I was
going to be attending First Event for the
first time.
It would
have been my first experience living as myself for more than a few hours
squeezed in at the end of a long workday or during weekends spent trying to
balance living as both him and myself.
It would
have been my first experience spending time as myself outside of my home.
I'd been
looking forward to it since I first registered last summer.
Apparently folks have been having some trouble commenting in the past day or two. I tried redoing the settings; if anyone has trouble, could they drop me a line to let me know? I would appreciate it. Thank you!
We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. And The Clash.
In the eighteen or so months since I began blogging, the kindness and generosity I have experienced from this little community's corner of the online neighborhood has been remarkable.
When I finally realized I had no other choice but to transition if I wanted any kind of peace, I began researching the subject, something I had never allowed myself to do before. I did so for the same reason I wouldn't give in to my desire to dress as myself; doing so would open a door I knew I would not be able to close.
As part of that research, I inadvertently stumbled across the blogging world. I will be honest: when I began reading them, I struggled to find one that seemed to speak to me. But I kept at it; I am a grinder, and once I decide to do something, I keep at it. :c)
Well, as it turns out, at least one reader is somewhat dissatisfied with the musical selections in my last post.
How dissatisfied, you ask? To the point that she has threatened to inflict physical harm on your humble, jazz-loving scribe.
Well, OK, not her personally, but her tough friends. ("I don't want to break a nail.")
I can only imagine that in her childhood said reader endured a trauma similar to that of Homer Simpson's least favorite neighbor, Ned Flanders:
In light of such hardship, I can only remove my beret, don yet more black clothing, and offer what small solace I can with some non-beatnik-related musical stylings.
Yes, kids, it's time for the latest installation in what has turned out to be a long-running series, ConversationswithC, in which we all get to enjoy my 19-year-old nephew C's current musings on the state of the world.
I've been fighting a seriously nasty flu bug that simply will not let go. As a result, I'm behind on several fairly serious posts that I really want, and need, to write. But this is too entertaining not to share. :c)
I have been under the weather again today. My flu, and chest-rattling cough, have, alas, made a comeback. :c(
But at the moment I hardly notice this. Why, you ask?
I just found out that Calie has featured this blog on T-Central!
I am so, so flattered by both the honor and by her kind words. Thank you, Calie! I hope anyone who samples this blog finds it useful in some small way. Welcome!
I think the only thing that would make me feel even better was if I had found this under the Christmas tree:
Of course, if I got *this* gizmo as well then I would have something to munch on while I down a glass of... well, whatever it is that Milky produces. :c)
Quick aside #1: Jim Henson, in his pre-Sesame Street days, produced this commercial.
Quick aside #2: H/T to April for sharing these clips with me.
Thank you again, Calie, and welcome one and all!
***
Here's a greeting in song from the first band I ever saw in concert: Cheap Trick. Happily, they are still going strong, and still putting out wonderful new music, after all these years. :c) Long live power-pop!
I realized the other day that for some reason I had never submitted my blog up to be listed at T-Central. Calie, bless her heart, was gracious enough to put aside my inner blonde taking over again :c), and added it to her roster.
My view count jumped within a few hours of her acceptance (thank you and welcome to any new readers!). So I thought I would follow the suggestion of a few friends and put up a post containing the entries that tell my story so far, more or less. The Chronicles of Cass, if you will. :c)
I say "more or less" because I have at least one additional lengthy post to write: puberty, when I finally realized who I was. As you can imagine, that is not an easy subject to address. But I will. I must.
Writing these other posts has been incredibly cathartic. I can only hope they help even one other person the way that reading similar posts helped me when I was starting my journey.
These are more or less chronological in order, but in a few instances are grouped thematically. I will admit up front that they may be a bit intense in spots. I tried to be as honest as possible, and sometimes the truth is painful.
I *do* have a sense of humor, though, albeit an offbeat one. (Or as my friend April puts it, "Nope. You're just weird." :c)). So, feel free to poke around if you need cheering up. Try anything labeled "ConversationswithC," which are inspired by my occasional chats with my 19-year-old nephew C. He is, as you will see, a piece of work. In the best possible way, of course!
Thank you in advance for your patience in slogging through these! I hope you find them useful in some small way.
Just to show that not *all* is doom and gloom in my little corner of the Web, here's the great Richard Thompson, with a cheerful ditty called "Now That I Am Dead":
I still wasn't feeling well last night - and in fact I still don't feel well now - but I had enough reserves in the tank to go see My Morning Jacket and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band as planned with T & J.
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