This weekend was a trip to Philly for the USA Hockey Women's National Tournament. Well, that's what it was supposed to be, and it ended up being the tournament, a return to Pittsburgh for about a half hour, then a trip to Washington, DC to catch the end of LT's frisbee tournament.
First the hockey - we played well and it was a fun time, unfortunately that didn't translate to great success in the tournament standings. We finished 0-3, but honestly made a better showing than that record indicates (at least, I think so!). By far the highlight of the weekend for me was playing against my old team from New Jersey. I saw my old coach and a number of old teammates, and we had a great game. My old friends got the best of us 1-0, and it was one of the most fun games I've played in a long time.
When we didn't advance to the quarterfinals, instead of staying overnight Saturday we headed home after playing our last game. Got back to Pittsburgh at around 9 on Saturday night, transferred my stuff from the car I was in to my car, picked up a friend of LT's and mine, and hit the road again on a last-minute-whim decision to head to DC. Got to DC at around 1:30 am, slept for a good 4 1/2 hours, then at 6 am bright and early headed out to the fields for the second day of an ultimate tournament. Spent a good 6 or 7 chilly hours shivering in a polo field and cheering on LT and her team, then hit the road for home again. Thankfully our friend knew how to drive stick, so I had the luxury of spending most of the ride home sound asleep in the back seat. Zzzzzz....
All in all, great fun even if half of it didn't go as originally intended, and I rediscovered the fun that can take place when you decide on a whim to drive somewhere in the middle of the night. Just make sure you have time to nap later!
Oh, and I realized that I've gotten to the point where if a drive is under 4 hours, I barely even count it as a trip. I might as well just be going down the street.
Coming Next Weekend: The Dinah Shore in Palm Springs
Monday, March 31, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Things I Learned/Remembered Today
- When driving an automatic, you don't have to push a clutch to start it or put it in neutral to keep it from stalling.
- Driving an automatic is boring.
- People who drive automatic forget about parking brakes and don't remember that they're really good for your transmission.
- Sometimes you just need to tell someone to fuck off rather than let frustration gunk up your inner juju.
- Philadelphia has WaWa.
- Philadelphia has useful highways that remind me of Jersey (sometimes I do actually miss the Garden State Parkway).
- Some people play hockey on teams that are actually...y'know...teams!
- You can still have a shit ton of fun playing a game that you lose. (Well, actually I always knew that, I just wanted to mention it because it's fun.)
- I can't wait to go play in Chicago with MG! And in Cinci with [insert team here], hanging out with my buds!
- However old I feel, my knees feel older. (No wait...just one more season then I'll go get them looked at...I swear!)
Nighty night, y'all.
- Driving an automatic is boring.
- People who drive automatic forget about parking brakes and don't remember that they're really good for your transmission.
- Sometimes you just need to tell someone to fuck off rather than let frustration gunk up your inner juju.
- Philadelphia has WaWa.
- Philadelphia has useful highways that remind me of Jersey (sometimes I do actually miss the Garden State Parkway).
- Some people play hockey on teams that are actually...y'know...teams!
- You can still have a shit ton of fun playing a game that you lose. (Well, actually I always knew that, I just wanted to mention it because it's fun.)
- I can't wait to go play in Chicago with MG! And in Cinci with [insert team here], hanging out with my buds!
- However old I feel, my knees feel older. (No wait...just one more season then I'll go get them looked at...I swear!)
Nighty night, y'all.
Afternoon Nap
You know that feeling: you're so tired, you can't sleep. You lay down, exhausted, except your body is too tense, and you can't relax. Your mind is racing and you have that feeling like you're laying just on the bed/couch/chair/whatever, rather than actually settling into it.
Ah well. Get up, drink some coffee, and get ready for game two...
Ah well. Get up, drink some coffee, and get ready for game two...
Monday, March 24, 2008
Weekend Gauntlet 1: Go Wings!
