure me of my insane need to be female.  Right?  It took a while, but in January of my senior year, I finally did start dating someone seriously.  We lasted two years before she cheated.  I mean, after all, I was off at college and all, so DUH, but I didn't see it that way at the time.  Then a college girlfriend.  Then another major relationship.  Then another- whom I married...  See below.

Status:  This dream came true.  Be careful what you wish for...



Go to a College that wasn't an Urban Hell:
So I went to Drexel University, located in a not great part of Philadelphia.  I figured that the BIG CITY would be the answer to my prayers, and I'd become a City person- cultured and urbane.  Nope.  I hated it.  I got mugged four times in two years.  A classmate was murdered.  Then that whole MOVE thing.  In fall 1985, I visited my childhood best friend, Dr. Dave, at Penn State.  And I was hooked.  Penn State was everything I'd ever dreamed college should be.  But, transferring?  That's a major change.  Would I have the courage?  As it turns out, I did.

Status:  This Dream came true.  One of the best decisions I ever made.  Absolutely true.  I still think this.


Graduate College:
So there I was at Penn State!  I met people, and partied... and did my damnedest to be the Man I was expected to be.  But- what did that mean?  And could I live up to what I felt I should accomplish?  Well, no.  I didn't adjust well at first.  And my drinking was out of control.  But I was determined- I WOULD graduate!  I WOULD make a great life for myself and make a difference!  And THEN I'd be Happy, right?  Wrong.

Status:  I graduated from Penn State in 1989.  Dream fulfilled.  For all the good it did me.


Find a Job:
Great- now I had a degree!  My teaching career came to a screeching halt.  Now what?  I searched and searched.  I found a couple temporary jobs, but nothing stable.  I went back to the restaurant business- waiting tables and bar tending.  I felt I'd be trapped there forever.  I wasn't, yet, when I have "work dreams," they're either about TGI Fridays or Games Workshop or a horrible amalgam of the two.


At Fridays, 1990

Status:  See below.

Find a girl who wouldn't cheat on me:
It seemed that every woman I could find to date me ended up cheating on me.  I guess I wasn't Manly enough.  Many women told me that they saw me as "one of the girls" or "didn't see me THAT way" and, of course, the dreaded "Let's just be friends."  I would meet Wife in April 1991.

Status:  Dream fulfilled.  I'm sure she regrets that...

Death:
So.  I couldn't find a real job.  I was drinking far too much.  I was lonely.  Depressed.  Couldn't get a date.  Then the woman who I thought was the answer to my prayers cheated on me.  It all became a whirling vortex, which, when added to complete bitter self- hatred, was lethal.  I wanted to die- badly.  I started driving without a seat belt, knowing full well that I could be killed.  I wrote about this time period HERE.

Status:  Failed.  Still alive.

Find a Real job:
In April 1991, I was still working at Fridays.  I met Wife.  I was miserable in the food service business.  I wanted More.  I felt I could do more.  This was during the first Bush recession and jobs were scarce.  That July, we went to a gaming convention in Baltimore, where I met people who worked for Chessex Game Distributors.  After a couple more months, they hired me.  I worked there for three years, before quitting (before I was fired) and going to Games Workshop.

Status:  Fulfilled for a time.



Me at work: Games Workshop. 1999.

Buy a house:
Ok, so I had this steady job in Baltimore.  And I hated apartment living.  Wife kept saying how she wanted a House.  And she got me wanting one as well.  It seemed like an eternity, but yes, we did finally buy a house in Owings Mills, MD, that we owned for five years before we left Maryland.

Status:  Dream came true.  I loved that house.

Figure out why I am so miserable:
I had a job.  I had a wonderful wife.  I had a dog.  A circle of friends.  So why was I so angry and full of self-hatred?  There HAD to be a reason.  So I thought about it.  The last time I felt the closest to Happy was in college, so the root must be there.  My brilliant solution- write a book about my college experience and research the HELL out of it.  And I did.  It took seven years, but I did it!  But the answers weren't in those pages.  I finished the book in early 2008.  I didn't know that my Answers would be coming soon...

Status: I finally did figure this out, so I'd have to say fulfilled.


Restore my marriage:
When I moved back to Pennsylvania, my marriage was on VERY shaky ground.  Without going into detail, I was deeply depressed to the point I could barely function.  Wife lost her patience with this.  I remember crying into my pillow often, just wishing I could have my happy marriage back.  (I'm tearing up even thinking about that.)  Yes, still tearing up about it.

Status:  We worked through the trouble.  Then my female side re-emerged, destroying everything.

