Chowder, a 4 year old orange and white male tabby cat was last seen Friday, 8/28/15 by my mother. No one has seen or heard from him, and we’re getting worried. He was last seen on Catalina Drive, near Bella Vista Elementary School. Please, contact me if you’ve seen him!

If you haven’t seen him… Please at least share this! The more people who see, the higher chance he’ll be found!!

My uncle died last friday. I’m so upset because he died alone. His wife and daughters stole all his money (lots of money) and left. He died without electricity, water, food or clothes. Makes me sick how they went there and cried like they loved him. I’m disgusted.

Today gets a big WTF!

I’m laying in bed and I can’t believe how big of a turn this day took and everything that has happened.

Background: my crown fell off for the 5th time in 3 years last Friday. I huffed, puffed and threw a fit at the dentist office on Saturday demanding he create a new one at no charge since insurance only covers a crown once every 5 years. He finally agreed and did some drilling so that the new one has more surface area to stick to. Off home I went with a temporary crown. Permanent one to be put on in 2 weeks.

Every day since Saturday I have been in extreme pain. Not just when I tried to eat but all day aching in my jaw all the way to my ear. Every night the pain would wake me up. I called the dentist today, describe what I’m feeling, and he tells me I need a root canal NOW. The only time he can get me in is at 11:00am. But I have a special maya massage designed to increase my uterine lining (hello fertility treatments) at noon and the woman only works 1 day a week. I call her and she agrees the root canal is more important (although I do not) and refuses to allow me come in later in the afternoon as she thinks I won’t be in the right state of mind.

Things get tricker because the dentist prescribes steroids, antibiotics, and pain meds for after the root canal. I’m THIS CLOSE to my transfer date so my fertility doc doesn’t want me to take anything.

Stressed is beyond what I am feeling. The fertility doc says if I am in pain or have a fever, the transfer will have to be cancelled. It’s already been cancelled twice before for other reasons.

I feel like I can’t catch a break in life. Shit like this always happens to me.

I’m praying and crossing my fingers that all will work out and the transfer will take place. And years from now when I have a toddler running around I will be laughing about the week I had a root canal and my transfer.

Good news is that I feel 100% better after the root canal than I have these past 4 days. Now I just have to make this transfer happen!


Week 22:

This week is about endings and beginnings. Although every week should be, I suppose. 

After eleven years of working in the service industry, I hung up my corkscrew (is that the bartending equivalent?). A bar is both a great and awful place for a lone wolf writer like me. Fantastic- because I met so many weird and elevated humans. Awful- because alcohol was endlessly within reach. Over the years, bartending taught me about people. How they need each other, crave each other, hurt each other, protect each other, and how each person has their own me-shaped heart with contours they only allow certain like-minded travellers to explore. It doesn’t surprise me that on the last Friday night that I bartended, I was greeted by a full moon and by a story I’m not even sure how to believe. But I do believe it.

The stranger staggered up to the bar like a lightning bolt with jagged, yet focused steps. At first, I assumed he was hammered. It’s an assumption you make. An assumption I regretted. 

“Sir,” he shouted at me, “where can a guy like me smoke a cigarette these days?” 

I couldn’t take my eyes off his camouflage baseball hat that read: Happy. Happy. Happy. Periodically, he’d take this cap off to scratch his shaved head. He was old enough for male pattern baldness, but he looked good. Good enough for me to notice, which is saying a lot. Men don’t flash on my radar much. His eyes were striking. They reminded me of the blue lace agate crystal on my windowsill, the way they grabbed light and attention without even trying.

“My name is Christopher,” he said, “What’s your name, guy?”

“AJ,” I said, and would repeat thirteen more times in the next twenty minutes of our conversation. Each time he asked my name, he nodded with the response as though remembering.

“The last time I was at a bar was over ten years ago. You could smoke anywhere the fuck you liked,” Christopher huffed. “My Christ, would you look at that!” 

He pointed to the ground level bar below the patio we were on to where a young man was dancing with glow bracelets. Every rotation of his shoulders sent a spiral of light in our direction.

Christopher had spent from 2003-2011 in a coma, and over three years rehabilitating after that.

“Was working on a truck when it happened. Felt like someone whacked me in the back of the head with a hammer. A full blown aneurysm.” 

I returned the can of soda to the fridge and rested an elbow on the bar. I had so many questions.

“How did you get help?”

“Threw a shoe at the garage phone but couldn’t knock it off the hook. So I crawled in the truck and drove. Puked forty-eight times on the ride to the hospital. Passed out in the Emergency Room doorway.”

