Friday, October 20, 2017

Rude Awakening

I normally don't think very highly of what I call "Facebook Fads".  For the most part, I've been limiting the impact that Facebook has on my life, and I feel like it's made me a happier person as a result.

But this "me, too" thing - I have to admit, I think it's really good.  I'm all in favor of something where we're encouraging people to share (and, way more importantly, listen to) stories of a more personal nature in an effort to increase our mutual understanding of a situation.  For once, we have a campaign where people are, in my opinion, allowing themselves to be a little vulnerable and communicating about situations that make them uncomfortable in an effort to learn/teach something to others.

So, uh yeah.  Me too.  #metoo

At Cascade Head with Cody, looking out at the ocean and preparing for a flashback sequence.

Before I start, let me provide some context to those reading this who have only recently met me and didn't feel like wading through a sea of words to find this information:
  • I'm 37 years old now.  (2017)
  • I was born male but always wanted to be female, and discovered the term "transgender" at 21  (2001)
  • I lived pretty much in the closet until I was 27  (2007)
  • I came out at 27 and began transitioning, starting to live full-time as female at 28  (2008)
  • I had gender reassignment surgery right around my 31st birthday  (2010-2011)
  • I basically spent my entire life single until I met my boyfriend Cody at 33  (2013)

And while I tend not to bring any of up in conversations these days unless specifically to provide context for something, I don't want to give the impression that I'm at all shy or easily offended when it comes to talking about any of this.  I get misgendered at work maybe once or twice a week (including multiple times where different coworkers called me "he" and then super-quickly corrected themselves to "she" - almost certainly an honest mistake on their part), and I always feel bad because I can usually tell that it makes other people feel uncomfortable on my behalf.

That's not necessary, I promise!  The main reason that I don't bring it up is because for me, it's all kind of ancient history and not stuff that I consciously think about a lot.  But I'm a happy person who likes living life as an open book, so if you're reading this and had been thinking "oh there's something I wanted to ask her but didn't know if it'd make her uncomfortable", this is me officially telling you that you're welcome (and even encouraged) to ask me anything you want about my past / perspective and I'd be happy to share it.

One of my favorite old pictures of me, taken at the Strangecreek music festival in May 2011.

And so with that said, let's turn back the clock to visit 31-year-old me:

August 5, 2011

I recently had an incident that kind of put me off.  I went to visit a friend – someone who has known me for a long time, since before my transition – and he made a move on me.  I was staying at his place in another room and was dead asleep at roughly 2am.  I woke up to the sound of him dropping something and saw him in the doorway.  I was still very much disoriented from having just woken up when he sat down on the mattress next to me and started rubbing my back.

At this point, I was thinking something to the effect of:

“Oooh, intimate human contact!  This feels good and is not something I get much of”

So at first I was all about it, kind of naively thinking it would stay there and we’d be able to sleep next to each other or something.  I don’t know!  When he started kissing me, it was then followed by:

“Woah.  What’s going on?”

“He’s going to expect this to lead to more”

“I am not in the mood to really do anything sexual”

“I am hugely inexperienced and not at all good at this”

“I don’t want my first time after surgery to be a casual hookup with his friend”

“Well, he’s already started, is he going to be upset if I say no?”

“Well, it feels good, so maybe I should just do it”

“I probably can’t get any better than this anyways, so maybe I should just do it”

“Why is he doing this with me?  There’s no possible way that he’s actually attracted to me.”

As one can imagine, I was starting to panic.  My thoughts were racing a mile a minute.  Because my brain was flying so fast, I couldn’t even focus on the task at hand, which was freaking me out more and compounding the issue.  After about 20 minutes of messing around and clothes coming off, I kind of came to my senses and explained to him that I needed to stop.  He understood, and before we went to bed and asked me to keep what just happened between us.  I ended up falling asleep next to him.

I woke up the next morning and left.  I’m almost positive he has no idea that I have any negative feelings about what happened at all.  I still don’t know how to deal with this – he’s an old friend of mine and I know he didn’t think he was doing anything wrong.  As a rule, I try to judge people based on their intent.  On the other hand, I feel like I should be a lot more upset about this and less understanding, and I don’t know if I’m just rationalizing his behavior to avoid a confrontation about a really awkward subject for me.

One thing that really bothered me about this was the request to keep it a secret.  I feel like if he really wanted me to do it, it would have been nice for him to ask me before making a move.   I didn’t get a choice in the matter, why am I obligated to keep this a secret?  It wasn’t long before I was relating this to the conflict in my apartment and the general problem with my life right now – I put my desire to make other people happy over taking what I want sometimes, and then end up paying for it when I set the expectation that I won’t ever put my foot down.

