Whenever I come to SF for a doctors’ appointment or work I take the ferry home. Along the way, I stop in at the wine bar in the ferry building for a glass or two.
I’m probably not going to do either of those things again after today’s check-in (there must be better wine bars closer to my new home), so this is my parting toast. 😘
Third week back from Japan and I still don’t feel like I’m actually back.
Stepping back into my shoes at work has been particularly challenging: I lost my design and research partners, without who I can’t even tell all the different shoes apart.
A company reorg, role-reduction, depression, and the decision to seperate and divorce might also be angular momentum on the surreality dial.
The clocks must be at room temperature; they spread easily enough under the butter knife.
Nomnom gnomon.
It’s a magical moment when taking a day to teach your little cousin how to build her first computer pays off instead of her buying a prebuilt.
A tear entered my eye as she called me today to figure out how to change a boot option she needed to play a video game. And I just sit there watching on FaceTime as she goes through all the debugging steps on her own while I am providing the smallest of guidance.
I can’t wait to see the future engineer she becomes.
@pauline has occasionally said that there’s a lot of my mother in me. I want to bristle at that: my mother was not—by any means or metric—a good mother. But she does make more sense to me post-transition than she ever did before.
And, I think, I do to her too.
Saw my mother for the first time in 4 years yesterday; last time we met, I had a different name.
She’s living in a cottage behind a couple’s house in Atherton. It is, in keeping with her talents, a most-impeccably decorated abode: museum-quality miniature living; an art project in filling space.
I’ve inherited some of her talent; we crawled around on the floor with tape measures, discussing the prospective presence of a new coffee table—how the light will affect it over the course of a day.
And that’s kind of the wonderful thing about FFS: even if it isn’t enough to make you pass all scrutinies, it can still bring you to a place where willing people can defy their own disbelief, and see you as they want to see you.
If these people are your friends, they will see you as you want to be seen; if they aren’t, well, … best you both know, so you can preserve your energy for those who are. 🎭
Last night, I enjoyed the company of three other women over cocktails after a film screening. One of them was friend; the other two were newly-introduced to me.
I spent the first half hour stressing about whether or not I was passing. But at some point, through circumstance and conversation, I realized they were at ease with my presence. Whether or not I was passing was moot; I relaxed and had a lovely time.
This gives me a lot of social anxiety. The sort of anxiety they write prescriptions for. (And for which I have been written prescriptions).
🏳️⚧️ Proudly Trans
🌉 Bay Area
Product-Engineering Manager for a software product portfolio; former iOS dev; attorney (CA/IL); large-format photographer; marriage ministress; cinema nut; weeb; lifelong weird girl.
Lover of myths, legends, fairy tales, fantasies, and folklore; 6502 assembly aspirer; book hoarder; gaming nostalgist; gore-adverse, torture-adverse feminist horror film fan; food worshipper; Slack poet; ace-demi-recipro-crier; a total and complete mess.
🍶::🍷::🍺::🍹::🍸