Find a Real Job:
So there I was, back in Pennsylvania.  After a couple months, I found a job as holiday staff at a chain bookstore.  It didn't pay much, but it was income.  However, it wasn't enough for Wife and I to get a house and move out of MIL's place.  After the holidays, the bookstore kept me on.  Thirteen years later, I'm still there.  I lasted 14 years and 3 months to the day before being fired, along with every other Head Cashier in the chain.  I've kept looking for better, full time work, and occasionally found work (like at Vanguard) but I stayed with the bookstore just in case.  Smart move.  The other jobs always petered out.

Status:  See below.

Get my Masters Degree:
One of the goals I had when moving back to Pennsylvania was to earn my Masters degree in Education.  I did my due diligence, and decided to enroll at Penn State Great Valley campus.  I needed loans.  I got them.  It took years (due to financial considerations) but I finally received my Masters degree in 2007.

Status:  Fulfilled.


Get a Real Real Job:
I had my Masters degree, so it was time to really make a living, right?  WRONG!  I graduated during the Bush II depression.  There were no jobs to be had in my field, and those that WERE available, I'd "priced myself out of the marketplace" simply by having the degree.  I put out ten resumes a day, every day, for seven years (that's 25,560 resumes- including 10 for Leap day the one year.)  Not a bite.  In all that time, one or two calls.  One interview.  I stopped doing that when I transitioned, figuring I'd start again after my name change.  I started again, and got exactly 3 interviews.  No call backs.  One of the interviewers didn't bother to hide their anti-trans bias.

Status:  Unfulfilled, probably forever.

Determine Who I am really:
As I've written MANY times, my feminine self reawakened on Halloween 2008.  That led to a lot of soul searching and Pain.  I knew that Sophie was part of my life permanently.  I dreamed of figuring out my Truth, and how to live with it.  I prayed for it.  I NEEDED it.  My Myspace blogs are chock full of my trying to figure this out.

Status:  Fulfilled.  I figured out who I am: Sophie.

Start HRT:
Having determined who I truly was, the time came to start integrating my feminine side into my life.  I dreamed of being more feminine- of the day I didn't need pads in my bra or to wear a wig. Wife and I talked, and we decided I should start HRT, if only to keep me from going completely crazy.  What neither of us expected was how my body would react to the hormones, or the inevitability of her mother finding out my secret.

Status:  Fulfilled

Transition to Full Time alongside Lisa:
In August of 2013, I attended an amazing party.  Soon after, my dearest friend Lisa Empanada and made a promise to each other- that we would Transition to our True selves together, supporting each other every step of the way: "Transition Sisters."


Lisa and I at Southern Comfort- our last night.

Not long after that, I was thrown out of the house.  And, a couple weeks later, Lisa broke all her promises by killing herself.  I have written a TON on how this affected me, and the community.  I still hurt.

Status:  Failed.  Will never come true.

Death:
Lisa's death sent me into a nose dive towards suicide.  My whole life disintegrated.  Within three weeks, I'd lost my home, my marriage, and my best friend.  I seriously have NO idea how I survived September 2013.  But I did.  I STILL don't know how I survived it.  Even after years of reflection.

And so I made a plan, and December 2013, I was headed toward Penn State to execute the plan: suicide behind the Nittany Lion shrine.  Obviously, it didn't happen.

Nor did my extensively plotted plan to end my life on my fiftieth birthday last September.

The Darkness is still with me.  I fight it EVERY DAY.   Lisa once said she was "one bad day away from ending it."  I understand that completely.  Every night, I lay in bed and contemplate ending it all.  And usually, I smile.  Yet every morning, I awaken, and, somehow, find the strength to get out of bed and face another day.  In this fight, I have amazing allies, like my roomie and bestie, Linda Lewis.  I will fight this battle all the days of my life.

Status:  Hasn't come true.  Will someday.  As it will for everyone.

Transition:
With my life in ruins, I pushed ahead with my plan to transition- to live my Truth.  On March 25, 2014, I started living as my True Self: a Woman.  In the years that have followed, I've chipped away at the necessities of name change, gender markers, etc.  It's still a work in process.

Status: Came True.  At great cost.  Was it worth the cost?  In my case: no.

GCS/FFS:
Now I start going into what would be considered "current" dreams.  If I had them.  Which I don't.  In any case, I live my Truth every day.  I would LOVE to finish the process, and be a Complete Woman.  As for FFS, I'd love to see a feminine face gazing back from me from the mirror instead of a Neanderthal.  However, as each costs more money than I make in a decade, neither will be happening.  So, I don't even dream of them anymore.  Why keep hurting myself?  (See: "Death" above)

Status:  Yeah right.