Also, it messes with me that he wants it kept secret at all.  Would he feel that way if I wasn’t transgendered?  Is it because he hooks up with all his female friends and doesn’t want a reputation?  Is he just a private person?  Is there something specifically wrong with me to justify that request?  I have no idea, and my negative mindstate was only amplified by all of these thoughts.

I feel more “over it” now that a few days have passed.  I’m going to let it slide for now, and just make sure in his case that I’m never in a position where that can happen again.  I realized that night that I don’t want to have sex with someone just for the sake of having sex – I want it to be with someone I trust, someone who I’m sure is attracted to me for me and not as a convenient lay.  I guess that’s the start of sexual self-confidence, but I still have a long ways to go.

My solution to what happened followed my usual pattern:  I tried my best to not think about it.

I feel like I have kind of a unique take on the way society treats women.

When I wrote the above post, I had far more years under my belt living life from a male perspective than from a female perspective.  Like I read this now and it's amazing to me how quickly and easily I'm able to justify his behavior under the guise of wanting to be empathetic.  I mean, it was definitely a learning experience for me, but on the other hand reading "I'm going to let it slide for now" makes me want to travel back in time and slap myself in the back of the head.

At the time, it didn't feel like I could justify being angry at him, because I really didn't think that he thought he was doing anything wrong.  Six years later, with a lot more wisdom and understanding of the world, it kind of feels to me like those emotions are better channeled addressing the set of conditions that led my ex-friend to believe that what he did was acceptable.  Because sadly, that's not even close to the only time something like that happened to me, it was just the first one.

I think the whole "Me too" thing resonates with me because I can say with 100% certainty that I had absolutely no understanding of what the female experience was like until I experienced it myself.  If anything, for most of my life in the closet I was kind of romanticizing it, with things like "it must be flattering to be hit on in a bar".  In reality, unwanted male attention sucks and happens a lot more than I ever would have thought - broadcasting my desire to keep things platonic is part of the appeal of androgyny to me.

Thank goodness I had Kayla around to teach me confidence and sticking up for myself!

I never talked to that ex-friend again after that.  I never called him out on it or went the name-and-shame route, and even now don't really see the point.  The best revenge is a good life, and he doesn't get to be involved in mine anymore.  That said, I'd really love to see a world where guys don't just assume that  they can start feeling up their female friends with no repercussions, and so if sharing this story helps that cause even just a tiny bit I'm more than happy to do it.

Saturday, October 14, 2017


I'm now a licensed roulette dealer!

After six weeks of class and a lot of emotional highs and lows, I had my audition - my first time dealing the game, on a crowded Friday night, with live players, with my managers standing behind me watching and taking notes on how I do.  It was equal parts terrifying and awesome.

This is how I imagine I look when I'm dealing.

But before I go into that, I wanted to share the story about how I got there.

It starts roughly two months ago when the sign-up sheet for the class went up.  I was a little bit hesitant to sign up for it, mainly because the class schedule was  M-Th 3:30pm-7pm  and my work schedule is Fr(Sa) - Tu(We) 11:00pm-7am and it's a 35 minute drive each way to get to the casino from my apartment.

But then I figured "who knows when there will be another class?".  So far, the process of improving as a dealer has been fun to me, and the math nerd in me has always been interested in learning roulette, so I decided to make it work somehow.  In my mind, the only really bad days where I would have both class and work would be Mondays and Tuesdays, and I figured I could nap in the car or play poker or something between the two.  In retrospect, I may have underestimated the impact of not having any days off anymore - but I made it work.

The class was made up of mostly dealers from my blackjack class and was taught by the same trainer, so it was nice to have a general familiarity with the people I was learning with.  Once again, I felt like everyone got along and there was a general vibe where we were all rooting for each other, which I thought was great.

And once again, I came into class with high expectations, figuring that my general math skills would carry me through it, only to panic week 2 when I realized that dealing roulette is a way way harder than I originally thought.  Our first physical skills test was based on the ability to push and pull stacks of chips without toppling them - in order to pass the test, you need to be able to run through it in 2 minutes and 30 seconds.  My first run-through of it was over 10 minutes and had me in tears and seriously contemplating quitting.