The way things are looking, seems I'll be out of town every weekend from this past one until May (and 7 of the 9 weekends in all of March and April). Whew! So, this past weekend was first up in my astounding run of busy-ness: a Red Wings game in Columbus, and then National Raisin Gravy Day. (Some people call the latter "Easter", but it's really National Raisin Gravy Day.)
I met my Cincy buds in Columbus to see the Wings take on the Blue Jackets. Given that the arena was half full of Wings fans, the Columbus folk were kind of cranky. The fact that the Wings won 4-1 didn't help. But, although there was some verbal sparring (some good-natured, some not). After the game we hit up a local gay bar in Columbus' arena district--after a very lame start, it eventually got good; I was happy to see a huge variety of gender expression...much greater than I typically see here in Pittsburgh on a usual night out.
And, National Raisin Gravy Day was yummy. Got to see 4 out of 5 of The Kids, and as usual got my ass kicked by the second oldest...when did he become twice as big as me? Ah well, the fun is in the fighting, not in the winning. (And it's a good thing that's the case...)
Some thoughts....
- On the way to Columbus I passed a car with the license plate SUFR4JC. Creeped me out.
- After your parents have lived in the same house for 25 years, it's weird to realize that before leaving to go visit, you need to double-check the directions.
- Yes, LT cooks more than I do, but it's all pasta, and she needs to set the timer to know how long to boil it! (pbpbthththth...) Besides, I own the aebleskiver pan!
- I'm either going to have to figure out a way to be home enough in the evening to do laundry during the week, or...well...um, there really is no alternative.
And in other news, I'm getting my ass whooped with my NCAA tournament bracket, but at least I'm doing better than Tiki and Whiskey. GJ isn't getting much of a run for her money this year though. And, my car passed 100,000 miles! (Roughly 96,000 of them with a mooshed front bumper.) Good ol' Lancer...
Coming Next Weekend: USA Hockey Women's National Tournament
I met my Cincy buds in Columbus to see the Wings take on the Blue Jackets. Given that the arena was half full of Wings fans, the Columbus folk were kind of cranky. The fact that the Wings won 4-1 didn't help. But, although there was some verbal sparring (some good-natured, some not). After the game we hit up a local gay bar in Columbus' arena district--after a very lame start, it eventually got good; I was happy to see a huge variety of gender expression...much greater than I typically see here in Pittsburgh on a usual night out.
And, National Raisin Gravy Day was yummy. Got to see 4 out of 5 of The Kids, and as usual got my ass kicked by the second oldest...when did he become twice as big as me? Ah well, the fun is in the fighting, not in the winning. (And it's a good thing that's the case...)
Some thoughts....
- On the way to Columbus I passed a car with the license plate SUFR4JC. Creeped me out.
- After your parents have lived in the same house for 25 years, it's weird to realize that before leaving to go visit, you need to double-check the directions.
- Yes, LT cooks more than I do, but it's all pasta, and she needs to set the timer to know how long to boil it! (pbpbthththth...) Besides, I own the aebleskiver pan!
- I'm either going to have to figure out a way to be home enough in the evening to do laundry during the week, or...well...um, there really is no alternative.
And in other news, I'm getting my ass whooped with my NCAA tournament bracket, but at least I'm doing better than Tiki and Whiskey. GJ isn't getting much of a run for her money this year though. And, my car passed 100,000 miles! (Roughly 96,000 of them with a mooshed front bumper.) Good ol' Lancer...
Coming Next Weekend: USA Hockey Women's National Tournament
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Xylophone
Later than I intended, I finally find time to reply to the supportive and loving comments from my earlier post. This is long, so grab a drink, be comfy, doze off, whatever.
I am a xylophone.
Confused? OK...let me start from the beginning.
