Absence

Unexpected voice training side-effect #2

When I got my new car, I was delighted to learn that it came with a hands-free voice assistant. You press a button, and then the scene plays out as follows:

Car: Beep boop. “How can I help you?” Me: “Play that one sad song. I know, I know. That’s the kind of day it is.” Car: “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.” Me: “Play that one song.” Car: “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.” Me: “Just cancel.” Car: “I’m sorry-” Me: “CANCEL!” Car: “Cancelling.” Beep boop.

See, as awesome as this feature is, it really struggles to understand anything I actually say.

Until I started using my girl voice.

Legitimately! I’m not sure if this is simply because it’s in a higher pitch now (and the microphone can pick it up better); or if it’s because my accent has been slipping (and the original training data was chiefly American). Whatever the case: it’s a a welcome and unexpected reward for the work I’m putting in!

Yet another night terror

The fever dreams continue; alas, taking a turn for the worse. Last night's dream featured my spouse and I perambulating through a cave filled with snow; I kicked ideally at a pile of snowflakes, only for some kind of hag to burst out from underneath and tackle me into what I knew to be a very, fatally deep pit.

Then came the screaming; and waking, heart racing.

I don't know what's going on right now - I keep ascribing these sorts of negative impacts to work stress and ill health - but the effects feel disproportionate to the stressors. Hopefully either I can get to the bottom of things soon, or else they ease up; because this is exhausting.

How it started, versus how it's going...

I grew up in the UK, 30 minutes from Games Workshop's Nottingham headquarters; and my childhood heavily featured their games, miniatures, and routine trips to the local Games Workshop store.

During this time, I developed a particular affection for the work of Jes Goodwin. Initially an artist and sculptor, Jes' work was strongly geometric in nature; and displayed an unusually high degree of consistency (a particularly noteworthy achievement during a period where miniatures were sculpted by hand with ad-hoc tools).

For reference - one of Jes' early sketches of a Space Marine in Mk. VI armor; as featured in the guide that accompanied the very first Space Marine paint set:

I actually had the pleasure of meeting Jes in person at Games Day '94; and one of my treasured possessions is the souvenir program, which he kindly autographed:

During my teenage years, I came to possess a handful of Chaos Champions sculpted by Jes. As was so often the case in those early years, the miniatures had been designed as dual use; combining the sort of medieval aesthetics that would warrant inclusion in the Warhammer Fantasy Battle setting, but also the occasional technological greeble that would justify use in Warhammer: 40,000.

As I generally kept to the latter system, I set about cutting up and remodeling these miniatures, with the aim of making the science-fiction elements more explicit. And I was very happy with the end results, too!... Which makes it all the more unfortunate that these miniatures were lost when I relocated to the US.

Two decades later, and I have taken it upon myself to recreate these miniatures (albeit with the full advantage of the skills I have developed in the interim). The first mini on the chopping block is 021919 from the 1989 Citadel Catalog (frequently referred to by its most obvious physical characteristic, "Nurgle Chaos Champion With Fly Mutation"):

(It feels vaguely sacrilegious, taking a razor saw to what is now technically an antique; but I very much subscribe to the DIY mentality that was so prevalent during the initial Rogue Trader days, and - given that the model originates for the same time period - keeping the old traditions alive seems only appropriate.)

In my original conversion, I removed the haft and blade of the axe; and positioned an old Space Ork plasma cannon over the now unobscured shoulder. I also replaced the sandaled foot and exposed fly-mutated leg with their armored equivalents from a Space Marine Devastator.

This time I around, I opted to angle the right arm, to add a greater sense of movement; and completely reposition the left arm, as if to calling out a target:

(In doing so, I created a great many headaches for myself: the right hand snapped off at the wrist, and had to be repaired. Cutting the left arm free necessitated cutting through the hand; and the pins I inserted into the remains of the palm broke free, requiring JB Weld to resecure.