June 2020.  Still the same mug- just older.

Doctorate:
I have always had the smallest flicker of a dream that I would someday be a PhD.  My dear friend Dr. Dave has two of them!  However, getting my Masters degree saddled me with a ton of student loan debt that won't be paid off in my lifetime.  Also, if just getting a Masters priced me out of the marketplace, a Doctorate would kill all possibility of work.

Then there's the question of topic.  Education?  I'd rather get one in American Studies, or History, or Gender Studies.  But then I'd need to go back and get masters in these topics first, which, again, I can't afford.  Also, I can't take the time off work to pursue these degrees.  So I don't even dare dream of this either.  Why keep hurting myself?  (See: "Death" above)

Status:  Yeah right.  This one is now in process.  I've completed my first year of work toward a PhD in Lifelong Learning and Adult Education.  It's been a rough ride, especially with the pandemic, but... it's not over yet.  I do one day at a time.  That's all.


So, there it is- a tour through the ashes of my desires.  Yes, some Dreams came True, usually through a combination of hard work and dumb luck.  Some of these dreams left deep scars that will never heal.  That's the danger of dreaming- even daring to do so can cause intense pain.

But sometimes...



"Is a Dream a Lie if it don't come true
Or is it something worse..."
Bruce Springsteen The River

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2020 Coda:  In re-reading this, it's amazing what has changed (no longer employed; now at PSU) and how much hasn't (Depression, failure.)  Each day, I do what needs to be done, and try to help others.  Since the original post, times have become FAR more dangerous for people like me- as was expected.  Transgender people are now denied healthcare, shelter, military service, and basic recognition of our existence.  There's supposed to be an election in a few months, but I doubt it will happen.  And even if it does, the results will be falsified to keep 45 in power. 

Dreams?  I don't have them.  The GOP have outlawed dreams for people like me.  But they didn't have to do that- I stopping dreaming... and hoping... long ago.

Just existing.  Day by day.

Seeing Two Ways

A while back, I went to lunch at the recently re-opened Cafe 210 West with my roomie and bestie Linda.  I had some wonderful wings and a pitcher of their signature Long Island Iced Tea (small pitcher.)  Many of the tables were missing, as they are on "social distancing footing."  Still, every table outside on the patio was full as people drank and watched people go by on College Ave (a fave PSU pass time.)

Cafe 210 view

I finished my wings and was almost done my drink, when something occurred to me.  In the photo above, the table by the window is empty, but by this time two guys about my age were seated there.  Alumni- and they hadn't been here for a while.  I know this because one of them took a picture of a Joe Paterno poster on the wall that was relatively recent. 


I thought about what the bar used to look like during my undergrad days when I came here (late 87- Dec 88.)  It's actually not all that different.  A few things are different, like the phone charging station (cell phones didn't exist back then.)  


Then it occurred to me... one of the few benefits of aging is the ability to see things as they ARE, now in the present, and seeing them as they WERE in the past.  It's a strange ability, to be sure.  While walking on the Penn State campus, I remember buildings demolished and replaced by the new ones currently standing in their place.  That bar was once a game store.  That clothing store was an arcade.  In Phoenixville, that Mexican place was once the Trio restaurant.  That parking lot was once a department store.  In Royersford, that shopping mall was once an amusement park.  That McMansion farm used to be a cornfield.  

It's not just here, and, obviously, I'm not alone.  What do the elderly see when encountering a place they knew well?

Obviously, time changes everything.




State College Bars of the 80's, now gone

In some ways this is a good thing- if you love history as I do.  I see how things change.  I see what was, and what is.  And, sometimes, what will be (especially with all the construction here in State College.)

Still, it's a reminder that I'm getting older.  Yes, things change, sometimes for the better (like the aforementioned phone charging stations.)  Sometimes not- (pandemic.)  As I've written somewhere before, all the tears in the world will not slow or stop time.  Each second is as long as the last, and so on.

This afternoon, I walked by the Cafe again.  All of the patio tables were full, mostly with young couples.  One couple in particular caught my eye- probably still undergrads, each with a solo pitcher of beverage in front of them (like the one I had.)  They were engaged in deep conversation, with nothing else in the world mattering but the moment and each other's smiles.  I thought about snapping a quick picture, but I didn't.  I would be intruding.

I tried to remember what it was like being that age- about the summer I spent in State College in 1988; about having my whole life unwritten before me, and full of promise, instead of the weight of decades of failure, regret, and mistakes aging me beyond my years.  

I thought about it, and kept walking.