When he awoke, Christopher said there was a woman he didn’t recognize by his side- his mom. He believes he woke up to take care of her now that she’s elderly. He was also adamant about a few things: 1. Despite sounding “preachy,” he believes in God and that he’s a living miracle. I couldn’t disagree and 2. When you’re in a coma, it’s just darkness. He said that it felt like he was asleep for only one day.

“Are you afraid to go to bed now?” I asked.

“Fuck no. And when I wake up, it’s with a smile from ear to ear. I hop out of bed with two feet and I say: ‘What have you got for me today, Cocksucker?’”

Yes, Christopher is the type of guy who believes in God and also calls him a cocksucker. We were in a real bonding moment, so I didn’t want to point out the homophobia in the sentiment.

“I don’t want to sound homosexual,” Christopher went on, “but I really like talking to you.”

“I don’t think talking makes you gay,” I laughed. If only you knew. 

He asked me my name, again. I told him, again.

“That’s right. So are you a married man, AJ?”

Neither married nor a man. “I’m not.”

“You will be. You’re top quality. And when you find her, don’t lose her.”

I didn’t want to ask the question because I knew the answer hurt, but part of me also knew that I needed to ask. I needed to validate Christopher. I needed to openly acknowledge that even miracles can feel unfortunate at times.

“You had a person when you went into a coma?”

“I did. Love of my life. Selena. Met her when I was seven years old. Seven. Years. Old. Can you believe that?” Christopher choked and a stream swelled around those blue lace agate eyes. 

Twenty three years he loved that woman. I couldn’t believe that. It was almost my whole life he spent loving her before he went into a coma. It pissed me off that he couldn’t be with her now. I got upset thinking about how there are some things we can’t have. Even when you know they are real and they exist. Things that are simply out of reach. Like the coconut water that you hear slosh in the carton but can’t taste. Real but somehow lost. 

On Friday night, Christopher taught me not to take my new run at life for granted. My immediate impulse was to teach him about iPhones and Facebook and to encourage him to find his true love. My immediate instinct was built by years of romance movies and staring at stars from the safety of my white, middle class, love-filled home. The truth is, Selena probably assumed Christopher would never wake up. Over the last eleven years, she might have found a husband and had four children or a border collie or both. I like to imagine she’s a middle school theatre teacher. 

“Her dad and I are still quite close. She lives out West now,” Christopher said, and he said nothing else about her under that full moon. 

I relate to Christopher. Not the homophobia or penchant for fixing trucks, but because I also believe in miracles. I think transitioning is miracle work for some people. It is waking up. Transitioning takes what was lost or out of reach and places possibility in the centre of a life. But there’s one thing I want to tell you: you cannot transition alone. You need someone by your side. If it can’t be your partner, find a family member you can trust. If nobody seems up for that task, find a friend. If your friends don’t want to ask questions respectfully or listen, find a support group. If it can’t be a support group, read blogs like this one and know you aren’t alone.


I’ve been social my whole life, but not actually present. I’ve always struggled with asking for help. That changed tonight.

After much hesitance, I sat in a room with twenty other trans/queer/nonbinary people and it felt terrifying, but also real and within reach. My friend Mable made an excellent point in the discussion. She said that you think you’re going to start hormones and everything in your life will instantly change. That you have this idea that in a year or two you’ll be in the body you’re imagining, but that you can’t do that to yourself. You have to love your body for what it is in this moment, form a relationship with it, honour it if you can. Not for the future hopes you’re throwing onto it, but for what it provides you within this very breath.

I said this week was about beginnings and endings. It really is. The documentary I co-produced about Transgender Healthcare Access in Canada is nearing a close. I’m so excited for the world to see it, but I’m also mourning the loss of a creative partner whose mind met mine and inspired a side of my work I didn’t know was possible. September means school is starting. In unexpected news- my father’s illness means I might not get approved for an increase in my student line of credit to stay in school (he was my co-signer). I just moved into a new apartment and switched jobs so I could focus on school. Without my university insurance plan, I’m not sure how I will afford testosterone. Local trans supporters have a meeting scheduled with the Health Minister (finally) where we will demand gender-confirming surgeries for people in the province. I received a call from the clinic that did my breast biopsy and they want to follow up. I’m sure it’s nothing, but it still fills me with worry. Pros. Cons. Pros. Cons.

Life is a balancing act. Transitioning makes your relationship to balance ever more tenuous because time feels accelerated when things are rapidly changing with your physical body. Then there are moments when it’s as though time has completely stopped and you’re caught in a body/identity you don’t really know. I have peach fuzz but not facial hair. Black hair covering my legs and stomach. A deep voice. Two names. Breasts and bulging biceps.