I consider myself to be part of the transgender community. I hesitate to call myself simply transgendered, because a lot of people automatically translate that to "I feel like a man trapped in a woman's body," which is not at all an accurate statement. I've known for a long time that I'm not comfortable in the category of "woman" but at the same time I never felt like I was or ought to be a man. Over the past year, I've encountered the incredibly liberating concept that gender does not have to be an either/or proposition; it does not have to be binary. Many amazing and beautiful people are both, many are neither, many are some mix or nonmix that defies description within the language that we have today. I am queer. I am a xylophone.
MG mentioned that she didn't realize I was going through a crisis. Actually, it's not a crisis at all. If anything, it's a welcome liberation from a long time of being unsure how or if I fit into the world. I spent a lot of time growing up feeling embarrassment and discomfort without knowing why or being able to explain it. Take, for example, clothing. Wearing a dress was humiliating and embarrassing for me. It wasn't just that I was wearing clothes I hated, it was something much more profound and visceral that I couldn't put words to. Because I could not give voice to my frustration and embarrassment, in the eyes of people who loved me it was nothing more than a typical tomboy-having-to-dress-up situation, which (as it should in any good group of sarcastic, fun people) led to lighthearted schadenfreude and merriment. Unfortunately, this magnified the shame, embarrassment and humiliation that I felt.
That was just the completely unintentional hurt that unfortunately came from those who actually love me and didn't wish me harm. Extend the situation to everyday life in an American childhood, where other people, especially other kids, are not nearly so caring. It's not just the occasional special event, but every day that assails you with messages reminding you that you're not what you're supposed to be. You can't give voice to it, you just spend every day knowing that you are somehow wrong inside. And, kids quickly pick up on such a fundamental difference, and make you pay for it. It was difficult, and not being able to figure out what was different about me made it worse. I had a female body, so I must be a girl. But very little about being a "girl" connected with me. I had heard about transgendered people, but I didn't feel like a boy, so that must not be me. I must still be a girl...just a fundamentally incorrect one.
But my point isn't to lay out a "woe is me" thing here...my point is that this realization for me has been wonderful. It has given a voice to my frustrations, and as a result has given me validation. Growing up, we learn about two genders--man and woman. If you don't feel like you are really either one, where does that leave you? There is no language for you, no place for you. It's so much easier knowing that you're just different, not wrong. I'm not anyone's sister or daughter, but I'm also not anyone's brother or son. And I know that that's OK.
OK, so what's this xylophone thing?
People say that words are only words, but words also shape the reality that people recognize on a daily basis. If something does not have a word, there is no way for people to know it and explain that it exists. It's been very liberating finding my place (or non-place, as the case may be) in the realm of gender, but it can still be very frustrating not having a word for myself, an answer when people ask, "So what are you, then?"
There are a lot of labels surrounding gender and folks who don't fit in the gender binary...queer, genderqeer, trans, boi, butch, androgyne, and on and on. Well, let me tell you...with something as intensely personal as gender identity, words are a hot topic. While some people think someone's particular label isn't as important, other people get very defensive and protective of words. Words can become very politically charged, and each label has its own particular connotations that come along with it. I'm still relatively new to all this territory, so I haven't had the chance to decide which, if any, of the existing notions I'm comfortable with. I just haven't met and talked to enough people out there yet.
In the meantime, xylophone is a fun little thing that LT and I came up with, in our many endless talks about gender and identity. There is a book by S. Bear Bergman called Butch Is a Noun, in which Bergman makes a joke about a hypothetical green-haired kid with safety pins sticking out of hyr face who says hyr gender is "xylophone". (I apologize I don't have the book with me for the exact quote.) LT and I chuckled about that, and at some point discovered that there is an Indonesian instrument called a gender, which is very much like a xylophone. So, in our usual don't-even-take-serious-stuff-seriously manner, we decided that one arbitrary label was as good as the next, and this one didn't happen to be accompanied by any existing sociopolitical baggage. It became our own personal code word. At least for the time being, it works for me!
Thanks, by the way, to LT, for joining me in my continued exploration and discovery, helping to calm my fears, and not just recognizing, but celebrating my xylophone self. And thank you to everyone who has expressed support and love for me so far as I've started walking this path.
