hello i am home from the last day of my job and i’m really sad about it
so there’s all the usual things of “i learned a lot” and “i liked the people” reasons to be sad, but also — BOY my last job fucking sucked??? the whole “you look too gay to succeed” conversation was the nail in the coffin, but i was constantly aware that i was by far and away the most Alternative Lifestyles person working there, and that basically 100% of my interests were not appropriate to talk about and every time i tried it was like running into a wall. i don’t like — i think it’s a little embarrassing when people dismissively talk about ~normies~, there’s nothing particularly morally anything about liking sports or vidya or whatever, but like — my coworkers clearly thought i was weird
after my last job, it was such a fucking relief to be somewhere where i wasn’t constantly on edge about being Too Much or Too Weird or Too Gay. my manager was gay, one of my coworkers was gay, another was nonbinary, coworkers liked internet memes and went to gen con; i could do things like talk about the bureaucracy around changing my name or the four different places i have to send paperwork to prove i’m Trans Enough and nobody gave me a hard time about it? where i could spam cat pictures and people would actually ask me questions about the nub? where i horked up tabletop setting ideas at people and bounced weird body horror ideas around? where, when things had to be shut down, managers actually legit lobbied for us (hard! a manager was talking me up literally all over town!) and tried to get us places that would be good?
i’ve spent most of my life not bringing my real authentic self to work, and — i mean, work ry and home ry are never going to be the genuine same person but — being somewhere people didn’t clearly think i was somehow nebulously Not Right was like putting down a giant weight. i mean, i literally cried in front of my coworkers three times in the last two days by summarizing “homeward bound”, and then “the last unicorn”, and then talking about elephant rescue; i would have eaten my own hands before doing that at my last job!
i am determined to be excited about my new job, and — chicago tech is small tbh, so i’m sure my coworkers and i will cross paths again, and even if not i have it put in my calendar to bug people to get coffee and stay in touch at the new year, i have one coworker added on social media and am discord friends with another, it’ll be okay, just — i’m just real sad :c
here are two things i read recently that gave me an emotion; you may also feel an emotion as well.
There is no easy way to say, “I’m estranged from my mother.” It’s even harder to say, “I’ve cut my mother out of my life,” clarifying that you are the one who has severed the bond. Say it to anyone, friend or stranger, and a certain light you hadn’t even noticed fades from their eyes, every time. Smiles falter or grow forced. Mothers give so much to their children that a justification for estrangement must be staggering: some monstrous abuse that outweighs all the love and self-sacrifice inherent in parenting. Only someone selfish and heartless could cut off a mother who loved them — right?
One day, around the beginning of my junior year of college, it occurred to me that I wasn’t going to make it. I had already developed carpal tunnel and tendonitis from years of improper violin technique taught to me by my rural music teachers. I was out of money to go to festivals, and I had no way of making lasting, important connections in a field where who you know matters more than anything else. I had no serious job prospects, nor any hope for job prospects. At work one night, the falseness of the “work hard and you will succeed” ethic washed over me: the truth was the music world was a two-tiered system, and I was in the second chair. Hungover, in the comfort of a dark recording booth, I began to cry. Few things are as life altering as realizing your preferred life is unalterably a fucked impossibility.
i had some bonus bleeding on the right side of my chest and there is a hard little lump of tissue there and it’s going to be there for a while
and every now and again i’ll lean up against something and it’ll stick me in the hard lump and i will not really notice until i straighten up again; it is IMMENSELY weird feeling!
(the scars themselves also have some mass and i still have some numb spots otherwise, but this is a whole section where the pressure and texture of my body is still foreign and weird feeling and: it’s SO weird. it’s so weird!!! bodies are so weird!!!)
man i tell u what, it fucks me up sometimes to think about how many cis hetero men can talk a big game about being equal partners in a relationship and then just — aren’t?
a friend was talking about the constant low-level scanning for things to put away, which — yeah; to some extent, being “a clean person” is just having the wherewithal to pay attention
(which, fwiw, i am not great at; i have to be careful when i bring things into my apartment because wherever i put them down tends to be where they live forever. in particular, i am Bad at putting away dirty clothes; at any given time, that’s the #1 thing making my place messy or uncluttered. i’m pretty good at making sure things aren’t dirty, like, food waste always gets put away and my kitchen is clean, but clutter is very hard for me)
it’s not ALL men, but also the men for whom it seems to not be true tend to be men who were in the military or men who actually had to fend for themselves for long periods of time? like, my dad would have crossed himself and spat if i’d ever called him a feminist, but my dad was also the one who taught me to clean as i cooked, to grab a glass out of my bedroom when going up for a meal, to take one or two items with you when you go from room to room, that sort of thing. meanwhile, “feminist” men who know the right words often ime can’t or won’t do the same. it’s — weird.
man i don’t know that i can actually write the review i want to write? it’s one of the many weird things about having a dead dad, that talking about the things i wish were different about my dad feels like a betrayal. so — who knows. one day i’ll write a proper review! in the mean time: i liked this. it was good. the push/pull of life in the church (specifically) and the patriarchy (more generally) was — i wasn’t catholic but some of this was real familiar.
i will say — it was weird to see some of the sorts of things my parents would do but talked about with affection instead of frustration/hurt/anger. is lockwood a better person than i am? am i just uniquely irretrievably fucked up? is it different and i’m just constantly in need of reassurance because of abuse? yes to all of them?
i saw this while scrolling through the library app! i loved this book immensely as a Youth — i blew through it in a few hours while panicking over job hunt stuff and enjoyed it just as much now as i ever did
for the most part, i enjoyed this! i was kind of not expecting to tbh, but —
— i mean, i grew up in seattle in an evangelical household; i’ve more or less gotten over a lot of it, but between the self conscious yuppified hippie bullshit and the evangelical damage, my big stupid pollyanna heart believes in only doing stuff you love and also being REALLY OBSESSIVE AND WEIRD about it? so a story about a bunch of people obsessed with The True Spirit Of Running and quitting your awful old life and disappearing into the forests to be a weird hippie drifter is, in fact, entirely my jam.
there was def some noble savagery in some of the descriptions of the tarahumara, and the book was written long enough ago it doesn’t include more up to date science about whether or not barefoot running is actually good for you, but all in all — more than a lot of books, tbh, this got at the feeling and spirit of why i like running?
i — would like to maybe
not, like, for suresies, but
possibly try dating again. experimenting sexually, even! i have no earthly idea how to do that, esp while trans! do i just make a grindr??
(bonus: for a wide variety of reasons i don’t want to ~experiment sexually~ with people i know and am friends with irl, so that leaves people from the internet?? man, maybe i can hit up my social network to find a nice fella who wouldn’t mind letting me suck his dick and who is also a friend of a friend and can be vouched for?? christ, this shit is exhausting!)