Categotry Archives: bitterness

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Negotiations and Love Songs

Categories: adventures in transition, bitterness, the tiniest violin in the world

I met my old lover
On the street last night
She seemed so glad to see me
I just smiled
And we talked about some old times
And we drank ourselves some beers
Still crazy after all these years

So it seems that The Second Awakening, that is when I get around to posting on it, which is approximately never right now (New Job! Ongoing Tiger Beatdown Commitment! Did We Mention A Little Footy Match Between Deutschland and England Today?), is going to be my Whine Blog. Which is okay, I guess, although I seem to have done a lot of work just to make a MySpace page.

So today, I’m going to talk about love. Yes, love.

Well, okay, and sex.

I’m not the kind of man
Who tends to socialize
I seem to lean on
Old familiar ways
And I ain’t no fool for love songs
That whisper in my ears
Still crazy after all these years

See, the thing is, for a long time I’ve been good at being alone. I made an art of it: I could sing the libretto of loneliness with the best of them, ’tis true. And you know, it’s mostly good; I have my cats, my writing, some good friends, a decent job, the occasional trip to other corners of the map. I’m not complaining much.

Sure, there was a time after my marriage imploded, then exploded, then imploded twice more before exploding a few more times, when I wasn’t so good anymore at being alone. I’d been in relationships, long-term relationships, for a decade, and I didn’t really remember how to deal with being alone again, especially not suddenly. Don’t fret, ducks; it worked out, and it gave me the space to figure out what it was that I needed to do with my life.

And part of what I was going to do to myself, I realized, carried the very real risk of being alone. Permanently. As long-vanished as my fertility.

Now, I was okay with it then, and I’m okay with it now. It was a price I was willing to pay, and in any case back then me and my Ex-Significant Other of Variable and Often Fabulous Gender were still an item, still going strong. So I’d beaten the odds, right? Had cake, ate it too, went back for more cake.

But there wasn’t any more cake, it seems. Me and SOOVAOFG broke up (it was a long-distance relationship in any case), and I was back where I started, although with several problems in my life fixed. All well and good.

Except…

Except…

Except, sometimes, you meet people. People you like, and people you’re even attracted to. People you wouldn’t mind knowing, as the kids today don’t say anymore, a little better, if that’s how it was going to work out. Not like major lust or even burning infatuation; just finding somebody that you think there might be a spark of something, a little glimmer of possibility.

And when that happens, then the long hours alone are harder to distract yourself through, and you don’t feel like staying home, but you don’t feel like going out either, because you’re too depressed to be with other people, even if that was what you needed to do, really. But it’s just too hard.

Four in the morning
Crapped out, yawning
Longing my life away
I’ll never worry
Why should I?
It’s all gonna fade

It’s hard because, once again, you can’t run from who you were, not really, not forever. Oh sure, you go around and live your life as if it never was any different. And you don’t make a big deal of things. You, don’t, really, even when you are a blogger known pretty much for only this one topic.

But then, like I said, you meet somebody. And now what to do? Do you talk about who you were, the you that you never wanted to be? Do you just go on as if that you never was, like you wanted?

There are people who can handle things that way, because to them, it’s true. I don’t mean that in the sense of “to them, the sky is green”; I really mean that there’s no prevarication because they never felt themselves to be what other people said they were.

I envy those folks, sometimes. Maybe a lot.

Because for me, it’s harder, because I was always a bit of a borderline case, because I had a reasonably long and fairly successful life before transition, because I’ve hardly cut any ties with my old life, and because, damnit, it took me over three decades to finally be honest with myself about being a woman and it’s hard for me to to just automatically assume that habit. Oh, sure, I’ll defend trans women as women until my face Doppler shifts from blue to red; and I believe it about myself with a firm conviction.

But. But it’s hard for me to also not include the “trans” part in there.

That’s a weakness, maybe. A flaw. The more-trans-than-thou crowd will pin it on me being a poseur, a “late transitioner”, a cross-dresser, a man in a dress. Whatever.

But it’s hard, I guess, for me–just me, mind you; I’m making no claims on anyone else–to be open and honest enough to pursue a relationship with somebody and hold…that…fact…back.

