On The Road Again (excerpt)

...... By dint of habit she had outfitted herself, and the car, pretty much as she had so many times in the past.  "How many times is it now?  Five?  Yes.  Five."  Indeed, this was the fifth time she had packed everything she owned into an automobile; and it was less and less each successive time, as part of a long-distance re-location scheme.  The first time was with her beloved 01 Dodge Dakota Sport, with its short bed filled with stuff and then more stuff packed into the smallest available pull-behind U-Haul trailer.  The second time was with her equal beloved 08 Subaru Forester; but only grudgingly thought of as so because of its designation as a "Station Wagon" ("Imagine.  After riding a beef-cake like the Dodge, puttering around in a "Station Wagon.") neatly packed half-way up the windows with an additional tightly packed 8' roof-top carrier.  The third time was with the Subaru again, sans roof-top carrier.  And the fourth time was in the Subaru yet again; thus the "grudging respect" for its endurance and longevity, with half again as much stuff as the last time.  And now the fifth and final; she hoped, road-trip was in the old and ugly, but reliable, 96 Saab with even less stuff. Regards her person, she wore her favourite extremely short cut-off denim shorts, a short-waisted cami, a ball-cap, and a wide assortment of cheap, found or improvised jewelry consisting of necklaces, bracelets, rings, ankle-bracelets and toe rings.

Spitballing: again.

In an organic attempt to distract or console myself the idea of a chemically infused nocturnal ramble suggested itself to me. Something I've been doing for years, as an outlet for my proclivities.  When I walk at night, in secluded mostly deserted places, I always wear something overtly feminine under some loose fitting lightweight boy-drag and when I feel safe I doff the outer layer and revel in my freedom.  It's exhilarating and liberating and immediately I began to imagine myself out somewhere free and fine.  "What should I wear this time?"  I thought.  Then the absurdity of the situation struck me.  Mere seconds after swearing off this behaviour I was plotting an outing.  I did not go out that night.  I told myself the idea was vestigial.  The last desperate gasp of a bankrupt lifestyle.  But I was wrong about that.  Dead wrong.

Spitballing: continued.

......and then someone suggested we go out for drinks.  "Absolutely not" I thought.  I wanted to go to continue the fellowship but the idea that with one look, one glance, any one and everyone whose gaze might fall upon me would instantly know what I am was to much to bear.  My friends tried to talk me into going and for a moment I wavered, but then the question of which bathroom I would use flashed into my mind and I shrank before its spectre.  There were hugs and sad smiles of understanding and a few tears on my part and then I was alone in the silent gloaming.  And that's when I decided it was over.  Failed again.  I would retreat into the shadows of my former life.  Myself only at home.  I had not the courage of my convictions.

Spitballing

I have nothing else ready to post.  I've been writing, but without focus.  Ive lost confidence in the Serial Trans idea.  I have four potential posts in various stages of completion but just no real confidence they're worth following through on.  A short while ago I had the idea to break from the norm and make posts as if this was a diary.  Well, here goes.

When I moved here in June my plan was to 'come out'.  I was going to present consistent with my internal conception of myself.  And I did.  Briefly.  Everywhere I went I presented as I wished.  However, there was always this nagging doubt.  Doubt that I could pass.  From the very first time I prepared to leave the house I was troubled by indecision.  What to wear?  On my way to Bart that first day I turned around and went home to change my footwear.  Soon, I was almost paralysed by indecision.  Once, I canceled an appointment at the LGBT Center because I could not bring myself to pass through the door.  And when I did go out 'presenting' I became more and more obsessed with the idea that I looked like a fool.  Then, one day about two months ago, I decided to guit.  It was a terrible day.  Friends of my landlady were over for some reason and I dressed to present.  There was five of us.  We talked for hours....

To be continued.  Later today hopefully.