Gabba Gabba Hey....One of Us, One of Us American Horror Story Season Four and the desire to live a normal life

Television viewing has really evolved in the last few years, no longer communal and no longer on a TV either. I long ago cut my cable ties and if I want to see anything it is through Netflicks or more and more commonly I stream it. Laptop connected to big screen or just my old Apple and I alone in the dark.

It would seem that we live in a new golden age of TV, Mad Men (oh Don. I miss you so...sigh), The Walking Dead, OITNB and quite a few more that I don’t have time to commit to.  

Less stellar but just as compelling was the forth season of the anthology series, American horror Story. Truth be told I haven’t seen seasons one through three but when I read the synopsis for the current season I had to check it out. Freak show in the fifties Florida.

The writers put an interesting spin on a story clearly inspired by Tod Browning’s 1932 shocker Freaks. The proprietress, a Miss Elsa is a Nazi era chanteuse with more than a passing resemblance to Marlene Dietrich, played by Jessica Lang. 

The series successfully walks the tenuous tight rope connecting ultra modern suburban fifties America to the dying tradition of the side show and the decadence of pre war Berlin. Unlikely ingredients but tasty as a poisoned candy apple.

The series has some superfluous story lines and I didn't really care for the use of a modern soundtrack when the fifties offered a wealth of weired and wonderful tunes that would have been right at home in an evil carnival.

There is even one character that could be characterised as intesex if not trans. The freaks are meant to elicit our sympathy and are clearly the heroes of the piece, but they are a realistic mix of good and evil. 

There is much talk of “passing” and the desire to live a normal life that no doubt will be familiar feeling to anyone who is transsexual. Do I consider myself a freak, yes I guess I do but I would be offended by anyone who called me that. 

Enjoy....just remember to look under your bed for killer clowns.

Hugs,

April 

BLAM.....new dress and at target weight (you can never be too rich or too thin - Wallis Simpson).....Bitch Pudding Out!

You'all get a taste of the Bitch Pudding....

Hugs,

April

Hopelessness....sometimes you bear the unbearable....sometimes the bear eats you

Recently I had an interview with a well funded tech startup. I was very excited about the prospect of once again working in Toronto, not to mention such crass concerns as salary and benefits.

And lets not forget to add a sense of self worth and dignity but who is counting.

Despite much research and planning the interview didn’t go anything like I expected, good or bad. Rather it turned out worse than I could have imagined. The interviewer and I seemed to be speaking different languages. I usually do well in interview situations and I am still trying to unpack what went wrong in this case.

I left the interview knowing in no uncertain terms that I did not get the job. I also had the distinct impression that I was old, useless and obsolete.

I have faced disappointment before but this one hit me really hard. I thought I was in a good position with the skills and experience the company needed as well as a positive reference from a friend on the inside. I felt that I had let myself and more importantly my friend down by my poor performance.

Even worse was the feeling of hopelessness. In the aftermath I felt I would never get out of my low paying "transitional” job and my career permanently stalled. I believed that I should be put out on the ice flow and unburden society from my useless presence.

I lay on the floor of my room wanting nothing more than numbness to claim me body and soul. I wanted to swallow all my sleeping pills to run Corvette in the garage. Jeez, I make it sound like my life is kinda dramatic no?

For the first time I had doubts about transition....purley economic ones....Im not that crazy yet.

Sometimes I wish I could just run away, cash in my remaining assets and go live in the South of France till the money runs out then walk into the Mediterranean.

Thankfully both genetic and trans girlfriends were there for me. Alice called, Sasha took me for coffee and Cass and I Skyped late into the night.

The hopelessness faded to be replaced by a deep sadness and anger. I am told I am resilient, fearless, I don’t know if that is true but it seems a curse not being able to give to have no other choice but to keep fighting.

The next day and the day after, I continued to “bear the unbearable” I got up and went to the job that is an utter waste of my talents and later headed to the house that is no longer mine to see my children. 

For better or worse I keep fighting.....

Ding Dong the Witch is Dead......toxic relationship is c'est fini

I finally broke up with the person who was making my life miserable, after a month of sporadic contact I forced the conversation that ended it all.

I wish I could have let all my anger out but I still loved them and could not bring myself to say anything really hurtful. No friends going forward, I am still too weak to see them in any social setting...better out of site and out of mind.

I did in no uncertain terms tell them that they had behaved horribly, cruelly and were the worst sort of coward.

Did my unfortunate history have anything to do with breakup....yes partially

I can't believe how much this toxic relationship damaged my self confidence.

Well it was good to be the normal one in the relationship for a change.

Big thanks to Alice, Cass, Joanne, April and Julie for listening and providing a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.

Music is the best medicine sometimes: