Signal

Night surprise

Our three eldest cats have a simple routine: play, eat, sleep. For whatever reason, the youngest cat is the opposite: sleep, eat, play.

She is also very smart. She loves the laser pointer, and knows that it lives next to our bedside table; and will sit on the aforesaid table and sing to us when she wants to play.

This is all very cute except at nighttime, as we would like to sleep and she would like to play. This was the case last night, and unfortunately the cat would not listen to our polite requests to desist and so she was shut out of the room.

What then followed was a twenty-minute admixture of singing from the hallway and banging on the door. Eventually she grew bored, and decided to revisit another of her favorite pastimes (trying to pry the under-sink closet in the bathroom open; a process that involves more loud banging).

In the middle of the night, I visit the bathroom and as I’m sitting there in the dark, doing my thing, the youngest cat just casually strolls out of the closet like Samara crawling out of the television!

“The Importance Of Having Focus”

A Familiar Comedy for Inattentive People.

Act I.

LAUREN.

[Stiffly.] Good heavens, my back! This suffering is most insufferable; one would pen a remonstrative missive to the Times, were such an endeavor permissible in the purview of one’s own pernicious musculature!

LAUREN.

[Crossing room.] Oh, ibuprofen; faithful, dependable ibuprofen! Come to me now; I require release from the animosities of this fractious anatomy. [Opens bottle and swallows pill.]

Act II.

LAUREN.

Wait.

LAUREN.

…That was the cat’s thyroid medication.

LAUREN.

[Exclaimingly.] Fuck.

To paraphrase my assembly professor:

"The first version of Microsoft Word ran on MS-DOS, and it came on a single 5¼" floppy disk. By Windows 3.1, it came on a dozen 3½" floppy disks. When we got to Windows '97, it came on a CD.

The basic functionality hasn't changed: it's a GUI-driven word processor. So why did Microsoft need all that extra space on the install media? I'll tell you: for that @#$%&! paperclip!

The hardware people create ever-faster, larger, more powerful hardware; and the software people come along and fill it up with junk!"

(As an aside: crotchety old man that he was, my professor was pretty spot-on in his assessment; and critically, was not so much ranting as appealing to the next generation of software developers - myself included - to be more thoughtful in our use of the hardware at our disposal.)

we should globally ban the introduction of more powerful computer hardware for 10-20 years, not as an AI safety thing (though we could frame it as that), but to force programmers to optimize their shit better

I am absolutely astonished that someone else knows this song; let alone in the year 2024!

(That bass line! The audacity to rhyme ‘empire’ with ‘vampire’ in a mock-Transylvanian accent! Absolutely spectacular on all fronts; 10/10, no notes!)

Song of the day is Bloodsucker by Paralyzed age teehee

Unexpected HRT side-effect #11

Sore thighs! My goodness.

To be fair, this isn’t really a side-effect of HRT, but rather my chosen delivery mechanism: intramuscular injection. Let me back up:

There are a lot of ways to ingest estradiol (everyone’s favorite, sexy estrogen). Pills (swallowed), pills (held under the tongue), pills (held under the lip), patches, creams, injections, implants...

How much of the hormone actually absorbed into the body (as opposed to being accidentally digested, say) varies between methods; and what works for one individual might not work for another.

I was advised early on that injections were the way to go; and that’s the route I took. I think it’s worked out pretty well in terms of the speed of my results!

However, it does mean that every two weeks I get to to inject 1ml of estradiol cypionate into my thigh muscle.

The injections themselves aren’t fun, but are actually pretty painless if all steps are followed to the letter (a process that really deserves its own post). Barring the occasional mishap, they are quite tolerable.

However, the muscle does not immediately absorb the estradiol. Instead, a depot is created - a little 1ml bubble of fluid that lives in my thigh and slowly releases it’s hormonal goodness into the surrounding tissue.

The day after it can feel pretty sore (as if I had caught my thigh on a piece of furniture); and frankly, it feels kinda weird having this tiny marble in my leg. It’s a small price to pay however for getting to be me; so I pay it gladly!

…And again in the season one Babylon 5 episode, “Infection”:

“You and the rest, you forgot the first rule of the fanatic: when you become obsessed with the enemy, you become the enemy!”

That JMS repeated himself virtually verbatim goes to show that this is a message he felt very strongly about (and rightfully so)!

That video of Alex Hirsch reading S&P notes for Gravity Falls conveys a few things to me:

1) the U.S. entertainment industry (especially animation) is run by older conservative types who make up offensive terms and get really mad about them.

2) the people who run Disney would be the first to fall in line with a fascist regime.

3) most of the media we consume is tailor-made and watered-down to appeal to the tastes of older, deeply religious conservative audiences.

4) conservatism, not the left, is and always has been the biggest voice of censorship in American culture.

