He was reared to give respect

one, two, ready, fence

“I am deeply sorry for the pain these comments have caused you. I really hope that you don’t entirely lose what was valuable in these stories to you. If these books taught you that love is the strongest force in the universe, capable of overcoming anything; if they taught you that strength is found in diversity, and that dogmatic ideas of pureness lead to the oppression of vulnerable groups; if you believe that a particular character is trans, nonbinary, or gender fluid, or that they are gay or bisexual; if you found anything in these stories that resonated with you and helped you at any time in your life — then that is between you and the book that you read, and it is sacred.” - Daniel Radcliffe

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There once was a little girl who grew up desperately wanting to be a little boy.

It was “just a phase” when she took scissors to all the pink, feminine, clothing her mother used to buy.

It was “just a phase” when she decided she had to learn how to do boy things. Like pee standing up.

It was “just a phase” when she asked her father to call her Tom. (He thought it was short for tomboy. Yeah. no.)

It was “just a phase” when she got her period and felt suicidal.

It was “just a phase” when she realised that she preferred being a tomboy because it was as close as she could get to the real thing.

It was “just a phase” when she stopped buying women’s clothing.

It’s funny… out of all the things in the DSM-V that’ve I’ve been diagnosed with, gender dysphoria hasn’t been one of them.

My pronouns remain she/her.

My body remains as is.

My brain remains as is.

I’ve come to a kind of internal compromise in the war between my body and brain.

Had I known that being transgender was a real thing and not “in my head”, I might have pursued treatment and had my gender changed.

Now that I know that it’s OK to have my brain and body not match, I actually feel better. The dysphoria has actually lessened, just from knowing that I could actually get the penis I’ve always wanted. (Yeah, the one I was left in the Band Senior Wills, I think ‘96 or ‘97, doesn’t count.)

When I started fencing, I’d already studied gender reassignment and tossed around the “what ifs”...

And then I met Phil.

He had kids my age and we became fast friends. It was hard not to notice that he had longer nails, was growing out his hair, and spelled his name “Phyl”. He wore a female chest protector and had pronounced (but tiny) breasts. I kept my questions to myself. It was none of my business.

Until she made it mine.

She came out to me one night before we took the piste for a match.

I nodded, said “Cool”, shook her hand, and proceeded to win the match. When we were off to the side waiting for our next match, she told me she was surprised I was so calm about it. All I could say was that I knew. It was obvious to me. I was surprised she hadn’t said anything sooner.

Her wife had always known something was off, and it was’t until she died that he started to take how he felt into consideration. He realised that it was more than cross dressing, more than… well, just more.

She made me reconsider my options even more. Here was a biological male, 60 years old, and beginning to transition.

What a fucking inspiration.

Maybe, one day, I can be as brave as she is and finally live in the right body.

The only TERF I like is astro…

words are weapons, sharper than knives

FUCK. YOU. JK ROWLING.

I just can’t with this woman.

I really wish she’d just shut the fuck up and quit tarnishing one of the best things that ever happened to me.

I am so fucking disgusted right now

THIS IS NOT OK

My friend posted this on Facebook the other day and I literally got sick to my stomach.

Here’s the thing: we’ve known for a long time that he’s incapable of holding the job.

Every single day he shows a complete lack of empathy for what’s going on.

Every single day, he treats the presidency like it’s one of his businesses. Like it’s a reality show.

And it’s just getting worse…

The protests of people who think getting a fucking haircut is more important than my life, storming state capitals with fucking guns… it’s too much for me.

The selfishness of these people is unfathomable.

The fact that a bunch of WHITE guys storming a state capital with MILITARY GRADE weapons is upsetting to a level I don’t even have the words for. (And let’s not forget that if they were black… well….)

AND THE FUCKING PRESIDENT IS CHEERING ON THE PROTESTERS.

I can’t fucking wait for November.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

While I’m completely outraged, let’s talk about the book I just read.

It was about Chornobyl and written by a guy who was pretty obsessed with it.

It started out promising: a full overview of the mechanical and operational issues that plagued Russian nuclear reactors and submarines since the very beginning. A detailed, blow-by-blow description of that fateful night.

And then he started to describe his trip to Prypiat.

Dude, I could see his hard on.

His awe at seeing the ruins of the city verged on inappropriate. He was gleeful to be there.

It was so disrespectful that I wanted to smack him. With a brick. Repeatedly.

I ended up deleting it about halfway through. (Thank God it was on Kindle Unlimited.)

My memory is fuzzy - partly because I was 11 when it happened and partly because I blocked out a lot of my childhood - but I swear I remember sitting there in my grandparents’ house watching it on the news. I also remember hearing that we had some relatives in that area, family that died.

Whether or not that’s true, the fact remains that people died.

It’s not a fucking theme park.

I mean, when I went to Highgate Cemetery to see Douglas Adams’ grave, I treated it with the proper respect the dead deserved. There’s a time and a place for fangirling and the middle of a place of the dead is NOT it.

I don’t know. I’ve been in a shitty mood this past week and everything is just amplifying my unhappiness.

*sigh*

Overwhelmed

rest in peace, coach

It’s been a whole lot of death and gloom around me lately.

Death apparently no longer happens in threes. It’s expanded to five, but we’re all kind of waiting for number six to show up.

It started with a co-worker’s cousin dying in a fiery car wreck. The body was so damaged, they had to use dental records.

Then, Coach Marshall died.

