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National Coming Out Day, Supplemental:

What you are about to read is, for me, the most important (and long) post I’ll ever make in my life so far. For others, it’s maybe just a whiny waste of time; too goddamn long, drawn out, & dramatic. I just want to warn you this post is probably going to take like 30 minutes of time to read, and I apologize in advance for the level of effort required for this one. It’s a doozy. But here’s your chance to get a more complete picture of who I am — Only Carolyn and Beth (I love yous!!) have that complete picture, currently.

This is a confessional.

Most people who have known me know what my primary interests are: Computers, music (punk/metal/industrial/cartoon, and concerts), video (cartoons, movies), games (board games, video games), socializing (hanging out, parties, camping, festivals,), people (especially the ladies), and of course sex (like most humans)!

But most people also know that I am a bit…off. I can be a little…difficult. I’ll be nice to myself and leave it at that. I’m socially awkward, and it’s taken me a long time to be as cool as I am now, which is not that very. I test halfway into Asperger’s Syndrome, test higher on the autism spectrum than over 98% of adults, test as a borderline HSP (highly sensitive person), and test an almost-as-maximum-as-possible HSS (high sensation seeker). I have low-grade depression & low-grade alcoholism; a general need for substance use; incredibly low empathy; problems with attention; and traces of sociopathy, narcissism, & borderline personality disorder.

 

>>>>>>>But while being a very open and vocal person — always talking about all the many things that I loved & hated…. I was also hiding a lot about myself, living a lie, avoiding talking about many deep truths that were directly affecting me, and coping with a deep issue dating back almost as early as I can remember. I have been coping with having a so-called “gender identity disorder”.

When I previously came out, on Oct 11 2016, I stated that I was bisexual, pansexual, polyamorous, kinky, a crossdresser, genderqueer and/or gender-fluid … Which was a lot of labels to suddenly add to one’s public identity at the same time … yet … I still wasn’t being fully honest with everyone else… or even myself!

It’s far more accurate to state, today, explicitly and without ambiguity, that I am transgender.

I am trans;
I am transgender;
I am transfeminine;
I am a trans female;
I am a transgender female;
I am a transwoman [preferred trans term];
I am a woman [preferred general term].

And I am currently transitioning to be a full-time female. And really have been for some time. Since the beginning of 2015 when I stopped cutting my hair & started losing weight.
But even more specifically, since I started hormones at the end of July (basically August 1st).

So anyway, as horribly awkward and controversial as this may be…. For me, it’s do or die. So it’s happening. And it’s not up for debate. But I need to let people know — because “the questions” have already begun — so this is me letting you know.

I really think some people had this MOSTLY figured out. (Who had? I’m curious. Lemme know.) I’ve been hiding it less and less over the past year. But the jig is up, it’s time to come clean, come out of the final closet, and stop living a lie.

 

POLY SIDE-COMMENT: Being polyamorous just makes everything that much more confusing for everybody to comprehend, too :) Sorry :) Our lives are different than 99.9% of peoples’, and probably incomprehensible to 90% of people. You, the reader, may never be able to understand our lives.

PARENT/FAMILY COMMENT: I thought it was comically funny–

and cosmically unfair–that Carolyn & Beth have both had to deal with having awkward conversations with their parents about my “gender stuffs”, but that *I* haven’t had to deal with conversations with my own family about my “gender stuffs”. Mom, Dad, Britt & Chris, everyone else family-wise: I’m sorry for the weaseliness. This is how I have to do things. I’d rather go through this awkward process as few times as possible, and definitely not in person. This is like ripping one huge band-aid off, instead of 1,000 tiny band-aids. And Mom and Dad, did you really suspect nothing? I really doubt it. See you at Thanksgiving? No need to change my name on any Christmas presents already labeled? Lol? I won’t complain if I get a women’s jacket? Lol.

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WHAT NEXT?

I’m not done. I need to talk about some shit — BUT MAKE SURE TO READ THE “ADVICE FOR PEOPLE” SECTION AT THE BOTTOM…... More writings on other stuff will come out later this week.

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——— ***** ON HOW THIS HAS FUCKED ME UP AND MADE ME FEEL: ***** ———

Holy shit I’m not at all happy about this, in terms of life convenience. This is harder, not easier. Why can’t I reroll my character’s stat, and get a generic character that isn’t special? I was born in the wrong time for this! It’s inconvenient! It’s a pain in the ass! It’s expensive! We’re maybe $13K down in the past year alone, and future expenses will most likely make that seem like just the beginning.

>>>>>>>It has, for the majority of my life, fucked me up in all kinds of ways — usually without me realizing it.

>>>>>>>As a child — and as an adult — I’ve always felt kind of lonely and unconnected from people — and I think this has been exacerbated by the fact that it’s hard to have a true connection to a person when you aren’t even your true self. (Devi Lyrics: “When I say that I’ve had surgery, I mean I’ve had a ski mask stapled on permanently.”)

(My neurodivergent state of being hasn’t helped, either.)

This has caused me to seek connections to people in ways that are sometimes excessive.

I feel like “extreme extroversion” is occasionally a coping mechanism for some kind of self-problem — and maybe my extreme extroversion was really just me looking for the validation from other people that I could not give to myself. I feel like Andrea had this “extreme extroversion syndrome” in common with me, and seeing it in her taught me something about myself. She used her love of speaking & spoken languages to connect to more people than someone who did not know those things, and I used my love of programming & computer languages to connect to more people than those who did not know these things. We both were making out-of-country friends growing up, and connecting to people like crazy…trying to increase the pool of eligible friends to be large enough. Large enough for what? Why, to include a true friend!

When you have low self esteem, you believe you need to meet more people to find those that can tolerate you, because the percentage that WILL tolerate you is close to 0. We both had tools and career interests that were both really self-serving ways to be able to connect with more people. Seeing her cope with her problems helped me realize that some of my behavior was not behavioral preference, but me failing to cope with my own problems. Instead of connecting with others, I needed to be connecting with myself–because, for the most part, I just feel a coldness from most people. Or hollow words. Everyone hurts; I’m chopped liver, and all sore spots. I really do need real connections, but I’m going to cope with this by being my true self, instead of by attempting to be friends with every warm body I meet. It. Doesn’t. Work…. I’m. Too. Different… I don’t even think the ‘maximizing the friend pool’ strategy is a bad strategy. I plan to continue to do that. But I was doing it for the wrong reasons.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>So as I was saying, this has, for the majority of my life, fucked me up in all kinds of ways — usually without me realizing it:

My well-being, my self-confidence, my ability to attach to people correctly, my ability to maintain relationships correctly, my ability to be a good husband, my ability to date, to be comfortable having sex with people, my mental health, my physical health, my finances ($13K down already! It’s my entire fucking car again!), my ability to enjoy myself at vanilla social parties, my ability to enjoy myself at kinky sexy parties, my ability to know what to do with my life. (Violent femmes lyrics: “Everything everything everything everything.”)