Now I sit by my window
And I watch the cars
I fear I’ll do some damage
One fine day
But I would not be convicted
By a jury of my peers
Still crazy after all these years

So what do you do, when you’ve met somebody you like, maybe even have a crush on, when the way their eyes light up when they smile can make you smile just remembering it, and yet you think that maybe knowing about who you were would be the deal-breaker, that you’d be friends, of course, but that’s all? Especially what do you do on the weekend where your Dilation Drama Theater screening was an episode of “Law and Order: Special Dead Lady Unit” about Teh Tranz, about a girl who hadn’t told her boyfriend, because she was afraid of losing him? And he was filled with rage and more-or-less killed himself? And the character in question had been beaten repeatedly and ends up gang-raped in prison at the end? Besides cry in the shower for a while, that is.

I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out. Especially after they, the subject of your little crush, has already been fairly open with you, has made their own revelations and was worried on their end about losing you. Me. Your mixed-up correspondent.

I mean, “Gift of the Magi” anyone? To tell, or not to tell? Either way risks losing, either now or later. No good choices here.

How can it be, that when you’re finally fixing your life, really emerging as the person you wanted to be, the person who could finally really give, that you realize that maybe nobody will ever want to get?

I don’t know. I wish I could tell you. I wish I had my normal moral authority, ducks, and could fill you with some wrath and rage and well-turned oratory. I wish I could do it for you, so you could do it for me.

It’s just that even when you’re a past master at the art of loneliness, sometimes the long years before you weigh a lot more than they usually do, and the realization that there’s a very good chance you won’t be with anyone becomes a steeper price than you thought.

Oh, still crazy
Still crazy
Still crazy after all these years

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Kate Bornstein ♥’s TOTWK; Or, It’s Hip to be Au Contraire

Categories: (un)popular entertainment, beating them at their own game, bitterness, don't get your panties in a bunch, Humorless Tranny™, i heart oppression, kyriarchy, the transsexual empire strikes back, transphobia: now in blog format

Hey, ducks! I’ve been talking quite a bit of late about Ticked Off No-I-Won’t-Say-Its With Knives. You know, because of the outrage, and because I went to the protest. What ho!

Now, the general consensus here in Transland (Population: More than you think) is that this thing is outrageous, especially the trailer (which Luna has now modified to take out the references to recently brutally murdered transfolk. Um, thanks–I’m glad to know it took a massive outcry for you to display basic humanity! No, kudos to you, sir!) But that doesn’t mean that there’s massive agreement on the film. Some people actually are defending it! Trans people! Trans people who were not employed in it as actors!

Take, for example, Tom Leger’s post over at Trans Group Blog:

Continue reading →

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General Francisco Franco Is Still Dead, and Hiram Montserrate Is Still A Douche

Categories: bitterness, douchebaggery, hiram monserrate watch, i heart oppression, the patriarchy: you can't live with it....that is all

So the New York State Senate finally got around to voting on legalizing gay marriage today:

Marriage equality failed today in the New York Senate after a years-long battle to bring the issue to a vote. The final tally: 24 YES, 38 NO. Among the surprises was a “no” vote from Queens Democrat Sen. Hiram Monserrate, who had previously been a vocal supporter. In October, Monserrate narrowly escaped a felony assault conviction for slashing the face of his girlfriend with a broken glass. Monserrate’s NYC office: (718) 205-3881. His Albany office: (518) 455-2529.

Yes, it’s our old friend Hiram Montserrate shocking nobody with a fucking brain that he once again turned out to be lying, devious jerk. We knew he hated women; now we know he hates gays: fortunately, the New York State Senate takes so few damn meaningful votes that we may have to go months before we find the next group Montserrate thinks is disposable.

And fuck, it sucks that NYS couldn’t make this happen, although there is hope now for future votes (and primary challenges to the Democrats who voted No.)

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You Win Some, But You Lose Many, Many Others…

Categories: bitterness, i heart oppression, media tool kit, rape is hy-larious, your rda of misogyny

Double header of media mayhem!

First, the good news:

Roman Polanski lost the first round yesterday in his battle to avoid extradition to the US for having sex with a 13-year-old girl in 1977.

Already locked in a Zurich cell for the last dozen days, Polanski learned that he will remain incarcerated for an extended period after the Swiss Justice Ministry rejected his plea to be released from custody.

Swiss authorities said they feared he might leave the country if released. The director of film classics such as Rosemary’s Baby and Chinatown has been wanted by US authorities since fleeing sentencing 31 years ago.