Instead, I doubled down.  I bombed on some tests early on in blackjack class too, and thankfully the lesson that I got out of it then was "you're not going to be able to pass this class without putting in practice time", so I did.  And this time, I had an amazingly useful resource at my disposal:  the training room where our class was held.  Since I was the only person on the graveyard shift taking the class, it meant that I could use the room during my breaks.  I took full advantage of it - honestly there's only so much internet surfing one can do in the middle of the night before it gets kind of boring.  I started spending roughly 3-5 breaks per shift just going into the training room, putting on some tunes, and practicing roulette class stuff.

Push/pull was first, and through practice I was able to beat that test reasonably quickly.  After that came mucking:  the ability to pick up chips really quickly, form them into stacks of twenty, and put them back with the other stacks.  Basically, doing this.  I didn't realize it going in, but the mucking test - taking a pile of 200 chips and stacking them into 10 piles (2 piles each of 5 different colored chips) in a minute and half - would soon become my own personal nightmare.  More on that later.

Payouts problems look like this, where you have to calculate how many chips each color gets if a 17 comes up.

Thankfully, week 3 of class was Math Week, and, true to form, I loved it.  I've always taken pride in my ability to do mental arithmetic quickly - heck, back when I used to play Magic I used to challenge people to a game between rounds where we'd roll a bunch of dice and the first person who could multiply them all together won.  I think it helped that I went to high school during a time where there was still belief that knowing how to do math is a relevant skill?

Looking at a roulette table and trying to calculate a payout the first few times is really intimidating.  The very first step is memorizing what each type of bet pays - since two of the major bets pay 35:1 and 17:1, it meant learning a few new times tables.  In the case of learning to multiply by 17, I basically just went back to my "learning to deal is like learning an instrument" analogy and treated it like practicing scales.  If I was in the car or on a dead table with nothing to do, I would just start thinking "17 34 51 68 85 102 119 136 153 170 153 136 119 102 85 68 51 34 17" over and over.  Once I had that down I started doing it up to 340 instead, and then doing every other number, and eventually I had it pretty down pat.

We also learned a lot of picture bets - basically ways to combine separate bets to quickly calculate the total payout.  Like if someone hits a number where they have a straight-up (35:1), a split (17:1), and a corner (8:1), it's a lot easier to immediately look at that and think (60:1) than to add those all up separately.  There are a number of combinations like that, and they come in handy when trying to figure out complicated payouts on the fly.

Basically, roulette math is all about bending and manipulating numbers in your head to make the calculations simple.  That is so my jam!  It's utterly hilarious to me that I actually have a job where I use algebra on a day-to-day basis.

Trying to stack these up in 90 seconds would become like my major life's struggle for a few weeks.

So when the math part of the class was introduced, I became more confident in my ability to pass the class.  And that's good.  Because little did I know, I was about to slam into a mental wall on the mucking test.

As mentioned, the goal was to be able to pass the test in a minute and a half.  When I first started it on week 1, my time was north of three minutes, but that was all expected.  Mucking is like the roulette equivalent of shuffling for blackjack - it was by far the thing that I had to practice the most, since it a lot of learning each skill comes down to muscle memory.  And once I started practicing on my breaks, I was shaving off a few seconds every day.  By week 4, I was consistently getting down around the two minute mark.  By week 5, one minute and fifty seconds.  Technically the test was due on week 5, but most of the students weren't there yet, and so I wasn't really feeling the pressure.

Week 6  (which was this past week) started and I came in determined to get my muck times down.  I was going into the training room basically every chance I had in order to pass the test.  But, much to my horror, I wasn't improving.  No matter what, most of my test runs ended up around one minute and fifty seconds.  At my very very best, with full concentration and no obvious mistakes, I could get it down to a minute forty.

That Tuesday - the last day where I would have both class and work - I spent the four hours in between class and work doing nothing but practicing mucking, doing nothing but:
  • separate ten stacks of chips
  • knock them over (the fun part!) and spread them around the table
  • hit the stopwatch
  • muck the chips
  • stop the stopwatch, look at my time in disgust
  • repeat

And not only was I not getting to the point where I could pass the test, my times were actually getting
even worse.  Lack of sleep / free time and the looming end of class were starting to get to me, and the amount of pressure I was putting myself under started to show that night as I had to restrain myself from grabbing a stack of chips and throwing it across the room.  Just like with blackjack class, the fear of putting that much time and effort into something and ending up with nothing to show for it was very very real to me, and it was heightened by the fact that my classmates were starting to pass the class one by one.