Try having way too much dysphoria to be comfortable naked. It’s a bringdown. When everyone hops in the hottub, I leave the party. I’ve been shamed in front of the whole party, for not being willing to drop trou. It was mortifying, it made me feel like less of a person, I did not appreciate the pressure or the shaming, I couldn’t tell people (or even myself) all the reasons why I was not cool with it, and I’m glad the person who did this to me drank himself to death, because he hurt me. In so many different ways.

 

 

———– ***** THE ROLE OF ALCOHOL: ***** ——–

Speaking of alcoholic assholes…. I don’t really remember, say, 2003-2011, very well at all. Yay alcohol?

(Devi lyrics: “All the time that I’ve wasted–I just want to burn through the rest of my life. Everytime that I say anything, I’m so FUCKING humiliated by my self! I’m afraid. I just want you to know. Please don’t come near me. I just want to dig deeper down in this well.”)

I know I worked a job for 4.5 yrs, still my lifetime record. I know built an addition to my house. I know I then took 4 yrs off work. I know I did some parties and social things with some people — pretty much none of whom I see nowadays. I don’t really remember what else happened.

I’m not really sure when the daily drinking tapered off. I know Carolyn stopped the daily drinking a few months before I did, and that I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF ANY OF THIS. I don’t even remember that this event occurred. It’s a story Carolyn tells me. It rings no bell. I have a hole in my head where some of my life used to be. (Nine Inch Nails lyrics: “Head like a hole, black as your soul, I’d rather die, than give you control” – It’s like I would rather die from drinking myself to death than give control to my feminine self..)

I did all this to myself. And for what? To look forward to death? To “have fun”, but not even remember it, get fat, kill brain cells (alcohol does, marijuana does not), sleep poorly, work poorly, be dehydrated, reduce liver function, not having time to process issues, not having time or will for self-care? What’s the fucking point? We should have pulled each other out much sooner. We lost years. But we did. Carolyn yanked us out of the abyss, and then I pulled us the rest of the way up. It took both of us, and a medical scare, to get to the level of consumption we are at now.

——— ***** SO MANY DOUBTS: ***** ———

So YES, I’ve been avoiding this thing. “Maybe I’m not trans?”,

“Maybe I’m more cisgendered than transgendered?”, “Maybe I’m not far enough into the transgendered spectrum that I can ignore my trans side and continue to bask in my privilege and not ever come out of the closet?”, “Maybe I can just explore this sometimes, and not deal with it all the time?”, “Maybe I can be bigender — both genders?”, “Maybe I’m agender and can just be androgynous, or nothing?”, “Maybe I’m gender-fluid, and shouldn’t transition, so that I can maintain my male-female fluidity that I’ve enjoyed for so long?”…….

“Maybe this is just how my bisexuality makes me feel sometimes?”, “Maybe I just like looking at transwomen?”, “Maybe I just like boobs enough that I want a set on my chest to feel up all the time?”, “Maybe this is just a foil for increasingly hating men, their violence, and their aggression?”, “Maybe this is just a foil for increasingly hating myself, my violence, and my aggression?”, “What if I’m doing this because I’m a failure as a man?”, “Maybe I just want an excuse to diet?”,

“Maybe I just want a fresh start and a creative solution for re-inventing myself, and this is a way to give that an illusion of legitimacy?”, “Maybe this is just a mid-life crisis?”, “Maybe this is just a creative solution for depression?”,”Maybe I’m so bored with life that the novelty is the thing that is actually appealing to me, and I don’t realize it’s not authentic?”, “Maybe I’m just seeking attention for myself?”, “Maybe I’m so compulsive and non-self-aware that this is simply the next hole I dig myself into before realizing I’ve wasted even more of what little time I have left?”,

“Maybe I just want increased sexual attention, and could do that without making major changes to my body?”, “Maybe I just like women so much that I fetishize them so much that I want to be one, but for fetish reasons, and not for actual gender identity reasons?”, “What if I get there, don’t like it, and can’t reverse some very important things?” [male-sexual-dysfunction for 75% is not something people realize hormones actually do…and many transwomen often say the new orgasms are better and full-body, BUT WHAT IF THEY AREN’T? Cause I don’t like the butt stuff as much as most of my people, so my options may be limited], “What if I should just get a boob job and surgical feminization but not take hormones specifically to protect male sexual function?”,

“What if I die poor, homeless, and alone, just because I valued my identity and well-being more than the practicality of living?”, “What if I just crossdress, then I can still go to McDonald’s as a privileged male who has far less possibility of being attacked”, “What if Carolyn wouldn’t be attracted to me?”, “What if women won’t be attracted to me?”, “What if men are TOO attracted to me?”, “What if nobody would be attracted to me?” [ironically, I want to fuck myself for the first time in my entire life,haha], “What if I can never pass?” [usually true for MtF-trans in their 40s, but not 30s… I waited 10yrs too long],

“What if my family and/or friends disown me?”, “What if I can only find trans friends, and it’s back to the lonely existence of a huge geographical distance being between me and my friends?”, “What if I can’t travel because a lot of the country is no longer safe for me?”, “What if I can never get a fair shake in a police encounter?”, “What if my feminine voice just sounds like I’m doing a goofy cartoon character?”,

“What if my neighbors burn my house down or vandalize my car?”, “What if I actually have to use my concealed carry permit to defend myself from a transphobic attacker?” [1st time I’m attacked, I won’t go unarmed again; 2nd time I’m attacked, I will end that person to save their next victim], “What if the reason he attacked me was that I goaded him, but in doing so, I save someone in the future who would not have been armed, and who would have been killed, but then go to jail for saving that future person, because police and judges will be biased against me?”, “What if I need facial reconstruction surgery after an attack, because I was scared to carry my gun, because I was scared of going to jail after righteously using it, because I was scared a jury in a country full of Trump-voters would not give a transwoman defending herself via the 2nd amendment a fair shake in court, and will never look the same again, because an empowered transphobic trumpster attacked me after I goaded them for being a piece of human shit?”,

“What if I can never get a programming job again? What the fuck can I do? I don’t know anything else & am kind of bad at adulting, having coasted on privilege the whole time”, “What if I am just doing this because I’m guilty of the privilege I’ve had, and want to punish myself”, “What if I’m doing this for all the right reasons, but still can’t succeed?”, “What if I’m doing this for all the right reasons, succeed, but still want to change my mind?”