“We continue to be of the opinion that there is a high risk of flight,” said the ministry spokesman Folco Galli.

He said the threat was too great for the government to accept bail or other security measures in exchange for the release.

Oh, and by the way? If you had any doubt remaining that this guy wasn’t a megadouche? Or that he had somehow made some recompense? Feast your eyes on this:

Roman Polanskiwas to pay at least $500,000 to Samantha Geimer, the victim in his 1977 child-sex case, under a settlement in a civil suit Ms. Geimer later filed against him, The Los Angeles Times reported over the weekend. Mr. Polanski, right, agreed to the settlement in 1993, but as of 1996 had not made the payment, according to court records provided to the news media in response to requests for access to the old case. It remained unclear whether the settlement was ever paid, though Ms. Geimer was still trying to collect as of 1996, by which time accrued interest had pushed the amount to more than $600,000, according to the court records.

Sheesh.

But don’t worry, the news can always get worse…especially when it’s the NY Daily News:

A shocked judge demanded prosecutors explain why they asked him to allow a prominent Manhattan therapist to return to the home where she’s accused of
slashing her husband Tuesday.

“I’m going to send her home to a 79-year-old husband when it’s alleged she stabbed him with knives?” Manhattan Criminal Court Judge Anthony Ferrara asked prosecutors.

“You’re assuring me he’s going to be safe, that this piece of paper is going to protect him from knives?” he said, after granting a “limited” order of protection allowing Joyce Poster-Lederman, 64, to return home.

Funny how people never seem to worry that it’s “just a piece of paper” when it’s a woman who’s being covered by it. Don’t believe me? Check out this site about orders of protection in New York:

You have been arrested because you got into a fight with your girlfriend or wife. Maybe there is a reasonable explanation or your girlfriend does not want to “press charges.” Unfortunately, at this stage it doesn’t matter. You are now before a judge and whether or not you are released, you must completely stay away from the complainant.
[…]
A “full” order of protection or “restraining order” is a an order by the court preventing you from having any contact at all with the complainant or alleged victim of a crime. This could mean that if you live together you may not enter the home. Alternatively, the police will arrange a time for you to enter and get some of your things. You will not be able to call the complainant or talk to the complainant even if she calls you. The burden placed upon you is quite severe.

Yeah. Imagine, not being able to see the woman–please note, it was assumed to be a woman who was the victim–because you beat her up! Oh, the humanity!

Which is kind what the order is trying to protect, ya know?

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Satire or Wince–You Make the Call

Categories: bitterness, Humorless Tranny™, teh tranz

I’m in a bad mood right now, ducks, so I find myself not in a position to judge on the humor of this piece–I get what they’re doing, but I’m surprisingly humorless about this subject.

But judge for yourselves:


Conservatives Warn Quick Sex Change Only Barrier Between Gays, Marriage

(h/t helen boyd at (en)gender)

Me, I’m off to hide under the covers against the moment when somebody takes me to task for using a sports reference in the title of this post–it’s only been a few hours since someone tried to revoke my womanhood, and I need to recharge.

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Except I Am

Categories: all about me, bitterness, teh tranz, vive le feminisme, why i blog

Reasons I Am Told I Cannot Be A Feminist
Culled from Books, Message Boards, Web Pages and Conversations by, for, and against feminists

  1. Because I shave my legs.
  2. Because I color my hair.
  3. Because I wear skirts.
  4. Because I wear dresses.
  5. Because I wear high heels.
  6. Because I had plastic surgery.
  7. Because I had breast implants.
  8. Because I had vaginoplasty.
  9. Because I am attracted to men.
  10. Because I still am attracted to women.
  11. Because I’ve read a few books on feminism.
  12. Because I’ve only read a few books on feminism.
  13. Because I have a vagina–now.
  14. Because I didn’t have a vagina–then.
  15. Because I don’t have a cervix.
  16. Because I had a penis.
  17. Because I had male privilege.
  18. Because I had white, male, middle-class privilege.
  19. Because I still have white, middle-class privilege.
  20. Because I wasn’t raised as a girl.
  21. Because I look like a dude.
  22. Because I look like a woman.
  23. Because of who I was.
  24. Because of who I am.
  25. Because I dare call myself a woman.