The next day was my low point.  I showed up to class, obviously flustered and frustrated, and when it was my turn to deal the game I made mistake after mistake after mistake.  I am extremely bad at hiding when I'm upset about something, and am reasonably sure that every other person in the room was aware of the fact that I was trying my best not to cry at that point.  I kind of hung back until everyone left and asked the trainer if he could watch me muck chips and explain to me what I was doing wrong.

I got like halfway through it and was dropping chips and knocking stacks over and wanted to scream.  The trainer told me to just get through it and not worry about the time.  I did so, and at that point I couldn't hold my tears back anymore and the floodgates opened.  I didn't understand why I wasn't getting any better to the point where it felt like something was fundamentally wrong with me, and the idea of the last six weeks of barely sleeping and spending hours practicing all leading to nothing was almost too much for me to take.

Thankfully, he assured me that the door wouldn't slam shut if I couldn't pass the mucking test before the class was over.  I could take as long as I needed to figure it all out, and then ask him to take the test whenever I felt I could pass it.  He was fully aware of how much practice time I was putting in and how little sleep I was getting, and was really encouraging about the fact that all of this was just a roadblock that I'd eventually get past.  He also gave me some pointers on what I was doing wrong  (namely that I wasn't moving my feet at all, and that I was gripping the chips too hard in my right hand), and all of a sudden I got that sense of improvement that I hadn't felt for weeks.

It was a little embarrassing to cry in front of the teacher (and maybe some of my classmates?  I can't remember) but at that point, holding all of that frustration in had been even worse.  I excused myself to go to the restroom, regain my composure and put myself back together... and then went right back to the training room to practice some more.

By the end of the six weeks the schedule/pressure had left me physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted.

Thursday - the last day of class - was bittersweet for me.  On one hand, I was happy for my classmates (all of whom I like) who had passed the class and looking forward to being able to keep to a somewhat regular schedule again, but on the other hand I felt like I had failed the class.  And the worst part was that I didn't really have anything to point to as a cause.  Until now, I had not really ever been known for putting a lot of effort into my schoolwork - this was the first time ever where I was honestly trying as hard as I could and still coming up short.

Class ended, and people started heading out.  I had one last chance at the mucking test before I would have to delay dealing on the floor, and to that point I had never actually gotten down to a minute thirty. I did a run at the test, and got it to roughly a minute forty.  Not bad, but not good enough.  At that point I didn't have any expectations of passing and was just trying to make peace with it.  The trainer told me to try it one more time:  one minute and thirty-eight seconds.

"Do it one more time."

I did one last try at the mucking test.  I remember accidentally knocking a chip off the table and the one other student in the room helping me by tossing it back for me.  And at the end, the trainer hit the stopwatch and gave me a look that was different from all of the other times.   My hopes started to go up as he turned the stopwatch to show me my time:


I started to pump the fist, and then stopped.  Did that count as one minute and thirty seconds?  He confirmed that it did (he's not cruel like that) and that I had officially passed my mucking test.  I honestly almost fainted on the spot.

How I felt when I discovered I passed the muck test.

And so that was that - there was one more overall competency written test for the gaming commission, but the trainer encouraged me to take it right then and I passed it without any trouble.  And with that, I was told that I could expect my audition to come sometime over the week, and he thanked me for obviously being as invested in the class as I had been, and that he was really glad to see me make it through.

That was yesterday.  Tonight at work, I was telling this story to some co-workers when my manager came into the break room and told me that my audition was going to be in five minutes.  And all of a sudden I remembered my last actual practice deal on Wednesday where my mistakes kept on snowballing, and that scared voice inside my head started repeating "what if you screw it all up?".  And humorously enough, on my very first spin on a live table I managed to try and take someone's winning bet, and then try to pay it the wrong amount.  Thankfully, all of the managers have been in the position I was in at some point so they chalked those mistakes up to nerves and told me I did fine.

They put me on another roulette game after that, and unlike my audition it actually felt pretty fun.  It's not like it's been years since I started the job - I remember precisely how much of a factor nerves were when I first started, and I know that they'll go away soon enough.

Also, I literally just remembered that I will get a pay increase out of this as well. Although it's obviously welcome, that was never the point.  For the first time, I took steps to increase my job-related knowledge because I want to be the best dealer I can be, and so to me the common sense approach is to learn as much as I can as quickly as I can so that I can spend the next few years refining my techniques.  That said, the next game on the list is craps and that's a ten week long class, so I certainly won't complain if they hold up on offering that for at least a few months before I get sucked back into class  (because I would definitely say "yes" to learning it).

Now that it's all said and done, I'm appreciative for the experience and feel like it built character.