Could you even get through that list? The doubts go on, near-infinitely. And can be dwelled on, near-infinitely. Or at least for 20-40 years, for me.

“Am I really trans?” being the big one. (Devi lyrics: “Your place will consume and then deny ya, Make you feel like sugar in saliva, It’ll jinx and hex and echo and ride ya, but it’ll still want you when you go.”)

——— ***** THERE WERE SIGNS: ***** ———

But I have to continually remind myself that I’ve gone through things cisgendered people don’t go through. Like 30 appointments of laser hair removal and electrolysis, or having spent 1,000+ hrs reading up on how to transition, or just thinking about it as much as I have. That’s not intellectual curiosity.

And some of the signs of my transness were always there (super-sexist list warning, sorry):

– I was mistaken and asked if I was a girl a LOT while growing up.
– My favorite color was pink.
– I was self-conscious about my bits.
– I loved pantyhose and skirts and would run under them, not to check out the ladyparts, but because I liked the feel.
– I mostly emotionally attached to women when I was young. NOT men.
– I preferred to play imagination games more than building things and sports (though I love games, & still played baseball, bicycle games, and sometimes basketball)

– I was never handy with stuff (couldn’t change a tire until my 30s).
– I was never strong (still don’t know what a pull-up feels like, could never make ‘standard’ on anything).
– I despised sports & gym…. Greatly preferring home ec or art or music class.
– I’m not into cars and still can’t identify most of them.
– I have a poor sense of direction. (this is one of my sexist items, sorry)
– I was ALWAYS picked last in all-male gym situations — for co-ed gym situations, I would be picked only after all of the guys (and some of the girls).

– I’ve always chosen female characters when playing video games.
– I’d choose female usernames for anonymous online accounts.
– I spent time practicing crossing my legs like the girls in middle school. I told myself at the time it was just admiration.
– I often sat (and stand) in ways that most males do not
– I curl my body up in a ball instead of stretch out

– I’m not a romantic initiator — Guys are supposed to ask girls out, but all 4 of the significant women in my life (Jackie,Carolyn,Andrea,Beth) initially approached me, not the other way around.

– I lost my virginity to someone who had shorter hair than me, and was more sexually aggressive than me, and who was physically larger than me… Not a super-gendered thing, but, i must admit, these words probably describe a typical female experience more than a typical male experience, so I figured I’d throw that in there.

– I don’t mind playing around with girls without fucking them, sometimes not even taking up an open offer to do that. PIV (penis-in-vagina) sex just isn’t as high up on my agenda as it is with cisgendered males. It’s a good time, but it’s not the main goal of a play session for me, or the center of my sexuality.

– I’ve always loved My Little Pony (1st gen even) [4th gen My Little Pony accelerated my transition by years–not joking.]

– I have small shoulders.
– I have small feet.
– I don’t have large hands.
– I don’t have hairy hands or arms or butt cheeks.
– No back hair whatsoever.

– I’m a “social butterfly”, which, I had to have a dude tell me “you’re the only DUDE i know who is like this”. Never thought of it as feminine.
– I’m a diva.
– I can’t stand the hot. Or the cold. Just keep me inside out of the sun.
– I Can’t stand physical activity.
– I’m very emotional and moody (sorry some of this is sexist, it’s hard to have a list like this and NOT have it be sexist)

– Hell, At my last job, they “punished” me by moving me into a room that had only females in it. I didn’t realize it was supposed to be a punishment. I felt better there. The ladies fed me, were pretty, and I got to look at boobs & butts & legs & eyes & hair all day, every day. Punish me harder! Maybe you have a room with EVEN MORE WOMEN in it?! If I miss a deadline, will you send me to the playboy mansion?

 

 

>>>>>> So yeah. There were some signs. Nothing definitive enough in and of itself. I don’t feel strongly gendered in general, so it was hard to suss out and fully believe that I was trans. I thought I was just awesome. And I was right about that. Except for my dishonesty with myself.

>>>>>So there’s been a ton of feminine-gendered things about me my entire life. But everyone is a mashup of femme and masc traits, and your preferences don’t ACTUALLY determine your gender, and all genders are free to do ALL THE THINGS, so I always just wrote off these aspects as me being larger than life and having enough of a personality to cover both genders. That was part of my trans denial (I have a whole side-writing on denial to share later).

Doubts, doubts, and more doubts.

————-

——— ***** BACK TO THE SELF-IDENTITY DRAWING-BOARD: ***** ———

So….Yeah… Fuck these doubts. I can’t ignore this thing. It’s been going on way longer than I’ve realized. I’ve tried to steer clear of it, but it’s NOT fucking happening. I’ve been destined to be trapped under it. In avoiding this trap, I’ve unwittingly trapped myself anyway! (Devi lyrics: “For the last 21 years.”) Shit. Didn’t see that coming.

Although I’m mostly done figuring things out, but the process never actually ends. Everything, including the totality of this post, is subject to change. But it probably won’t. It probably fucking won’t. This is basically the conclusion of a 43-year experiment, and you’re reading the thesis.

So here I am. I’ve always been this way, but I just haven’t been able to fucking own it like I should. I didn’t even know about the option until I was a teenager. I wish I had. It could have saved my life. And now I’m embarrassed about having been embarrassed. There’s no elegant way out of this. I can never save my life; I can only salvage what’s left. There’s no repairing the wasted past. That cannot be saved. And that’s going to be most of my existence that was wasted — I’m 43. I am NOT living another 43 years, to age 86. Not with MY genes and lifestyle. All I can do is salvage the tiny piece that’s left. I’ve got like 10 years of beauty to milk.

So anyway.
I am transgender.
I am trans.
I am transfeminine.
I am a transwoman.

This also means I prefer female pronouns. Though they feel weird, like shoes that haven’t been broken in yet. (NoMeansNo lyrics: “But I’ll get used to it. I have to.”)

But “he” is starting to feel weird. And I’m starting to feel like I’m crossdressing when I’m wearing male clothes, instead of the other way around. And I never really expected that. But I got there so easily. And it’s wonderful. I just had to let go of myself.

It’s quite empowering to become my true self, but Clio will never make Clint’s salary… Not even for the same job. Clio will face an increased likelihood of having violence directed against her. Why become the marginalized Clio who can be fired & legally discriminated against just for who she is, when I can disguise myself as the cisgendered heterosexual white male apex predator Clint? I “shouldn’t” become the marginalized Clio. But I have to. One can’t just will this away. Believe me…. I’ve tried, and failed, for my entire adult life.

You can’t will away who you are — even if you’ve never actually gotten a chance to really be that person yet.

