New account!

So, I just opened a Tumblr, and found out my preferred username was already taken. http://lynnincolorado.tumblr.com 

I plan on using it for musings too random or out there for this blog, and that are really too wordy for my Twitter feed.

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Now entering Year Seven

About the only thing that’s changed is that I’ve picked up a romantic partner. Her name is Chris, and she is, if anything, more transgender than I am, if that makes sense.

We’ve actually been dating for a while. Pretty much all our friends know at this point. We’re planning on moving in together next year, as well.

I’ve also been the major inspiration and impetus to her to get out of the closet and out into the world.

It’s not a smooth road, but it sure looks a lot better than the last several romantic relation paths I’ve taken.

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Well…

…I guess I’m not as heart-healed as I thought.

As I thought about it on the way home tonight from a family gathering, that I’ve lived for five years with my inability to self describe as being a nice person without qualifying it with “try to be”, I suddenly got angry at Caradoc, because it sank in that, in a very real way, he still has had a hold on my life in some small but important way. The depth of the anger surprises me, given the amount of time, but I suppose it was a long time in coming.

So, I have two words now. Fuck. Him. I’m gonna take this back from him, and end what little remnant of his influence on me.

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A Nice Person

I was emotionally abused in an online relationship for the better part of a year, about five to six years ago, by a man who lured me in, then introduced me to his wife, and also weaponized me against her, as it was definitely “relationship broken, add more people“.

Right now, I’m working through the bit regarding my own horrific actions at the time, and the fact that it was in part because of his influence that I became that person, that I’m still working on changing my internal dialogue of, “I try to be a nice person,” back into to, “I’m a nice person.”

It is, admittedly, hard to do when I had flipflopped back and forth for months, dealt with someone’s passive aggressive behavior in her own role in the shenanigans and the conflicting demands of both of them and his “desire to just have peace in his house”, and expectations that I was to act with a lack of information. I broke many promises during that time. And yes, even the regret that I should have walked away from it much sooner than I did.

I just need to know myself just that little bit better, that I can finally and truly get to where I can say to myself, to others, and believe it, that I am a nice person, and not just trying to be a nice person.

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Five Years… it’s now been Five Years…

OK, so I’m a little late with this annual posting. Partly because I’ve had some bigger issues on the plate, and partly because the initial novelty has actually worn off.

So, it’s been five years since I’ve started seriously working on this. The next five years might be more important. I have to figure out how deep this all truly goes.

At least I don’t have to worry (much) about the U.S. political climate for the next four of those five years. Obama won, Romney lost. If Romney had won, I would have been afraid of the inevitable attempts to increase the costs and consequences of some of my potential choices. There would have been a potential increase in the shouts from the distance that, “you DO have choices, you can find a woman and not wear skirts out!” There was a chance that, if I find that I do have to transition, that I would have been forced to give up all control over my body to others to achieve it, assuming that I was even allowed to. I would have been constrained in choice of partner by those very same sorts.

At best, I would have found my rights caught up in the crossfire of the Republican’s war against gays and women, even if my rights weren’t directly in their crosshairs.

But still, that’s a bit of digression. The big thing for the next five years for me, is to determine if I need – or should – transition.

I had the opportunity this past year to attend a local anime convention entirely “enfemme”, over 30 hours over the course of three days presenting in my “comfort mode” to people. I’ve had “full” weekends in the past, but those have tended to come up to only about 10-15 hours overall, and much of that with a friend that I’m just myself around regardless. There was not a lot of self-consciousness to be had that weekend.

Overall, though, I have determined that my dysphoria is really not all that strong, although it is there. And it’s not terribly well related to my body, it’s not a horrid thing I see in the mirror every morning, although there are things I’d still like to fix, like the need to shave every day. It’s mostly on the social side of the coin, the way I can be treated by others, even when they’re aware of the body that I’m masking under clothes.

So I expect to do a fair amount of soul searching regarding that.

On another side, I’ve become comfortable enough with my identity that it’s easier to accept being a “big sister” to a member or two of the community that can use guidance and support. I did some of it back in Second Life, but I had felt somewhat more uncomfortable with it at the time, mostly because in many ways I was scarcely ahead of those who were looking up to me as an example. Now, I’m far enough along that I’m willing to give the pushes and shoves some people need. I’m hoping that I’m doing things right.

