I promised I would have something much less intense - and more uplifting - than the most recent group of posts, and here it is. 🙂
Two defining traits of anyone who transitions are determination and perseverance. It was my good fortune to learn that these traits ran in my family and that, I, too, could learn them for myself. This is the story of my Aunt B, a hot summer, lessons in math and life, the Boston Red Sox, and hot fudge sundaes - not necessarily in that order. 🙂 Follow along below the fold.
So, I went into my local Starbucks on Tuesday evening.
M, the barista behind the register, spotted me as I walked in and said "Look! It's Cass, our COTW!"
Now, I work in high-tech, which is acronym-happy, but this was a new one, even for me.
"COTW?" I asked.
I must have looked even more befuddled than I normally do, because she laughed, pointed to a sign next to the cash register, and said, "I thought you writer types read everything?!?"
Well, I had noticed the sign - but had not looked at it recently.
So I put on my specs and took a closer look.
This is what I saw:
Isn't that sweet?!?
I had no idea they had done this! (Although I joked that they needed to update the sign by adding "and near-sighted" to the end of it. :D)
Anyway, it made my week, needless to say. :c) Thanks again, kids!
***
While I ponder whether my six-month-old eyeglass prescription needs updating, given that I somehow missed this sign staring me in the face, I thought I'd post a few vision-themed tunes. First up, a great song from The Marshall Tucker Band - "Can't You See," from 1973:
That's the late, great Toy Caldwell, who wrote "Can't You See," tearing it up on vocals and lead guitar.
Another great classic rock tune: 1967's "I Can See For Miles," from The Who:
Every time I listen to this (especially on headphones) I marvel at how incredible it sounds, particularly given the relatively primitive recording techniques available in late 1966/early 1967, when they recorded this.
Finally, an early tune from one of my favorite bands. Here's Wilco performing "Outtasite (Outta Mind") from their classic 1996 album Being There:
And as a bonus, here's it's twin - "Outta Mind (Outtasite)" - also from Being There:
That one never fails to make me smile. :c) I would say Mr. Tweedy and co. were clearly indulging a serious jones for Pet Sounds/Smile-era Beach Boys during the sessions for Being There. :c)
Hi everyone. I want to say thank you to everyone checking in the past few weeks. It means a lot. It's been a long, mentally tiring stretch.
My therapist helped quite a bit at our session last week. As she always does, she is able to help me look at the big picture.
Quite honestly, she took me by surprise. I had assumed she would agree with my decision to move on.
But she did not.
"I know why this hurt you so deeply, and why you feel such terrible sadness," she said.
"But this is where things are at this moment, Cass. Not forever; just for this moment. That's all."
Her advice was to step back for a bit and give myself a chance to process everything. She helped me see that there has been a great deal of progress - but that it doesn't always occur in a straight line. People make mistakes, get scared, and sometimes don't know what to do. (She was also referring to me when she pointed these things out, needless to say.)
In any case, that is what I'm doing at the moment. Taking a break. Thinking a lot. And remembering why it is worth investing this much time and effort. Some things - some people - are worth it.
Even when they drive you crazy.
Maybe especially when they drive you crazy. :c)
***
The title of this post has nothing to do with the previous section. Unfortunately for me, it does have to do with a sore spot - specifically, my lower back. :-/
I had electrolysis last Tuesday after work, as I always do. We were working on my neck - always a great deal of fun, needless to say - and I wound up laying at a slightly uncomfortable angle for about 15-20 minutes.
It didn't hurt; in fact, I felt fine when I finished the session. It wasn't until I stepped out of my car 20-25 minutes later that I realized my lower back was quite sore.
I never have back problems, fortunately. I'm grateful - and lucky. One of my legs is nearly a half-inche longer than the other, something I only found out a few years ago at a free chiropractic screening at my gym.
The chiropractor was astounded that I've never had any back problems with such a discrepancy. She attributed it to being slender and exercising regularly to keep my core muscles strong.
In any case, I've had a stiff back since. It was much better by Friday, but still a bit sore. For once I didn't ignore it or try to do too much to soon. I went for several short walks (45 minutes) and one relatively long one (1 hr 45 min) Thursday through Saturday.
Today it felt well enough that I decided to try my first run in a week. If it started to feel even a bit off, I was going to stop.
Happily, it did not. I was able to run six miles, albeit at slightly less than my normal pace, and walk for another hour. Once my muscles loosened up in the chilly weather, my back felt fine. And it still does, five hours later. Hopefully I'm back on track.
I took the photo above after returning home, btw. Even my hats don't really fit me any longer, oddly enough. I suppose there are worse problems...
Have a good week, everyone. And thank you again.
***
I chose a few songs that seemed to fit this post. Up first is a soul classic from Archie Bell & The Drells - 1968's "Tighten Up":
And here's a song from one of my all-time favorite bands - "She's Tight," from Cheap Trick's terrific 1982 album One on One:
And last but not least, here's The Who with "Slip Kid," from 1975's The Who By Numbers:
This is an underrated album, which is probably inevitable since it followed their two greatest albums, Who's Next (1971) and Quadrophenia (1973). But it's quite good on its own merits. John Entwistle drew the cover, incidentally...
Happy Friday all! Hope your weekend is off to a rousing start.
As the title indicates, my weekend began with a trip to the hairdresser to get my 'do done. :) It's been two months, and the color definitely was in need of a serious tune-up.
Last time we went with a really, really dark red, which was a lot of fun. But this time we opted to go back to the strawberry blonde look we'd been using previously.
I'm really pleased with the results, as usual. J, my stylist, is a true artist, as I tell her every time I see her. She is wonderful. She was amazed at how long my hair is getting, as were the other stylists, none of whom have seen me for two months.
