strong desire to be treated as the other gender…

Why no. No, I don’t look butch when I leave the house. Not at all.

Here’s the thing: I have gotten a metric fuck ton of shit on Facebook recently because I’m LOUD about trans rights. In comments on news stories. In my Facebook DMs. I even had a friend threaten to not refer someone to my little bookkeeping business because I was “pro-mentally ill people”.

That last one? OMG.

Hey, fuckface (yes, you. I know you stalk my little blog. HI!!!!), I don’t know if you know anything about me even though we’ve been friendly for decades now… to be honest, despite the multiple visits here, I don’t think you’ve ever read a word I’ve ever posted.

If you did, you would know that I am pro-mentally ill people. BECAUSE I AM ONE, YOU DUMB FUCK.

Social anxiety? Check
Bipolar? Check
General Anxiety? Check
A touch of OCD? Check
Seasonal Affective Disorder? Well, more like annual, but there’s a cure for that and it’s called MAINE.
Gender dysphoria? Never diagnosed, but I know I have it. I’ve had more luck controlling that than the OCD, anxiety, or bipolar combined, though.

When I was younger, I couldn’t leave the house without a baseball cap. A practice my mother tried to literally beat out of me.

My dad used to call me “his son, [name]” in a joking fashion, but it felt right in a way my real name never has.

I used to live in men’s clothes - another habit that mother tried to beat out of me. Literally. I did so right up until my boobs got too big. (Hi again! I know you love my double Ds. You once wrote a very… interesting… poem about them one night when you were drunk off your face.) Anyways, my boobs don’t fit in men’s shirts any more unless I buy them a tad too big. Don’t even get me started on my breeder’s hips. Men’s pants are a thing of my past as well.

All the trappings of being born in a female body bother me. They always have, but I’ve learned to live with it because living my life as a man wasn’t a thing when I was at my lowest point. I know I talked about my fencing buddy, Phyl, before and how she transitioned after her wife died and her kids were grown.

I’ve been thinking about her a lot.

About how brave she was to transition so late in life. If I had the balls (HA!) to do it now that I’m fifty.

But it doesn’t matter because nobody cares about FTM trans people.

What they do care about is MTF, but not for the reasons you think they do. It’s not about bathrooms and it’s not about men genetically being better than women in sports. It goes deeper than that and to be honest, I’m not even sure they know why they need to force a gender binary.

May I remind you that Felon 47 was recorded saying he grabbed women by the pussy? YET HE WAS VOTED INTO OFFICE. TWICE.

I’d rather take my chances with the trans women than with a cis man.

Anyhoo… Did you know, they’re so worried about “perverted” men accosting girls / women in locker rooms, that they want to do gender checks? They are literally talking about checking female athletes for men’s genitalia.

Um, no.

I’m loving the backlash that’s coming out of the trans community, though. There are some trans men I follow that - if they didn’t announce they transitioned - I would never have guessed. Yet, our politicians think they belong in a women’s restroom. Because they have what I assume are grabbable pussies… I mean, who’s the real pervert here?

Seriously. What it is about conservatives / magats that make them so obsessed with penises? Peni?

Schlongs. Let’s go with schlongs.

It doesn’t end there, though.

This culture of fear about the different? It’s affecting cis women.

Read that again.

IT IS AFFECTING CIS WOMEN. THE VERY WOMEN THEY WANT TO ‘PROTECT’.

People are actually accosting cis women in bathrooms because they look masculine. That’s if they even get in in the first place.

There are videos and news stories. Blog posts. TikToks. Facebook posts. Instagram posts.

They’re out there if you care to look.

Now, despite hating my female body, when I was untreated for the bipolar, I was um… shall we say, unbothered by getting nekkid with men when I was manic. (Do you remember that night? I’m sure you do… since you were the recipient of a - and I quote -  “million dollar blow job”. Too bad you couldn’t afford it.) I’d regret it, sure, once the mania passed. But during those manic periods, I was too busy trying to get off, to make my body behave in ways it wasn’t built for.

I faked every. single. one.

EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

(Yup. You, too, asshole. Especially with you, whisky dick.)

