Welcome to my thought stream.
It's mainly whiny music, medium understood philosophy, mental health coping, attempts at support, and coping with being a socialist in a MBA program.
I'm a union worker at a store going through contract negotiations.
C-PTSD, MDD, lots of trauma that comes out of nowhere.
Gluten Free for health.
"Human by birth. Hoosier by choice. Southern by the grace of God." Make of that what you will.
I was referred here by We Hunted The Mammoth, as a replacement for the other thing. Not this specific instance. I kinda picked at random 😅 and it sounded like the best fit.
Early 30s, femme, head stuff, yarn fun, food, dog longing, work complaints, writer, left Pol, true crime, TV workouts, and so much Star Trek
Apparently, I have a blog.
Occasional ESL teacher, and US Civics.
Currently thinking about Grad School.
Hey so, I'm putting together a transmasc resource site (to include compilation of folks' self-reported experiences with transitioning, legal info stuff by state, a community/media side of things, and eventually hopefully community submissions).
I'm really interested in transmasc folks sharing what sorts of info they'd like to have covered, whether that's personal experiences they want represented or questions they'd like answered.
Pls send me yr thoughts, and boost this if yr comfy with it.
It's not a thing, but it's a thing.
It often gets said incorrectly. I'll respond quite annoyed when it is.
Family calls me Stass or Stazja. Or Bean.
Never Stacey or Stacy or Tasha or Natasha or Anastasia or Natalie or Latasha or Nancy or Jennifer.
I was sent to the principle's office for back talking when a teacher couldn't get my name right in high school. I was transferred out of their class because I argued they were incompetent.
I've always been like this.
Every now and then, someone hears my first name and knows it enough to know the Western diminutives of it.
Every now and then someone calls me Stacy and gets very, very annoyed when I ignore it.
Or a Stacey tells me my name, or the other almost identical one, was what her parents wanted to call her but it was too weird.
Usually they just butcher it and misspell my middle name.
work ~ writing ~ memories -
That was a really good year and I miss feeling that productive.
I spent a lot of time in my room, this converted beer tank, playing an accordion and just exploring all these aspects of self.
It was a really stressful year as well for so many reasons. I was living in a beer tank.
But it was just explosive with writing and there was rarely a filter. I'm romanticizing it, the closest I've been to not having base needs filled.
Homework ~ work ~
One aspect of group work is that I'm paying for an experience I'm usually paid for.
I have issues putting my contract work on my resume for so many reasons. I'm just bad at writing resumes, but I have no idea how to include things I bartered as work.
Rent for a year was editing and short fiction. Minus the roof issues, that was a pretty nice deal but I can't talk about it without being all awkward.
Human. US Midwest. Communicates in anecdotes, inside jokes, and knitting or crochet patterns.
With occasional cross-stitch and frequent ethics.
A community that skews thoughtful and weird. Everyone who abides by the code of conduct is welcome, thoughtful weirdos most of all! :)