Coincidentally, today is the birthday of the person who really opened me to the possibilities of gender and my place within those possibilities. I'm still figuring things out, but in three short weeks last year he opened my eyes enough to set the wheels of thought in motion, and in doing so started me down the road to finally feeling an identity that I am at peace with. It started with one comment: "You don't look like a Cheri, you look like a Chris or a Mark...I mean that as a compliment," and blew wide open from there. sj, you truly are a teacher. I can't thank you enough.
I am a xylophone.
Confused? OK...let me start from the beginning.
I consider myself to be part of the transgender community. I hesitate to call myself simply transgendered, because a lot of people automatically translate that to "I feel like a man trapped in a woman's body," which is not at all an accurate statement. I've known for a long time that I'm not comfortable in the category of "woman" but at the same time I never felt like I was or ought to be a man. Over the past year, I've encountered the incredibly liberating concept that gender does not have to be an either/or proposition; it does not have to be binary. Many amazing and beautiful people are both, many are neither, many are some mix or nonmix that defies description within the language that we have today. I am queer. I am a xylophone.
MG mentioned that she didn't realize I was going through a crisis. Actually, it's not a crisis at all. If anything, it's a welcome liberation from a long time of being unsure how or if I fit into the world. I spent a lot of time growing up feeling embarrassment and discomfort without knowing why or being able to explain it. Take, for example, clothing. Wearing a dress was humiliating and embarrassing for me. It wasn't just that I was wearing clothes I hated, it was something much more profound and visceral that I couldn't put words to. Because I could not give voice to my frustration and embarrassment, in the eyes of people who loved me it was nothing more than a typical tomboy-having-to-dress-up situation, which (as it should in any good group of sarcastic, fun people) led to lighthearted schadenfreude and merriment. Unfortunately, this magnified the shame, embarrassment and humiliation that I felt.
That was just the completely unintentional hurt that unfortunately came from those who actually love me and didn't wish me harm. Extend the situation to everyday life in an American childhood, where other people, especially other kids, are not nearly so caring. It's not just the occasional special event, but every day that assails you with messages reminding you that you're not what you're supposed to be. You can't give voice to it, you just spend every day knowing that you are somehow wrong inside. And, kids quickly pick up on such a fundamental difference, and make you pay for it. It was difficult, and not being able to figure out what was different about me made it worse. I had a female body, so I must be a girl. But very little about being a "girl" connected with me. I had heard about transgendered people, but I didn't feel like a boy, so that must not be me. I must still be a girl...just a fundamentally incorrect one.
But my point isn't to lay out a "woe is me" thing here...my point is that this realization for me has been wonderful. It has given a voice to my frustrations, and as a result has given me validation. Growing up, we learn about two genders--man and woman. If you don't feel like you are really either one, where does that leave you? There is no language for you, no place for you. It's so much easier knowing that you're just different, not wrong. I'm not anyone's sister or daughter, but I'm also not anyone's brother or son. And I know that that's OK.
OK, so what's this xylophone thing?
People say that words are only words, but words also shape the reality that people recognize on a daily basis. If something does not have a word, there is no way for people to know it and explain that it exists. It's been very liberating finding my place (or non-place, as the case may be) in the realm of gender, but it can still be very frustrating not having a word for myself, an answer when people ask, "So what are you, then?"
There are a lot of labels surrounding gender and folks who don't fit in the gender binary...queer, genderqeer, trans, boi, butch, androgyne, and on and on. Well, let me tell you...with something as intensely personal as gender identity, words are a hot topic. While some people think someone's particular label isn't as important, other people get very defensive and protective of words. Words can become very politically charged, and each label has its own particular connotations that come along with it. I'm still relatively new to all this territory, so I haven't had the chance to decide which, if any, of the existing notions I'm comfortable with. I just haven't met and talked to enough people out there yet.