Looking back, it’s easy to think I was a sex-repulsed asexual, even though that term wasn’t well known back then. Now, hindsight being 20/20 and all, I think I’m just repulsed by anything that focuses on what’s below my waist.

Any way… you want to know why I say the quiet things out loud? Why I’m spending money supporting trans rights groups?

Because I could be one of “them”.

Because I want to be one of “them”.

I’m just too damned scared.

I know I have roots there even if I don’t know where the trees are.

Hail! to the victors valiant / Hail! to the conqu’ring heroes / Hail! Hail! to Michigan / I forgot the words / GO BLUE!

A while back, I had this crazy plan to fly in and out of Boston - go see my friends’ band in Albany-adjacent cities and then catch a Bruins game. A nice, low-key, all-me, 50th birthday long weekend.

Yeah. That did not go as planned.

It became fly into Albany, see the two BMS shows, go to Boston and watch them lose to BUFFALO (BUFFALO! ACK!), drive to Maine and buy a house.

Dude, I bought a fucking house.

It’s the third one I’ve owned outright and the fifth house I’ve bought. Buying a house doesn’t get any less stressful the fifth time around, let me tell you.

But, let’s start in Albany. Future me is going to wish I wrote this somewhere, so why not here? I share everything else important here. (This may be a long one. Strap in! (Strap on? Whatever works!))

I get to Albany to find out they’re charging me a $200 one way rental fee for the car. Not only that, they’ve decided me to give me a Hyundai Elantra. The Elantras are REALLY low to the ground. Like, really, really, low. Hated that car since the moment he gave me the keys. Grrr. Glad I didn’t get a nicer car - that fucking $200 would have made the car way too expensive and I was already pushing my budget.

(I bet this is the most expensive vacation I’ll ever take in my entire life. Altogther, I spent roughly $203,000.)

I have always had good luck with Super 8s in Upstate NY. I am sad to say that the original hotel in Cobleskill fucking sucked. It seems minor, but the room had a broken safe. (I had a laptop. I didn’t want to bring it to a bar in an unknown neighbourhood.) They tried to put me in a different room. Broken safe. Third room? So moldy, I couldn’t even walk in the door. I walked out of the hotel in full Karen mode. (Well, they must have thought that. I thought I was being nice about almost dying.  Mold has become something I’m super allergic to. So, yeah, no thanks. You can poison someone else.)

So, I went ALL THE FUCK THE WAY BACK TO THE AIRPORT and stayed at the Tru by Hilton. That was ah-mazing. I’m only staying at Trus from this point forward.

Black Mountain Symphony killed it during that first show. I sat back and let the songs roll over me. It felt like the first time I could breathe in ages. All the stress. POOF! Gone. So nice to be home, surrounded by friends, and the best music ever. Oh, it was amazing.

I left the Tru to stay a little family run hotel closer to BMS’ second show of the weekend. It was a nice room. Nothing too fancy. (The BMS show was great, as expected, and I bonded with Bill’s mom a bit. Love her!) The absolute worst part of the night was when I was woken up by something. The bed was shaking. Literally shaking. Like someone was fucking with the mattress. And then, once the bed stopped moving, it felt like something got on the bed with me. (It could have been Guinness or the ex for the way the bed sunk.) The room got cold and I could feel someone in the room with me. This started at about 3AM and lasted until 3:30. I barely moved a muscle except to breathe and cracked my eye to look at the time.

Turns out there is a cemetery across the street from the hotel.

I guess someone just wanted to say hi.

From there, it was Boston. Battery Wharf Hotel. Eh. It was hard to find and they had valet parking. (I hate valet parking!) The restaurant didn’t serve me the first morning and I had waited for over fifteen minutes, made contact with three different people and was not acknowledged once. Grrrr. It was just… eh. It poured all day Monday so I didn’t leave the room except to go to the Bruins game. It was so weird being back in the Garden. Everything changed from how you get into the arena vs where the trains are. Bruins stank it up, but UConn and BU had boys on Buffalo. It didn’t help that Sweeney traded Marchy and Coyle right at the fucking trade deadline. Bastard.

From Boston, I headed to Maine.

