Drunk and Disorderly Chapter 8

I promise I haven’t forgotten about blogging. I’m honestly just awful about it. I have been so wrapped up in reading lately that writing has been a struggle. Even writing a blog post.

Then I have been busy with the distractions of WWII research and documentaries because I came across two different areas of interest that would make intersting historical fiction novels.  I really need to find some focus. If you find my focus, I would appreciate it’s return.

Anyways, into chapter 8 we go and we’ll almost meet the whole crew.  I feel like the story is dragging a bit, but that could also just be me cause I don’t have a clear plan yet. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 8

    Leaning against the building across from Clemens’s scrap yard, Zaralynn folded her arms over her chest, her eyes glued to the front doors of the operation she knew the gnome claimed as legitimate.  Behind those doors was a legitimate, nugget losing operation. At least during working hours. If the government really cared what happened on the outer planets, any account inspecting his books would find out that the numbers were cooked.  Zaralynn was also sure that Clemens had buttered the right pockets in the government in case they ever came sniffing around. The pros to working both sides of a war.

    She hadn’t bothered retrieving the good doc yet and Flake was attending to some business before leaving.  Zaralynn hadn’t bothered to ask what the nymph needed to do, but it would be far easier to talk to Clemens without her.  Less distracting anyway.

    Ragtag crews entered the shop, leaving with various parts, some having to be carted away.  Zaralynn was waiting for a lull. No one needed to hear what she and Clemens would be discussing.  

    “You’ve been watching for two hours.  Planning on robbing me or just love the view that much?” A small gnome, barely coming up to her thigh was standing next to her admiring the view.  He held a cane in front of him, both palms resting on the head. The man wore a cheap suit further giving off the impression that he was sleazy with his awful comb over.  His white hair stuck up at odd angles, fighting the grease he had used.

    Old men should have kind eyes, thought Zaralynn.  Clemens did not. When Zaralynn looked down at him, there was a wicked gleam.  “I was planning to close you down for the day so we could chat. The mustache is new.”

    Twirling one end of the handlebar between his finger and thumb, the gnome smiled.  “Thought I’d grow hair where I could seeing as my head is rejecting it. Gives me a bit of class, don’t you think.”

    “A real gentleman,” Zaralynn quipped, thinking back to the doctor.  

Clemens chuckled.  

Zaralynn stood straight.  “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”

“There are many places we can chat.  One would like to know the nature of a conversation before one decides on where to go.  Like does one need witnesses?”

Zaralynn rolled her eyes.  “If I wanted to kill you, it wouldn’t be during the day.  Besides, chances are you have a few eyes on us now. I’d never kill you when I’m at a disadvantage.  Who is it that has me in their sights?”

“Never show your hand before the other person.” Clemens rolled on the balls of his feet.  “S’pose we take a stroll over to my office? That work for you?”

“As long as you aren’t going to be raided,” Zaralynn nodded.  

Clemens laughed again, sleaze oozing into his voice.  “You know very well that I’m prepared for anything like that.”  He stepped in front of her, leading the way. “It’s been awhile elf.  We should celebrate with a drink, though from what I hear, you’re probably halfway to buzztown already.”

“Keeping tabs on me now?  First a sharp shooter, now this.  I thought we were friends.” It troubled her to know that someone had been keeping tabs on her and she had failed to recognize it.

“We are friends!” Clemens quickly agreed.  “That is precisely why I know what you’ve been doing for the last six years since you came to this planet.  Long time without a word from someone who is my friend.”

He held the door open to his shop, the hinges squeaking slightly.  With one last glance to the rooftops, she thought she spotted the reflection off a scope, but couldn’t be sure.

Stepping inside, she was instantly surrounded by clutter.  To someone not familiar with spacecrafts, this room would only appear as a pack-rat’s wet dream.  Zaralynn had a more discerning eye. There were parts on display from over a dozen different craft, both space and hover alike.  Silver, copper, and brass were all dulled with corrosion and blast marks as was the custom in a scrap heap, yet Zaralyn could tell that some of it was intentionally placed.

