Why It's Good To Be A Woman

So today I had to go back to the same T-Mobile store in Center City I was at yesterday. Last night I tried to download a game on my phone and in the middle of the download the thing just froze dead. The little lights were blinking but I couldn't get it to start. Not good. Luckily, I still have my old LG phone in case of emergencies so I used that until this morning. The lady I spoke with at the store got it working for me in short order, and after another stop at Old Navy, this time for some leggings, I Ubered it back to the apartment.

When we got to my block there was a line of cars about halfway down. Some idiot had run out of gas and was stuck at the corner. A few men got out of their cars and helped the idiot push his car far enough to the side of the road so the rest could get by, including one man who originally had just sat in his car waiting until the woman with him, presumably his wife, admonished him to get out and help.

As I watched this scene unfold, it occurred to me that this is one of the great things about being a woman: No one expects you to get out and push. We are the rescued, not the rescuers. It isn't very feminist, nor does it realistically apply in any number of real-life situations anymore, but when it comes to everyday life problems that require an application of brute force to get the job done, it's still men who are expected stand up and pitch in, not women. On the other hand, of course, as women we're expected to clean up the mess the men make afterward.

I'll admit to being glad about that. Clothes cost money and women's clothes are usually more expensive than men's. Plus, I hate getting dirty if I don't have to. Even before I transitioned, while a lot of my male friends were motorheads, I'd never stick my hands inside an engine compartment. I was always the one they'd send out for pizza and beer while they worked. I was frequently mocked for this, but I didn't care. I can check my oil and even change a flat tire or an air filter in a pinch, but I'll never volunteer for that kind of job if there's a man willing to do it for me, even if I have to pay for it. After all, manicures cost money too.

In my twentieth year of living fulltime as a woman, and my fifth year of using injectable estrogen, I I've noticed that I seem to have crossed into a place where no one who doesn't know me personally makes me as trans. I can't remember the last time I was "sir"ed, which was a frequent occurrence for a long time. The rest of the world consistently sees me as a woman now and accepts me as such out of hand, rather than just accommodating me out of politeness. Even those who knew me pre-transition often seem to forget I once lived as male. Needless to say, this makes me very happy.

I know this is a form of female privilege which many trans women will never enjoy, but I won't apologize for taking joy in the fact that I now have it. I didn't get a choice in growing into a 5'10" adult instead of 6'4". 5'10" is on the tall side for women but not tall enough to raise eyebrows. I also won't apologize for being fortunate enough to be able to afford gender confirmation surgery and injectable estrogen. These too were not in my control.

Sure, I know that I'm lucky in some ways, and I try to do what I can to help level the playing field and support the community. At the same time, I refuse to apologize for doing everything I can to live my dream, to be the person I've always wanted to be as best as I am able. To me, that's ultimately what life is all about, to know that when it's finally time for me to say goodbye to this world that I did the best I could to live my life the way I wanted to.

As I get older and middle age continues to catch up with me in different ways, I think about these things a lot and I'm more conscious of them than I used to be. There are a lot of things I just can't do anymore, or at least I can't do them at the same level as I used to. I try to let it get in the way as little as possible, but reality can and does intrude from time to time.

There's a great slogan that sums up how I feel a lot of the time these days. If I ever find it on a t-shirt I'll probably buy one:

"Old punks never die, we just stand in the back."

Walking Center City

Yeah, I know, it's been a while since I posted here, almost two months in fact. Why? I really don't know. Maybe it's just laziness, maybe it's because I haven't done much worth writing about, or maybe I just haven't been in the mood. Whatever. Today has been an interesting day and it's still just early afternoon.

When I went to Pride a few weeks ago, I ended up getting a free tablet from the T-Mobile trailer there, just for being a good customer. While some of their dealings with their unionized employees don't make me happy, this company has treated me better as a customer than just about any other company I've ever dealt with. No other company will give me credit. None, even though I haven't missed a payment on anything since the mid-90's. With T-Mobile, I've already paid off one phone and I'm currently paying off another, my new Samsung S7, which I love. I briefly flirted with the idea of getting the Android version of an Apple watch and paying it off through them but in the end decided it was really just an totally unnecessary $300 expense. Maybe once I have some of this other stuff paid off, I'll reconsider.