Fell in love with a house in Dover-Foxcroft. $230K, 1.25 acres, river front, a she shed that was livable. I also fell through the floorboards. Too much work for that sort of money.

Ate at Bob’s Clam Shack, spent a good hour staring at the Nubble Lighthouse, and spent the night in a hotel at Long Sands Beach. Nice to reconnect with my memories of my father, even if I didn’t make it to Ogunquit.

Made my home base in Bangor. Millinocket’s about an hour north, but I had some rewards points to use and I didn’t see any Hiltons up there. Spent the next two days looking at houses. FIFTEEN HOUSES.

It was toss up between the emotional choice and the smart choice. The emotional choice had a beautiful view of Mt. Kathadin, but needed a lot of work. They were asking almost $200K for it, and I really doubted it would appraise at $150K. I offered a fair amount and they countered at basically what they were asking. Yeah, that’s a no. The view is BEAUTIFUL and well worth $200K, but a house with dated appliances and asbestos shingles is not.

I ended up going with the smart choice. A little three bedroom ranch, in move in condition, with a garage and a basement I can finish.

We close on May 9th. Movers come May 21st.

Had Chinese for lunch and my fortune was perfect: Trust in the journey of self-discovery; you are evolving.

I’ve never been so ashamed

becoming a Ukrainian citizen means renouncing my us citizenship… not sure that’s a bad thing.

I don’t even know where to start.

I’ve been profoundly depressed since the coup began and things are getting worse.

trump seems to think he can delete a whole bunch of people by forcing a gender binary on them. People are misgendering trans people on the daily and calling them by their dead names. Calling transwomen men.

It makes me sick to think that a Maine politician doxxed a trans teenager and became a maga darling, while the Governor is fighting for ALL of her citizens. mr. trump seems to think that his executive orders are the law. Gov. Mills was correct in saying that she follows FEDERAL LAW which is something that an executive order cannot override. But, you know, he doesn’t need to abide by the laws of this country because he’s the king or some shit. (btw, that article is unlocked if you care to read it.)

As someone who has struggled with being a cis female at various points in my life, this… is devastating to me.

However, I guess there’s a little bit of a silver lining for me? Everyone’s so concerned about ‘men’ playing women’s sports, they’re not paying attention to the women playing men’s sports. Dude, gender is not defined by what’s in between your legs. Gender is a societal framework that puts you in a pink box or a blue box. By reducing a transwoman to what equipment they were born with / gender assigned at birth, they’re completely missing the point. Most transwomen just want to be left alone to live their lives in the pink box, just like I want to be left alone to live my life in the blue one. (I guess mine is sort of purple since I’m a tomboy / butch?) It’s the CIS MEN who are the problem.

Just look at our felon-in-chief. He said that he liked to grab women by the pussies. I’d rather share a bathroom with a transwoman than that fine piece of work. At least that way, I know I’d be safe.

Remember man vs bear? I’d take my chances with a bear any. fucking. day.

For the record - I narrowly escaped being raped in high school by a member of the wrestling team. I was raped by a guy I thought was a friend in college. #metoo isn’t just some hashtag.

Do you know I carried pepper spray AND a personal alarm when I ran laps around a track at a public park last year? Even when it was crowded? I prefer treadmills for various reasons, but it was moving into the apartment that made me quit running. I just don’t feel safe. Maybe part of that is Florida - I was never this paranoid in New England. It’s hard to say, but I’ll find out soon.

So, yeah. I’m conflicted about that.

Add to that the whole putin’s bitch attacking Zelenskyy during a televised conference.

I. Have. FEELINGS.

I don’t have the words, however.

Yeah, the girl who writes non-stop, doesn’t have the fucking words to describe how shitty the current administration has made her feel in roughly a month.

I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and pretending I’m OK, when all I want to do is hide in my apartment and cry.

Speaking of - I HAVE RESERVED A MOVING TRUCK!  I leave this cesspool of a state in May.

I cannot fucking wait to be out of here - both the apartment and the state.

Did my dad quote CONFUCIUS?!? Dude…

I’m in this picture and I don’t like it?

During my reread of Walden, I came across this:
All change is a miracle to contemplate but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant. Confucius said, “To know that we know what we know, and that we do not know what we do not know, that is true knowledge.”