“Bold,” Zaralynn nodded at an aerofilter in the corner.  “Only the rich have the NS31. There is no way a vessel that would carry that has been here in two years.  To have that in plain sight is asking for trouble from the authorities or any respectable buyer. I guess you don’t get many of those in here.”

“Part says JV31,” Clemens noted.  “How’s an honest gnome to know the difference?”

“Honest.”  The snort that emitted from Zaralynn couldn’t be helped.  “Honest like when you brought us new rifles while delivering semi-automatics to the Governance the next day?”

“That was honest!  They had more money and offered a better price.”

“And we walked into a trap because you couldn’t be bothered to tip of off.”

Clemens unlocked a door with a dirty glass window that read Employee’s Only on it.  “I wasn’t offered a price from the rebels for information. I never do nothin’ for free.  You know that.”

Stepping through, Zaralynn could tell this was where Clemens spent his nuggets.  This room was meant to impress. The wall behind a desk too big for an orc displayed mount after mount of weapons.  The chairs in front of the desk were a green velvet while Clemens’s chair was a royal purple. People who entered this office were meant to know that Clemens saw himself as their better.  Zaralynn wasn’t going to give him the opportunity. Crossing the room, she slipped behind his desk, taking his chair while kicking up her boots up on the polished surface. The lights in the room all faced her, spotlighting her and his collection.

Clemens frowned as he made his way around the desk.  “At least remove your muddy boots. Takes me a whole day to polish this thing.”

“How inconvenient for you,” Zaralynn replied lazily while removing her feet.  

He nodded.  “It is. Now, friend, what has brought you to the surface of your liquor lake?”  As he spoke, he pulled a bottle of whiskey from his drawer and two shot glasses that looked like they had been used by a hundred others before.  He poured the drink, which Zaralynn accepted.

“To alcohol’s ability to sterilize,” Zaralynn toasted.  Clemens cocked a fuzzy eyebrow and drank. “To business then.”  She set the glass down which was promptly refilled. “Did you hear about the robbery of the Siren Song?”

“Might have heard a thing or two.  Bad business that. Some fellow dead.  Tragic.”

His mock sorrow gritted on Zaralynn’s nerves.  Jumping to the point, she needled him. “Who was behind it?”

“That I don’t know.  I only heard it was done, not who done it.”

“You expect me to believe that?  If there is a nugget to be made in a less than reputable way, you’d know everything about it.”

Clemens shrugged.  “Like I said, I’m honest.  I could ask around. Why do you want to know?”  

“Don’t yank me around gnome.  Who’s behind it?”

To her annoyance, he simply chuckled.  “That threat, if you can call it that, would be a lot more intimidating if I didn’t have a bead on you.  Way I hear it, you’ve been hired to hunt them down. If true, what’s my cut?”

“Tell me who’s crosshairs I’m in and I might cut you in.”

Clemens leaned against the desk, crossing his arms.  “Come down. We’re clear.” Whether he wore a radio or had the room under surveillance, Zaralynn couldn’t tell.  Not that it mattered. “I don’t know who is behind your tragedy. I am willing to help, provided my cut is deep enough.”

This was the game Zaralynn knew they would play.  It was always the same with him. Clemens had absolutely no imagination.  

“Can we skip this?  I say a number, you say a number, we end up in between and that’s what you get?  Let’s just jump to the middle number because it’s the only offer I have. And seeing as you don’t have information for me now, you’ll have to come with me.”

“No, can’t leave,” Clemens shook his head.  “Too much going on. I’ll give you a discount.  Four hundred nuggets and I’ll find out who is behind your robbery.  I’ve heard of similar thefts on other planets. I’m sure they are connected.”