Saturday, June 13, 2020

Transgender Healthcare Protections Eliminated- commentary by Charlotte Clymer

Trump has stripped health care protections from transgender Americans.  I've expected this since the election, and wonder what took them so long.  I have so many thoughts on this, but not articulated as well as what I've already read.

Despite what 45 would have you think, I'm human, As are transgender people all over the world.  We are frail and mortal, just like everyone else.  And like everyone else, we sometimes need medical help.  

The following was written by the great Charlotte Clymer on twitter, and is reproduced here with her kind permission.  My occasional comments will be italicized.  

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If you don't quite understand what horror the Trump administration inflicted today on transgender and non-binary people seeking medical care and why we're scared, let me tell you a quick story. 

[TW: transphobia, trans death]


On the morning of August 7, 1995, 24 year-old Tyra Hunter was on her way to work as a passenger in a friend's car when it collided at an intersection in D.C. -- she and her friend were pulled from the wreckage, and paramedics were called.

Tyra Hunter was nearly incapacitated on the ground when paramedics arrived and began treating the injured. A male fireman cut open her pants consistent with protocol and upon discovering she had a penis, stopped treating her and began ruthlessly mocking and misgendering her.

The firefighter, Adrian Williams, joked with other department personnel while Tyra Hunter continued to struggle for breath. All refused to treat her. Bystanders pleaded with them, one saying (and misgendering): "It don't make any difference, he's a person, he's a human being."

The firefighters--who were also EMS personnel--continued to joke, one reportedly saying: "Look, it's a cock and balls". Her treatment was delayed as none would approach begin to triage, watching her die and laughing. Finally, a supervisor arrived and administered first aid.


Tyra Hunter

Tyra Hunter's battered body was taken to D.C. General Hospital, where she was bizarrely--and mysteriously--neglected. Blood was ordered but not taken. Tests were supposedly taken w/ results strangely lost.

She was admitted as: "combative transgendered 'John Doe' with breasts and male genitalia, makeup and female clothes". Later analysis showed obvious symptoms of being in hypovolemic shock, and yet, what should have been a direct treatment seemed to be intentionally obfuscated.

Her pulse and blood pressure fell as she lay on a gurney, ignored by the attending physician and other medical staff. She was paralyzed by a muscle relaxant and an expert physician would later testify in court that she would have experienced "sheer terror" in that state.

She had arrived at the E.R. at 4:10pm and died at 5:20pm, virtually alone in a busy room, suffocating from a lack of oxygen in her blood. Post-death CPR and heart massage were administered, by that point seeming like boxes to be checked for paperwork. This was preventable.

At trial, medical experts testified that Tyra Hunter would have had an 86% chance of survival with appropriate medical treatment. A jury awarded her mother $2.9 million in damages for D.C. fire personnel violating the D.C. Human Rights Law and medical malpractice by D.C. General.

This is arguably the most infamous case of anti-transgender discrimination by medical providers. It led to a revolution in transgender rights in the D.C. metropolitan area and became a rallying cry for LGBTQ patients in general.

Because here's the thing: discrimination of this kind is not rare. We don't know how many LGBTQ people have died for being refused treatment on the basis of their sexual orientation or gender identity, but we know discrimination that can potentially enable death is common.  [It's happened to me more than once.  And to many that I know.]

A study by Lambda Legal found 56% of LGB and 70% of transgender patients have experienced discrimination from health care providers, commonly being turned away or refused medically-necessary care because of the medical provider's personal or religious beliefs.

This is already a scary environment for LGBTQ patients, so imagine how it felt last year when Trump and Pence announced through the Dept. of Health and Human Services proposed this regulation stripping out protections for transgender people in the Affordable Care Act.

And not just trans people. All LGBTQ people, folks who are pregnant, and other marginalized communities can be denied ALL forms of medical care by providers if the provider feels treating that patient would go against their personal or religious beliefs. This is all real.  [for example, a doctor could refuse to help a Muslim if they wish.]

The regulation put into effect today by Trump and Pence is meant to pander to religious extremists who feel doctors, nurses--even hospital receptionists--should be able to refuse recognizing transgender patients, even for life-saving care. Heart attacks, cancer, anything.

The rule essentially guts Sec. 1557 of the Affordable Care Act -- the part that says discrimination on the basis of "sex" should include gender identity and sex stereotyping. What is "sex stereotyping"? It's discrimination because you don't "look the right way" for your gender.

