Shuffle Meme - Part 1

Piano: addendum

To continue the metaphor: if playing the piano is analogous to Dance Dance Revolution, then the the right-hand A# in the ascending F major scale is some sort of special arrow where when you step on it, it explodes and kills you!

Lip service

There’s only a handful of hairs left on my top lip; everything else has been obliterated via laser hair removal and electrolysis. All the same, I get pretty self-conscious about the few surviving stragglers and run a razor over them every now and then.

I just did that now, and somehow managed to lop the top off of two hair follicles (which are of course, as is their want, bleeding profusely).

HOW?! This is like playing Minesweeper with a 5 x 5 grid and literally one mine in the bottom left corner, and still somehow hitting it on the first try!

A year in review: 2021 edition

Tracking my transition progress!

There have been lots of big developments this year: I returned to the office as Lauren (the last and biggest social hurdle); began trauma therapy; attended CONvergence in Minneapolis; started my journey as singer, piano player, and guitarist; and gained new friends.

For what was in many respects Pandemic Year: Redux, it’s been a productive time. (Although the way 2022 is shaping up...)

Nails

On a scale of one to chipped, my nails are currently at “I’m Prying Open Pistachios With Them And I Don’t Care”.

Nominally I’m not in the habit of reblogging (nothing against it; I just prefer to create myself) but Nick is not only an incredibly talented artist, he’s also an amazing human being and deserves so much love!

Collection of Nick Robles Nightcrawler, for…uhh…art reasons.

Another Test

It came to my attention this afternoon that a colleague had left the office on Friday, feeling unwell; and come Saturday had tested positive for COVID. This individual is someone that works two offices down for mine and is often in close proximity.

This meant, of course, that it would be wise of me to go get tested again. The last time I was tested, it triggered a lengthy flashback.

(As always, I stress: my response to these kinds of medical scenarios is a result of my PTSD, and not an indictment of medicine. Get tested, get vaccinated, protect yourselves and others!)

Anyhow: I wasn't super thrilled about this turn of events, and let my boss know that I was heading out and most likely would not be back for the day. He did very kindly point out that we had some test kits in-office (allegedly; nobody seemed to know where); to which I countered that the last thing my coworkers needed to see was me in tears.

Fast forward: the system for registering an appointment at the test site worked well this time; and apart from a small hiccup (they had moved a mile down the road to a new location), everything was pretty much the same. The technician asked me to sit in the car and came back with a swab and sample vial.

Now, here's where things differed slightly: when my spouse was initially tested (all the way back at the start of the pandemic), the swap took the form of an elongated Q-Tip. Having this pushed all the way to the back of the sinuses was unpleasant; but I understand the discomfort subsided quickly as soon as the test was completed.

When I was tested for the first time, the swap had clearly been updated with comfort in mind: there was a thin, flexible plastic stem with a small, soft, sponge on the tip. It wasn't inserted fully into the sinus, and frankly, there was no pain or discomfort to speak of.

This is what I was expecting to see again; so imagine my unpleasant surprise when the technician withdrew from its sterile wrapping what I can only describe as a fiercely-bristled pipe cleaner.

The technician proceeded to tell me to hold my breath for five seconds, which was also a new and highly discouraging change in procedure.

I warned her that I might be somewhat unresponsive after the test was administered and not to take that personally; and she understood. Then came the part where I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and felt this monstrosity enter my left nostril. The technician counted to five while sawing this thing back and forth along every side of my sinus cavity.

To be clear: I am no stranger to unpleasant sensations (which I will note shortly). This, however, was absolutely misery-inducing. I broke down crying the moment the technician turned away from me.

Six hours later, and my sinuses still hurt. They itch, constantly; and my nose has been running all evening. I cannot possibly fathom which person thought it was a good idea to take what was already an invasive, annoying test - and make it infinitely worse.

Unexpected HRT side-effect #12

In my former life, I was not above eating the occasional calorie-laden novelty food item (”Try our Kitchen Sink Burger!”) or having pizza for dinner and leftover pizza for breakfast. And this was all good and well.

Post-HRT however, I have learned (the hard way! Oh, oh, very much the hard way!) that I can no longer overindulge in this fashion. My gastrointestinal tract is a great deal more sensitive and will rebel in most spectacular fashion if I try to force-feed it some kind of burrito that inexplicably counts among its contents an individual’s annual supply of cheese and over one pound of french fries.

As much as some might mourn this change, I see it as a positive - now I’m eating the way that frankly, I should have always been eating. Still, not something that I was anticipating from a therapy the primary purpose of which is to make me look more girly!

There's a point of discussion that comes up periodically in transgender advocacy circles. To paraphrase:

Do you love transgender people? Or do you hate transphobes?