(Devi Lyrics: “This is a part of me. // It can not be separated. // Although it looks like a wound–it is not a wound.”)

“It’s only going to get worse.” They keep telling me that!

——— ***** SO MANY REGRETS: ***** ———

This is my path, my destiny. The road less traveled. My boulder [127 Hours reference]. The obscure macguffin in the movie of my life up to this point. The last stop on my traincar of personal hell. The {insert long list of additional histrionic dramatic phrases here}. I wish I’d figured this out earlier. Not today in Trump’s America. I’d give it all up to have another chance to do it right. But I fucked up my one chance to get this right.

I coulda been hella hotter with hormones at a younger age, but I lacked the self-confidence to believe this.
I probably wouldn’t have beat up my internal organs with alcohol so much.
I probably would have had a longer lifespan.
Maybe my autoimmune disease wouldn’t have developed.

I wish I hadn’t thought therapy was somehow representative of a lack of being able to solve one’s own problems. Such stubbornness truly made me my own worst enemy. But not going into therapy only fucked me up more. I had to wait for the “Youtube Therapy” era just to bridge the gap to real therapy. Ironically, by the time I finally went to therapy, I pretty much didn’t need it. It turns out that in like 20 years, you can slowly work out like an equivalent of 1 year of therapy on your own, hahahah. Think of the co-pays you could save by slowly wasting your life and solving your problems on your own! (argh!)

 

>>>My own pride at being independent has held me back so much that, in truth, it caused me to *lose* my ability to be independent. Oops! There’s NO FUCKING WAY I could live without Carolyn right now. This isn’t a remark about sweetness, it is a remark about co-dependence and not knowing how to be a fully functional person on my own.

Our house is messier than ever. I’m no longer doing a lot of productive things. I deliberately haven’t worked a job in 2 yrs, with no aspirations or plans whatsoever at the moment. I’ve slowed down in most endeavors to give myself more time to process things to a point of understandingness. To take time for self-care. To take time to work this fuckin’ shit out. I’ve gone back to the egg to regenerate.

It’s a fucking lame feelfest over here, guys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nobody — not even me — wants a part of this bullshit, lol!!!!!!!!!

I feel like all of this can be a fast process with trans people who have strong gender dysphoria. The poster-child strong-dysphoric transperson feels trapped in the wrong body, hates looking at themselves in the mirror, suffers strong depression about it as a child, knows what the fuck they want at a young age, and does something about it. I am not trying to forget or erase their struggle, but merely point out the path to take is more clearly laid out for them. Most transwomen actually have it wayyyyy harder than me. They don’t have supportive partners, they have intolerant family, friends, bosses, they aren’t financially well off, they have jobs they can lose, they have more strongly-gendered faces or bodies than me, they live in less tolerant areas of the world or country. Their struggle is way more than mine, and I respect and want to help that. But at least they know what direction to point themselves–I did not. My weak dysphoria simply prolonged the process, and added extra depression over waiting too long, never knowing what the fuck to do with myself, and wasting my life. That’s so, so bad.

I’ve had to learn about “gender euphoria”, and how some transpeople don’t hate their assigned gender, but simply flourish much better in their true gender. I’ve had to learn about “secondary dysphoria” — problematic behaviors one might not realize have been caused by gender identity disorder. I had to really do some soul searching to get in touch with myself.

But there ARE good things about my weak dysphoria. It let me at least have a pretend male life long enough to take advantage of male privilege, and establish some kind of life for myself, to create enough stability for me to finally transition now, without taking as much of a risk as most transpeople have to take.

The coward finally has her stage, in front of her pre-purchased audience. She can do her little jig without any risk whatsoever.

———–

——— ***** RECOGNIZING YOUR OWN SELF-DECAY: ***** ———

 

>>>>>>>>I wish I had told people earlier. I wish I had come clean a long time ago. To myself. To Carolyn (well, she’s been privy to all my feelings in these matters for like 17 yrs of our 25 yrs together, but I can’t tell her I’m explicitly transgendered if I don’t explicitly realize it myself until 2016/2017). I wish I had not gone off and lived a closeted sheltered life. It’s only made it harder to connect with people. It’s only increased the distance between us. It’s only made this situation a harder pill for everyone else to swallow–including myself. It’s only eroded my person, and chipped away at the core of my very being, to where I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

 

>>>>>>>>I remember who I was once. And who that is…. That is not who Clint ended up being. Clint ended up being someone who, one day recently, I realized — I do not even RECOGNIZE as myself anymore. Not my original, TRUE self. Who was he? / Who was she? I’d lost him. / I’d lost her. It’s weird, when you start to become a stranger to yourself. It’s very weird. It’s an incredibly complex set of feelings that is hard to put words to. “How the fuck did I get here?” “Who am I, really?” It didn’t occur to me until 2016 or 2017 that I couldn’t remember myself.

(The Church lyrics: “They say that he’s famous, from the waist down, but the top half of his body is a corpse. His gold won’t buy him sleep, his poverty runs so deep–in winter he cracks, in summer he warps.”)

I was just the outside exterior skin of myself, slapped onto a rotting interior. I looked the same on the outside, but I was rotting out on the inside. I’d only known someone well enough to have seen what that looked like in detail exactly once before, and only recently: In Andrea. Andrea gifted me with the most unfortunate, but useful, perspective. The ability to understand how someone’s personal problems can cause them to diverge from their native personality. She was most definitely and assuredly was NOT the same girl everyone talked about at her memorial services. They were all full of shit, is how it felt to me. But without a doubt, their stories were true. She had just diverged from the awesome person she had meant to be, and had become filled with a decay that infected her entire person. It was about the worst thing I’ve seen in my entire life. And I, too, had diverged from the person I had meant to be.

Someone (Mocos Locos) wrote, “I’m not the man I used to be” on facebook, and I suddenly replied that I knew exactly how that felt, even though I had no idea how HE felt. The words resonated with me perfectly. I’m NOT the man I used to be. (It’s also a Ween lyric.) Even the “man” part resonated with me.

 

>>>>>>> When you look into your own mind, and remember what “you” felt like, and know that the original “you” doesn’t feel like the current “you” — at all. And that the current “you” is suffering in comparison, and is not as good as a person as the former, true “you”….. and is beaten up, hurt, angry, impatient, unable to connect, unable to BE…………..

…………..When you look into your own mind, and you realize that who you are is actually a stranger, because you are no longer the original you…………….

…………..that you’re kind of a husk………….
…………..that you miss yourself………….

You cry for your past self.

Every time you think about this, you cry for your past self.

Every time.

Every time you read these words, you cry for your past self.

Every time.

>> “Let me out! Let me out! This is not a dance!” (Rick & Morty reference that is actually extremely appropriate.) (Levity needed. That was absolutely the hardest part for me to write.)