A woman who wears more masculine clothing or man who is even a little effeminate. A child who paints his nails or a girl that has a really short haircut. All these people, regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity, violate conformity society expects for gender.  [say, a woman wearing pants for example]

In theory, ANYONE is vulnerable under this rule, even if they're not transgender, even if they're heterosexual. But folks who are transgender? We will suffer because of this. That's not theoretical. That's not a guess. That's reality, a reality that's now government-sanctioned.  

That this is done during a pandemic--during Pride--cannot help but feel intentionally cruel. It is a signal by Trump and Pence that they seek to wipe out trans people from the public square. If they can convince the public we don't deserve medical care, all else is on the table.   [on the anniversary of the Pulse massacre- an extra twist of the knife]

They want to allow doctors and nurses and other medical personnel to look a trans patient and say: "Treating this person goes against my beliefs, and I will not."

This rule attempts to make that legal.

Trump and Pence will not stop with health care. This is just the start. Other protections are being stripped away. They are coming after trans people with everything they've got. And when they've convinced the public this is all fine, they'll come for others, too. Guaranteed.  [who's next?  Muslims?  Latino children are already in camps.]

This election in November is not theoretical on any level for transgender and non-binary people. Our future--every bit of it--is on the ballot. We have to defeat Trump, and we have to take back the Senate.

So, you're a cis person asking what you can do? The following:

1. Register to vote. Now. Don't wait.
2. Support pro-equality candidates who believe health care should be available to all people. Vote for Biden. Vote for Democrats. Don't play around with this.
3. Support trans advocacy orgs, esp. for Black trans folks  [emphasis mine]

I am scared. Trans and non-binary people are scared today. LGBTQ folks are generally scared today. We need you to step up and realize that lives are literally on the line in this election. They want you to be distracted and forget and become complacent. Don't.

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Thank you Charlotte.  




Tuesday, May 26, 2020

Sophie Dolls Up

I haven't felt feminine in a long time.  I decided to do my makeup and do the best I could.  I also decided to take pictures as I did it for the sheer hell of it. 

So here they are, all of Sophie's makeup secrets!


Step One.  I've showered, shaved and dried my hair.  This is what I look like after I do all that.  I still see a guy in the mirror.  


Step Two:  I've used a curling iron, and done my best to get some VOLUME in my very fine hair.  meh.


Step Three: Ok, some blue blocker and eye shadow (I used pinks.)


Step Four: Eye liner and foundation around muzzle



Step Five: Eyebrow work and mascara.  I tried false eyelashes again and failed miserably.


Step Six: Coverup around eye sockets, then some white in the corner to "bring it out" since my eyes are very deep set.


Step Seven: Some subtle contouring around the oval of the face, either side of my schnoz and cheeks.


Step Eight: Even with big boobs, some make up contouring can be fun.  I should've blended it more.  Not that anyone is looking.


Step Nine: Dress time!  I always put on whatever I'm wearing before doing my lippie.



Step Ten: Ok, so red lipstick isn't subtle, but since my eyes are, why not?


Step Eleven: Jewelry and a smile completes the look.


So, what do you think?


It's funny.  I still see a guy in the mirror most of the time.  Yet, after I doll up, sometimes I see a woman in the picture, and I can't believe she's really me.

So I had a little fun with photoshop after doing these.  I'm trying to get back into practice with it.



Took off a LOT of weight, half my forehead, and the scar.

So, there it is dear reader.  My day so far.  I feel much better than when I woke up.  I just need to feel like a woman sometimes.  









Monday, May 25, 2020

Masks


A version of this was originally posted at TG Forum.  The genesis of this piece was a discussion I was having with a friend about the topic of living one's Truth, a fraction of which is told here.  
The irony is that everyone is complaining about wearing masks these days due to the pandemic.  I'd say many of them stopped wearing the mask of "caring about others" to let their inner narcissistic sociopath shine-  sort of like 45 supporters who let their inner racist show as well by supporting one.  But that's not what this piece is about.  This is about a different level of mask- one that one created to survive in a world that that not only don't they understand, but also would tear them down if they did.
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Believe it or not, I’m actually very shy.  I always have been.  Being bullied from a young age will do that.  I stayed as quiet as I could in class, and generally avoided people with whom I wasn’t close.  "You end up like a dog that's been beat too much" as Bruce wrote.
That started to change a little in high school when I was hired at Burger King.  Thanks to my dear departed friend Chuck, who extended his hand, I began to come out from behind the walls I built.  It helped that, at BK, I had to wear a silly uniform.  It was butt ugly- brown red and orange.  It was like I could be someone just a little different when wearing it, especially since, at first, I didn’t know most of the crew.


