More Good Things

I see @foone has switched from reblogging deer girls… to reblogging John Deere girls. 🙂

Imagine the frustration of trying to do maintenance on your robot gf only to find out her wiring diagrams, code, and repair manual are considered confidential and proprietary and only factory certified technicians are allowed or able to work on her. Now imagine working tirelessly to build a wiring diagram, reverse engineer her code, and documenting troubleshooting and maintenance procedures

Unexpected HRT side-effect #10

 Confusing simple homonyms.

For context: while I am not dyslexic, there are certain idiosyncrasies with how my brain inputs, organizes, and outputs information that resembles a mild form of that particular disorder.

One example would be: analog clocks confuse me. My brain takes great umbrage at the hour hand - which is the larger unit of measurement - being represented by the smaller hand; and vice versa with the minute hand. If I need to read an analog clock, I have to manually reassert the correct order of the hands in my head; and this happens with each and every attempt.

Another is that certain words have unintuitive spellings (e.g. ‘Wednesday’; ‘business’); and I have to intentionally mispronounce them in my head to recall the correct spelling.

These are not major impediments; but are something I deal with on a daily basis. (As to why this is, I have no idea - there is a known association between left-handedness and dyslexia, so perhaps this has something to do with it; it could also be a result of the structural mismatch between my brain and body).

After starting HRT, I noticed that I was regularly confusing simple homonyms - ‘to’ and ‘too’; ‘now’ and ‘know’; ‘their’ and ‘they’re’; and so on. While I’ve been dealing with this problem my whole life, the actual set of troublesome words has been fixed since childhood; so it’s kind of interesting to see not only the set now expand, but with basic vocabulary that has never posed an issue before!

We have been laughing all evening because my wonderful, sweet, lovable idiot cat fell asleep in the crook of my arm - despite his eyes being wide open!

Just imagine gentle snoring from this little guy as he disaffectedly stares a hole through time and space itself…

Parallel

Recently, there has been a spate of articles in the following format: "Anti-vaccination, anti-mask advocate dies from COVID complications". Sometimes as often as one or two a day.

I don't take pleasure in the passing of others; even those that are ideologically opposed to me. From the perspective of our collective well-being, they are at best dangerously misguided and at worst, sociopathic. However, they also had friends, family, loved ones; and they will be missed.

I do feel it appropriate to note that the net value of humanity has gone up in their absence; which I consider a sufficiently damning indictment.

More so however, an interesting parallel has presented itself:

The onset of the AIDS epidemic claimed the lives of numerous gay men; men that could have gone on to become speakers, organizers, leaders in their community. They were handed a death sentence by a disease they had no forewarning of, no knowledge as to how they might protect themselves; and as a result, an entire generation of the 'G' portion of LGBT advocacy is simply... missing.

President Ronald Reagan's slothful response to the issue, and the general mischaracterization of AIDS by social regressives as a wrathful, immorality-seeking illness are well documented.

There is now an irony to be found: that these same people are seeing their membership chipped away by a virus that they deny is real, is contagious, is dangerous.

There is a key difference, of course: these people have been offered all of the tools necessary to protect themselves; they simply have chosen not to use them.

Again, I don't delight in their suffering. I am, however, interested to see how the landscape of conservative advocacy will be reshaped by the needless loss of these people.

Coming out

I have come out to a great many people these past eighteen months; and I have been fortunate in that there have effectively been no negative reactions. (I know too many people that have not had the same experience, and my heart bleeds for them.)

There were two instances where I was genuinely terrified of how the other party might react. The first was my spouse - not because I thought for a second that they would respond poorly, but rather because I felt that I was unilaterally introducing an enormous life change into a relationship that I value beyond estimation.

(Of course, I should not have worried - they accepted this new state of affairs immediately. That’s the kind of amazing person my spouse is.)

The second was my friend and colleague of fifteen years; a fiercely intelligent and analytic man of few words. He is an émigré of the Soviet Union and as such holds very different views from myself in many matters; including, I feared, the subject of transgenderism.

Again, I should not have concerned myself; as he delivered an answer that in one sentence perfectly encapsulated the man’s outlook, brevity, and uniquely blended mode of English and Russian speech.

“Ah, well; that’s just your decision.”

To those unaccustomed to his way of speaking, it might sound harsher than intended; but on the contrary, this was one of the greatest endorsements I could have received and remains a highlight of the coming-out process: “Hey, you do you”.

How it started, versus how it's going...

I grew up in the UK, 30 minutes from Games Workshop's Nottingham headquarters; and my childhood heavily featured their games, miniatures, and routine trips to the local Games Workshop store.

