Okay, But I Have To Give Some Context To My Spouse’s Tags Here:

Blank lines

I would like to meet the Microsoft employee that oversaw the inclusion of Visual Studio's infamous "Apply Cut or Copy to blank lines when there is no selection" feature and shake them firmly by the C5 vertebrae.

Bioluminescence, by Dee Mac

8 track album

Dee Mac released her new album today. It’s amazing. She’s amazing! What are you waiting for? Go listen to it and shower some love!

“Oh boy! It looks like I’m going to make it through the entire night without a single nocturnal panic attack!”

The nefarious 6:41am:

Struck a nerve

Every two weeks I inject estradiol into my upper thigh muscle. There are six sites to choose from - the inner, middle, and outer surfaces of each leg - which I rotate through.

I'm a fan of middle thigh area. It's very easy to get a nice, perpendicular needle insertion. (The inner and outer thighs are trickier, often necessitating holding the needle at an angle or in a way where my own hand obscures the target.)

My last shot was into the right middle thigh. Perfect! I readied the syringe, swabbed the skin with an alcohol wipe, let it dry, pulled the skin taught, darted the needle in and screamed.

See, you can't really see what's under the skin; so sometimes you hit something on the way in that you shouldn't - like a blood vessel. I have an unerring ability to find blood vessels. It sucks, and it's unpleasant, but bearable.

This wasn't a blood vessel. It was a nerve.

There was probably a good minute or so of straight crying - needle sticking straight up out of my thigh, a tiny monument to my act of self-sabotage. Eventually I calmed down enough to inject the syringe contents and clean up.

I get that these sorts of things will happen when you routinely stab yourself on a fortnightly schedule but all the same, that was an experience I hope never, ever to repeat!

Once upon a time, there was British company that operated a series of entertainment venues offering tenpin bowling, arcade games, food, and drink.

(I understand that this is not dissimilar from the popular Dave & Buster’s format; or the Texas-specific Main Event chain that the former acquired.)

I was employed in one such venue as an ‘Alleycat’; which is a whimsical appellative for someone that served the bowlers (and thus prevented them from leaving their lane, and delaying the game schedule).

As such, I had unfettered access to the various drink dispensers (both alcoholic and non-); including the soda fountain.

At the urging of my housemate, I recreated a beverage from his native Germany - a blend of cola and orange soda referred to by the genericized trademark ‘Spetzi’ (lit. ‘Friend’).

(This may seem a rather unappealing admixture; but it works surprisingly well!)

Unfortunately, the budget for my particular location was mismanaged; and I found myself working many shifts with a sub-skeleton crew. This spurred a search for a suitably sugary beverage to fuel the Alleycats.

The result: a combination of 3 parts pure Icee syrup, and 1 part Sprite. This devilishly cloying concoction was dubbed ‘Pixie Juice’ by our resident rave girl (and there’s not a day goes by that I miss its saccharine embrace).

Some examples!

Dr Pepper and Coca-Cola

Vanilla Coca-Cola with Orange Sunkist

Strawberry Fanta and Sprite

Mtn Dew and Blue Powerade

Root Beer and Ginger Ale

If you’d like, please comment with your favorite combinations!

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.

For a friend

I finally completed a painting for a friend:

This person has done so much to help me in my transition; I wanted to do something in return, and commemorate her two wonderful cat sons.

The line art for the cats came together fairly quickly; but then I found myself stumped for months on end as to how to effectively transfer it to the canvas. (Ideally I would have projected it on to the surface and traced over the top; but that would require, you know, a projector of some kind.)

To complicate matters - the lines were inked with a fine point marker; but the canvas would not absorb the ink and the ink would not dry. It was in incredibly frustrating experience, constantly finding new smears and smudges. Next time I will try a permanent marker instead.

(That being said: I fully recognize that much of the issue comes down, as always, to my belligerent insistence on mixing mediums that simply don't belong together. This kind of canvas is really designed more for acrylic and oil paints; I'm the lunatic trying to apply ink and watercolor.

Another night terror

I had another terror episode last night. As with the previous episode, it was quite absurd in nature. I am mixed on whether this signifies a dearth of creativity on the anxiety-driven part of my brain, or that it is now entering some kind of postmodern phase.

Initially I dreamt that I was in my bed; and that it was nighttime, but there was just enough light to cast shadows. These shadows were sufficiently menacing (and there was a distinct impression that they were trying to resolve into the shape of people) that it became imperative that I extinguish all sources of light.

Enter into this scenario: an aquarium-themed night light (the same one that had kept my daughter company during her infant days). Not only was this thing on full brightness, but it had cunningly placed itself on my wife’s side of the bed - just out of reach.

That’s when my brain pressed the Adrenaline Dump button and I screamed awake.

Here’s the part that confuses me: I wasn’t terrified by the possibility that the night light would bring these Shadow People into being; I was terrified of the night light itself. Now how the hell does that work, brain?!

It’s bad enough I have these episodes. Could they at least be something genuinely scary?

Current song: "By Any Other Name"

Well... That's not great.

Self-fulfilling prophecy

I’ve discussed before that I administer my Estradiol via intramuscular injection; and that sometimes this does not go to plan. This is not the only HRT-related mishap that I have experienced.

The first few months of injections were without issue.

Thereafter, I started to experience increasing amounts of pain with each shot; and in turn, I became more and more reluctant to - you know - actually stick the needle in my leg.

On the fifth go-around, I realized that I was breaking one of the (many) cardinal rules my endocrinology clinic had educated me on: don’t tense up! A tense muscle is a dense muscle; and it takes a lot more effort (and subsequently, discomfort) to push a needle through the tissue. My desire to avoid pain was, ironically, the cause of a great deal of pain!

I learned to relax, and not to hesitate when sticking myself (seriously, it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid - quick and forceful is so much more tolerable than slow and steady)!

I’m not going to pretend that popping the needle in is fun by any stretch; but it’s tolerable. If I have to do this twenty-eight times a year, between now and eternity, to attain True Girl Form... That’s a price I can live with!