Picture, makeup, hair by Amanda Richards of True Colors
It was the same after I graduated college.  In late 1989, after leaving teaching, I was among the first hired for T.G.I. Fridays at King of Prussia mall.  There, I had to wear the red and white stripes, a hat, and “flair.”  Yes, OfficeSpace nailed that spot on. However, at that point, I figured that if were going to earn money at the job, I’d have to stand out.  So I adopted a “persona”- the happy, goofy, stupid hat wearing Lance.  Putting on the stripes was like putting on a clown suit- it allowed me to be someone else.  Even then, I referred to the uniform as “clown suit.”  I could play the fool and not care.  When not working, I was an absolutely miserable, drunken SOB.  It let a side of me come out that I (and those who I let in) knew: bad puns, goofy sense of humor, sometimes a bit too cutting. 
Me, Fridays, 1990.
I’ve always loved Halloween, because that one night a year, I could wear a mask and be whatever I wanted… to a point.  That was until Halloween 2008, when all the defenses crumbled.  My female self would no longer be denied.
“Sophie” was a mask.  One weekend a month, I could let a side of me emerge that I’d hidden a long time.  Was she different than him?  Yes, at first.  We had hard drinking in common, but aside from that, I felt… more at peace while dressed as a woman.  To “become” Sophie, I wore a corset, hip pads, breast forms (or the infamous breasts from the UK), a wig, and usually was made over by a professional- most often the incredible Amanda Richards.  If one could put Sophie in a room with Lance, and you didn’t know who I was, you couldn’t tell they were the same person.  My body language was more relaxed.  I could let go the tension.
At the Empire Conference as well as Beauty at the Beach, I did a stand-up comedy routine.  By that time, my training as a teacher prepared me for speaking to groups, but this was different- I was doing this as Sophie.  However, I did this as “costume” Sophie- wearing something ridiculous. 
I’ve done four plays since transition.  In three of them, I wore a costume and was able to play the fool.  Costume as a mask: permission to be someone else entirely.
I was discussing this very topic with someone who is still closeted.  She asked me how different Sophie is from Lance.  I thought, well there’s Sophie, the Truth; “Sophie” the crossdresser; then there was Lance.  Then it hit me “like I was shot... like I was shot with a diamond... a diamond bullet right through my forehead” that…
Lance was a costume- a Mask.
 Lance was, while me, still just a construct of what I thought everyone expected me to be- as a guy.  The people I loved, especially my Wife, saw who I really was behind that mask, but not… everything.  Not until March 2014, when I began living my Truth.


That’s when I discovered how few could accept the person under the mask.  Like the Phantom of the Opera, I scared people away.  The people I’ve met since then, who never knew Him, they have seen me as close to “raw” as possible.  There are parts of me that I’ll never let out; Same as everyone else. 
Truth is rarely pleasant, and most people prefer the lie- prefer the costume.  So do I, on Halloween.  I’m still learning about who I am.  53 years old, and in many ways still a child.  That’s the curse of mid-life transition, as well as the blessing.  I’ll never stop learning.

(If you know the quote I used, tip of the hat to you!)

Sunday, May 10, 2020

Men of the Skull Chapter 186: Graduation

How do you say goodbye to a dream? Penn State was a dream come true in so many ways. I remember thinking that on my first visit to PSU, that I'd found Paradise- college as I always imagined it could be. 

For me, as an institution, it was all that.  While he learned it wasn't that way for everyone, and I (along with many others) did what I could to improve things. 

However, not everything was wonderful.  My fraternity, for the most part, treated me like shit for being a transfer student (and because I was "different.")  I had my first grown-up relationship- with the wrong person.  I did things that I still regret now 30+ years later. 

Still, there was Magic- a Magic that all of us shared, and keeps us coming back.  As I type this, I'm back at PSU working on my doctorate.  I'm old enough to be the parent of the undergrads.  And I'm a transgender woman. 

This time of year, I can't help but think about those last days.  For an education major like me, the last semester was spent away from school, student teaching.  So technically, my "last days" were before Christmas break.  But graduation... that's the period at the end of the chapter

Many people transition smoothly from college to jobs without a thought.  I wasn't one of them.