Identity crisis: addendum

As a follow-up to my earlier post:

I have a friend that lives in Texas. He is eighteen; and was in the process of learning to drive when the pandemic struck. He recently visited the state DMV to renew his learner’s permit; and much to his surprise, was given a full driver’s license instead.

I get it; they are trying to keep the system working under a difficult set of circumstances. All the same, my friend is attempting to continue on with his driving education, for what he holds in legal capability, he lacks in actual practical experience and confidence.

This is what it feels like to become an entirely different gender at 37. I’m legally a woman, but I have no idea what I’m doing.

Well woman

A few week’s ago I had an annual check-up; the first in two decades. (Hooray for America’s dysfunctional healthcare system!) I wasn’t particularly concerned ahead of time; but then I received an automated reminder from my provider that had the appointment listed as a “Well Woman Exam”. This lead me down a bit of a rabbit hole as to exactly what that entailed; and then I proceeded to freak the fuck out. Even now, I’m not entirely sure what the problem was - there was definitely some anxiety centered on the more intimate aspects of this kind of exam; but having spent a significant amount in analogous settings (e.g. laser hair removal), I didn’t think this was the issue. (There’s also the matter of my PTSD cranking up in some medical settings; but again, there doesn’t seem to be a particular rhyme or reason as to why and when that fires off... or doesn’t.) A friend suggested that perhaps the issue stemmed from having to speak to my provider, openly and honestly, about my transgender status. My provider is a very nice fellow, and has a fantastic bedside manner (something of a rarity in the US); but even so, transitioning is in many respects a form of magic, and pulling back the curtain on how the trick is performed is not fun. When the actual day rolled around, my heart was racing; and I had to apologize repeatedly to the nurse practitioner for my ridiculous pulse. Thankfully everybody was very understanding; and my provider made the necessary conversations about as straightforward and easy as they could be. (It actually turned out that between various changes in recommended screening guidelines and where I am in my transition, that there’s basically nothing to screen for for the next five years or so; so no poking or prodding there.) I did elect to get caught up on some immunizations while I was there; including getting the HPV vaccine (which is now recommended for everyone, up to the age of forty-five). The administering nurse was perfectly nice; but her technique was slow and methodical (not what you want when getting needled); and the HPV vaccine in particular stung something fierce (which I guess is a known issue with whatever they put in it). In the end, everything worked out okay; but I worry that there will be more of this sort of thing in the near future - I’m out, and as far as the majority of big ticket items are concerned, transitioned; but I feel far from confident in my newfound place in the world as a woman or my ability to pass, and it’s going to be quite some time until that changes.

The Brutalizer

I was in a really, really bad spot a few weeks ago. I found myself sitting in the bath, crying my eyes out, when my friend messaged me.

On a crazy whim I asked her if she wanted to video chat, and that’s exactly what we did (with me doing my damnedest to keep the camera above neck-level).

She was having a pretty bad time of things too; and it was really good that we were able to talk and be there for one another.

To cheer me up, my friend then shared with me a recent experience: during a visit to a sex shop, she encountered an object for sale of both prodigious length and alarming girth. The name of this objet d’art - alarmingly - is The Brutalizer.

I would like to stress at this point that the two of us are super sex-positive. (You do you! If it isn’t harming anyone, why should we care?)

However, there was a fundamental absurdity to this particular item that kept us giggling: it’s gargantuan proportions (intimidating for all but the highly experienced); it’s bizarre marketing (including emphasis on the weight of the product); and perhaps best of all, a glowing appraisal from a professional online reviewer (hidden, like some kind of butt-stuffing landmine, in an otherwise tranquil field of gardening product and Bakugan reviews).

The store had three of these things on display! (Presumably to combat a rush of customers?)

There was much-needed laughter.

During this episode, I made the offhand comment that between the name of the product and the ultra-macho slogans adorning its packaging, I could very much envisage an ‘80s buddy cop show where this inanimate, intimate object plays the role of the maverick detective.

...And that engaged my dark muse. Despite the inherent ridiculousness, I then went on to paint this monstrosity:

(Actual Brutalizer censored because it’s Tumblr; but you know, use your imagination.)

My daughter described this, with utmost aptness, as a ‘physical shitpost’.

The painting is currently moving through the transit network of the US postal service as I type; winging its way to my utterly unaware friend. I very much look forward to seeing her reaction when she realizes that I have immortalized our in-joke in a format that can never, ever be displayed before polite company!

Lessons learned:

Planning typography is laborious, but so worth it!

Watercolors and rough canvas still don’t mix, but I’m persevering.

Also, watercolors are not great for ‘80s-style neon colors.

It feels like cheating somehow, but fine-tip Sharpies are great for outlining!

Update: It arrived! My friend’s reaction: “😂🤣👮‍♂️🍆🎨“!

Bioluminescence, by Dee Mac

8 track album

Dee Mac released her new album today. It’s amazing. She’s amazing! What are you waiting for? Go listen to it and shower some love!