I’m still having a hard time processing that. I went to the memorial, and I thought that would give me the closure I needed, but it didn’t. Coach was a good man. A bit troubled, but who amongst us isn’t? The UConn hockey program wouldn’t have been the same without him and his stubbornness, that laser focus on proving that anything less than Hockey East wasn’t acceptable, the drive and determination to get the ice rink enclosed. I was fortunate to be there for so much of the early (later) days. I was instrumental in doing much of the groundwork for the fundraising of the indoor rink, and he taught me so much about kissing ass without actually needing to pucker up. I wouldn’t be the person I am without his influence…

It’s hard to think about the fact that there’ll never be another note, another email, another set of tickets left at the door because “I know you don’t have anything better to do this weekend.”

Maybe once hockey season is over, the wound will heal. At the very least, time and distance will numb the pain. 

As if that hadn’t rocked my world enough, another coworker lost his son. Cancer. A bunch of us went to the memorial service, and it was suitably awkward. It’s well known that I don’t like to be touched by people, and I became the butt of a few jokes when Bob got in not one, but two, hugs. Fuck it. It made him laugh, and that’s what matters.

Found out today another co-worker lost his sister (sister-in-law?), and yet another service tech’s best friend’s sister killed herself.

Dear 2016, STOP FUCKING KILLING PEOPLE. You can make it to the end of the year, can’t you?

—————

We’re going to Lviv in a few days. My Ukrainian is shitty, but I should be functional. I’m still missing some key vocabulary, and I’m not happy about it, but I don’t know what else to do. I’m taking lessons five days a week and cramming in homework and translating my Harry Potter fanfic whenever possible. I’m also trying to read other Ukrainian fanfics. I read a Littlefinger / Sansa pairing that was… eh. Right now, I’m working on a Littlefinger / Caitlyn Stark fic. Also ‘eh’, but beggars can’t be choosers.

The only thing that’s keeping me from totally losing my shit is the fact that my tutor thinks I’m doing extremely well.

Related - this last weekend, I wandered down to the Armpit of the Eastern Seaboard (New Jersey) for a Ukrainian genealogical conference. In a room full of 80 Ukrainians, it felt like I was the only one that understood Ukrainian. It was weird… a few of the presenters were like “Oh, this site is only in Ukrainian. Just google translate it! It’ll be close enough.”

NO. NO. NO. NO.

I’m not sure if that was the worst or if the Cyrillic handwriting class was. This woman kept trying to transliterate the letters. That’s all fine and dandy, but in my experience, leaning on transliteration when you’re first learning is terrible. You’re never going to understand the language if you don’t dive in and start using the Cyrillic alphabet. Sorry. That’s the only way to do it, if you want to do it properly.

In preparation for our trip, I even gave in and ate the kapusta and kielbasa, a vareneky, and some borscht. Unfortunately, both the borscht and the kapusta were too acidic for me (woo! acid reflux!), but I ate the entire vareneky. If you know what a fussy eater I am, you know how huge that is for me.

—————

In other news, there’s drama at work (when is there not?). I’m not sure where I fit in, but I know what I want and I know how to get there. It’s just a matter of how many bodies will pile up as the drama continues… and I hope I’m not collateral damage. We’ll find out, won’t we?

Fuck. I just want a nice, normal, boring job.

—————

Election Day is tomorrow.

I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT FOR THIS SHIT SHOW TO BE OVER.

OMG. I can’t even.

It was like a bad joke yesterday: a (male) Brookah, a black man, and a woman were holding signs for Trump. How the fuck can a black man support a guy who is endorsed by the fucking KKK? And let’s not even get into the whole sexual harassment / assault shit going on with the women.

To prove that the universe is paying attention, though, we have a neighbor that has a big Trump sign in his yard. Came home the other night to find that his pickup (with a massive Trump sticker) had been set on fire and melted some of the siding on his house.

I get a little weepy when I think about voting for Hillary, but I don’t know if it’s because she could be the first female president or if it’s because I’m so disgusted that she’s the lesser of two evils.

I really wonder what we look like to the rest of the world…

It’s about fucking time.

i don’t want to adult. please don’t make me.

NO UNION IS MORE PROFOUND THAN MARRIAGE, FOR IT EMBODIES THE HIGHEST IDEALS OF LOVE, FIDELITY, DEVOTION, SACRIFICE, AND FAMILY.

IN FORMING A MARTIAL UNION, TWO PEOPLE BECOME SOMETHING GREATER THAN ONCE THEY WERE.

AS SOME OF THE PETITIONERS IN THESE CASES DEMONSTRATE, MARRIAGE EMBODIES A LOVE THAT MAY ENDURE EVEN PAST DEATH.

IT WOULD MISUNDERSTAND THESE MEN AND WOMEN TO SAY THEY DISRESPECT THE IDEA OF MARRIAGE.

THEIR PLEA IS THAT THEY DO RESPECT IT, RESPECT IT SO DEEPLY THAT THEY SEEK TO FIND ITS FULFILMENT FOR THEMSELVES.

THEIR HOPE IS NOT TO BE CONDEMNED TO LIVE IN LONELINESS, EXCLUDED FROM ONE OF CIVILISATION’S OLDEST INSTITUTIONS.

THEY ASK FOR EQUAL DIGNITY IN THE EYES OF THE LAW.

THE CONSTITUTION GRANTS THEM THAT RIGHT.

THE JUDGEMENT OF THE COURT OF APPEALS FOR THE SIXTH CIRCUIT IS REVERSED.

IT IS SO ORDERED.

(excuse my shouting. i’m very excited by this.)