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


Chapter 186: Graduation 

Saturday, May 13, 1989 Bush urges major shift in Soviet ties

            I spent the day wandering around again.  Many people went to the bars and drank all day or hooked up or whatever, but as I had very little money, I had to conserve it.  I picked up my black cap and gown.  I wanted to tell them that there was some kind of mistake, that I still had credits to take, that I still had friends- that I still had parties to attend.
            I knew it was over, though.  Last fall, Dave was gone- up to Rochester.  What would being here be like without Judy?  I couldn’t imagine it.
            That night, I went to the Skeller to see Queen Bee (the reason I saved all my money.)  I saw some people I knew from the summer before or from classes, and tried to make small talk, but Queen Bee was, as always, really fucking Loud!
You got to love me with a feelin', or you don't love me at all.
            Last call!  I ordered one last Rolling Rock and cheered as the band finished their encore.
            Instead of heading uphill back to the Bone, I headed uphill in the other direction: onto campus.
            Campus was completely deserted in the rain.
            The Lion was alone as well.  By then I was fairly wet, so I didn’t mind getting a wet ass by sitting on the Lion’s base.
            “Well, I guess this is it.  Next time I see you, I’ll be an alumni.”
            The Lion stared in the same direction that it had for all those years.  Cold stone.
            “I’ll miss you.  Stupid as it is to miss a hunk of stone.  I guess I’ll miss what you represent.”
            The rain splashed around us.
            “I don’t want to leave.  I never want to leave.”


 Me at the Lion

Sunday, May 14, 1989 Bush calls for ouster of Noriega

            Graduation was scheduled for 1 PM.  The College of Education ceremony was in Eisenhower Auditorium, a little away from the bigger schools’ graduations, but that was ok. 
            My hangover woke me up around 10:30.  I slept on my old couch one last time, because at least I knew where it had been.  My parents were arriving in half an hour, more or less. 
            Somewhere in the house, someone was cranking the Dead.  It was appropriate.  If Skulls were going to graduate, to leave, it may as well be to the Grateful Dead.
Goin’ to leave this Brokedown Palace
On my hands and my knees I will roll, roll, roll
I showered, shaved, puked, and dressed in my blue polyester suit.  I was ready as I could be.

Dad, mom, and Jack arrived around 11:15, just when the rain stopped.  Dad wore his usual mud brown suit and mom wore a purple dress which was offset by her orange dyed hair.  Jack wore a shabby black suit.  He hadn’t showered, shaved or even combed his longish hair, and he wore black “Terminator” sunglasses.
“He slept all the way up since he came in at five this morning” dad said, glaring at Jack who drooled just a little.
I knew how he felt.
We somehow managed to get a table at the Gingerbread Man.  I needed food and hoped I could keep it down.  The crowd was strange, half in suits the other half in shorts.  After lunch it was about 12:20, and I had to get to Eisenhower.  I walked them up Shortlidge Avenue to the building, and went inside, cap and gown under my arm, stomach churning.
I pulled on the gown- backwards at first, and found my place.  We had one rehearsal.  I was behind Sandi.  She was so excited I thought she’d blow a fuse. 
“Oh my God, Lance!  Can you believe it’s really happening!? Oh, I shouldn’t have worn these shoes, I am so going to fall right on my face on stage!”
Her cap and gown had decorations indicating honors.  Her mortarboard was bobby pinned to her immaculately styled and sprayed hair at a perfect 45 degree angle.  She looked really good.
My gown was simple black.
“Yeah.  It’s happening” I said, forcing a smile.  “Did you go out last night?”
“No, my family came down from New York.  We thought we’d have the big dinner last night since every place will be packed tonight.  Did you go out last night?”
“Yeah.  Went to the Skeller to see Queen Bee.”
Sandi laughed.  “You Skulls!  You’ll be drunk the day of your own funerals!”
That didn’t make much sense.  Smile and nod.
We made a little more small talk as everyone ran through the ceremony once.  The auditorium was already getting pretty fucking hot.
After we finished rehearsal, we had ten minutes for whatever.  I had to take a leak, then I needed aspirin and water.

At 1 PM exactly, we filed into the auditorium and sat in our assigned places near the stage.  Parents and whomever were seated behind us.  The Dean of the College started by apologizing for the air conditioners being out.  So that was the problem!
Speech.
Speeeech.
Speeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech.
Hey!  It’s fucking hot in here!  Can we get moving?
Finally, we lined up and were called across the stage one by one for our diplomas.  As Sandi was on the step above me, I had a great view of her nice ass.  She turned and said “Oh my God!  This is it!  Good luck Lance!  Hope I don’t trip!”
“Good luck, Sandi.  You won’t fall.”
Her name was called, and she strutted perfectly on four inch heels across the stage- the picture of confident womanhood.  That was the last I ever saw of Sandi, and it was a great image to remember her by.

“Lance Kandler”

I mounted the stage and walked across to accept my diploma and out the door to a reception type area.  High fives and tossed hats.  And too soon, parents.

