Comments (10) My roommate, who happens to be high, just asked me the following question:
If you were able to have one final meal of chocolate – after which you’d never be able to have chocolate again – what would you choose? What type of chocolate, what’s the setting, what would you want?
An article about Evanston potentially gaining an off-shore wind farm made me remember something I saw biking a few weeks ago. While down by Adler Planetarium (shortly before taking these pictures) I saw this:
You can see the blue spinning wind turbines (presumably) near the top of each column, beneath what look like solar panels. I didn’t see any plaques or signs around ‘em, but I assume they were ‘green’ lamps. Neat!
A few weeks ago I posted It’s a ‘woman thing’ not a ‘trans thing’, prompted by a post at Jezebel. I realized that a lack of confidence in ‘feminine’ skills not being a feeling of being a trans woman, but a feeling of being a woman. It doesn’t make you trans, it makes you…normal.
There was some great discussion on this site (and lots more at Jezebel) so I wanted to make sure everyone knew that Jezebel has continued their Beauty 101 series with posts on waxing and shaving, hair, makeup, and more. Me? I’ve been reading tips about eyeliner.
I’d rate eyeliner as the top ‘feminine skill’ I’d like to acquire. I bought some liquid eyeliner earlier this week, because a few comments said it was easier to apply. Well, I definitely think it’s easier to apply. It sure as hell went on my eyelid with less effort. Dunno that it was easier to apply well, though. But maybe practice will make perfect.
gender
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appearance, gender, makeup
Today seemed to be a day of small victories, and the seeds of larger accomplishments.
First, I got a job interview! I haven’t talked a ton about my dissatisfaction with my current job. I’ll write a longer post at some point, but the short version is that I’m ready to move on. In spite of my job’s laid back atmosphere and a number of really great coworkers, there are some things about it that are driving me nuts and I think it’s time for something else. So on Monday I’ll be having a phone interview with another arts organization in Chicago for an admin position. Nifty!
This post was prompted by an article in Yoga Journal, given to me by my mom, called “Forgiveness Heals.” There will be a companion post, a writing exercise about forgiving myself, sometime soon.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I stayed silent too long, spoke too softly to be heard, gave in too quickly.
My kindergarten classroom stretched along an endless hallway. There was a finger-painting station, a corner with cardboard building blocks, a book nook, a playhouse with a kitchen. Trim along the ceiling had numbers, one for each day of the school year, and we would hold a little classroom celebration every time we hit a number ending in zero. We sang, and drew, and played tag at recess. Once a week, I would leave the class and go down the hall to talk with the school psychologist. Even then, my parents knew something was wrong.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell her – in her office with reassuring colors and a calm far removed from the kindergarten class – that there had been some mistake, that my bowl-cut should have been reserved for a boy, could I trade in my button-down shirts for pigtails, please?
Full disclosure: I wanted to dislike Humpday. I really did. It’s about two straight men who decide to make a gay porn film together, and I remember seeing previews and thinking, “Ugh, that’s gonna be really homophobic under the guise of being indie and counter-cultural.” The Netflix description didn’t reassure me, talking about “sex communes” and elevating dares. (I can’t actually find this description on netflix.com, but it was the one that showed up on the ‘Watch It Now’ streaming menu.)
I was pleasantly surprised to be (mostly) wrong.
For the last week or so, I’ve been making my way through Angharad’s epic piece of trans fiction, Easy as Falling off a Bike. It follows the tale of Cathy, a trans woman in her early twenties, as she’s pushed toward transitioning, love, and, well, I’ll let the author describe it:
Stella, someone who could get women drivers a bad name, literally knocks Charlie off his expensive racing bike. She discovers that Charlie, a research field biologist, has a secret. He’s gearing up to transition as a woman, only he’s too frightened to do it. Stella takes control and her brother, Simon not only fancies ‘Cathy’ but falls in love with her.
Follow the mayhem, as this romantic and at times adventure story rambles all over the place as they pursue their lives. Keep the tissues handy, it has pathos, humour and real life, as Cathy deals with the triumphs and tribulations of being a woman.
Continue reading 'Trans fiction: Easy as Falling off a Bike'»
I’ve been thinking recently about advertising on the Internet. As some of you may notice, I have an ad running along the right side of my blog. Specifically, I’m a member of BlogHer’s advertising network. BlogHer pegs itself as “the best conversations led by women in social media. A curated selection of authentic voices.” Their advertising network serves ads to members of the BlogHer network, giving advertisers the opportunity to focus on a (relatively) targeted audience. As a bonus for blogs serving BlogHer ads, the ads will link to other blogs in the BlogHer network – I get traffic from other people hosting BlogHer ads, and they send traffic to me. That means that being a BlogHer advertiser not only gives me a small amount of money, it boosts my traffic, further boosting my ad revenue.
I don’t make tons of money from the advertisements on this blog. It’s been about $10 a month, which basically covers my hosting costs for this blog. That said, it’s really exciting to get some money – no matter how little – for doing something I enjoy doing anyway.
For all that, I’m a bit of a hypocrite: I block ads when I’m online, and strongly recommend that everyone else should, too. The difference is pretty incredible.
There, isn't that better?
(Trigger warning – this post discusses rape, albeit in fiction.)
I saw Trust at Lookingglass Theatre tonight. It’s a play about a 14 year old girl, Annie, who is befriended online by someone who is eventually revealed to be (at least) 35. They end up meeting, and he rapes her. The rest of the play deals with the aftermath, particularly when Annie’s family finds out.
To be totally honest, I was really expecting to dislike this play. I walked in ready for a sensationalist movie-of-the-week about the dangers of newfangled technology, and of writers who were my age when the Internet became mainstream preaching about how things should be for kids who have grown up with and around this technology.
Instead, I saw a piece about bad things happening to good people, of parents doing all the right things and nevertheless seeing their daughter get hurt, of a teenager who made poor – but not unrealistic or unbelievable – choices. It was well-done, and I’d highly recommend it to anyone interested in the use of projection in live theatre, or of dealing with sexual assault, particularly directed at minors. One thing I thought Trust demonstrated particularly well was how cruel it is to label something as not “really” rape, or to dismiss someone’s experiences as “not as bad as it could have been.”
For all that, I can’t say I enjoyed seeing the play.
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