It was Zaralynn’s turn to laugh.  “First off, you need to come. It’s not an option if you want a cut. Second, you lowball yourself.  I think a thousand nuggets would allow you to put your assistant in charge of whatever operations you have going on here while you help us track down this gang.”

Clemens eyes bulged.  Never had he expected an offer that extravagant.  Zaralynn new he had a few thousand nuggets hidden away, but there was no way he was going to pass up an offer like this.  “Who else is going? You have a ship?”

“I… Yes, I have a ship.  I am the captain. There is a doctor.  I don’t know his deal, but he is paying for fuel.  You, me, and a friend of mine, Flake. Planned on finding Spolt and Norsed to round it out.”

Clemens was still doing math in his head.  “You don’t want Norsed. Never trust an elf in the underbelly.  Present company excluded of course.”

“We may need someone with his abilities.  Norsed is the best at what he does.”

“Second best,” a voice called through the door.

It was Zaralynn’s turn for her eyes to bulge.  She gripped the chair, anger filling her being, her fingers, chest and head flushing.  

“He should be locked up,” Zaralynn hissed.

“Yet here I stand,” a dwarf stood in the doorway, his sniper rifle over his shoulder.

 

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Drunk and Disorderly Chapter 7

This week we really get to dive into Flake and Zaralynn.  It’s a little rough, but aren’t all first drafts?  Especially when there is no plan?  What fascinates me about Flake is she is everything her species rejects making her an outcast, not that she cares.  She is more about the moment than the future and is the one character that I don’t foresee myself ever getting rid of.  She will be useful to Zaralynn as well, not that my elf knows that.  Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 7

    Pistle, the fairy, appeared at Flake’s elbow, drink in hand.  Flake’s demeanor changed in an instant, her skin losing its roughness.  “Thank you!” she said, taking the drink and setting it on the table.

    The fairy giggled, before floating away leaving a trail of blue dust in her wake.  

    Zaralynn wished she had stayed.  When she glanced back at Flake, who was barking again.  Flake untied the golden chords to the velvet curtain and closed it before sliding in across from her, now in a private room.  Things would only go downhill from here. It was expected, not appreciated.

    “I was seventeen!” Flake whisper yelled.  “You left me on a strange planet with no one and nothing at seventeen.  All I had was your stinking promise that you’d come back for me.” As she spoke, twigs sprouted from her shoulders, slowly reaching for the ceiling.

    Zaralynn ran her finger over the bottle label, her thumb pressing into the flame embedded on the black cauldron.  “You act like I owe you something more. It’s not like I knew you well. I simply rescued you. Sort of.” She paused, still avoiding the nymphs eyes.  “Maybe. I mean, it’s not like I knew what those three would do to you. It sounded like they were going to sell you off, but I don’t know for sure.”

    It was true.  When they had met, Zaralynn had simply been looking for a place to disappear.  She was going to crash underneath one of the stairwells in a secluded part of the ship after a particularly rough binge when she found, or rather stumbled upon Flake and her company.  Two humans and an orc had her cornered and had been discussing nuggets. Flake had almost turned entirely into a elm, she was so scared. The only identifying features of her had been that trees didn’t have hair or fingers still shaking, though they were close to disappearing as well.  Wood nymphs made an easy target for slave traders.

    “Then why make that promise?” Flake seethed.  “Why worry about coming back for me if you didn’t know me?”

    There wasn’t a good answer.  Zaralynn had known that coming here was going to be rough.  The one nice thing she’d done since the war, the one thing she had run from in hopes of it going away was now two feet in front of her, skin blurring to wood.  The sweetness of apple and dogwood had soured. Now all Zaralynn could smell was smoldering wood. Not a bad smell, unless you were near a nymph.

    Knowing she wasn’t about to win points, Zaralynn shrugged and answered honestly.  She was still that. “It was the thing to say at the time. You were staring at me, expecting me to save you in some way that I couldn’t.  I couldn’t even take care of me. Still can’t really.”