And so that's the story of basically all of September and October so far!  I'm sorry to everyone who has been wondering where I've been for the last few months - blogging became one of the first casualties of my new schedule.  It's been stressful at times, but overall I am happy, and I'm still feeling pretty good about the direction my life is headed.

Sunday, July 30, 2017

The Art of War Blackjack

It's been a little while since I've written about my job at the casino. And since I just came back from one of the funnest shifts I've ever had, I figured today would be the perfect today to write an update.

Hilariously, most of my co-workers have only ever seen me wearing black pants and a white button-up shirt.

I still really like my job.  In fact, I'd go so far as to say that the more I do it, the more I enjoy it.  Today I had this sort of "a-ha!" moment where I realized that I was putting far less thought and effort into what I was doing than ever and was just letting my movements happen naturally, which was allowing me to engage more with the people at my tables.  And I was receiving a lot of positive feedback from both my players and my supervisors, which felt really good.

I spent my car ride home thinking about my approach to my job and why I think I like it so much.  And with the benefit of thirty minutes of lettng my mind wander, I came back to one of my favorite older posts in this blog about  RPG Analogy.

If you haven't read that old post and don't have time - don't sweat it, you'll figure it out.

I've always been able to harness magic, this is more about learning new schools of it  ;)

When we last saw Shelly Moonbeam (my character-self), she was coming to grips that she wasn't going to be able to complete her quest to support herself as a Blog Writer.  Through luck and determination she was accepted into the local Table Games Dealer's guild, and for the last few weeks her quest has been to go to the casino for ~30ish hours per week and guide other adventurers (my players) through the Card Tables of Chance (my tables) where they will attempt to find treasure (win money).  If she can do this well, she can support herself of the treasure that they share with her for her assistance.

As time went on she gained a bunch of levels in dealing cards.  You gain skills by screwing up, and at the beginning there was no shortage of mistakes to learn from.  For literally the first few weeks of the job, at least one person would remind me to breathe and/or say that they could tell I was nervous - getting to the point where people were no longer saying those things to me is an example of one of her early quests to gain a Dealer Level.

As she gained experience (points), she started to be aware and respectful of the magical powers of the cards she wields.  Everyone comes in with dreams of how awesome it'd be to win every hand and fears of how much it would suck to lose every hand.  Once she started to tap into that nervous uncertainty, she realized the true nature of her job:. to make it as fun as possible for players when they win, and as painless as possible when they lose.

The cards in a blackjack shoe are as easy to control as the waves in the ocean.

In all seriousness, one of my favorite things about dealing cards is that I constantly get to try new ways to interact with people.  While I would never do anything like telling that whole backstory above to one of my players, there are certain little tricks that I've found myself doing that definitely seem to allude to it:  I like to think of these things as the abilities that my character has as the result of gaining levels:
  • I'll constantly refer to the "Blackjack Fairies/Gods/Spirits as the imaginary entity that controls what cards appear.   Blackjack (entities) are the ones who are responsible for dealing players nothing but 12-16s. They're the reason people are always dealt blackjacks after they lower their bet to the table minimum.  When players are generous tippers, they're the invisible force that send down an aura of good luck.  ;)  It's always done tongue-in-cheek but players usually seem to have fun with it.
  • Whenever possible, I try and rally the table to view each other as a team of people who are working together against me, the villain.  Having positive interactions with strangers is a universally fun experience, so to me it's one of the most surefire ways to help ensure that people are having a good time.  There really is no funner experience as a dealer (at least in my opinion) than busting a hand at a full table and having a bunch of strangers all shout "OOOOOH!" in unison and high-five each other!
  • When people are going through rough stretches and are frustrated, I do my best to channel 22-year-old me after I had gambled away a paycheck in the span of an hour.  It sucked, and fifteen years later I'm still able to channel that memory and put myself in their shoes.  This helps a lot when players are angry and taking things out on me - gambling can be a really frustrating experience when you're losing at it, and so I do my best to maintain empathy while not taking any negativity personally.
  • Now that I can shuffle efficiently without looking down or having to think about it, I like trying to use the time in between shoes to get to know the players.  This job is an extrovert's dream come true - I have no issues talking about myself and love asking people questions about who they are / what they do / why they're here.

I imagine that one day I'll go on an Avatar-like quest to find the Blackjack Fairies and learn their ways?