My parents, brother, and I walked across campus toward the House.  From there, we’d go back to Spring City, leaving my home for the past few years- the first true home I’d ever known.  My family and I walked without speaking- like we were coming from a funeral.  Walking down a path some distance away was Judy, her brother, and her mother.  My heart leaped and died in a moment.  They were laughing and happy.
            Judy’s group waved to me from a distance.  She smiled at me and held my eyes for a moment.  I waved back.  Tried to smile. 
            I watched them walk down the path and turn the corner.
            “Who was that?” my mom asked.
            “A friend” I said quietly.  “Just a friend.”

            It was over.

Graduation 1989


Wednesday, April 29, 2020

For Hugh

Hugh Casey died on Tuesday, April 21, 2020.

I've spent the time between then and now doing papers for school, and wondering how to put into words who I saw as Hugh.  Because Hugh was so many things to so many people.


Classic Hugh

After all, how many people have their friends put together a convention to help pay his medical bills?  And have hundreds of people attend?  So I thought, and I thought.

And I concluded- this is Hugh I'm writing about.  He was a punster extraordinaire- one of the few who could defeat me.  And, above all, Hugh wanted people to be happy and laugh.  So, I will attempt to capture in words the Hughmanity of my friend.  

His service and burial were private, but I'll exHughme a bunch of old puns to honor him.

I do this because my friend Hugh is dead. Resting, Stunned, pining for the fjords, wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through him, passed on! Hugh is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-HUGH!!


A rare dignified shot

(If you don't know the source of that, you're no friend of Hugh.)  In Casey you didn't, I'll say Hugh must catch up on your Monty Python.  I think that show was brilliant, but it may depend upon your point of Hugh.

I met Hugh in 1989, when I answered an ad to join a D&D group.  The group didn't last long, but my friendship with Hugh did.  He had Hughmungous heart, which he shared with so many.

He also had a tremendous love for Sci-fi in general, and Star Trek in particular.  He ran a major convention called Philcon for many years until illness forced him to resign.  Or perhaps he just had his phil of the con life.  No, he loved cons- he could list the pros of cons extensively.  As for Star Trek, he was a master- I'd say he's Q but he was Hugh, not Q.  He was borg that way.  Believe me when I say he could Spock the error in anyone's Trek knowledge.  He was the real McCoy.  Great Scott, these puns are bad!  I hope all these puns are Worf the trouble.

He was also huge in the gaming community, comic books, steampunk... if there was a nerd fandom, he was involved, knew everyone, and was beloved.

I was shocked when Hugh first told me he was sick.  He was diagnosed with colon cancer, and had surgury to cut it out.  Afterwards, he told me "Now I no longer have a colon- I have a semi- colon."  I wish I'd thought of that one.  In any case, he told everyone about it, as he wanted people to get checked for it.  Colonoscopy.  At least he wasn't an ass about it.  Butt he was right, people should get checked.  As you know, the road to cancer is based on good intestines.  In the end, it wasn't the cancer that took him, but it sure didn't help.  The disease weakened him, but he fought valiantly.  Yes, he had a lot of Guts.  



With Hugh and Avi at Hugh Con.  Last time I saw him alive.

In 2004, I was hired at Vanguard (mutual fund place.)  I was surprised that Hugh worked there as well.  He was also a registered representative, but he specialized in retirement plans, like IRAs, annuities, and such.  Occasionally, I'd pass a call over to that department, and got him.  Even though the calls were recorded, we'd both get a quick pun before connecting the customer.  He worker there a lot longer than I did.  I'd like to say that I have 401K puns ready for this section, but I guess I'll have to make an ex-SEP-tion.  No laughs?  Wow- Roth crowd.

When I transitioned, Hugh not only took it in stride, he was welcoming.  He knows several transgender people, and knows we're just people.  No joke here- just sincere appreciation.

In fact, that's all this is: sincere appreciation.  Hugh was one of a kind.  The world was better for his having been in it.

And so was I.

May the four winds blow you safely home, dear friend.  I miss you.


Alyce Wilson, poet, wrote this for him.

We Are Hugh
(in memory of Hugh Casey)

In the pull of his orbit, unlikely bodies
revolved in loose ellipse. Celestial sea
that we were, lucky to cross
his sharp eye, to be drawn in
for a laugh, a conversation. Or,
in better days, a hug. That light,
that voice, a safe mooring spot
despite a world that cast
so many of us out. His power --
to see you through all the posing.
To show up for you
when you least
expected it. To make the day
better, just by passing through it.

To some, good Sir, to others
friend, or helper, or just
that friendly face. A glue
holding the universe together.
Keep saying it, over and over.
We are Hugh, and better for it.