I cannot underscore the frustration inherent to these two experiences; at the same time, I'm a great believer in the idea that growth as an artist demands taking risks - up to and including potentially ruining one's art.)

The original version of the conversion also featured an extended barrel (fabricated from the Lord Fuegan's firepike, and a handful of random Genestealer claws). However, I wanted to replace this with something a little more appropriate for a follower of the Lord Of Pestilence; which ended up being the better part of a Plague Spewer:

In terms of next steps: I intend to strap a canister of goo-based ammunition to his left side; and continue to add new detailing to hide the various cuts and joins.

Dress-up

An interesting aspect of the trans experience is looking back on one’s former life, and inspecting certain signs, behaviors, interests and activities through the lens of hindsight.

In this particular instance: for many years I have enjoyed video games in which one can control the appearance of the various player characters. I have spent considerable time armoring my rogues, outfitting my Sims, and coordinating the ring attire of virtual pro-wrestlers.

It occurred to me recently that I was in some respects engaging in a kind of ersatz dress-up. Much like actual dress-up, I also now find the skills that I developed being applied in my day-to-day fashion choices: pairing tops and bottoms, socks and shoes, and so on.

I can’t even begin to untangle what aspects of a person's behavior are based on their biology and others, their social identity; but it’s fascinating, digging up these examples where - even while boxed in by the gender expectations of that time and place - I was seeking, and finding, ways to escape that jail.

Jingle

🎵 “The worst part of shaving as a trans girl Is when you nick your nip” 🎵

Third generation Daemonettes! Juan Diaz really captured their unearthly grace in a way unseen before or since; and the sculpts are highly sought after (as evidenced by their 2016 rerelease via the Made-To-Order program).

Diaz also produced a set of Seekers; with the riders sculpted in a similar style (and one, memorably, perched as if preparing to launch herself at an enemy, daggers first)!

I have a set of my own that I desperately need to paint up (if and when I can actually decide on an appropriate color scheme)…

My FLGS had gotten a troupe of some oldhammer daemonettes, and I just couldn't resist that temptation.

Holy crap these models look good for being made in 2001.

For as long as I can remember, I've been in the habit of carrying around all manner of spare tools and supplies for whatever minor emergencies life might throw in my direction.

Since downsizing from a backpack to a messenger bag, I've had to give greater consideration to the volume and weight of such items; but this has only served to gamify my choices!

(Heck: I've modified my current bag multiple times, to better organize the contents; and now I'm planning to construct a new bag from scratch, to hold everything exactly the way I want.)

The following are always in my bag:

Hedgehog best friend;

Keys (on a retractable winder);

Wallet and checkbook;

A6 notebook(s), pencil, ultra-fine marker;

Hairbrush, hair ties;

Netbook and charger;

Folder of miscellaneous papers;

Spare N95 masks and hand sanitizer;

Tissues, spare pad¹.

There are two optional item sets that I include unless traveling light - a personal care bag:

Nail clippers, nail file, tweezers;

Hand lotion, lip balm;

Travel toothbrush, flushable wipes;

Medications;

Basic first-aid supplies (i.e. Band-Aids, pain relief).

...And what could broadly be termed a 'repair kit':

Multi-tool², bit driver, additional bits;

Needles, thread, safety pins;

Universal charging cable³;

Emergency rain poncho⁴.

¹ I'm a great believer in the idea that trans girls should carry a spare pad, in solidarity. However, this also proved personally helpful during my lengthy period (no pun intended) of post-reassignment healing.

² Once used to fix the latch on an ornery stuffing machine at a Build-A-Bear.

³ Each year I attend a convention with my friend; and one of the major highlights is a puzzle-solving activity - the research for which can quickly drain a phone battery.

⁴ Prompted by a situation in which I had to cross a small distance through driving rain, and did not have an umbrella with me.