During this time, I developed a particular affection for the work of Jes Goodwin. Initially an artist and sculptor, Jes' work was strongly geometric in nature; and displayed an unusually high degree of consistency (a particularly noteworthy achievement during a period where miniatures were sculpted by hand with ad-hoc tools).

For reference - one of Jes' early sketches of a Space Marine in Mk. VI armor; as featured in the guide that accompanied the very first Space Marine paint set:

I actually had the pleasure of meeting Jes in person at Games Day '94; and one of my treasured possessions is the souvenir program, which he kindly autographed:

During my teenage years, I came to possess a handful of Chaos Champions sculpted by Jes. As was so often the case in those early years, the miniatures had been designed as dual use; combining the sort of medieval aesthetics that would warrant inclusion in the Warhammer Fantasy Battle setting, but also the occasional technological greeble that would justify use in Warhammer: 40,000.

As I generally kept to the latter system, I set about cutting up and remodeling these miniatures, with the aim of making the science-fiction elements more explicit. And I was very happy with the end results, too!... Which makes it all the more unfortunate that these miniatures were lost when I relocated to the US.

Two decades later, and I have taken it upon myself to recreate these miniatures (albeit with the full advantage of the skills I have developed in the interim). The first mini on the chopping block is 021919 from the 1989 Citadel Catalog (frequently referred to by its most obvious physical characteristic, "Nurgle Chaos Champion With Fly Mutation"):

(It feels vaguely sacrilegious, taking a razor saw to what is now technically an antique; but I very much subscribe to the DIY mentality that was so prevalent during the initial Rogue Trader days, and - given that the model originates for the same time period - keeping the old traditions alive seems only appropriate.)

In my original conversion, I removed the haft and blade of the axe; and positioned an old Space Ork plasma cannon over the now unobscured shoulder. I also replaced the sandaled foot and exposed fly-mutated leg with their armored equivalents from a Space Marine Devastator.

This time I around, I opted to angle the right arm, to add a greater sense of movement; and completely reposition the left arm, as if to calling out a target:

(In doing so, I created a great many headaches for myself: the right hand snapped off at the wrist, and had to be repaired. Cutting the left arm free necessitated cutting through the hand; and the pins I inserted into the remains of the palm broke free, requiring JB Weld to resecure.

I cannot underscore the frustration inherent to these two experiences; at the same time, I'm a great believer in the idea that growth as an artist demands taking risks - up to and including potentially ruining one's art.)

The original version of the conversion also featured an extended barrel (fabricated from the Lord Fuegan's firepike, and a handful of random Genestealer claws). However, I wanted to replace this with something a little more appropriate for a follower of the Lord Of Pestilence; which ended up being the better part of a Plague Spewer:

In terms of next steps: I intend to strap a canister of goo-based ammunition to his left side; and continue to add new detailing to hide the various cuts and joins.

Piano

The more I learn about playing the piano, the more I am convinced that it it is fundamentally analogous to Dance Dance Revolution - but with ten legs, and eighty-eight pads...

Office space: addendum

Yep... yesterday's workout did a real number on my girl muscles. I've got minor strains in my forearms, shoulders, and weirdly, thighs (which is what I get for trying to be a human jack, I guess).

I realize now that I'm reluctant to tell the men in my life "I'm sorry, I cannot physically carry this; you need to do it for me" because:

It feels sexist;

Despite all the physical changes I've experienced this year, my frame is still the same - and I worry that people will extrapolate from this that I'm still equally physically capable.

I don't know what the solution is, but I need to figure something out before too long because I'm getting really tired of these injuries...

Ponytail

At the age of fifteen I decided to grow my hair out and tie it up. It stayed in a ponytail for twenty-two years (excluding a brief period where I was foolishly convinced to cut it); even when swimming, or at night.

(In retrospect, I really wish I had been kinder to my hair; I’ve been fortunate to retain my hairline, but there’s some thinning at the front and I’m convinced that this isn’t age but rather, mild traction alopecia. Alas; live and learn.)

Leaving my hair down felt... physically uncomfortable. It was a rarity.

Fast forward to today, and I had temporarily tied my hair up to keep it dry in the bath. It didn’t occur to me until after: “Why does my hair feel so weird?”... And it was then that I realize that I still had the tie in.

It’s fascinating to discover that there are actual, physical sensations associated with my gender and how it might be perceived by myself and others!

Nominally I’m not in the habit of reblogging (nothing against it; I just prefer to create myself) but Nick is not only an incredibly talented artist, he’s also an amazing human being and deserves so much love!

Collection of Nick Robles Nightcrawler, for…uhh…art reasons.