    Flake leaned in, “Why are you here?”  The poison in her tone couldn’t be missed.  

    “It may have been an empty promise, but it was a promise.”  Changing tactics, Zaralynn kicked her feet up on the booth and scooted into the corner.  “What have you been up to?”

    “Up to?” Flake scoffed, taking a sip from her drink.  “You know, the usual. Mingling. Having fun. Learning to smith.  What have you been doing all these years?”

    “The usual.  Drinkin’.” Zaralynn was relaxing a bit.  The grudge that Flake had been holding onto was warranted, but her scent was less potent already.  “Smithing? Isn’t that a bit dangerous for someone who turns to wood? Odd career choice.”

    Flake leaned back, eyes still glued on the elf.  “Healthier than drinkin’,” she mocked. “When I’m pounding metal, I’m able to lose myself.  My emotions are taken out of the equation so turning to wood isn’t a problem. And I find that people are less likely to mess with a woman who can swing a heavy hammer.”

    “There’s more than one type of hammer,” Zaralynn countered, taking one of her revolvers out and setting it on the table.  “Guns got a hammer and people don’t much care for them to be pointed their way neither.”

    “Says the warrior.”  The look Flake gave the weapon was of disdain.  “So what brings you back to keep your word? Cause we both know it wasn’t me.”

    “I said I’d come back for you.  This is my first time here since I left you and thought I’d see if you were still hanging about.  I hadn’t expected it. Truth is I’m hunting some men who killed a…” Zaralynn couldn’t say friend, it didn’t feel natural.  “an acquaintance. I’m off to see a gnome in the morning. If you want to come with me, you are welcome to. Might get you off of this rock if that’s what you want.  Take you anywhere you want to go when it’s over. Leave you with a nice pocket of nuggets too. Like a thousand of ‘em?”

    Flake’s eyes bulged as she was caught off guard.  “A thousand nuggets? And what would I be doing to earn that ransom?”

    “I don’t expect you to do anything,” Zaralynn waved her off with a hand.  “I made a promise to come back for you. I’m keeping that promise and givin’ you a chance at a better life should you want it.  I’ve no need for the money with my stipend, but you wouldn’t have to work in a place like this if you didn’t want.”

    “I like working in a place like this,” Flake defended herself, her chest puffing up revealing more cleavage.  “Pay is good and I have fun.”

    “Right,” Zaralynn agreed.  It wasn’t her place to judge.  “I’ve no quarrel with someone who does anything they enjoy.  Doesn’t hurt me or you, I don’t pay no mind to it. So long as you’re happy.  If you want to stay, stay.”

    Some of the leafs that had fallen from Flake were now budding again.  “I never said I wanted to stay. You really mean I can come with you?”

    “I do.  For as long as you like.  Or till I can’t stand you anymore.  Whichever comes first.”

    Flake bit her lower lip, the gears turning in her head as she considered the proposal.  “When are you leaving? Where are you staying?”

    “Going to talk with Clemens tomorrow.  Strike out after that. Got a ship that can get us anywhere we want to go.” Taking her hat off, she covered her gun.  “As far as where I’m staying, I’ve got plans. I’ll just stop by and see if you want to come.”

    A wicked gleam sprang to Flake’s eye.  Zaralynn didn’t like that look at all. “You don’t have anywhere to stay, do you?”

    “No,” Zaralynn admitted.  

    “Then you can stay with me.”  Before she could argue, Flake was around the table and offering her hand to the elf.  “I’ve got a room here and I never sleep alone.” She winked, some of the buds flowering pinkish white instantly.

    “Uh, I’m not-”

    “Stop,” Flake cut her off.  “I never sleep alone. Doesn’t mean something happens between you and me.  It’s a bed and a bath. Smelled the stale bourbon when you arrived. You need one.”  

    Sighing, Zaralynn caved, allowing Flake to guide her through the crowded room and up the staircase.  Never again would she make a promise Zaralynn vowed to herself.