For other reasons, I’ve cried the hardest of my adult life in these past 2 years. I’ve broken my life-adult cry-record, broken it again, broken it again, broken it again and again. I’ve lashed out. I’ve done things that should have gotten me divorced, or arrested (fortunately not both at the same time). These behaviors are in the process of being exterminated (Exterminate! Exterminate!). My tears nowadays are tears of regret, tempered with joy — gradually turning into tears of joy, tempered with regret. That’s about as good as it’s ever going to get, and that is an incredible improvement.

The complex web of interdependent issues has been nigh fucking impossible to sort out. I’m still not sure it ever will be fully sorted out! I’m still not sure of anything. I never will be. That’s my fucking problem. That’s why this took so long. There’s no “easy button” for this!

The only way out is through. Break on through to the other side. {I’m seriously slipping a lot of song titles and lyrics into this post, they inspire me.}

–*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-
–*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-
–*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-*—-

——— ***** WHAT’S NEXT?: ***** ————–

Fuck if I know. My scumbag brain, and my scumbag body, they do what they choose to do. My consciousness is just along for the ride, often feeling like a helpless rider on a roller-coaster with no seat belt, hanging on for dear life, just trying to survive.

My consciousness has had a fucking beating and a half. A lot of it from myself, and a lot of it from others. I’m damaged. I’m broken. I’m hurt. That’s not ever going to change. I’ll carry a heavy heart with me forever. You can smooth out the paper and get it flat again, but those creases are never going to go away. I’ll never be that same, original, uncreased piece of paper.

But hopefully my brain starts treating my consciousness better. I know that treating my body better–diet and reduced alcohol consumption–has already helped a lot of things. I’m not in constant pain when I sit! Not at first, anyway. Lol

I was disintegrating as a person for years. Now I’m finally re-integrating again. As a new person who is both the same person I’ve always been, and yet a different enough instance to still be different.

The parts of me that feel good haven’t felt this good since the 1900s.
The parts of me that feel bad are losing their sway and being forgotten.

There were times — and more recent than I’d care to admit (because it was the Prius) — when I half-seriously considered hopping in my car and just driving away — alone, even without Carolyn — to Mexico — leaving everything and everyone behind, not even telling people where I was going, because I couldn’t take the various pains of existence anymore. It’s a common trans theme, wanting to move away, changing your name, telling no one.

(Ween lyrics: “I couldn’t believe… She wanted to leave” … “So go fetch a bottle of rum dear friends, and fill up my glass to the rim. For I’m not the man I used to be. Now I’m one of them.”)

Well, it turns out… Things aren’t so bad after all. Not for me. And I don’t need that glass filled to the rim, either. Now I’m one of them — in this case, women. Still too strange for words.

————–

>>>>>>It has been said that you get 2 lives to start with.

The 1st, you’re born with — Your parents, your upbringing, what’s imprinted upon you before you gain your own, true, free will.

The 2nd, you make for yourself, when you individuate, grow up, and function as your own, free adult.

The 3rd? You usually don’t get one. But I’m atheistically-blessed with a 3rd life, based off not living a lie anymore. I’m so lucky that this is possible. I’m so lucky that I’ve found the will to be increasingly doing the things that are needed to address my situation. I’m so atheistically-blessed (gonna keep using that phrase, I think). This brings tears to my eyes every time I think about it.

—————–

—– ***** WHAT’S HAPPENING RIGHT NOW? ***** —–

>>>>>>I started hormone replacement therapy on 8/1/2017.

A leap of faith, as my sureness level never really “got there” until AFTER I started taking the hormones. I do things backwards, like buy a house before I get married, or have someone move into our bed before we get to know her. This is just another example. Trial-by-fire is one of my preferred methods of determining if something is a mistake or not. And it wasn’t.

50mg spirolactinone 2X a day as an anti-androgen to stop testosterone production and most likely (75%) end male sexual function in the long run. Yikes. It’s not like in the pornos, y’know. When you realize you’re willing to do that, yea, you might be trans. (Though there may be hormone tweaks around that, it’s probably not gonna be part of my newsfeed haha.)

2mg estradiol 1X day. That’s estrogen. Which I take sublingually, against dr’s advice, because I think I know better than her. She’s all concerned about clotting because of my pro-clotting mutation discovered by my 23AndMe genetic sequencing. But the liver creates most of its clotting agents during first-pass liver metabolizing, and taking things sublingually bypasses first-pass liver metabolism for a good 50% or more of the pill, while also granting higher average blood serum levels….. So I don’t know why my endocrinologist would tell me to “not believe the rumors about taking it sublingually”. I honestly don’t know why anyone would want to deal with the estrogen spikes of injectibles, because when your estrogen is super-high, your body can convert the overage to testosterone. But some say they give better breast feminization. But what about progesterone? (Yes, I know a lot about this shit, and I’ve been researching it since before you ever knew it existed. And probably before you knew how to research things online, too.)

Breast growth in just 5 weeks. That’s a good sign. Sooner means bigger, bigger is better. Thanks, Mom! I don’t want a boobjob, but I’ll take the free ones Carolyn’s work offers, if the administrative hoop jumping isn’t too circus-like.

The hormone regimen has created a habit that is making me finally take all those other vitamins and supplements that I’ve meant to take my whole life, but never do. Some of these bottles were bought 10 yrs ago, a lot bought this year. My vitamin D levels are within healthy range for the first time since I ever started caring. And of course the Truvada that makes it 99% harder to transmit HIV (and costs us $0) is never missed. But I’m even doing fish oil and baby aspirin. It turns out that increasing self-care in one area makes you increase self-care in other areas. I now take like 25 pills a day — and only 3 are for my gender.

>>>>>>I’m finishing up / slowing down on the talk-therapy.

The 3 I saw have helped me…some…but not as much as I can help myself by just sitting in front of my computer, reading and writing about things myself (like this document). The 3rd one was finally interactive enough that I didn’t feel like I was just talking to myself. 2 of them were trans. The 3rd one was trans and poly and kinky and a burner, well, some of you know her, it turns out. But none of them are going to say “Don’t do this, Clio. Don’t.” It’s almost annoying that they won’t, because I WANTED somebody to save me from the inconvenience of this, haha. I was bouncing from therapist to therapist hoping to find a devil’s advocate who would tell me that I’m doing this for the wrong reasons, and that I should not do this. None will say that. The main blocker has been… ME! I’m the only one who can save me from myself. My enemies (and others) always told me I was my own worst enemy. And they were right. But only by dumb luck; not wisdom. I was my own worst enemy, because I allowed myself to holding myself back. The magic was within me all along.