It has to be the hormones; I've read that hair growth is a potential side effect, and that is the only reasonable explanation for both how fast it's growing and how much thicker it's become. I am not complaining, believe me!
We dug out a photo of me from my first visit 18 months ago, well before I was full-time. As J noted, "you're a totally different person now." Even I can sense that, although I clearly don't see all of the changes they seem to see. (More on that another time.)
Anyway, the reason I wrote this post is alluded to in my perfectly innocent, not-at-all-a-double-entendre title. ;) After the color was done, J got to work trimming the split ends so my hair continues to grow "like weeds," as she put it.
Suddenly she became very animated, stepping back with widened eyes.
"You know what we should try, hon?" she said. "Bangs! I'll bet it would look super-cute!"
S, another stylist, immediately chimed in, saying she thought it was a great idea.
I said what the heck? You only live once, after all. :D And as J pointed out, I can always just pull them to the side if I decide I don't like the look.
Well, that turns out to be a moot point. :) Once I put on my glasses to see the finished product, I gasped. I look *so* much like my sister, who also wears bangs, that it was uncanny. (As April sagely noted, "It's almost as if you two are related!")
J straightened my hair, something I usually don't do, mostly because I like my hair wavy. But I like this enough to want to replicate the look fairly frequently.
In any case, you can judge for yourself right now. :c)
Next up is getting my eyebrows shaped. Several of the other photos I took convinced me that it is past time to get 'em done. My electrologist did a very good job, but several friends whose opinion I respect a great deal all have told me separately over the past 7-10 days that there is still room for improvement. So I will get it done. And soon.
Hope everyone has a nice Saturday! Stay tuned for more posts in the days to come!
***
I celebrated my new look by stopping off at Starbucks across from the mall where my salon is located for some baseball chat and iced coffee with my barista friends. R was in charge of the soundtrack for the evening, and happily he decided it was a Who kind of evening. Far be it for me to buck that trend!
I've always linked these two songs together in my mind - as does Townshend, apparently, since they close Side 1 and open Side 2, respectively, on the original LP:
I always marvel at the contrast between Daltrey and Townshend's singing styles. It's remarkable how well Daltrey's gruff, blunt tone contrasts so beautifully with Townshend's more fragile, vulnerable voice. It renders them capable of capturing a range of emotions neither of them could reach alone, which is what makes them such a great team.
One last track, this time Pete's original version of "Pure & Easy," which Daltrey quotes so memorably in the vocal tag at the conclusion of "The Song Is Over":
Greetings and salutations from Medical Center, a/k/a my bedroom. It has been a week to remember in the annals of Calamity Cass.
I have endured trauma - mostly, but not entirely, self-inflicted - to my upper body, lower body, and my head. As Kelli pointed out to me while we were chatting on Friday evening: "Damn girl, you don't do anything halfway, do you?" lol
Alas, she is correct, as always. :c) So follow along below the break for a summary of Cass's adventures in being a one-girl self-wrecking crew. :c)
Here is the first of two posts I've held off on posting due to the events of the past week.
I was going to post about my dinner last Saturday with my friend M - the first time we had gotten together in eight months - first.
But after some thought, I decided to post about last Tuesday night's electrolysis session first. Rest assured, however, that both were equally painful. (Juuussstttt kidding, M! lol)
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.
Apologies for the scarcity of posts lately. Things have been so, so hectic for months now.
I have so many things I'd like to write about, just from the past month, but I simply can't. I'm working on a longer post, so I'll keep this one brief, and just touch on some recent events that seem note-worthy.
I've been thinking a bit more about something that happened at the wedding last Saturday. Or, to be more precise, something that didn't happen.
At the reception, I was at a table with some of J & T's co-workers. I was the only boy at the table. I knew all of them, at least a little bit, and they're all very nice, just like J & T.
As you can imagine, the alcohol was flowing freely; I was the only one not drinking. I don't drink at all when I'm driving, but I rarely drink alcohol anyway. Alcoholism runs on both sides of my family, for one thing. And on a less somber note, I'm also not all that big, and it only takes one beer for me to get a serious buzz. It only took two and a quarter beers for me to get the only hangover of my life, a fact my friends still tease me about two years later. So I'm a true lightweight in every sense of the word. :c)
Most of all, I don't drink because I've always been terrified of what would happen if I ever lost control. I didn't dare risk people finding out who I really was. It was hard enough pretending to be a boy when I was sober, after all.
I tend to be quiet at events like this, partly because I'm naturally introverted, but also because I like to watch and listen people. You can learn a lot. And this day I did.
As I said, after a few drinks the talk around the table loosened up quite a bit. Being a table full of girls, the talk naturally turned to men, and dating, and, well, other things. :c)
What struck me was what didn't happen - namely, no one seemed to notice that I was sitting there. The talk got raunchier and raunchier, and no one gave me a second look.
This has happened my entire life. It used to bother me; I felt as if I were being ignored. But I have a new perspective on it now. I think that on some level everyone at the table simply, intuitively accepted me for who I was. (Or wasn't, maybe? This gets confusing sometimes. :c))
A friend was telling me a similar story about working in her mother's office with a group of women, with the same result as me. And also about how out of place she was when she was with a group of boys.
Growing up, my friends always seemed to leave me out of their more, um, masculine pursuits (read: strip clubs, boozing, and other, less savory pursuits). It wasn't to exclude me; I didn't *want* to be included, and they knew it, and respected it, without even asking. It was always acknowledged, without comment, that I was different. And they were OK with that. And still are, as I'm still friends with all of them. I plan to tell them the truth about the real me at some point in the near future, and I suspect they won't be all that surprised. I also have a hunch I won't feel invisible any longer, either.
Here's one of my very, very favorite bands really doing justice to my favorite Who song:
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