  (All rights are reserved and cannot be replicated without written consent)

My Favorite Animated Movies (And One I think is overrated)

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Yesterday I got into a conversation about overrated movies and it set me to thinking about movies from my childhood I loved and some I thought receive too much acclaim.  Most of these are Disney, because let’s face it, Disney is king in the animated film industry.  I’d love to know your thoughts and if there are some that you loved no one ever talks about.  First up are some underrated movies.

Image result for the great mouse detective One of my favorites is The Great Mouse Detective.  This movie, which came out the year I was born, was a take on Sherlock Holmes.  I loved the opening scene in which we meet the hero, Basil, fires a bullet into a bunch of pillows for a forensic test.  This movie is the main reason I’ve always wanted a basset hound named Toby.  The villain, to me, was also an extremely wicked one in Ratigan.  At the end, you see his crazed eyes that actually always give me the creeps.

Image result for Fievel Goes West Sticking with tiny heroes, Fievel Goes West was amazing.  It is the last credit for legendary actor James Stewart, has an amazingly fun song done by Tanya, and it is a little creepy because you have cats talking about making the hero Fievel into mouse burgers.  I loved the first movie in An American Tail, but this one was more of an adventure to me.  There are some racist elements to the movie which will always prevent it from being a great movie as it pulls from stereotypes that we are still fighting with its portrayal of Native American culture which I can’t condone, but that was not the part of the movie I remember most.

Image result for snow white This is the first overrated movie on my list.  Snow White, goodness I can’t stand this movie.  I understand what it did for the studio, but that doesn’t excuse what it does to me.  Snow White has one of the most shrill voices I’ve ever heard.  The story is slow.  The villain never did much for me.  I know that seats had to be replaced in movie theaters because of children wetting themselves at the time, but this movie doesn’t hold up to time for me.

Image result for beauty and the beast animated Rated just right. Beauty and the Beast is perhaps my favorite Disney movie.  Probably because I identify with Belle and her love of books.  Not to mention, she has a pretty nice wardrobe.  The characters are some of the funniest as Cogsworth and Lumiere go back and forth, all in the name of good.  Be Our Guest was my favorite song with the dancing dishes and that was probably the moment I realized magic could exist.  This movie, to me, can’t be over hyped.

Image result for treasure planet Underrated.  Treasure Planet.  Joseph Gordon Levitt.  I’ve never been attracted to men with two exceptions and Mr. Levitt is one of them.  This story is a little darker as Disney was struggling again with movies like this Dinosaur and Atlantis weren’t lighting up the box office (Again, both movies that I loved, but don’t make this list.)  This movie has a complex villain and hero which I appreciated.  Of course it is based on Treasure Island, but the adventure and colors of this movie, I love.  Knowing that one of my good twitter friends (@The_Book_Lander) is working on a Moby Dick novel in space, I can’t help but think of this.

Image result for Fern Gully Underrated.  Fern Gully: The Last Rain Forrest has  a weakness with a bit of a love story, but the love story isn’t what sustains this movie.  Robin Williams voiced Batty and his rap always cracked me up.  This movie also has a strong female lead in Crysta that I was always rooting for.  To me, this movie was ahead of its time in making children aware of world issues.  Also, this was probably the best movie I’ve ever muted and made up my own lines to while drunk.

What are some of your favorite childhood movies?  I kept mine to animated movies, but there were a ton of others that could easily make a list like this like The Little Giants or The Little Rascals.  Do you have any that you believe are overrated?  Thanks for reading. Keep writing.

Internet Friends Can Be Best Friends

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Earlier this week, Brittany Evans blogged about internet friends being real friends.  You can read her post in the link below.  I wanted to take the time to echo those sentiment As someone who grew up in a house where the internet was dial-up, the only form of social media was basically Myspace, and I went to a school where belonging to the LGBT plus community was unheard of.  There was no way for me to ever be me.