>>>>>> I’ve almost finished my replacement wardrobe — in some ways the hardest work of all. Changing clothes in a hot dressing room while having a headache and sweats from starving from dieting is about as physical of an activity as I can stand! If you can get even 3-4 clothes in one shopping session, you done good But I’ve gotten about 115 in person, plus the whole year of buying stuff on aliexpress. But for casual / non-party / work / “real-life” girl clothes, you kinda need to go to a thrift store. And hit the sales. I had to make up for a lifetime.

I keep typing “Cliont” because I don’t know if I’m typing Clio or Clint.

I’m starting to work on my voice. I’m absolutely terrified of the concept of voice coaching. I might Dr. Girlfriend it for quite awhile (Dr. Girlfriend is a sexy female character from The Venture Bros., who has a deep male voice). But then, my voice isn’t *that* deep.

>>>>>> “I’m trying to accept and let go of who I thought I was and who others think I was and am, and who I wish I was, and who I might have been.” -Twig, really nailing it with the timing

——— ***** ADVICE FOR PEOPLE: ***** ————–

Most of this advice is, unfortunately, not positive.

I’m sorry.

I’m scared.

Some of this has already happened to me.
Some of this will happen to me in the future.
Some of this happens to other trans people, so it will happen to me.

So I have some advice…

ADVICE:

1) My first advice to you is that I am not soliciting advice from you! I don’t need to hear about why I should not do this, about why I should think it through more, or the laughable “consider Carolyn’s feelings” response. (<sarcasm>Oh wow we didn’t know we could talk to each other about feelings! That changes everything! Thanks! We just changed our mind about everything!</sarcasm>) In general, now is NOT the time to make this about YOUR advice, what YOU think, or casting YOUR doubts. This is my time. Unless you are supportive, step back and let me have space to breathe.

-*-

2) Use female pronouns. If you mess up, just correct yourself. Don’t stop and apologize and interrupt the flow. It’s okay to use male pronouns & names when recalling past memories of me, for now. But I’ve already starting to feel my first pangs of annoyance at misgendering when I’m en femme. If you do that to me, it’s going to damage our relationship.

-*-

3) Say hello to Clio. Please make a real personal connection with me — with Clio — before I erroneously start to feel that you are part of Clint’s past life, and not Clio’s future life. I am way too sensitive, way too emotional, way too over-analytical, way too aggressive, and have waaaay too much social anxiety to deal with the taxing energy of decrypting people’s silence. Silence is alienation. Silence is othering. Silence is friendly ghosting. I probably already feel hurt by you. I’m one big sore spot. This will now amplify. I don’t feel safe. I need friends and always have. Friendship is a participatory two-way street. I don’t want to feel like I’m just here for your entertainment. If the traffic doesn’t flow both ways, I assume I am unwanted. I remove myself from situations where I assume I am unwanted. All I hear is uncomfortable laughter behind my back. I give up. I recuse myself. Via defriending. Then I feel guilty that they might feel bad that I defriended them. Then I feel persecuted that they might think me bad for defriending them. But really, I just wanted to stop being reminded of the hurting.

-*-

4) After my Facebook/Legal name changes, “Clint” will eventually become a dead name. But it will awkwardly continue to exist in my URLs for my websites, in my photo captions (even in new uploads, as the past pictures are still going to be pictures of Clint) so… I’m sure someone will think it is hypocritical for me to use the name “Clint” in uploads, but ask other people not to use it.

Let me just say — we have situations in our society where only certain people are allowed to say certain words, or else it’s socially unacceptable. (Please don’t make me point it out.) This is a similar situation to that. Just because you might catch me calling myself “Clint” doesn’t mean it will be okay for you to do so. Sorry. There’s already a ton of people who ONLY know me as Clio anyway. Dropping the old name will actually make things LESS confusing.

-*-

5) Please DO NOT grief & guilt me for not sharing this earlier. Now is NOT the time; That’s not supportive. Put your grievances in a backpack so they can all be in one place.

I’ve already had multiple people privately get on my case and give me flak for me not sharing private aspects of myself. It’s such a height of privilege for people who don’t live in a closet to tell the people who do live in a closet that their feelings were hurt by that closet. Oh I’m sorry? Did my hiding hurt you? Was I oppressed in a way that hurt your feelings? Do you deserve to know everything about me? I thought I already shared more of my personal self than just about everyone else anyway! What more do you need, my blood?

First, I had someone else tell me that I had to block her profile on Fetlife — because I saw her profile, and didn’t friend her. I wasn’t comfortable sharing aspects about my transness and gender identity with someone whose profile said very little besides that they liked sex. It was a vanilla profile compared to mine, in my perception. But because I saw her, and didn’t send a friend request, therefore, I am a bad person. Or something. It didn’t matter what my preferences or consent about sharing information about myself was. Carolyn & I later both got put into her facebook jail without ever doing anything. We finally did the defriending ourselves, because who the fuck wants to be friends with a restricted profile? This person had written about trying to be inclusive to transpeople while unwitting doing the opposite. Even people in the community make asinine assumptions.

Another time in the past, I was also mocked for not knowing my blood type with “i can’t imagine any reason why you can’t give blood”, and yea, I originally couldn’t give blood because of a heart valve defect, but it’s true that it had healed. But I still couldn’t just go out and donate blood. Why? Becuase I’d had sex with a man once in the past 6 months! I didn’t want to say I’d had sex with a man on my facebook. So I had no current-day defense for not being able to give blood. I got put on the spot and mocked and it escalated to Carolyn chewing that person out and us not being friends. It was another case where, well, not my transness, but my queerness, hurt a relationship due to someone else not being able to understand holes that I was not willing to explain. I didn’t expect that.

SO AT THIS POINT, I’M KINDA SENSITIVE TO BEING GUILTED FOR NOT SHARING SHIT. MULTIPLE FRIENDS GAVE ME PRIVATE FLAK IN PRIVATE MESSAGE after coming out as crossdressing. Not because they didn’t support it, but because it was about THEIR feelings being hurt because I hadn’t told them before. Jesus christ. I’ve carried some anger over how self-centered I can be. It’s okay. Had a falling out with one of them anyway, over unrelated stuff.

Applaud people for coming out, don’t fucking grief them by private message.

-*-

6) If you use this situation to suddenly try to fuck Carolyn, like now she needs your penis or something? Wow, just wow. You’re really not understanding your role in the slightest. She’s NOT my property, but she IS my fucking wife. Figure out what the fuck that means.

-*-

7) FIGURE THINGS OUT YOURSELF.