As Chuck was fond of saying, “I don’t know what I don’t know until I know I don’t know it.”

Similar? Way off the mark?

OK. So… let’s get to the point of this entry.

I gave my ‘notice’ today.

I say ‘notice’ because the plan is to consider working remotely. In 5 months, 2 weeks, 4 hours, 7 minutes, my lease expires and I’ll be long gone. Somewhere anywhere between Stephen King and Canada. I’m not fussy - it’s wherever I can find what I want in my price range.

The owner took it relatively well.

I want to post the details, I want to scream them into the universe, but it’s probably not the right thing to do… EVERYBODY SHOULD WORK FOR A GUY LIKE THIS.

Speaking of owners and work…

My little side hustle is live! If you’re interested in hiring a remote bookkeeper, shoot me an email at wendell gee 1985 at g mail dot com and I’ll point you in the right direction. If you’re friends with me on the book of faces, it’s a pinned post. Thanks!

OH!

I found a house I really love on Zillow, and it’s been on the market for a while. Fingies crossed that it’s still on the market when I get up to Maine. I would really be surprised if it is, but hey! It’s near Stephen King, so that means… UMAINE ICE HOCKEY!!!

I’m so excited to be moving back to New England that I can barely stand it.

Life is good.

I find it wholesome to be alone in the greater part of the time. - Thoreau

I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. - also Thoreau

Hmmm… I haven’t read Walden and Civil Disobedience in forever. The fact that he’s top of mind today might mean it’s time for a reread. I mean, I still have my copy from high school. I’m surprised it’s held together this long.

 

The blue book in the background was an Xmas gift from the X, (Ha!) but I haven’t read it yet.

(Also, running around my head is R.E.M.‘s Finest Worksong, where we throw Thoreau and rearrange. Whatever that means. Michael, if you’re reading this, please explain yourself.)

Wow. THAT was the tangent to end all tangents. (Today at least.)

And now I’ve forgotten what…

Nope, I remember.

Can I just say what a bitch it is to start a company? Especially when you’re into tech and have a creative / marketing background? I spent a ton on software templates and social media posts in an effort to cut corners. The social media stuff may be well worth it and the two software tutorials / templates seem to be worth their money as well.

I spent last night branding the social media posts and building out the recommended schedule for them. I launch January 1st, so it’s coming up quick.

I just had a five day vacay from the day job and didn’t accomplish as much as I wanted to on the side hustle… but I also relaxed a lot. Burnout has been my constant companion for months and dealing with seasonal depression and obsessing about my move to Maine isn’t helping matters.

I have to work on day job stuff today because I don’t want to close November in January, but that’s a choice I’m making. Not the best one, but it’s a choice.

In the meantime, I’ll throw up a crappy home page with a link to my Calendly, Facebook, and Instagram pages. It’s at least something while I work on the back end.

Is it bad I’m buying shit from Amazon instead of leaving the house and going to Target just because I want the boxes? Yeah, it’s probably pretty bad…

In other news, I gave into the hype and saw Wicked. I broke much sooner than I did with Hamilton, and I’m just as disappointed. Hamilton’s soundtrack won me over, but I can’t say the same for Wicked’s. I don’t know why I can’t see these and obsess over them like my friends do. I want to love them that much, but they’re just… bleh.

So yeah, about that move.

I am constantly pissed off that I’m spending as much on a 700 sq ft apartment as I did on a 2K+ sq ft house. I can’t afford this on my salary, but none of the less expensive ones were as nice and after all their add ons (especially the cat charges), they were just as expensive. Florida real estate is stupid.

I can get decent houses in Maine for $100K - $200K. With a nice deposit, my mortgage will be more than reasonable. AND if I’m spending $2K a month on a place to live, I’d rather create equity than line some landlord’s pockets.

I’m moving in May / June and I will be working remotely with some support in Florida. At least that’s the plan. The boss already knows that I’m moving so it’s been discussed; he just doesn’t know the timeline. I’m saving that for after the holidays.

We’ll see.

Alright, I should stop stalling. The sooner I get the day job shit done, the sooner I can get back to doing nothing.