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Signal

Several friends of mine have recently switched to Signal as the messaging app of choice; in significant part due to privacy concerns with other messaging apps (specifically, those owned and operated by Facebook).

Now, I’m not hip to the intricacies of said privacy concerns; however, after using Signal for a bit, I will note the following:

Pressing the enter key does not send your message (unlike, say, WhatsApp). It just adds a line break. As someone that writes particularly long messages, I cannot stress what a game-changer this was for me.

It has the most comprehensive spell check dictionary I have ever seen in any application, ever! I cannot stress how tremendously frustrating it is for me to use a word like ‘tremendous’ in other applications and have it redlined! (Point in question: Signal recognizes ‘redlined’ as a word; Firefox does not.)

So: if, like me, you write ridiculously long messages filled with needlessly prolix vocabulary, perhaps Signal is the app for you.

Cat tent

I will often sit in bed with my knees up; and our insane baby cat has now decided that the impromptu blanket fort this creates is the perfect place to snuggle.

It’s the fucking cutest.

As weapon rules go, combi-weapons are one of the most intuitive:

“This is a boltgun* and a special weapon taped together. Each shooting phase, fire one or the other.”

I’m all for streamlining in 10th; but this seems like an unnecessary change.

My suspicion is that GW isn’t worried about rules bloat here; but rather, that the new datacard format would need five** weapon profiles to represent whatever combination of boltgun / meltagun / flamer / plasmagun / gravgun the model might be toting.

(As psychic powers are now effectively ‘weapons’ and also have their own profile, I can see why datacard real estate would be a concern.)

* Yes, there are non-Space Marine combi-weapons; but I’m extending the cited example.

** Six if we’re being pedantic and counting storm bolters as combi-bolters…

So, this is going to ruffle some feathers...

Combi-Weapons have been simplified to the point of no longer having variety.

It might just be for the Terminator Librarian, but that seems unlikely.

When people were bragging about codex creep being undone in 10E, did they consider that would include Imperial factions -including Marines?

Or did they just want everyone else to stop having strengths that were better than Marines?

In any case; it appears Combi-Weapons are now generic, just like Chaos Terminators' Accursed Weapons.

...

How do I feel about this? Hmmm... I dunno: 'salright I guess. Not that big of a deal. Wounding all Infantry of a 4+ and dishing out Mortals on a 6+ to wound isn't a bad deal.

It will make Chaos Terminators and their limited ranged weapon options a lot better. Just give them all Combi-Weapons for bulk Anti-Infantry 4+ and Devastating Wounds - could be nice.

Probably the worst part of this, will be for Orks. Kombi-Skorchas were a way to mitigate BS5+. Now they'll lose auto-hits? And will it be a mandatory -1 to hit? So BS6+ in 10E?

Even when Imperials are nerfed, Xenos get it worse off.

I love, love so much the way my daughter draws facial expressions. They’re always so animated!

eboy inkling go [squid noises] 

Good thing

I did a good thing today.

It makes me think... maybe I have value after all.

“Oh boy! It looks like I’m going to make it through the entire night without a single nocturnal panic attack!”

The nefarious 6:41am:

Unexpected HRT side-effect #5

I got my artistic creativity back.

For real.

I was bursting with creativity as a teenager. I wrote, I drew, I painted, I modeled, I designed, I composed. I would be overtaken by these ideas and was compelled to bring them into being.

...Then it went away.

This I ascribed to the usual factors: newfound work and family responsibilities that overtook my time.

Now I posit a different theory: it’s my belief that I have a female-structured brain; and that the operation of certain parts of it require a sufficient provision of estrogen. Suffice to say, by the end of the teenage years, estrogen was in rather short supply and my brain malfunctioned accordingly.

That is no longer an issue; and I find myself once again not only bursting with ideas but more importantly, utterly driven to birth them into the world. The catgirl shirt was one such project; now I’m about to complete a painting (details omitted here, as it’s mildly NSFW).

It’s good to be back!

Cellulitis

For the uninitiated, cellulitis is a bacterial infection under the surface of the skin. It isn’t so bad by itself - some redness, some swelling - but by virtue of being trapped below the surface, it often takes medical intervention to clear. Additionally, if untreated, it can lead to some nasty and potentially fatal complications (like necrotizing fasciitis and blood poisoning).

I’m familiar with the premise as a couple of years ago I had a bout on my kneecap thanks to - of all things - the tiniest of ingrown hairs; one course of antibiotics and all was well in the world.

Until. Until.

As I have reported previously, my first few months of Estradiol shots went well (barring a period of psyching myself out). Thereafter, everything was good... Until the day I got a big, red, ugly patch at the injection site.