I’m not here to educate you beyond my personal perspective. I’m going to use words, terms, and concepts that you do not understand. If there is something YOU don’t get, take it upon YOURSELF to Google some articles. I will not answering the same dumb questions over and over. Nobody wants to do that. Basically, don’t ask me things you can google.

Know that AMAB stands for assigned male at birth
Know that AFAB stands for assigned female at birth.

Normals seem to think they are owed explanations by everyone who is not normal. What a hypocritical load of crap.

If you can comment, you can google things.

-*-

8) Here are some links for allies dealing with people coming out:

* So Your Trans Friend Is Transitioning And You Want To Be Supportive – Here Are 6 Ways How – https://everydayfeminism.com/…/how-to-be-ally-to-trans-fri…/

* Your First Trans Friend – A Beginner’s Guide – http://www.huffingtonpost.com/…/your-first-trans-friend-a-b…

* Family Members especially are encouraged to read this: http://web.archive.org/…/20060103152219/http://w…/index.php… – it has a clickthrough at the bottom to “Do’s” and “Don’t’s”, which I will also link here: http://web.archive.org/…/20060102231752/http://w…/index.php…

* Also, this one is a great explanation of the genderqueer concept, which is how I used to identify. It’s not how I identify now, but it’s kind of how I present at this stage in my transition. Mostly, it’s funny, and has some insight – I Am Genderqueer (And What the #@%! That Means) – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0hmULQc5jIw&app=desktop

-*-

9) I hope you all can accept me for who I really am, to the same level that Carolyn and Beth have. I could not have done this with without their support. Thank you both. I love you.

Beth, your additional support in embracing who I am as a person, your love, wisdom, patience, tolerance, understanding, experience, graciousness, companionship, leadership, and generosity have helped make 2017 one of the best years of my life, and I couldn’t have done it without you. You are an amazing person. Thank you. I love you.

Carolyn, seeing your eyes light up at finally understanding just what we can be together fills me with amazing joy. I want to be your wife, and I’m sorry I kinda blew off the vow-renewal thing you talked about in the past. I wasn’t ready to renew my vows then, but I am now. Your insane level of literal financial support, your tolerance of MY insane level of bullshit, anger, rage, abuse, depression, impatience, obsessiveness, aggressiveness, criticalness, laziness, and so many other bad traits…. There’s no reason I even deserve the life I have now, and I couldn’t have done it without you and your undying love. Thank you. I love you.

I’d also like to thank Devi McCallion. You don’t even know me, but your music changed my life more than all other music combined. Your brutal emotional honesty, your willingness to express yourself, your willingness to go so far out on a limb that you actually become embarrassed and remove your music. And then your bravery to put it back up. To know that you really feel the things you are expressing to such an extent that the emotions are more important than the music. To taste your very real pain, and realize that it also came from within myself. To empathize with a complete stranger more than any person I’ve ever known; when I have so little empathy that I have some anxiety over whether I am a sociopath a not. To show me how to feel. To let me feel. To let me know what it’s like to be who I am, by seeing it in you. Even your non-transy pony songs got me through my first days at work after a 4 year break, by filling me with happiness. Then I discovered your non-pony music, and that was that. I was home. Please don’t ever stop. You are the stranger most responsible for helping me take the direction in my life that I need to. (For some people, that’s jesus, lol. Not me.)

Anyway, I hope you all can accept me for who I really am, even as I am just getting to know that person.

If you don’t accept me for who I am, this FUN diva ain’t got time for your shit.

Love me or leave me — Clint is finishing up, and Clio is here to stay.

Sincerely,
Claire James “Clio” L.

P.S. Handy Conversion Chart:

*** “Clint” => “Clio”
*** “Clent” => “Cleo”

*** “J. Clinton” => “Claire J.”
*** “ClintJCL” => “ClioCJL” {primary name will come first instead of being a middle name like with James Clinton}

*** “he” => “she”
*** “him” => “her”
*** “his” => “hers”

*** “Clint & Carolyn” => “Carolyn & Clio” {now it’s her turn to be first, plus, Carolyn’s name is the familiar one}

*** “Clarolynt” => “Cliolyn” / “Clairolyn”
*** “Clarolyntopiastan” => “Cliolyntopiastan” / “Clairolyntopiastan”

*** “straight married couple” => “gay married couple”
*** “couple” => “lesbian couple”
*** “those guys” => “those girls”
*** “husband” => “wife” / “spouse” / “partner”

*** “wears annoying amount of black all the time” =>
“wears annoying amount of color all the time”
*** “talks in a stupid low voice” =>
“talks in a stupider less low voice”

 

temp copy for facebook

With my amazing girlfriend Beth, 10th Annual DC Fetish Ball, October 8th, 2017

temp copy for facebook 2

Where is Carolyn? She had too much exposed nipple to post here :-D 

 

 

house_well-11(NOTE: This post is an updated copy of my 2012 post [see also: 20112010,  2009,  2008])

(Check our your property value using the official Fairfax county link.)

THE BASIC SUMMARY: Our real estate assessment stayed the same. No up or down. To. the. dollar. That’s fishy. Seems like perhaps values went down slightly, but Fairfax County wanted to keep the tax revenue going. A 0.00% increase (house went up 0%, land went up 0%), which is obviously less than the average of yearly gains (5.8% a year on average, as of 2 years ago), and slightly less than last year’s 3% increase. Our house value increased $0 a month. That would make this the 4th worst year for our investment return, and the worst return of the last 3 years as well. But we’re still way ahead.

In 1999, we bought the house at  $141K.
In 2000, we  were  assessed  at  $142K.
In 2001, this  grew   by 3.5% to $147K.
In 2002, this  grew   by  39% to $205K.
In 2003, this  grew   by   3% to $211K.
In 2004, this  grew   by  24% to $261K.
In 2005, this  grew   by  34% to $349K.
In 2006, this  grew   by  13% to $395K. [addition basically complete]
In 2007, this  grew   by   3% to $406K  (peak)
In 2008, this dropped by   7% to $375K. [addition officially complete]
In 2009, this dropped by   3% to $364K.
In 2010, this dropped by  18% to $298K. (ouch)
In 2011, this  grew   by   3% to $307K. Finally a gain! 
In 2012, this  grew   by  ~3% to $316K.
In 2013, this   remained      at $316K.

We’re 22% down from our peak value. (But not 37% like 3 years ago)

The house is still worth 2.36X more than we owe on the mortgage (2012=2.32X,2011=2.27X).

We still owe $133.9K on our mortgage [2012=$136.1K].

In 2013, we owe about $2000 less on our mortgage than we did the prior year. [2012=we owed $700 MORE than the prior year due to refinance costs].

