I’m going out tonight. Slightly uncomfortable at the idea, since it’s a bar-bar-bar, not just a bar-bar in a restaurant bar. And a kinda rough place sometimes by all accounts. But … it’s for someone I know’s going away party, and some friend/acquaintances will be there, so it’s not all alone…

I got my Zoom 5510 DSL modem today. I’m testing cheap equipment for DSL connections, since cost is a big issue to some of my customers. I’m happy to say it does indeed work on linux with decent support, though the firmware was a little hard to find.

I’m looking forward to playing with the non-PPP parts of the ATM stack to see if this could solve the expensive problem of terminating VoIP reliably. With a willing telco interconnect, and ATM as far as the home over DSL, I can see it being very attractive.

Michael Masley has my full auditory attention at the moment. How often do you run into free access and cheap purchase of albums by a hammered dulcimer player who’s recorded with Garbage?

It’s refreshing to me how much nicer it is to have being out be a state of being, rather than an event.

Reconnecting with lovers somewhat coincidentally after having a week of remembering just why you loved them is among the best feelings.

I went over to my parents, and we ate lunch for a few minutes, then we started talking. My dad started with essentially “Spill.” and I said “You got my letter? Well then. I’m happy this way. The end.”

Dad responded with what he thought, which is that it’s no different than someone whose self-identity is that they’re an amputee, and they freeze their legs and get ‘em cut off, and that I’m not different than Michael Jackson (Hitler comparison anyone? Pick someone people get emotional reactions from to compare to…) “He should have found psychological help therapy to cope with that he’s actually black”, Dad said.

I see the overt comparisons. I know why he’s comparing to those extremes. It comes down to that my parents believe that what’s “Natural” is better, usually. So that I’d “take drugs” to alter myself is unthinkable, like someone cutting off their legs is unthinkable to them.

I can now respond that “I think that’s okay, as long as they’re not hurting others with their identity. If it makes them happy, more diversity is fine with me. Odd as those choices are.

Then dad started ragging on hellion0, calling her by her birthname and I walked out and slammed the door, trying to get the message across that that was not an okay thing. Without some basic respect and attempt at understanding, no conversation is going to happen. I realized that I forgot my camera, stormed in, grabbed it, and slammed the door again.

Mom came over to my office right afterward. I gave about 8 minutes to let things cool, and was going to call their house and say “Want to try again, without the blatant disrespect and without the door slamming this time?”, but she came in as I was dialing so I bailed. We ended up talking for two and a half hours.

We talked about choosing identities versus things that are inborn, and how hard it is to tell which is which. And that I deeply believe that people should be able to choose their identities, and that she believes that whatever’s natural is “better”. We can at least identify the beliefs that make us disagree, and we understood each other a lot. She’s not ready to accept, but at least she sees some of what I see.

She asked me about “my culture”, and I told her about my friends — ftmichael, ganimede, klibs, elliotpp, apollotiger, raijna, and rising-dawn and why they’re all special to me. That I don’t think we’re enough people to form a “transgender culture” or even ourselves a queer culture, just a group of friends, and I explained that, and what I do get from everyone. Why their insight and diverse experience is so valuable to me. I think we ended up closer again. By the end of it, I was close and comfortable enough to at least jokingly ask if she’d pick me up a bigger bra when she goes to the city next. I don’t expect she’s that comfortable yet, but at least it’s out in the open.

I wish my dad had made more of an effort to communicate well, but I think it’ll take time.

I gave my parents this letter, left on my dad’s keyboard at home. We’re planning to Talk tomorrow night. I’m nervous but hopeful.

Talk didn’t happen, got my new glasses.

Wearing glasses is odd. What I see is distorted from what you see, something like this:

What you see:

What I see:

I’m told my brain will adjust shortly.

I think my parents and I are going to have a Talk today. I’m nervous, ‘cause if they didn’t just say it plainly, they’re uncomfortable about it, which means there’s just one thing it could be…

But we go for bagels, and I get my glasses. Can’t be that bad.

Contemplating why you are who you are is so much more pleasant when you’re looking at why what’s working is working than why what’s not working isn’t.

It’s a validating feeling to have three bug reports you weren’t sure were worth the bother closed at once, all resolved as “FIXED”

Phrase that most sums up my life right now:

I can’t ytpe toady.

I pick some really nice, amazing and beautiful people to sleep with.

That I have such close friends makes me feel truly at peace with the world often.

I’ve seen some crazy shit in the past eight or so years. I love what it’s taught me.

The worst day of my life is in the past. I’m pretty sure anyway.

The surest sign of what I need to work on next is what’s hard in my life.

Today was amazingly dusty after having fifty to seventy mile per hour winds much of the day. The mountains were hazy and distant, not sharp and present like usual.

I am so happy. I just ran into a woman I used to work with — she was among the best coworkers I’ve ever had — and she said to me “Something’s diff… oh! That’s what’s different? You look great! How long has this been?” I told her it had been a year. “Wow. . . that long? I never noticed… but you look great! Congratulations!”

It’s the first time someone’s noticed and said anything. Positive or negative.