I decided that I wanted to upgrade the memory in the tablet from 16 gig to 64, but after what happened at the T-Mobile store nearest the apartment I refuse to shop there anymore. So instead I Ubered it down to the next closest T-Mobile store at 20th and Market. when I got there I was stunned to discover it's closed on weekends. A store on one of the busiest streets in Center City, closed on Saturdays and Sundays...unbelievable. Fortunately, it's Philadelphia and there are T-Mobile stores all over the city. I hoofed it down to 15th and Walnut to another store and got what I needed in short order.

After lunch at Chipolte, I decided to hit an Old Navy a few blocks away. I picked up a few things there and then Ubered back to the apartment. When I got here, I discovered that some stuff I ordered from Old Navy's website had arrived so now I have a shitload of new summer tops to wear. Next missions: Sandals and leggings.

Over the course of writing this post, I've decided that I need a Coca-Cola Slurpee, right now. Time for a short walk to 7-11.

Goddess, I do so love living in the city.

Spring Has Sprung, And Voting's Begun / Birthday Musings

This part was written last Tuesday, Primary Day here in Philly...

Today was another one of those days when I got a lot done. First, I figured out how to register my car here in Pennsylvania and I'm going to be dealing with that first thing tomorrow morning. Next, I hoofed it over to my local polling place and voted as a Philadelphia resident for the very first time.

On the way home I stopped at the liquor store and picked up a bottle of Patron Silver and some Margarita mix. Good thing I did too, because after what happened later, I'm gonna need it.

After stopping at the apartment to put the tequila and margarita mix in the fridge, I did a little shopping at the supermarket down the street.

Finally home again, I got a text from T-Mobile that my bill was almost due and I needed to update my payment information. I went to their website and did this, and while I was there, I noticed that my bill seemed a bit on the high side, so I checked the itemized bill and noticed that along with an installment charge for the new phone I just got, there was a charge for an unknown device, a device that apparently cost $299.99.

I called T-Mobile's customer service line and was told that the charge was for a set of Beats headphones I'd gotten along with the phone. I was told that I'd get a discount on these, but they'd actually charged me full price. The customer service rep told me that I had 30 days to return them so I said I'd head there immediately.

Many long tiring blocks later, I arrived at the T-Mobile store on Chestnut St. and said I wanted to return the headphones. The manager of the store refused, however, saying that the return on accessories was only 14 days. Needless to say, I was pissed.

On the walk back to the apartment, I called the T-Mobile customer service line again and told them what happened. They flatly refused to do anything for me.

Now, here's where it gets interesting.

By the time I got home, I was steaming. I went to T-Mobile's Facebook page and posted a warning about that store there. Within a few minutes I was talking to yet another customer service agent who had responded to my post. I told them what had happened and after a few private messages exchanged, the upshot was they gave me a 25% discount on the headphones. A royal pain in the ass to get to that point, but worth it in the end I suppose.

The next thing I did kind of surprised me. I applied for a job at T-Mobile. Yes seriously, not kidding, and let me tell you they have an application process that checks you out like you wouldn't believe. It took me a couple of hours to get through the whole thing. It'll be interesting to see if I get a call from them.

This part was written the day I actually got around to finishing and posting the thing.

So today, May 8th, is my 54th birthday. In all honesty, I never thought I'd survive long enough to get this far. When I was a teen and young adult, I was sure that sooner or later I'd overdose on something and kill myself. By the time I was about to turn 35, I was suicidal and tried to kill myself by driving a van into the side of a bridge. I came really close, too. Another split-second and I'd probably have done it.

Now here it is 2016, and I'm still alive. Not only am I still alive, but I've accomplished a lot in the 19 years between the time I tried to end my life and now. I wish I had more to show for it financially, of course, but I'm ok, at least for the moment anyway.