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For musings too small for here

I’ve opened myself a Twitter account. Hit me at @LynnInDenver. :)

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Slightly unpleasant

I got some sort of welt/blister combination from the “stay put” silicon lining of a bra yesterday. I’ve never worn that bra for an “all day” scenario before – it’s a convertible type, and I’ve only ever used it under halter tops before, and hence, only for a few hours in an evening rather than almost 12 hours. I’ve never had that sort of problem before, certainly not that I recall with my other strapless and convertible bras.

It’s probably a combination of the silicon lines of that bra and the mid-90s heat that we’ve been dealing with here.  I don’t like it much when things get this warm, I tend to sweat in this sort of heat, which probably enabled the bra to slide around a little bit and irritated the skin.

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Something of a transition… in the home

I’ve been in the midst of something of an upheaval in my life, on the side opposite the one that got it over a year ago when I lost my job and had to go find a new one.

It was all something that’s actually been brewing for a bit, in part because my apartment, while cluttered, hasn’t been nearly at the point of my parents’ place (and I dread when it’s time for my brother and I to go deal with that house). Every time I see it, I get a little leery of the way my apartment has been.

But it did finally come to a head when I was having a conversation with my good, dear, BFF Mike. He finally summed it up for me. “Lynn, you have two living rooms right now.”

He had a point.

As a bit of background, I’m a video gamer. I always have been, although I had a period of “remission” from sometime in college until six or seven years ago. When I moved into my current home, I got a two bedroom place (the same price I was paying for a one at the time), and gleefully set up the larger room as a gaming and computer space. As my computer situation evolved, the computer eventually moved out of that room, and the futon moved in as soon as it was replaced in the living room with real seating.

So, overall, what I had wound up with was, as Mike noted, two living rooms. One with the good seating in it, the other with all the stuff I’d wind up having guests over for but incredibly bad seating.

So, a few months ago, I finally decided that it was time to rearrange to more suit my lifestyle.

The first thing was to get the gaming stuff into the living room, which was admittedly something of a tight squeeze, as I have a sizable collection of gaming hardware. A television (I had two, silly me, I’m not doing that again), futon, television stand, and hexagonal table all went out the door, mostly to the thrift store. I also finally got a print I’ve had for over ten years framed and on the wall, and I do feel some shame for the fact that it languished in the shipping tube for that long.

With that room cleared, the bedroom stuff was moved into it, and I got the various needlepoint decorations, originally somewhat scattered throughout the apartment, into the space. I’ve made some efforts to ensure that the space only has stuff in it relevant to its intended purposes… and as a result, my bedroom is actually quite feminine for having absolutely no lace and no pink in it. I never knew I could manage that.

And finally, I consigned my books and board games to the smaller of the rooms, making it into a library, along with a comfortable wingback chair.

Now, the process still isn’t finished, although the rooms have been set up. I’m still sorting stuff out and making harder choices as to things that stay versus things that leave. I have a thrift store run slated for tomorrow, a whole box of stuff and two posters I have no place for, but this is not going to be the last thrift store run of the year.

But, like coming to terms with some of my identity, my domicile is finally feeling more like it’s me, and less like I’m just making it do.

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Three Months Later

Well, that’s definitely a confirmation for me. So far, I’m logging in once a week (or less) into Star Trek Online since I created an account there. My friends haven’t had to come kick me in the ass over it, either, it’s just the way it’s been.

So I have the confirmation, I was a chat room/online world addict solely because I was using it as my only female expression outlet.

The likelihood now of someone convincing me that I need to go boy-only? Has gone down significantly even compared to before I tried the experiment.

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An Experiment

I’ve decided to take the risk, and join up with Star Trek Online, in part as an experiment into why I might’ve been addicted in the first place. I think I know the original causes, and I’m just needing to test the theory.

Don’t worry, I have a couple of friends who I’ve told about this, and asked that they kick me in the butt if I start to fall down the rabbit hole again.

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