In the meantime, xylophone is a fun little thing that LT and I came up with, in our many endless talks about gender and identity. There is a book by S. Bear Bergman called Butch Is a Noun, in which Bergman makes a joke about a hypothetical green-haired kid with safety pins sticking out of hyr face who says hyr gender is "xylophone". (I apologize I don't have the book with me for the exact quote.) LT and I chuckled about that, and at some point discovered that there is an Indonesian instrument called a gender, which is very much like a xylophone. So, in our usual don't-even-take-serious-stuff-seriously manner, we decided that one arbitrary label was as good as the next, and this one didn't happen to be accompanied by any existing sociopolitical baggage. It became our own personal code word. At least for the time being, it works for me!
Thanks, by the way, to LT, for joining me in my continued exploration and discovery, helping to calm my fears, and not just recognizing, but celebrating my xylophone self. And thank you to everyone who has expressed support and love for me so far as I've started walking this path.
Coincidentally, today is the birthday of the person who really opened me to the possibilities of gender and my place within those possibilities. I'm still figuring things out, but in three short weeks last year he opened my eyes enough to set the wheels of thought in motion, and in doing so started me down the road to finally feeling an identity that I am at peace with. It started with one comment: "You don't look like a Cheri, you look like a Chris or a Mark...I mean that as a compliment," and blew wide open from there. sj, you truly are a teacher. I can't thank you enough.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Memo to the PA Senate Judiciary Committee
FUCK YOU.
http://www.postgazette.com/pg/08078/866089-100.stm
I'm not having a good enough day to say anything more constructive than that.
http://www.postgazette.com/pg/08078/866089-100.stm
I'm not having a good enough day to say anything more constructive than that.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
America's Next Top Role Model
I was at the gym yesterday, and had to grimace at the fact that the TV above the cardio machines was set to a marathon of America's Next Top Model. That's really just evil.
I'm not much of a reality show junkie, so this was the first time I'd actually watched this show. I had forgotten to bring anything to read, so I was held captive as I pedaled. Frankly, I was appalled. The episodes I saw focused a lot on one particular contestant who was derided as being overweight. Seriously? She was one of the last five or six contestants, and was skinnier than the vast majority of people I've met in my life. But the message that was slammed home throughout the hour was that she was just too fat.
I, and a lot of the people I know, are wise enough to see the ridiculousness and not take it to heart; but there are thousands of women and kids who aren't that savvy. They're seeing this woman who is skinnier than most of them will ever be, and being told that she is still too big! How are they supposed to live up to that? They're seeing her being treated as a friend by the other contestants, being supported and encouraged, then seeing these same friends mock and deride her behind her back as being heavy. What is that supposed to make them think about their own lives, their own friends, or how they should treat their friends?
Completely disgusting.
I'm not much of a reality show junkie, so this was the first time I'd actually watched this show. I had forgotten to bring anything to read, so I was held captive as I pedaled. Frankly, I was appalled. The episodes I saw focused a lot on one particular contestant who was derided as being overweight. Seriously? She was one of the last five or six contestants, and was skinnier than the vast majority of people I've met in my life. But the message that was slammed home throughout the hour was that she was just too fat.
I, and a lot of the people I know, are wise enough to see the ridiculousness and not take it to heart; but there are thousands of women and kids who aren't that savvy. They're seeing this woman who is skinnier than most of them will ever be, and being told that she is still too big! How are they supposed to live up to that? They're seeing her being treated as a friend by the other contestants, being supported and encouraged, then seeing these same friends mock and deride her behind her back as being heavy. What is that supposed to make them think about their own lives, their own friends, or how they should treat their friends?
Completely disgusting.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Cooking and Horses and Flowers, Oh My!
When you find yourself, 11 hours before you need to be on a plane, staring at the remnants of Chinese Takeout Lunch that you just unceremoniously deposited in your bathroom garbage can, you're not too sure how the vacation is going to go. Thankfully, it went really well! I was still a little oogy on the travels there, but managed to keep things, ah, under control. After that first day, I was right as rain...well, rain with a nagging cough anyhow.