I still think about it now and then. Depression is something I have to guard against constantly. Even though I now live in a major city in a state where it's pretty easy to purchase a gun if I wanted one, I'll never allow myself easy access to a lethal firearm. I've still got far too much to do, and I know that just one moment of weakness, just one, could lead to something tragic. While there are certainly other ways to end your life if you're serious about doing so, guns just make it far too easy for me to risk having one around.

The truth is that as I get older, particularly around birthdays, I find myself thinking about the fact that I won't be around forever, that statistically speaking I'm closer to the end of my life than the beginning. Knowing that and understanding it changes you. It makes you think about the past and the future. It makes you wonder about the value of your life, if you've managed to make a difference. Maybe most of all, it makes you wonder how much time you have left and what you're going to do with your life until your time is up.

Being a suicide attempt survivor changes you too. I know what it feels like to want to die, but I also know what it feels like to want to live, and to have made a conscious choice to continue living. It's why I care about suicide prevention and why I even have reminders of my desire to keep living tattooed on my body.

19 years ago, sitting in the driver's seat of a van, covered in chunks of safety glass, parked next to a small girder bridge where I'd just tried to end my life, I made myself a promise, and so far I've managed to keep it. It hasn't always been easy, but it has gotten easier, and it gets easier still every single year. Why? Because every year I have more to look back on and smile about, and because I know how much I would have missed if I hadn't saved my own life that day.

Only an idiot would try to argue that anyone's life, including their own, keeps getting better every single day, but at the same time, only the most shortsighted of fools would try to argue that it never can.

It's A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood...

The weather was really nice today. Warm, low 70's, just the right weather for a nice walk. My first excursion was an eight block walk to Wawa for cigarettes. I decided to do something today I hadn't done since I've been here. Since it was so nice and warm, instead of my standard jeans and t-shirt/sweatshirt combo, I wore a pretty light dress I got from Old Navy.

It's sooo much more comfortable to wear a dress instead of pants on a hot day. It makes walking easier too. That leisurely stroll took about an hour, with another half hour or so waiting at Koch's Deli for a truly awesome hot corned beef hoagie. Koch's is so popular that you inevitably end up waiting a while to get your sandwich, but it's so worth it.

When I got home, I ate my sandwich and after a little while I decided I wanted some booze. At first I'd planned on picking up a six-pack of beer, but just my luck the place on Walnut Street a couple of blocks from the apartment only sells by the case. Fuck that. Even if I could fit a case of beer in my fridge, I just don't want that much beer around. I'm fat enough, thank you, and I refuse to drink light beer because most of it tastes like piss water.

So, off to destination #2, an actual liquor store on Chestnut, a couple of blocks in the other direction. I ended up coming home from there with a large bottle of pre-mixed Margaritas. That works.

Today was the most pleasant day in Philly weatherwise since I moved here. I did a lot of walking and got plenty of sunshine and exercise. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Two Down, Two To Go

Today I did something that I knew it had to be done, but it hurt my heart to do it. I sold my RAV4.

I fucking loved that car, but I didn't really have a choice. I can't drive two cars, and as much as I loved the RAV, it doesn't make any sense to keep the car with 193K miles on it and sell the one with 51K.

Even though I have to give up my favorite of all the cars I've ever owned, the Corolla is a pretty decent substitute, especially now that I have a Sirius radio installed. It's in good shape, drives well, and has a 6-disc CD player, perfect for those long drives from Philly to central Jersey. It's also an automatic and while I loved the 5-speed manual transmission in the RAV, the Corolla's automatic is much easier to deal with driving in and around Philly especially. The RAV was a great car for Jersey, but not so great for living in a big city like Philadelphia.

Bon voyage, my baby. I hope your next owner treats you well.

*****

Now that the RAV is dealt with, I have to get the Corolla titled and registered in Pennsylvania. I've already got PA insurance on it, but now I have to go to the New Jersey DMV, transfer the title from my mother to me and then take that to PennDOT and title and register it here. This, I know, is going to cost me even more time and money. With every move, there's another fee to be paid. I can't wait until I'm finally done with this crap. 