Now thanks to Facebook and the spin offs, such as Twitter, people who are different can connect all over the world.  Before I was big on social media, I had come out to a few people, but those people weren’t long for my life.  They left, moving on with their lives, not really interested in having a transgender friend.  Then when I came out on social media, that give me real courage.

I’ve met so many wonderful people, amazing people.  People I’d love to meet, but probably won’t ever get the chance as we are scattered across the globe.  I’ve held conversations with them about personal things, venting or being the listening ear they needed.  Once I came out and felt more comfortable online with people like C.L. Ogilvie and my Texas friend Leigha, I was able to come out to more friends in my life.  Friends that haven’t left me.  Even one who moved away and is probably my best friend, we keep in touch through text and social media.  To say internet friends can’t be real friends is ludicrous.

Online I can talk to people about similar interest.  Finding beta readers in my life outside of the internet is a horrible task.  Writers know the importance of betas and sharing ideas.  Friends are someone who listens, shares interest, can talk to you, and give honest opinions.  Friends care about you and your well-being.  Just because I’ve never shook your hand, doesn’t mean we aren’t friends.  If that’s what you need to be friends, that’s fine, but it isn’t required validation for everyone.  We can be friends without meeting, believe me when I say, the people I interact with online are my friends.  Internet friends are very much real friends.

https://myaceofhearts.wordpress.com/2018/03/13/internet-friends-are-real-that-is-all/

Some Days…

Guys, I’m tired.

Life is exhausting and I’m not special. I can’t complain as things could be far worse. I have a lot going for me, but I’m so tired.

I’m tired of looking in the mirror at someone I don’t really know while searching for who I am. I’m so depressed that I can’t be me. I constantly worry that someone will out me. I worry that those in my life who do know me as Natalie will grow tired and move on. It wouldn’t be the first time. It’s simply exhausting.

And I don’t want to complain. Things shouldn’t be so complicated. I just want to feel safe, but I don’t think I will ever be afforded that opportunity. I want to shop judgement free, dress judgement free, be me judgement free. (Now if I may a poor outfit choice, I don’t mind that judgement.) I cut my hair last night because my parents wouldn’t leave me alone about my long hair. I hate it now…

I try so hard to be happy, to not complain. At least people know I’m Natalie. But I’m so tired. I’m so uncomfortable. I want to scream at people that it doesn’t matter, but I don’t want people to look at me. I don’t know where the balance is.

I have a lot of good in my life, a lot I’m thankful for. Some days, like today, I am just tired. Fortunately tomorrow is a new day. Keep writing.

Nat

 

 

 

Mr. Weasley, You Have a Point!

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“Ginny!” said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. “Haven’t I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain?”

― J.K. RowlingHarry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

This very line birthed my theory for Elder wand in Harry Potter and yet everyone trusts wands!  I’m not sure that is wise, but I suppose I can follow the logic.  Throughout the books you see the dangers of magic and magical objects, but wands are trusted.  My gut tells me this is because the brain of the wand is the magical core, yet that in itself is not a brain.  Now onto my theory.  The Elder wand never would have worked for Lord Voldemort!

My whole theory rests on the origins of the wand.  In the Deathly Hallows we find out that Death created the Elder wand, gifting it to the brother that asked for the world’s most powerful wand.  This brother was not trying to “cheat death” so to speak, just become powerful.  While he never wanted to die, he accepted that everyone died eventually.  It is my thinking that Death would never create an object that could actually prevent death which is what Voldemort was seeking.  Voldemort, if you recall, wanted to live forever which was why he created the horcruxes in the first place.  The wand was to ensure his power.  However Death would never have wanted his wand in the hands of someone who never intended to die.