LT and I went to Bradenton, Florida (a bit south of Tampa) to visit her grandma over this past weekend, leaving Thursday and coming back Monday. It was a nice few days of sun and warm temperatures (not grossly hot, just a nice warm reprieve while everyone up here was getting snowed on), relaxation, and cooking.
Oh, the cooking. Day one was chicken breasts, day two was strip steaks, day three was a whole roasted chicken, and day four was pork loin. I don't even remember all the sides, but very yummy was the fried corn scraped fresh from the cob. Mmmm. And of course a constant flow of goodies that only grandmothers can push on you...fresh fruits of all kinds, brownies, cookies, ice cream, etc. etc. etc. Yum!
We did more than eat, though. We also went to see the a training show at the Herrmann's Lippizaner Stallion ranch, which was much more fascinating than going to one of their regular tour performances. We were able to walk through the barn and see the guys up close, which took me way back to my horsey days of yore, always a kind of emotional thing for me. And we also went to the Marie Selby Botanical Gardens, which was beautiful. They were having a farmer's market, tempting LT with lots of plants and flowers for sale, including tons of orchids. They also had some very intense egrets, and an odd but friendly volunteer who regaled us with a couple magic tricks and a somewhat endless story that included in-laws, an Italian restaurant in Louisville, and semi-pro football.
And of course through all this we visited with Grandmama, and also LT's aunt Tracy on Sunday and Monday morning. They both were wonderfully welcoming and kind, which was very good to see and feel. I was very happy that LT had a place in her family where she was able to celebrate our relationship rather than feel like she had to defend it. And of course it's fun to hear all the stories about people in LT's family. I haven't even met most of them and I already have all the dirt on them!
One amusing thing; we arrived at LT's grandmother's at night, so I didn't see much of the surrounding area, but the next morning I saw that we were in a gated community on a golf course. All you could see from within the neighborhood was the neighborhood itself. My surprise came later that day when we left, and as soon as we got outside the gates I saw that this expensive, carefully tended community was plunked down in the middle of scrubby, somewhat dilapidated farmland. The whole area seemed to consist entirely of farms, abandoned farms, and gated golf course communities, with the occasional Publix. There were easily four different golf course communities within a few miles of where her grandma lived.
And don't get me started on the gated community WITHIN the gated community. Yikes! Even here, though, people weren't above some of the current economic troubles. While walking around, LT and I saw lots of For Sale signs, including the nicest block in the development where over half the houses were on the market.
So, fun trip, interesting new environment I'd never been in before, and general relaxation and happiness. I'll get some pics when I have a chance.
LT and I went to Bradenton, Florida (a bit south of Tampa) to visit her grandma over this past weekend, leaving Thursday and coming back Monday. It was a nice few days of sun and warm temperatures (not grossly hot, just a nice warm reprieve while everyone up here was getting snowed on), relaxation, and cooking.
Oh, the cooking. Day one was chicken breasts, day two was strip steaks, day three was a whole roasted chicken, and day four was pork loin. I don't even remember all the sides, but very yummy was the fried corn scraped fresh from the cob. Mmmm. And of course a constant flow of goodies that only grandmothers can push on you...fresh fruits of all kinds, brownies, cookies, ice cream, etc. etc. etc. Yum!
We did more than eat, though. We also went to see the a training show at the Herrmann's Lippizaner Stallion ranch, which was much more fascinating than going to one of their regular tour performances. We were able to walk through the barn and see the guys up close, which took me way back to my horsey days of yore, always a kind of emotional thing for me. And we also went to the Marie Selby Botanical Gardens, which was beautiful. They were having a farmer's market, tempting LT with lots of plants and flowers for sale, including tons of orchids. They also had some very intense egrets, and an odd but friendly volunteer who regaled us with a couple magic tricks and a somewhat endless story that included in-laws, an Italian restaurant in Louisville, and semi-pro football.