“Oh,” I say to myself, “I’ve really screwed up”. I fastidiously ensure that my medicine vial, needles, and leg are sterile; but evidently somewhere along the way I missed a step.

I went to see my family doctor; he agrees that it’s cellulitis (even deeper than normal as the bacteria was fundamentally injected an inch into my thigh muscle), proscribes doxycycline; and I’m on my way. (There was a slight detour where I suffered the most agonizing heartburn of my life in response to that particular antibiotic, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Fast forward: next shot, and the same thing happens. Like an idiot, I suddenly realize: “I’m using the same vial of Estradiol as last time; and it’s contaminated”.

(I should have thrown it out as a precaution; but the cost of American healthcare tends to breed a conservationist approach to medications. Plus, it honestly didn’t occur to me at the time.)

My doc probably thought I was an idiot but thankfully did not offer his opinion.

I bought more Estradiol, and was perhaps three shots into the new vial WHEN THE SAME THING HAPPENS AGAIN.

And I’m in tears. I don’t understand what it is I’m doing wrong; there’s so much surplus alcohol on my skin that the needle burns going in. There’s simply no way I can carry on with an injection regimen that results in an infection each and every time.

Thankfully, in this particular instance, it was a very small instance of cellulitis and cleared by itself. I was pretty shook up all the same.

My next best guess was that the Estradiol was being stored at the wrong temperature. It’s supposed to be at room temperature (which is classified as something like 68 - 75º F). I kept my medicine in our bathroom closet; and while I checked the temperature in there and it never seemed over range, the closet does back directly only the location of our furnace.

I also asked my endocrinology clinic if I should be storing my Estradiol in the refrigerator, and their answer could be summarized as: “IDK, maybe? It’s worth a try”.

(This isn’t an attack on them - they are great! As much as I wish it were otherwise however, trans individuals represent a small slice of the population. Medical provider experience is directly proportional to the sort of ailments they treat; and Estradiol storage issues are not something that commonly end up on their radar. This is one of the reasons why it’s so important for trans folk to become experts in and advocates of their own medical needs.)

Anyhow, I moved the medicine to the bedroom and so far, that seems to have done the trick!

My reason for mentioning this however is as follows: yesterday, post-injection, I had some major soreness in my thigh (as if someone had punched me right in the muscle). Most likely it was just regular, garden-variety soreness; but the sensation was close enough to the early onset of cellulitis that I seriously started freaking out.

Thankfully it’s calmed down today, and there isn’t a patch of redness in sight. Still: the trials and tribulations to go through!

Singing

An interesting part of the transition process is that it represents not only a kind of second, physical adolescence; but also a psychological one. You are afforded the opportunity to review your identity; cast aside the parts that are no longer relevant; and replace them with entirely new and different ones.

One manifestation of this phenomenon is that I continue to discover interests - some new, some old but hidden. Like singing.

Seven months or so into my new life, and I was on my way to see IRIS perform live in Philadelphia (an event that really deserves it’s own post). This made for an eight-hour drive; so I loaded up the USB drive in my car with music - including their new album - and set off.

Cruising through the hills of Pennsylvania, I found myself listening to the same two tracks; and in a first, I began singing along. (I am told that my starting range is very similar to that of IRIS front-man Reagan Jones, which is perhaps where part of the appeal lies.)

This went on to become a routine - whenever commuting, I would fire up the same two songs and sing along. Eventually I incorporated a number of other songs into the repertoire; in particular, Unknown, from Awakening.

(This is a song that has a great deal of personal meaning to me: from the day of release onward, it invoked an emotional response that I could not identify but wanted to experience again and again. In hindsight, it’s obvious: it had become an expression of my inner gender war.)

The song features some comparatively high notes that are simply outside of my current range; and while a year of offhand practice has brought me closer to them by sheer dint of brute force effort, they are still unattainable. Further progress would require professional intervention.

This being the case, I had my first singing lesson yesterday. I was incredibly nervous beforehand; but Chelsea, my instructor, did a great job of making me feel comfortable and otherwise being terrifically encouraging.

(It’s also worth noting that I did elect to cover my transgender status, as knowledge that I have what are fundamentally male vocal cords is rather relevant to the subject at hand. Her response - “Congratulations!” - is to me a shining example of how people should react to such news!)

Although I was not planning on it, Unknown has become our first practice song; and Chelsea fully believes I can extend my range sufficiently to cover those higher notes and more. To say that I cannot wait for our next session is an understatement!

Carrying

I was talking to my spouse in the kitchen the other day; and to be cute, I hopped up onto the counter. Apropos of nothing, they picked me up and carried me around for a bit!

(I was somewhat worried that it would be too much for them - I’m not the lightest girl - but nope, they made it look easy!)

It’s another one of those moments where I got to experience a long-overdue moment of alignment between mind and body. I cherish it.