But I’m going to pull a Christopher. I’m going to see this chaos as a reminder that I have so much life left. I’m going to jump out of bed with both feet and ask:  “What have you got for me today, Cocksucker?”

update on life!

hey gang! :33

sorry i haven’t been very active here as of late - my mental health hasn’t been very good these past couple of weeks, and last friday i had an absolute breakdown that messed me up pretty bad. i’m still kinda recovering from it, actually.

i’ve just been feeling like i’m going nowhere in life and that i’m just some pleb who messes everything up, can’t do anything right, etc etc. i’m slowly trying to get over these feelings, but it’s been an uphill battle.

thanks for all of you who sent me support on friday - it really means a lot :’)

i lost my voice last friday and the doctor told me to avoid straining it so naturally today i had to perform a story, talk to people for 4 hours straight, lead a meeting with the rest of the eboard, and call my dad so at this point i’m just accepting that theres a significant change i just won’t ever get better


milderwind and i well it’s mostly me, get harassed by some walnuts at school. and the most embarrassing part is that they are fucking FRESHMAN!! Hear me out. it all started last Friday, during mid-convo some 4 foot freshman comes to our table and asks me if I’m drinking Organic water, my only question is how tiny is your brain? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know the meaning of organic. So this has been going on all week and tomorrow I swear I will stand up for myself I’m fucking sick of their bullshit. No one deserves this. And fuckkk i am a senior getting bullied by tiny freshman.

anonymous asked:

soo last Friday I was at a kick back with some friends and one of the guys there was being SOOO nice to me, and I was being flirty and stuff (we were all high sorry) and I thought he was into me but the next day at a different party he made out w one of my friends who was also at the kick back, I'm jealous and idk what to do we are all gonna hang this weekend and idk if I should still be talking w him or flirting but they just hooked up like it wasn't a long term thing.. Sorry this is so long

Talk to your friend first, see how she feels about him. After that, if she’s down, go for it. If not, trash him.

The earlier post was only complaining about the tumblr dash, though I do have an actual IRL problem I would now like to vent about.  I am struggling with this terrible home improvement company called HCI Get a Pro who got me on the hook for a new garage roof and gutters. I haven’t really blogged about it because it’s not that interesting but they’ve been fucking with me since early August. I was originally put on the schedule for Friday, August 7.    There have been multiple reschedulings for both the roofing job itself (which finally got done last Friday, the work seemed to be done adequately but the crew and their leader were total dirtbags) and the gutters (still not done).  The delays wouldn’t be that bad but the communication is so poor as to be nonexistent.  After the original “Friday, no, Sunday”, I didn’t hear from anyone for over a week. When I finally called they said “they thought I was on vacation.”   Since then, they rarely deign to call me back and when they do it’s at my home number, even though I give my cell phone number EVERY TIME I call them.  So everything takes twice as long because I don’t get home to hear my answering machine messages until after biz hours.  I gave my home and cell numbers on ALL the paperwork when I originally signed it.  No one ever calls me back when they say; it’s always me trying to call them.  

Overall I would say DO NOT do any business with HCI [Homeworks Central inc] Get a Pro. If they cold call you or if you are looking to have some roofing done. Avoid!  They are in Iowa, Illinois, and Wisconsin.   They seem to be a very greedy company that doesn’t care about their customers. They have treated me with utter disrespect. 

Pulled a double yesterday

8 miles in the morning with 500+ feet of climb and 7 miles after work with 1500 feet of climb.  I felt pretty energetic when I was done and not very hungry.  I guess so far it’s safe to say that the low carb diet isn’t hurting my ability to run.

I felt like a zombie on Sunday and Monday.  So those were probably my low point when my body wasn’t sure what to burn for energy.  I think yesterday I officially entered ketosis.  My energy level was way higher, I’m dehydrated as hell, and I have a horrific taste in my mouth.  It took me 5 or so days to get there from the start of this diet.  But I didn’t cut carbs all that well last Thursday and Friday.  Or really even Saturday since I ate a ton while I was doing my long run.  So it really only took 2-3 days of serious low-carbing.  And I’m not doing a meathead atkins thing with 20 grams of carbs or fewer a day.  But all of the running I do probably pushes it along even with the 50+ grams that I’m eating.

I’m planning on doing 9-10 miles after work and then something tomorrow morning before work.   I’m not at all concerned about getting through them.  Saturday will be my next long run, and I’m nervous about that.  I need to find some easy things to eat on the run that are low carb.  I just stole a handful of kind bars from work as an emergency.  We’ll see if I start losing any weight.