And of course through all this we visited with Grandmama, and also LT's aunt Tracy on Sunday and Monday morning. They both were wonderfully welcoming and kind, which was very good to see and feel. I was very happy that LT had a place in her family where she was able to celebrate our relationship rather than feel like she had to defend it. And of course it's fun to hear all the stories about people in LT's family. I haven't even met most of them and I already have all the dirt on them!
One amusing thing; we arrived at LT's grandmother's at night, so I didn't see much of the surrounding area, but the next morning I saw that we were in a gated community on a golf course. All you could see from within the neighborhood was the neighborhood itself. My surprise came later that day when we left, and as soon as we got outside the gates I saw that this expensive, carefully tended community was plunked down in the middle of scrubby, somewhat dilapidated farmland. The whole area seemed to consist entirely of farms, abandoned farms, and gated golf course communities, with the occasional Publix. There were easily four different golf course communities within a few miles of where her grandma lived.
And don't get me started on the gated community WITHIN the gated community. Yikes! Even here, though, people weren't above some of the current economic troubles. While walking around, LT and I saw lots of For Sale signs, including the nicest block in the development where over half the houses were on the market.
So, fun trip, interesting new environment I'd never been in before, and general relaxation and happiness. I'll get some pics when I have a chance.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Interlude
I do want to reply when I get a chance to the wonderful comments my friends have left to my last post, but before I had a chance I came across this and had to laugh at it. The CEO of Victoria's Secret is Sharen Turney. Hahaha.
Yes, I know it's not my name, but close enough to make me laugh.
Yes, I know it's not my name, but close enough to make me laugh.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Thank You for a Small Consideration
Except for spam, it's not often that we are grateful that we didn't get an email; it's even less often that we are touched. But that's where I found myself yesterday.
There are a few people that I get forwarded emails from. Some, like friendship and joke ones, I scan through and scoot to the trash folder, or if it's particularly striking I might hang onto it. Others I tend to not even scan. I got an email from MT's mom, and happened to notice that MT's mom had gotten it from her. The original email from MT had all the usual suspects in the address list, but not me.
Now, MT is usually one of the email forwarders; I've gotten some pretty great stuff from her. MT is also one of the people I've talked to a bit about my growing exploration of my gender identity (or lack thereof). The thing is that this particular email was a "yay sisterhood" type deal, instructing the recipient to pass it along to "10 pretty ladies on your friends list and let them know they are pretty." So, her not including me on that was a subtle but pretty significant acknowledgment of what I've told her about my thoughts of gender so far.
As I'm going through this process of figuring myself out, it's little things like that which really help validate and support my developing thoughts. Small details that many people don't even realize exist can mean so much.
So, thanks.
There are a few people that I get forwarded emails from. Some, like friendship and joke ones, I scan through and scoot to the trash folder, or if it's particularly striking I might hang onto it. Others I tend to not even scan. I got an email from MT's mom, and happened to notice that MT's mom had gotten it from her. The original email from MT had all the usual suspects in the address list, but not me.
Now, MT is usually one of the email forwarders; I've gotten some pretty great stuff from her. MT is also one of the people I've talked to a bit about my growing exploration of my gender identity (or lack thereof). The thing is that this particular email was a "yay sisterhood" type deal, instructing the recipient to pass it along to "10 pretty ladies on your friends list and let them know they are pretty." So, her not including me on that was a subtle but pretty significant acknowledgment of what I've told her about my thoughts of gender so far.
As I'm going through this process of figuring myself out, it's little things like that which really help validate and support my developing thoughts. Small details that many people don't even realize exist can mean so much.