If wands truly can think for themselves, the Elder wand would never have chosen Voldemort as it’s partner because of his soul’s intent.  The wand would only have allowed someone who didn’t fear death to be its master.  Thus it was able to pass from Dumbledore, to Malfoy, and to Harry.  None were afraid of death.  Malfoy didn’t want to die, but he would have been fine should it have happened.  And say Malfoy did fear death.  We have no actual evidence that the wand didn’t pass directly from Dumbledore to Harry should the wand know a person’s real feelings on the matter.

Thus the wand could never have worked properly for Voldemort as wands can think for themselves and this wand had a very unique history.

Side note:  There is a massive mistake in the third book.  When Harry and Hermione are in the forbidden forest waiting for everyone to leave the shrieking shack, Harry notes the full moon.  If the moon was visible, Lupin should have transformed in the shack creating chaos and who knows what happens.

Hope everyone is well and has a safe New Years!

Nat

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Um, Awkward Much?

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Everybody has those awkward thoughts or moments in their lives.  Being a teenager is nothing but an awkward staring contest with yourself in the mirror where you desperately want that person on the other side to wink your way to help you put on a brave front for the day.  There is nothing unique about me, but being trans, I am always wary of myself which I don’t think is natural.

Even before I came out women were apparently at ease around me which was nice.  I’ve had more conversations regarding periods, tampons, and pads than I can remember.  I don’t know if it was a requirement in high school, but whenever I was around my classmates talked about their cycle.  I often wondered about having one because I always wanted to be a mom.  That is always hard for me to admit.

It’s not hard for me to want to be a mom, but awkward for me to be okay with being called mom or she.  I desperately long each day to be called her, she, Natalie, or anything related to me, it always makes me smile, but with it I always feel a twinge of guilt.  My  upbringing makes it hard for me to enjoy who I am.   It’s shame, but over the years the shame has decreased.  Not to say that it is gone, because it isn’t leaving anytime soon.

Shopping for me is a panic nightmare.  I always worry about being recognized by someone I know not to mention the looks I’ve received.  Girls and women have both giggled at me or given me the stink eye.  I’m very wary of my surroundings when I wish I could just enjoy myself.

Last year I went to get a mani/pedi.  This wasn’t my first, but it was my first with a girlfriend of mine.  In her words it was the happiest she had ever seen me.  I can tell you that it wasn’t because I was getting a mani/pedi, but because I felt like I belonged.  Since coming out to my friends things have become easier for me.  Telling me about their periods has come full circle.  Seriously.

Most of my thoughts any more center on what I would look like given the opportunity to go on hormones.  I have caught glimpses.  I went to see The Boy as me with another friend.  It’s the only time I’ve ever been me in public, skirt, makeup, and all.  Downside was I had to pee through the entire movie, but because of bathroom laws, I didn’t know what bathroom to use and didn’t feel safe going to the men’s room.  Also, men have horrid aim.  Freaking nightmare.

Voice.  In high school I was a bass singer who made every honor choir except one that I tried out for.  Having a deep voice when trying to pass as a woman is not ideal.  Had I been able to take hormones at an early age I would have had a more feminine sound, but now I just have to master myself.  There are speech therapist who help many in my situation, but that is a dream to me I don’t know if I will fulfill.

One last problem I find myself having. Sometimes I wonder if I’m welcome in conversations.  My friends know me as Natalie and I feel okay joining a conversation in which they are all women speaking about things that are personal.  Mostly I keep my mouth shut because I don’t want to intrude.  I don’t know if there is a boundary.  If I was able to present how I want to present, I wonder if I would feel different.  There are many conversations I read or listen to, have an opinion on, but wonder if my opinion is welcome. Because of that unsure, nagging feeling, you’ll generally find me listening intently not wanting to overstep.

These are only a few thoughts that I’ve dealt with.  If you ever have any questions, I don’t mind answering them.  Don’t feel like you’re going to cross me or offend me.  People don’t learn unless they ask.  I can only answer for me.  I often wonder how other trans people’s experiences differ from mine.  Hope you have a good week.

Nat