Oh yeah, and there's still the birth certificate to deal with. I'm going to order a certified copy of my name change judgment (because there's no way in hell I'm parting with the original) and mail that in along with the other necessary documents and a check (of course) to finally get that changed.

I did finally get my new passport in the mail the other day so that should help to smooth over any ID issues I may have to deal with in the meantime.

I think once all that's done I'm going to buy myself a big bottle of tequila, some margarita mix, and roll myself a nice, big fatty to celebrate. Hell, I've earned it.

Oy Fucking Vey

So I'm sitting here writing this at a quarter to four in the morning because the guy I share a kitchen with had the bright idea to heat up pizza at 3am without using a baking tray or foil. So of course, on top of him waking me up from a sound sleep the cheese dripped and charred the bottom of the oven, filling the apartment with smoke and the stink of burnt pizza.

I turned the thing off, but by then it was too late. The entire apartment is now filled with a haze and so I have no choice but to sit here now with the windows open when the temperature is around freezing outside.

The oven is now unusable of course. He's either going to clean that shit up tomorrow or I'll be having a conversation with the landlord. He didn't even bother to check on it while it was heating. It could have easily started a grease fire and burned the whole fucking place down.

Unacceptable.

Apparently he's mistaking this apartment for a college dorm room. One way or another, he will be disabused of that notion and quickly, because this shit ain't happening a second time, even if I have to install a hook and eye to keep him out once I go to bed.

This is my home and I will not put up with this shit.

On the positive side, I had a very interesting and encouraging phone call with a friend I hadn't spoken to in a while earlier this evening. More work, very interesting and personally satisfying work, may be in the offing. Too early to know any more at this point, but the possibilities are definitely intriguing. Hopefully I'll know more soon. Suddenly, it's going to be a busy weekend for me...that is, assuming I can stay awake after dealing with this oven nonsense.

Well, I think enough of the smoke is gone, and I'm inebriated enough, that I'm going to try to go back to sleep, if I can. I usually have a hard time sleeping when I'm pissed off and that is definitely the case right now.

Goddess save me from fucking kids.

Being City Girl

So, I'm very proud of myself today. I accomplished stuff.

Setting out from the apartment at about 11:30 or so, I walked over to a nearby wash and fold where you can do your laundry or have them do it for you for 75 cents a pound. Normally I would do my own laundry in the machines in the basement of my building, but they've been broken for a while now. I just don't have the time to sit in a laundromat doing it myself right now, but I must get it done. I asked them if they'd use special laundry detergent and color-safe bleach I bought myself because I have a very high sensitivity to the regular stuff and wearing stuff washed in it makes me itch like crazy. The lady there agreed to do it, so I'll bring a pile of stuff over there tomorrow.

After that, I took a several block walk to Everlasting Tattoo over on 43rd and Pine where I got my semicolon freshened up. It had lost a little color in the middle of both the colon and the dot:

On the way back toward the apartment, I made a major discovery. A little hole-in-the-wall Jewish deli  at 43rd and Spruce that absolutely kicks ass. I have a feeling I'll be using them a lot.

After stopping at home and eating the delicious roast beef hoagie I bought at Koch's Deli, I took a quick trip to the supermarket a block away to pick up a few things, then it was back home, done with my errands for the day.

It's interesting how I'm still in the stage where I'm discovering new things about my neighborhood almost every time I go out. I can't wait til the weather warms up a bit so I can do this more frequently.

I must admit I've surprised myself with how quickly and easily I'm re-adapting to urban living. It's been almost 32 years since I lived in a major city (I'm not sure if a city with one main drag and not much of a real downtown like Atlantic City really qualifies), but I haven't had many real problems adjusting. There have been some surprises and unexpected moments along the way to be sure, but nothing I couldn't handle. Honestly, I feel more at home in Philly than I ever did in North Brunswick, as if this, or at least a place like this, is where I belong.

So yeah, I think I'm a city girl now, in a way I've never been before. Last time, I was still living as a guy. This time, I'm me, and it feels right, in a way it never has before.

I can't wait to see what happens next.