@ people who carry bags everywhere what do you put in them what is there to bring other than chapstick, keys, phone and maybe a tampon why are you packing a suitcase to be outside for 5 hours

Signs I was obviously trans and I’m a f***ing idiot for not realizing it sooner #1

This is something I beat myself up a lot about: I knew, at age twelve, that I was different. At twenty-two, I was actively trying to bust out of the gender box. For a variety of reasons however, I kept it sealed for another fifteen years; an act for which I am deeply remorseful.

Hopefully I can diffuse my regrets - if even only a little - by noting, tongue-in-cheek, all the obvious signposts that I blew past on my way to the city of Obviously Not-Cisville.

To that end:

Somewhere around 2008-ish, I spent a lot of time in a particularly dark corner of the Internet; a site that has been aptly described as the “Mos Eisley Cantina of the online world”. A place that, paradoxically, was filled with the most socially malfeasant individuals, yet accepted all.

There was a board that had originally been dedicated to the subject of cross-dressing; but for obvious reasons was now home to a thriving transgender community. Equally understandably, a major topic of conversation was achieving certain transition goals - e.g. modifying one’s physical appearance - without professional medical guidance.

(Bluntly - DIY’ing hormones. I’m no going to judge anyone that goes this route; although there are legitimate safety concerns to be aware of.)

Anyhow, this is all a long-winded way of explaining why, when sorting through some backup files recently, I stumbled across three guides I had presciently saved from those days. In order: “Cute Boy Aesthetics; “How To Achieve ‘Trap-Mode’ Aesthetics”; and “How To Girl”.

But me? Pshhh! Totally not trans! 🙄

Unexpected HRT side-effect #8

Skittering!

Strictly speaking I started HRT on year ago; but my endocrinologist didn’t want to go full-throttle with dosages until he had established that doing so would, in fact, not cause me to die (which seems perfectly reasonable).

It really wasn’t until around... April-ish?... that my levels actually got to where they needed to be; and the moment it happened, it was like a switch in my body just flipped.

Then I started skittering around the apartment. I would bounce off the walls! Dance in the kitchen. There was shimmying. Oh so much shimmying!

I told my spouse: “Sorry, I don’t know why I do this. I guess it’s just a thing!”

I’ll never forget their response: “You don’t need to apologize. It means you’re happy.” Beat. “I’ve... I’ve waited so long for this. For you to be happy.”

Of course, this does rather make it sound as if the preceding years were spent in unspeakable misery, and this was not the case. It might be accurate however to say that I spent a lot of time giving my love to others and never reserving any for myself. Undoubtedly there are greater acts of loving oneself out there; but I figure committing to turn one’s gender upside down is up there!

Here’s to my newfound physical expression of joyousness!

Office space

My company has decided to rearrange our current layout; so I went into our location today for the purpose of conveying the contents of my current office to my new office.

Amongst other items, this includes some solid wooden shelves and a two-piece desk. These are not light items.

In the past, I've been able to move these things myself (albeit with great effort and probably minus OSHA approval); brute-forcing them onto a dolly and wheeling them to their destination.

Not this time around though! I just didn't have the strength. I was able to get some of the smaller pieces by myself, but when it came to the main part of the desk I had to rope our network engineer in for assistance.

(And he made it look so easy! At one point he had to take the weight of the whole thing while I moved and it didn't phase him in the slightest!)

It's fascinating because I don't actually feel, in any way, shape or form, weaker; but the evidence absolutely speaks for itself. As I've noted before - there's a serious danger that I will injure myself because I can't estimate my own strength properly anymore.

In addition, I ran into an older member of our organization. The last time we met I was in a dress, and he gave a sort of weird half-chuckle / smile that could be interpreted as "Good for her!" or "That's hilarious".

This time around, I said hi and he responded with "Yes, sir".

I can't tell yet whether he's just struggling to adjust or holds some actual, maladjusted views; but now I'm kind of wondering.

"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action." - Auric Goldfinger

Guess I will wait for a third time and see what happens!