So, thanks.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
The End of the Apps
Although the actual applications were done a little while ago, I realized that in my blogging negligence I never posted The List. So here we go, in alphabetical order:
Berkeley
Georgetown
Loyola (not the one in Chicago, one in LA affiliated with Loyola Marymount in San Diego)
Pitt
Temple
UCLA
University of Virginia
USC
So, those of you who are geographically savvy realize that half of those are in *gulp* California. Yep. And only one is here in Pittsburgh. *another gulp* (Of course, Pittsburgh only has two schools and no offense to Duquesne alumni, but no way am I going to a Catholic school that required a long fight and a longer list of caveats before it allowed a gay-straight student alliance.) We'll see what shakes out I suppose.
Out of that list, my top picks are probably UCLA, Loyola, Georgetown, and UVa, with Berkeley coming close behind. Those first four have the most established backgrounds in public interest law, which is what I want to do. Berkeley isn't very far behind from what I've seen, and besides...it's freakin' Berkeley; 'nuf said.
The funny thing about that list is that, out of those five top picks, four are in the top 15 in the country, and one isn't, but that one, Loyola, is probably the front runner at this point. I do think the other four would have more to offer in terms of connections and other resources, but the number one reason why people who intend to work in public interest don't follow through is that they don't make the money to pay off their student loans. While I'm fairly confident that I'll get accepted to at least a couple of my higher ranked choices, Loyola is more likely to drool over my application and offer substantial scholarships, so... Of course luck has it that Loyola Marymount is also a Catholic school, but some research and talking to some folks confirmed that they don't have the same issues that Duquesne has.
At any rate, the reason why the title of this post is for the END of the apps is that yesterday and this morning I finished up my financial aid applications. My head is swimming from all kinds of estimate this, add up that, blah blah blah. I thought it would be a cakewalk when I finished the FAFSA in about 15 minutes. Then a few of the schools also required that I fill out the Need Access app at needaccess.org. Holy crow...that thing was a freaking beast, and compared to a lot of people I keep really close track of my meager monies. Whew! My heart goes out to all those people who don't just fill out a 1040EZ every year like I do. I know my time of mind boggling tax forms will come someday, but I wasn't expecting it just yet!
Berkeley
Georgetown
Loyola (not the one in Chicago, one in LA affiliated with Loyola Marymount in San Diego)
Pitt
Temple
UCLA
University of Virginia
USC
So, those of you who are geographically savvy realize that half of those are in *gulp* California. Yep. And only one is here in Pittsburgh. *another gulp* (Of course, Pittsburgh only has two schools and no offense to Duquesne alumni, but no way am I going to a Catholic school that required a long fight and a longer list of caveats before it allowed a gay-straight student alliance.) We'll see what shakes out I suppose.
Out of that list, my top picks are probably UCLA, Loyola, Georgetown, and UVa, with Berkeley coming close behind. Those first four have the most established backgrounds in public interest law, which is what I want to do. Berkeley isn't very far behind from what I've seen, and besides...it's freakin' Berkeley; 'nuf said.
The funny thing about that list is that, out of those five top picks, four are in the top 15 in the country, and one isn't, but that one, Loyola, is probably the front runner at this point. I do think the other four would have more to offer in terms of connections and other resources, but the number one reason why people who intend to work in public interest don't follow through is that they don't make the money to pay off their student loans. While I'm fairly confident that I'll get accepted to at least a couple of my higher ranked choices, Loyola is more likely to drool over my application and offer substantial scholarships, so... Of course luck has it that Loyola Marymount is also a Catholic school, but some research and talking to some folks confirmed that they don't have the same issues that Duquesne has.
At any rate, the reason why the title of this post is for the END of the apps is that yesterday and this morning I finished up my financial aid applications. My head is swimming from all kinds of estimate this, add up that, blah blah blah. I thought it would be a cakewalk when I finished the FAFSA in about 15 minutes. Then a few of the schools also required that I fill out the Need Access app at needaccess.org. Holy crow...that thing was a freaking beast, and compared to a lot of people I keep really close track of my meager monies. Whew! My heart goes out to all those people who don't just fill out a 1040EZ every year like I do. I know my time of mind boggling tax forms will come someday, but I wasn't expecting it just yet!
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