That Smell

So I had two-plus hours of electrolysis and [shudder] laser tonight, and did fairly well, all things considered.

We focused on my upper lip and neck, as well as some of the stragglers that are trying to mount a comeback after our recent assault on my chin.

I wouldn't say I've gotten used to laser; I still flinch - badly - after each pulse. But I no longer tremble quite as much.

And who knows? Given enough time, M might not have to hold my hand the entire time either.

I may bring Cody, my stuffed cow, with me from now on for moral support. He is far braver than I. Cuter too. :c)

Anyway, the one thing I *cannot* get used to, no matter how hard I try?

The smell.

Ewwwwww!!!!

OMG, it makes me nauseous even thinking about it! At least tonight I was so stuffed up from the work on my upper lip that I couldn't smell it. Thank goodness for small blessings!

When I came home and took a shower though... hoo boy. I spent the entire time thinking, "That acrid smell... is ME." lol I had to toss the facecloth in the hamper as soon as I finished. Otherwise I would have a flashback the next time I used it.

Oh well... the price we pay for beauty!

Or whatever it is I have. :c)

***

A great, great song from Lynyrd Skynyrd, and one of the most powerful anti-drug songs ever written:

That three-way guitar interplay at the end still gives me goosebumps every time. Steve Gaines was already well on his way to becoming one of rock's great guitarists after just one album. Alas, we'll never know... but we still have Street Survivors.

Worn Out

My apologies in advance for this post, as I fear it's going to come off as more than a bit self-pitying. There are many people who have it far worse than I do, but I need to start to get these thoughts out of my head somehow.

I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment. I was sick for three days at the end of last week, the latest in a seemingly endless stretch of feeling poorly.

As a result, I had to work all weekend (a long weekend here in the States) to catch up, since I have, yes, ANOTHER deadline on Friday. This week will be incredibly stressful yet again.

Several people have noted that I seem particularly frazzled the past few weeks, and that is how I feel. I've just felt stretched too thin for too long, with no time to learn to be me, let alone relax.

I desperately need time to work on getting comfortable presenting as myself, but for the past year events have conspired to hinder this. I have precious little free time to practice makeup, dressing, and so on. Now I'm feeling anxious that I need to catch up, which is adding to my not-inconsiderable fear about taking those big steps.

I will get there.

NOTHING is going to stop me.

NOTHING.

But right now, I am, quite simply, tired.

I will try to write more about what I suspect is behind this, as well as some quite positive things that took place recently. In fact, those positive events frustrate me even more; I could literally SEE my future, and yet events keep preventing me from working towards making that future my reality.

Apologies again for being a downer.

***

Here is a beautiful song from British folksinger Bill Fay. In 2012 he released Life Is People, his first new album since 1971, which proved that his gifts have not diminished one bit. Here is his stunning re-invention of Wilco's "Jesus Etc." I assure you this will induce goosebumps:

Fearless Heart

I was recently chatting with a friend about Valentines Day and jokingly asked her if she had submitted her list of demands preferences to her beau regarding the big day.

Her thoughtful reply surprised me - something that occurs regularly when I speak with her.

She said that they prefer not to focus the celebration of their relationship on a day that they feel is dictated by the commercial needs of greeting card companies.

Instead, she says, he likes to surprise her throughout the year with demonstrations of his affection, and vice versa. Sometimes this takes the form of flowers, candy, or gifts; more often it's a simple gesture that carries far more weight when the person performing the action is taken into account.

I was left shaking my head in admiration - also a common occurrence after our conversations. She would be the first to tell you that she is far from perfect, and by no means has everything figured out... but she is far ahead of me, that is for certain. This was a perfect example.

I've always loathed Valentines Day. The emphasis on extravagant material expressions of the most profound emotion we have - love - seems not just vulgar, but obscene.

While I still feel that way, what I could never acknowledge until I started transitioning was the real reason why that was so.

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Yup, *Another* Brief Explanation

That's right kids... If it's close to a holiday, it must be time for one of Cass's patented mega-depressing soliloquies!

Well, fear not; you shall not be disappointed!

But before you subject yourself to yet another of my now-obligatory gloomy ramblings, here are a few songs that were running through my head as I penned my latest self-indulgent missive. Think of these as an auditory inoculation designed to lift your spirits.

First is Steve Earle's wonderful "Fearless Heart," from his classic 1986 debut, Guitar Town:

Next is one of my favorite Bruce Springsteen songs, which contains some of his most powerful, resonant lyrics:

I was fortunate enough to see him perform this with the E Street Band in Seattle in 2000 on their reunion tour. Thinking about the sight of Bruce and Miami Steve singing this together gives me goosebumps to this very day.

And finally a gentle, cleansing song of healing from the Cowboy Junkies' 1990 album The Caution Horses, "You Will Be Loved Again":

Happy (Pre-)Valentines Day

I started working earlier this evening on what has quickly morphed into a much longer post than I originally envisioned about Valentines Day - so long that I can't finish it tonight. Hopefully I can polish it off tomorrow evening, before the statute of limitations runs out. :c)

In the meantime, two entirely different versions of the standard "My Funny Valentine," to help get everyone in the mood.

First, is Elvis Costello's eerie, other-wordly take, circa 1979:

Miles Davis puts his stamp on it in 1964, with able assistance from his classic Quintet lineup:

Here's hoping everyone has their own "favorite work of art" to spend the day with.

New England in Winter

Just thought I would share some photos my sister-in-law T took yesterday. I also thought I might put up a few I took from Newport RI when we had a major snowstorm a few days before Christmas 2009. Hope these give you a feel for what New England looks like when the snow flies. :c)

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50 Words for Snow

They were predicting all week that this would be a monster storm, and they were right.

There were 26 inches total before it finally ended early this afternoon.

I spent over five hours shoveling, no easy task with an ankle and wrist determined not to cooperate. But they did, thankfully.

And nearly 15 months of HRT have clearly reduced what little upper body strength I had pre-transition to near microscopic levels.

But in spite of the bitter cold, the wind gusts that threatened to toss me into the nearest snowbank from time to time, and the bone-deep tiredness that set in after the fourth hour or so, I was in a good frame of mind overall.

That was not always the case during past winters.

Not by a long shot.

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Hat Happy

Just a quick post about another "whoa" moment, while I continue to chip away at those longer ones I've been promising. No, seriously, I am!

Anyway, the details await beneath the fold!

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Stormy Weather

This seems to sum things up nicely around these parts:

In fact, I believe this storm qualifies for the much-cherished "Wicked Pissah"category, a designation usually reserved for epochal events like the Red Sox winning the World Series, or a Boston driver yielding the right of way. In other words, it almost NEVER happens.

Anyway, this awful weather *does* give me a reason to post this:

Goosebumps! Speaking of which:

Let's hope we have plenty of this next week - both fair weather *and* Chet Baker music.

No, In Fact Those Are *Not* Doorknobs

I have yet another crazy deadline at work this week (sigh), so I simply don't have time to finish the long post I'm working on about the two weekends preceding my little encounter with a few of the local troglodytes. It's a happy post, I promise! I'm sorry I can't get it done sooner.

In the meantime, here is an image I found online. Words fail:

The image struck me as funny, of course - and then funnier still when I realized there was no line through it!

So, somewhere there exists an establishment where they not only *encourage* groping... but provide visual aids. You know, in case someone needs assistance.

I was going to say I would avoid this particular watering hole, until I looked down at my "baby boobies." Then I breathed a sigh of relief. For once. ;c)

Feel free to offer your own interpretation. Be creative!