"I needed a word to describe what human beings do when they act like humans, not small machines.  What we do when we are out there putting our stamp on something, something that might not work.  And most of all, I needed a word to describe the generosity and human connection that this kind of work makes, so I called it 'art'.  Because we can agree that a playwright is making art, and that Jackson Pollock was making art, but it's also art when you go to a restaurant and they serve you a dish made with care, just for you." - Seth Godin  (full quote)

Obviously, not every hour on the job is an epic adventure.  Sometimes I'm put at a table with people who don't speak English.  Sometimes people are losing and the best thing I can do is shut up and deal the cards. Sometimes, given the hours that I work, there simply aren't any players at the table and my job is to stand still for forty minutes guarding the chips.  But I feel like as long as I continue to find ways to make the environment more fun - for me, for my coworkers, for the players - I'll be satisfied doing this for a living.  And at this point, I feel pretty confident that I'll be able to keep this up for a pretty long time.

Saturday, July 29, 2017

Kitty Pride

Hello everyone, it's nice to meet you!  We're Shelly and Cody's new kittens  :3  We're brothers and we're roughly 6 weeks old.

My name is Trey.  I'm the more adventurous and energetic kitten.  I don't really like being held, but will come in for a cuddle once I sense that it's nap time.

I'm a little bit too small to model hats at the moment, but am pretty good at exploring them!

My name is Maynard.  I'm the more affectionate and relaxed kitten.  I enjoy being held and purr quite a lot.

I hope that I can purr-sue my daddy's line of work!
At some point in the near-future our mommy is going to write a bit more about us and what we mean to her, but we figured we should probably hog the spotlight for this one while we're at maximum cuteness  :3  Here are some videos of us playing to close out this post!

We pretty much just eat, sleep, and play around together all day.

When we first got home there was a lot of Trey picking on Maynard, but lately we've been evenly matched.

Saturday, July 22, 2017


Long time no write!

Roughly three weeks ago, my iPhone charging port finally bit the dust (literally) and stopped charging the battery.  I had had it for a pretty long time and hadn't kept it in a case for most of it, so I knew it'd eventually happen and had made peace with upgrading my phone once that one finally died.

I didn't really feel a sense of urgency to replace it.  There was no data plan on it, I mainly just used it to play video games and surf the web at home or during my breaks at work.  We have a separate one for talk/text, but it's extremely old and pretty much only good for those specific functions.  Eventually I found a really good deal on an upgraded version on Ebay for a solid price, and ordered the replacement.

It finally arrived yesterday, which means that I spent roughly three weeks without a smart phone.  And in that time, I started looking at social media a lot less.  I'd check Facebook during my breaks at work on the kiosk computers in the break room, but that was more or less it.  I stopped checking my email altogether.  I didn't realize it, but cellphone notifications have a huge impact on whether or not I even bother - without those, I don't really prioritize the certain parts of the internet as highly as I used to.

One of the last pictures taken before my cellphone died.
Not having a smartphone has been an interesting experience.  The more time I spent forgetting to check my social media, the more I started to feel guilty for not constantly updating people with the things that were going on in my life.  I spent a lot of time brainstorming things that I wanted to write about, but when push came to shove it felt more like work than a hobby.  It was kind of jarring to me to realize this, but without the constant feedback of likes and responses from my cellphone, the compulsion to share my life over the internet started to fade.

The lack of a functioning camera was also messing me up.  Humorously, I think I've had one of the most picturesque weeks I've ever had, so of course I wasn't able to take photos.  I'll be writing about that more later :)

Sometimes you gotta force yourself to do stuff that will make you happy, even if there's internal resistance.
I've been giving a lot of thought to what I should be doing to motivate myself to write more, and so I think I'm going to toy around with the format a little bit.  When it comes to blogging, I feel like doing this is similar to working out - I always feel better when I actually commit to doing it regularly, but if allowed to procrastinate I sometimes find it hard to start back up again.

From here on out, the plan is:
  • more posts - right now the goal is 4 meaningful posts per week with the long-term goal to be 1 per day.
  • shorter posts - this is mainly to prevent burnout as I work towards the above
I think that having a cellphone again will help me a lot.  I mean - I like sharing my life with the internet! It's fun to put my point of view out into the world, and I don't think there's anything wrong with the idea that feedback from the people who read (even if it's just "likes" on Facebook) is something that motivates me.

So off we go.  If all goes according to plan  (and I don't want to waste energy worrying about how embarrassed I'll be if it doesn't), expect there to be a lot more to read in the coming days!

Saturday, June 10, 2017

Terrific Pacific

June is looking pretty great so far!  Cody and I have been fully moved in to our new home in Lincoln City for a week now, and as it stands I couldn't be happier.

