To Wish Impossible Things

I did not intend to write about this until I sat in front of my computer today and mused on the fact, that, well, tomorrow's two years. Huh. I could expound the flow of time, have before, and don't really care to at this time anyway. Many people have said it better, so I suggest you go seek one of them to tell you about the funny nature of the passage of time. Or about the palpable difference between going forward, going through, and looking backwards, even though, ostensibly, they are all measured in the same overall base 60 units that we can thank the Babylonians for. So two years since what? That's another reason that time is funny. After all, it's not two years since I decided to transition, and that date is both past and in the rather tenebrous recesses of my mind. Nor is it two years from when I told many people. And it's probably not two years exactly since you saw me for the first time. Unless you work with me. I think about where I am tangibly (my entire wardrobe of everyday things since then is gone with the exception of a few quality t-shirts and pairs of shoes) and intangibly (my entire outlook). But mostly I don't think too much these days. I don't mean that in a bad way. If I want to get some thinking done, well, I've got a 50 minute commute each way to fill on my bike, and that's a good time to do it. But otherwise, one of the things I feel is different is that I spend less time stuck in my head. I don't think I tipped the E too far on Meyers-Briggs (ENTP forever), but certainly, it's more out there than it used to be. That, in it of itself, makes writing more difficult. While I'm still a relatively solitary person who respects my time, it's spent doing things, not thinking about doing things. At least in my opinion it is. There are many things I talked about for a long time that just kept piling up, and many of the more challenging ones are still out there. But just because they are daunting doesn't mean I don't intend to get around to them. Some might say that two years has been plenty of time to address those things, but it's a complex juggling act between balancing my own needs, wants, and outright pleasures in respect to the fact that I need to figure out a way to do that. That happens to be fighting fraud at this time. So I put in my 40 (or my 50) and do my best to address everything else in the rest of the time I've got. And slowly, I'm plowing through some things I meant to do. It's amazing how long it takes me just to do simple things that are right around the corner. For example, I grabbed a slice of pizza at Cosetta and in the 7 years I've lived here, I've never been there. Sure, I didn't live in St. Paul, but I certainly spent time down around W 7th. Never been there. So of course there's a long list of things that keep getting longer (you should see my burgeoning "To Buy" vinyl list...it's ugly). But instead of spending all my time worrying about how I can't do it all and not doing anything, I'm doing things. Sometimes by myself, sometimes with as many other misguided souls as I can round up. And if that means dragging you to Mickey's because you've never been there, well, you've been warned. Transitioning has taught me a lot of wonderful things, but one I gloss over mentally is that it's taught me how to target what's important for me and go after it. And while that process more legitimately started 3 years ago, not 2, it's a tangible point. It's a day to drink to or just generally enjoy. It's not another birthday; I've only got one of those, and besides, that should be more in honor of my mom anyway, as she did all the hard work, but we've got some twisted logic in this here world. But it's not that. It's another reminder to keep plowing forward. To get back to the list of Hugo award winners and start reading again. Or to get out the Minnesota map and put pins in the wall where there are parks I've been to so I know where to head next time. Or to look back on one of the first things I wrote that I felt like came from my true voice (that would be "My Next Boyfriend Will Have To Sign Waivers") where I wasn't worried about what anyone would think. It's a time to wish impossible things, and look back in a year or two and realize that I did them. There's no reason I can't start the next batch of things that feel that way to me right now.