That is to say: those that claim allyship with the transgender community should be motivated by love; for love begets help and support.

Conversely: those that are motivated by hate will seek, first and foremost, to attack others. While there is a time and place for opposing transphobia (violently so, even), this cannot be the preeminent response to any and all issues.

...

Mat Ward's tenure as a named codex author drew mixed responses. His overhaul of Necron lore, for instance, is generally considered a positive turning point for the faction. (His heavy-handed promotion of the Ultramarines, less so.)

If you are motivated by a love of the Warhammer: 40,000 game and setting, then you might wish that some of Mat Ward's more controversial contributions be corrected. As his work was published in what is now the distant past, it is also likely that your wish has already been granted.

As such, it does not make sense to expend energy on what is effectively now a non-issue.

If you are motivated by hate, however, then you might perceive Mat Ward's failings as forever unforgivable; his mockery and harassment not merely permissible, but necessary; and his departure from Games Workshop, a hard-won victory.

...

In this respect, @ladymirdan's 'Mat Ward Test' is an excellent barometer of an individual's motivations; and whether they are rooted in a love for the hobby, or hate in search of a purportedly acceptable target.

With this in mind:

I strive to research an issue prior to rendering judgement. In this particular instance (the introduction of female Custodes), I made a point of leafing through the blogs of those most vocally opposed, looking to understand their motives and character.

Time and again, I came across posts in which these people openly delighted in the heartless ridicule of others; justified upon the flimsiest of pretexts.

They do not love Warhammer: 40,000; but rather, are simply seeking excuses to exercise their hatred - of which Mat Ward, and now those championing Custodian Calladyce Taurovalia Kesh, have proven aptly suitable victims.

So I didn't take my own advice and started playing chess with the pigeons.

And my ultimate litmus test for a 40k player once again proved to work. I didnt even have to bring it up (they alway do that themselves).

And that is their opinion on Mat Ward.

This test has never failed me. He is the alt-right 40k boogieman, they haaaate him with a passion for some reason, but they never know anything about him. He has literally written the most popular characters in all of 40k and is responsible for a shit ton of 40k computer games and he incidentally is the reason why they don't print the name of the writer (guess the fuck why. *hint they send Ward actual death threats for changing the lore).

It has gotten to a point that I just block people talking shit about Ward after one warning. Because people who have this opinion has gotten it somewhere. Usually from hanging out with guys like this who think representation ruins the hobby.

I still have to make that “Why people are wrong about Mat Ward and he deserves better”-post/vid.

Charcuterie

Ah, my spouse knows me so well! For Valentine's Day they got me my own charcuterie board, and I had to put it to use right away!

Ahhh, I love them so much! ❤️

Singing

An interesting part of the transition process is that it represents not only a kind of second, physical adolescence; but also a psychological one. You are afforded the opportunity to review your identity; cast aside the parts that are no longer relevant; and replace them with entirely new and different ones.

One manifestation of this phenomenon is that I continue to discover interests - some new, some old but hidden. Like singing.

Seven months or so into my new life, and I was on my way to see IRIS perform live in Philadelphia (an event that really deserves it’s own post). This made for an eight-hour drive; so I loaded up the USB drive in my car with music - including their new album - and set off.

Cruising through the hills of Pennsylvania, I found myself listening to the same two tracks; and in a first, I began singing along. (I am told that my starting range is very similar to that of IRIS front-man Reagan Jones, which is perhaps where part of the appeal lies.)

This went on to become a routine - whenever commuting, I would fire up the same two songs and sing along. Eventually I incorporated a number of other songs into the repertoire; in particular, Unknown, from Awakening.

(This is a song that has a great deal of personal meaning to me: from the day of release onward, it invoked an emotional response that I could not identify but wanted to experience again and again. In hindsight, it’s obvious: it had become an expression of my inner gender war.)

The song features some comparatively high notes that are simply outside of my current range; and while a year of offhand practice has brought me closer to them by sheer dint of brute force effort, they are still unattainable. Further progress would require professional intervention.

This being the case, I had my first singing lesson yesterday. I was incredibly nervous beforehand; but Chelsea, my instructor, did a great job of making me feel comfortable and otherwise being terrifically encouraging.

(It’s also worth noting that I did elect to cover my transgender status, as knowledge that I have what are fundamentally male vocal cords is rather relevant to the subject at hand. Her response - “Congratulations!” - is to me a shining example of how people should react to such news!)

Although I was not planning on it, Unknown has become our first practice song; and Chelsea fully believes I can extend my range sufficiently to cover those higher notes and more. To say that I cannot wait for our next session is an understatement!