Random Queer Storytime: The Suit

Welcome, friends, and thank you for joining me for yet another thrilling edition of Random Queer Storytime, that all-too-frequent occasion when I launch into a random tale of my past that exemplifies both my queer/trans-ness and the fact that I was impressively oblivious as a young person.

In today’s episode, we learn about a dance, an ex, and an ill-fitting suit that finally cracked the closet door open — before I slammed it shut again and shoved myself in deep enough to get a glimpse of Narnia. But that’s another story for another day.

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Transgender Diaries: Entry 1

So, I’d like to start off by saying that it is 100% possible to be trans without spending your childhood despising all that comes with your assigned gender, and not everyone who identifies as transgender has the same “I always knew I was *insert gender here*” narrative. There’s no such thing as being “trans enough,” and you can identify as trans without ticking a single box on the What People Usually Expect Of Trans People list.

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In which I venture into the outside world (and survive)!

HELLO, INTERNET. I have returned. (I’m looking a bit like Lucille Ball these days.) I haven’t been on the computer much over the last week or so, which is both (a) a very, very good (albeit surprising) thing, and (b) the reason behind my tragic lack of updates as of late. But TJ! you say, because you often make exclamatory remarks to your computer screen. … Continue reading In which I venture into the outside world (and survive)!

Because procrastination isn’t just for weekends.

Good morning, friends. I have only a limited time between finishing breakfast and needing to be on my way out the door, so naturally I’ve chosen to use this time to write a blog entry. Is this a good idea? Yeah, probably not. Let’s do it anyway. So, as it happens, I don’t actually have much to say, which I admit may make writing a … Continue reading Because procrastination isn’t just for weekends.

Regarding my dad, who put up with a lot

So, Facebook has informed me that it’s Father’s Day weekend, and as Facebook has never lied to me before (except all those times it lied to me), I will take it at its word and blog accordingly.

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With that in mind, I thought I’d blog a bit about my dad, who is, after all, 50% responsible for my existing in the world, and that’s kind of a big deal (to me, at least). But more than just giving me the gift of existence, my dad also, as it happens, was a pretty awesome father.

Behold, an embarrassing photo of myself as a poofy-haired ironing board wearing someone’s grandmother’s dress:

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My dad, you may be surprised to learn, is the gentleman in the back-right of the photo. In case you’re still straining to pick him out, here’s a handy close-up:

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My dad, sadly, passed away of a heart attack when I was twelve, which was particularly illogical because his heart was easily the strongest part of him. He had a bit of a temper, he could paint an elaborate tapestry with swear words, and he never shirked from punishing me when I did something really wrong – but I never doubted for a second that he loved me. He was always gentle, always kind, always affectionate and loving, and the saddest thing, I think, is that I never had the chance to tell him how much I appreciated that.

As kids, we’re all selfish little brats sometimes (or a lot of the time, in my case), and then we grow into obnoxious emo teenagers, and then finally we move away from home and become semi-sensible adults who can look back on all the temper tantrums and emo poetry and say to our parents, “Man, I’m sorry you had to put up with all that.”

I can offer such apologies to my mom, but sadly my dad never got the chance to see me move out of the brat phase and become a (mostly) non-bratty adult. And I really regret that. I know he loved me, but I wish I could’ve had the chance to show him that all the lessons he and my mom tried to instill in me did stick, and I’m a better person today because of what I learned from him.

Anyway, a few memories of my dad that always make me smile:
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