1026
I've been reading a lot of beautifully crafted entries on my friends page and it's been making me ache to start writing again. I've put down a few pages of thoughts and new ideas in the past few weeks but it's nothing.
I'm living in the middle room of a house in Port Fishington with my best friend Jaden and his friend from art school, Rachel. Complacency isn't something I've experienced in a while, but I'm feeling it slowly creep back into my life. Still being unemployed I'm being an extra bit of weight on my friend's shoulders, but I've been putting in quite a bit of job applications to try and scramble for at least a portion of the rent money. Yesterday I put on a button down, v-neck sweater, fashion denim jeans and my club shoes to walk around center city and search some more. It's kind of ridiculous how looking nice fills me with confidence, enough to strike up a conversation on the el and get quite a few stares from men and women alike as I walked past with my book under my arm.
I met a transguy named Chris who conducts the Philadelphia Freedom Band, a LGBT ensemble that practices weekly, and I'm excited to pick up my trumpet this coming Monday and get back into something that makes me feel special.
Outside the IHOP in the gayborhood I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a smiling face, Casey from RFH, who I haven't seen since I graduated. He gave me a hug and told me how great I looked and I did the same. He must have grown a foot since I last saw him. Seeing a familiar face in a foreign city gave me such a lift. I hope I can meet up with him and talk because he was clearly aware of my situation but in a rush to get to his rehearsal.
Everything is new. There is so much possibility. I feel more alive than I have in a while.
In terms of transition, I sometimes stop and smile when I hear my voice. While it is still changing and will probably continue to do so, I feel myself sounding more and more like "myself." That probably doesn't make sense to a lot of you.
In total, I've lost around 40 lbs. None of my clothes from last winter fit so I'm clinging to the clothes Jaden has given me since his drastic weight loss. Fitting in medium sized shirts and jeans with a 32 inch waist is kind of shocking to me.
My face is breaking out a bit. I'm not sure if it's the new testosterone I've been taking, the cheap store brand facewash I'm able to afford or the diet of absolute garbage I've been eating...honestly it's probably a combination of the three. It doesn't seem to be too big of an issue because my weekly trips to the club on Thursdays keep getting more and more interesting. My confidence is showing up on others' radar. Suddenly I'm becoming the person people want to talk to. Last week I had a bit too much to drink before I got there and didn't pay for a single drink, but my consumption pushed me past happily tipsy. The bar owner had given me a job at the door once and I was hoping to get a bone thrown my way again, but I doubt it will happen after the scene I was a part of. A girl who had been feeding me beers like I was a starving child led me to the dance floor and somehow our playful dance turned into me pinning her against the wall and making things pretty PG-13 right in front of the back bar (where the owner tends). We'll see if she calls on me to work again.
That's all I will write now. There is so much more to say but I'm fumbling and aggravated by how I've lost skill with the written word. I'm going to do my shot and send out my resume a few more times. Don't let me be a stranger.
I'm living in the middle room of a house in Port Fishington with my best friend Jaden and his friend from art school, Rachel. Complacency isn't something I've experienced in a while, but I'm feeling it slowly creep back into my life. Still being unemployed I'm being an extra bit of weight on my friend's shoulders, but I've been putting in quite a bit of job applications to try and scramble for at least a portion of the rent money. Yesterday I put on a button down, v-neck sweater, fashion denim jeans and my club shoes to walk around center city and search some more. It's kind of ridiculous how looking nice fills me with confidence, enough to strike up a conversation on the el and get quite a few stares from men and women alike as I walked past with my book under my arm.
I met a transguy named Chris who conducts the Philadelphia Freedom Band, a LGBT ensemble that practices weekly, and I'm excited to pick up my trumpet this coming Monday and get back into something that makes me feel special.
Outside the IHOP in the gayborhood I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a smiling face, Casey from RFH, who I haven't seen since I graduated. He gave me a hug and told me how great I looked and I did the same. He must have grown a foot since I last saw him. Seeing a familiar face in a foreign city gave me such a lift. I hope I can meet up with him and talk because he was clearly aware of my situation but in a rush to get to his rehearsal.
Everything is new. There is so much possibility. I feel more alive than I have in a while.
In terms of transition, I sometimes stop and smile when I hear my voice. While it is still changing and will probably continue to do so, I feel myself sounding more and more like "myself." That probably doesn't make sense to a lot of you.
In total, I've lost around 40 lbs. None of my clothes from last winter fit so I'm clinging to the clothes Jaden has given me since his drastic weight loss. Fitting in medium sized shirts and jeans with a 32 inch waist is kind of shocking to me.
My face is breaking out a bit. I'm not sure if it's the new testosterone I've been taking, the cheap store brand facewash I'm able to afford or the diet of absolute garbage I've been eating...honestly it's probably a combination of the three. It doesn't seem to be too big of an issue because my weekly trips to the club on Thursdays keep getting more and more interesting. My confidence is showing up on others' radar. Suddenly I'm becoming the person people want to talk to. Last week I had a bit too much to drink before I got there and didn't pay for a single drink, but my consumption pushed me past happily tipsy. The bar owner had given me a job at the door once and I was hoping to get a bone thrown my way again, but I doubt it will happen after the scene I was a part of. A girl who had been feeding me beers like I was a starving child led me to the dance floor and somehow our playful dance turned into me pinning her against the wall and making things pretty PG-13 right in front of the back bar (where the owner tends). We'll see if she calls on me to work again.
That's all I will write now. There is so much more to say but I'm fumbling and aggravated by how I've lost skill with the written word. I'm going to do my shot and send out my resume a few more times. Don't let me be a stranger.