I've never really been the most outdoorsy person, but I plan to fully take advantage of our location and the fact that I get out of work at 10 in the morning to get some sun and exercise this summer.
As I had suspected, Lincoln City is a location that plays up to a lot of my unique quirks.  Living here basically feels like I'm on a vacation, except without the part where we're planning to leave.  It's a tourist town, so there are lots of things to do for fun without leaving the area.  We're across the street from the Agnes Creek Open Space hiking trail and roughly a 30 minute walk to Nelscott Beach.  I used to joke that McMinnville was like the Connecticut of Oregon - sure, I like it more than Forks, but at the end of the day it was pretty much just the suburbs.  Lincoln City has a whole ton of character, and it manages to be interesting without being prohibitively expensive.

Fun facts:
1.  When I moved from Boston to Forks, I moved from ~5 miles from the Atlantic Ocean to ~2 miles from the Pacific Ocean.
2.  Lincoln City is even closer than Forks, being 1 mile from the Pacific Ocean.
3.  At roughly ~50 miles, McMinnville is the furthest away I've ever lived from an ocean.
4.  Despite all of this I've never really been much of a beach person or cared about being land-locked - it's more or less just happenstance.
For the first time ever, there is a sense of permanence to my living situation.  I'm not saying we plan to live here forever, but if you told me that my life will remain more or less like this for the next few years, I think I'd be totally fine with it.  The plan now is to make this place as good as possible, and then to start saving up money so we have options when the time eventually does come that we want to try something else.

Me, looking for my phone in my cavernous purse.  (I forgot Cody was holding it)
Predictably, I've felt a lot less stressed ever since I started working.  Even since I started dealer's school, things all just sort of started falling into place.  Right now I feel like all I can do is to stop, appreciate it, and in the words of an old work friend of mine, "keep on doin' what I'm doin'".

Christmas lights and tapestries (I'm aware the tree one is on its side) are Shelly/Cody Classics.  Behind the curtain is our bathroom, bedroom, and Cody's workshop.  We got that white coffee table at a yard sale - Cody is slowly drawing/painting what will hopefully become a full mural on it.

I'm also very happy with the apartment itself.  Cody and I have never lived in a place with (a) just the two of us and (b) space to put things, so having our own apartment is a really nice change from that. There are a ton of nice thrift stores in the area, so we managed to fill the apartment with perfectly fine furniture without paying too much.  We gave Cody the larger bedroom to use as a workshop for his store, which has gone a long way towards keeping the rest of our rooms clean  :)

As usual, I hate posing for pictures so I just asked Cody to snap candid pictures of me throughout the day.

One nice thing about my downtime in 2016 was that I got a lot better at cooking. Cody and I have been using our kitchen multiple times a day, every day - given that I spent pretty much my entire time in Boston eating out every night, I feel like that's been a pretty significant change.

Let there be light!
Our plan is to wall off our patio with a shelf / plants to make it feel more like "our" space, like a first-floor deck.   We also plan to use this wall of the apartment to hang up art projects.  We're not really the type to rush our projects, though.

I don't wanna work;  I just wanna bang on the drum all day.  That's not even true -  I don't mind work.

Work is very good.  I've hit that sweet spot with dealing cards where I'm no longer uncomfortable at all and feel reasonably confident that I know what I'm doing, but am also not bored by it and find it fun to banter and play games with people.  I think I've had a pretty unique experience, having worked for such a long time in office environments and then following it up with a year of mostly unemployment. One of my co-workers asked me if I'm "always so jovial", which I thought was great - I think I just really like being around people, and now that I have a few months down I feel like I found my comfort zone.

Is this... growing up?  My goodness.
One final note:

I've noticed that my blog posts have been a little bit more sporadic in 2017, coming in at roughly one per month.  Unlike last year, this isn't because I'm upset about anything - it's more just that as my life has become stable, I worry that all of my blog posts are the same sort of gushing about things and that it might get repetitive (or obnoxious) so I've found myself spacing them out more.  That might be temporary or it might be permanent, depending on what things life decides to throw my way.

With roughly a year and a half under my belt I'm really glad that I've been able to stick with blogging - not only has it been nice to be able to go back and see how things have changed over the span of a year, it's been a really nice way to keep in touch and let my old friends know how things have been going.  I'm definitely more of a homebody and less outwardly social than I used to be.

Thanks to everyone who has shown an interest in how things have been going out here!  I genuinely appreciate it.

Sunday, May 7, 2017

May FlowerSpeak

Cody and I are moving to Lincoln City, OR!

