a minor post surgery note

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!!!)

a thing about cis hetero relationships

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.

weird shit i bought in the hopes it would make me feel better while looking for a job:

  • extremely minimalist running shoes (fix your form, fix your ENTIRE life)
  • tickets to japan for new year’s (if i don’t get a job i might as well be sad in japan, right?)
  • cat toys (a big hit)
  • cat harness (a complete and utter failure that nubs didn‘t forgive me for for like 48 hours)
  • so much takeout (too exhausted after talking to 3/4/5 complete strangers, some on the phone, a day to cook)
  • tatcha facewash (it’s fucking good)

book review: “Priestdaddy”, by Patricia Lockwood

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?

book review: “born to run”, by christopher mcdougall

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?

terrifying shit

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!)

feminism 101

before i started T, i very much thought of it purely as a set of physical changes, but that’s not even close to accurate.

…rather — maybe it’s more accurate to say that a LOT of mental health stuff was wrapped up in the physical part, in much more foundational and fundamental ways than i previously thought. i really didn’t appreciate how much dysphoria was fucking with me until i finally managed to (mostly) crawl out from underneath it

some of the more surprising ways things have changed have been purely mood-related — i’m much happier and more energetic, i’m less horrified by basic life things, i’ve lowered my dosage of brain meds pretty substantially — and others have been more fundamental to the sort of person i am? like —

  • for one thing, i’m just nicer. now that i’m not miserable, i’m more generous than i was before, and i resent it less when i do things for other people.
  • i like kids way more! taking off the gendered pressure that i Must Want Children because Biology makes me a lot more patient and less existentially freaked out by them
  • i’m a better feminist (see title). for pretty much my entire life i had a really hard time wrapping my head around the idea that people actually like being women, or at least don’t mind it. it’s constrained my life in so many ways! but being out from under the crushing weight of expectation has made me less judgy about people i think are doing it wrong, and more willing to see different perspectives, and less disgusted by — okay this is going to possibly sound bad, but — i was pretty horrified by my own breasts and definitely that affected how i thought about other people.

i think i did pretty okay tbh wrt being generous and empathetic, but no longer dragging that big psychic weight has made me a lot better at it/has made it a lot easier to do? which is really nice tbh!


…….as a side note, everyone else in the webring is a lot less blog-chatty than i am, which i simultaneously feel self conscious about and also

I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable;
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

walt whitman

(on a semi-related note, i have been rereading some walt whitman now that i know he was gay and: as a sad closeted teenager i really resented him talking about how he saw me and was waiting for me, but now as a [DATA EXPUNGED] trans [FILE NOT FOUND], like — thanks for keeping an eye out for me, gay uncle walt <3)