Things are looking good.

I can't wait.  McMinnville is fine and overall I'm thankful for the year I spent here, but if anything the experience gave me a lot of insight into what I want in life, and living in a community is no longer it.  I re-read the post I wrote when I moved here and it feels like someone completely different than me wrote it.  Back then, I wanted to live in a place with efficient systems and scheduled meetings for communication and felt like the homestead was the right way to accomplish that.

In that year my opinion changed.  I think we found out that what Cody and I actually want most is to live in an environment where (within reason) we can do whatever we want, whenever we want.  It's hard to have that when living with a lot of roommates, since compromise is a necessary part of co-existence with that many people.  The best practical example of this that I can think of came when the house agreed to do chores on Sunday afternoons - that seemed great, until football season started.  I found myself faced with a choice between what I agreed to do (clean) and what I wanted to do (stay in bed and watch football).

It was a good metaphor for how I started to feel about communal housing.  I have nothing against it, but I don't think it's for me.  Not anymore.

Pretty much all of the people that I've gotten to know through my current house in McMinnville are cool and I'm optimistic that we'll stay in touch as friends.  But at this point - I'm in my late thirties and I'm in a relationship with someone with whom I wish to spend the rest of my life.  Once I started working and we had the financial means to do so, Cody and I started talking "long term plans" and decided to look for our own place.

I suck at posing for pictures so I asked Cody to just take random candids of me.
I drove to Lincoln City yesterday to check the area out and drop off our security deposit, and it seems like a perfect combination of what Cody and I wanted.  The apartment is affordable, pet-friendly, and reasonably spacious - there are two bedrooms so we'll each get a room to decorate / use as we please.  It's close to Highway 101 (the "main" road in Lincoln City), but it's far enough up the road from it that our apartment complex seems private and peaceful. 

Lincoln City looks great!  Cody wanted a place that had reasonably easy access to nature, and it feels like we struck gold there.  For starters, it's right on the coast of the Pacific Ocean.  And there are woods and campgrounds and state parks (check this out) galore - I think it's a really beautiful place.  It's a beach city with a lot of character - it's like if you took the best things about Forks and Cape Cod and combined them. I think I'm going to like being there a lot.

There's a casino right in town, and it's the primary competitor of the place I work.  I've never actually been there, and while I'm sure I'll play poker there every once in awhile I fully intend to keep my job at my current place.  I feel a certain sense of loyalty since they trained me on their dime, and I get along well with my co-workers and am pretty much satisfied with all aspects of where I work, so I'm not trying to rock the boat. The only reason to even consider it would be the commute, and I like my commute.

Note: these pictures aren't actually of Lincoln City, just a hike we went on.  It's all pretty similar though.

Sure, I work the graveyard shift, so when I wake up it's dark out and the rest of the world is sleeping.  But then, I go work in a place where there are still usually other people and there are no windows, so it doesn't really feel out of the ordinary for me.  It wasn't until yesterday that I started thinking about it and realized that I actually get more non-work daylight hours in which to live my life than I would on any other shift.

I understand that the graveyard shift isn't for everyone.  Many of my co-workers have children or significant others or a social circle that keeps more normal hours.  But at this point in my life, it very much seems like it's going to work for me.  I've been given advice on how to change work shifts should I ever want to, but I'm honestly happy with what I've got.

When I look into the future, here's what I see my average day looking like
  • wake up at 12:45 a.m. and get ready for work
  • 30-40 minute drive to work at night (aka "time to wake myself up")
  • deal cards (which I enjoy)
  • 30-40 minute drive home during the day on a scenic route (aka "time to myself to listen to music")
  • get home at 11 a.m. with roughly 7 hours of daylight (with Cody home/awake) before I'm trying to go to sleep
  • chill at home, or hike, or hit up the beach, or go do something in the city
  • sleep at 6 p.m.
While I'm sure that things will come along (as they always do) to throw a curveball into my plans, right now I'm extremely aware and appreciative of the direction my life seems to be taking.  Meanwhile, I can't remember any other point in my life where I've felt this optimistic and excited to see what the future brings.

Don't stick to the rivers and the lakes that you're used to.
I want to close this post by thanking everyone who has been supportive of me over the last year and a half. There was this little cloud of stress that hovered above me for pretty much all of 2016, and I think I would have been a lot worse off if I didn't have so many wonderful people in my life who have shown that they care.  Writing in this blog, and having people go out of their way to read it, is something that I see as a huge compliment and I hope it's clear how much I appreciate it. :)