So we are still ahead (assessed value minus what is owed on the mortgage) by $182.0K. (2012=$179.8K, 2011=$171.7K, 2010=$163K).

However, our gain in getting ahead was only $2.2K this year, far less than previous years’ gain in being ahead. (2012=$8.1K, 2011=$8.7K).

We’ve lived here 13 years now, so that’s a running average of getting $12,997 ahead each year. This running average has been declining: 2012=$14,903,2011=$15,609.
Per month, that is $1083 ahead each month. [2012=$1249,2011=$1300] ahead each month.

Our mortgage is down to $1025 from  $1300 (refinanced), so this place seems to literally be paying for itself: It’s value goes up more each month, on average, over the entire time we’ve lived here… Than how much we pay each month!

(Of course, the addition wasn’t free, it was about $80K, so we’re really only $102.0K ahead (2012=$99.8K,2011=$91.7K), or only $7,283 ahead per year (2012=$8,317,2011=$8,336), or only about $606 (2012=$693,2011=$694) ahead each month. Still not shabby.))

These people who say houses aren’t a good investment don’t know what they’re talking about. Even if it’s value drops 90%, you’re still getting 10% more of your money back than if you were renting! And we’re sure as hell doing better than dropping 90%… We’re getting double our money back, assuming value holds.

We also have way more living space than people who pay the same amount: 2500 sq ft @ 1025/mo = 41 cents per square foot per month. People in this area (inside the D.C. beltway, or inside D.C. itself) are often paying rates 3-4X as much per square foot month.

Here’s the new graph:

2012’s graph:

2011’s graph:

More:

Broken down via land vs. building:

LAND:
2000: $71K
2001: $71K
2002: $90K (+27%)
2003: $100K (+11%)
2004: $150K (+50%)
2005: $184K (+23%)
2006: $166K (-10%) [addition completed]
2007: $166K
2008: $184K (+11%)
2009: $166K (-10%)
2010: $148K (-11%)
2011: $148K
2012: $152K (+2.7%)
2013: $152K

BUILDING:
2000: $71K
2001: $76K (+7%)
2002: $115K (+51%)
2003: $111K (-3%)
2004: $111K
2005: $165K (+49%) [addition possibly counted here]
2006: $229K (+39%) [addition completed]
2007: $241K (+5%)
2008: $192K (-20%)
2009: $198K (+3%)
2010: $150K (-24%)
2011: $159K (+6%)
2012: $164K (+3%)
2013: $164K

FOOTNOTE: 2006 was about when the construction was mostly finished, but due to problems with it being completely finished, it might not have been legally counted as finished until 2008.

RANDOM NOTE: The Google Chart Playground is very, very useful. Saves a lot of manual page refresheses…

Mood: did not want to type this up the day I re-installed windows!
Music: GWAR!!

THE END

The nerve of these fucking 80-year-old drivers. They back into your car at a gas station, and then refuse to give you their information!

That’s not how the system works, buddy!

It’s nice when the police can actually do something for you! This is the 2nd accident in a row where a whitehead refused to give me his information.  The entitled Baby Boomer generation seems to think that if you are younger than them, that they get to make up their own rules for governance of society. The rate of people giving me information after a car accident is now 100% for those under 50 yrs of age, and 0% for those over 50 yrs of age.  

I’ve now had 7 accidents: 4 while driving [1 of which was my fault: age 16], 2 where I was parked and someone hit me, and 1 where someone else was driving a car of mine.  So since age 17, I’ve had to deal with 6 accidents in 21 years. None my fault. One every 3.5 yrs on average.

Yea, I’m tired of it. In the mid-1990s, someone backed into my Pontiac 6000STE. I let them go without getting their information. Turned out I had internal damage. My horn stopped working. I failed inspection. I had to pay $100+ to get it repaired.  That was when I vowed that I would call the police for ANY accident, even one that seems to have 0 damage. But you know what? I wasn’t going to go through with my vow. It was such a small bump, that I decided I would just trade insurance information with them. I would then file a claim if something came up. These people would have nothing of it!

I wasn’t even in the car. I saw it move and looked over just in time to see their car kinda bouncing away from mine, and seeing both cars bounce in opposite directions (probably only a few inches). I also felt like I saw my front bumper bump back into proper shape, but it happened so quickly. . So I knocked on the window… and then the resistance began. Between then and me calling 911 was probably 3 minutes.

I said something along the lines of: “You just hit my car. I don’t think there’s any damage, but I’d like to get your information in case there turns out to be some damage.”  // “But there’s no damage! Look!” // “Yes, I know. I agree there’s probably no damage. But I’ve been in this exact situation before, and was screwed because I didn’t get the information. So I want the information. And the law is: You have to give it to me.”

They were well-dressed, in a nice car, newer than mine.

He told me he wasn’t going to give me his information because there was no damage. I told him that’s not how the law works. He refused again. He started to get into his car. I quickly ran in grabbed a pen (usually have one in my car, wtf!) and wrote his plate number on my hand, in case they dashed off.

I went back out and told him one more time: Give me your information, or I’ll call the police. If you leave, you will be guilty of hit and run. Still unfazedthe man refused once more to give me his information. I went into the gas station and called 911. The poor gas station had long lines and most definitely lost business due to us blocking 2 pumps for 40 minutes.

So stubborn.

At one point the guy tried to tell me that a car was coming toward him. So you’re saying you reversed into me on purpose in response to another car? Or are you just lying and making up an excuse? C’mon now. Don’t make yourself look stupider.

The cop came, was moderately easy to deal with, and dealt with me first (probably because I was waving my arms around signaling him), then them.

He made them give the information they were legally required to give. That is, after he found the driver. His wife was in the passenger seat, but the driver left. Maybe he just went to the bathroom, but I don’t know. The guy basically left his wife to deal with the cop. Not cool, dude. I heard the cop lecture him that you can’t leave the scene of a crime. Haha. He got lectured by the cop and I didn’t. Haha.

He also told me he was putting on the report that there was no visible damage. Fair enough! I agree with that! I mentioned the car-horn scenario and he made me check my car horn. It worked. Good for him for making me do that, erasing all doubt.

I almost couldn’t find my proof-of-insurance, and was going to be kicking myself if I got another ticket after my recent $150 and $500 redlight/parking tickets (parked where parking attendant told me to park: got $500 ticket: Baltimore court date forthcoming). Fortunately I found it. That would have sucked.

Watching him deal with the old people was funny. They resisted and resisted. He kept explaining and explaining. It’s not a ticket, it’s just an exchange of information. The elderly man — born in 1930, age 82 — wrote very, very poorly. He did not make an effort to write legibly. The cop made him (both of us actually) get out our ID/insurance to double-check that things were filled out properly.

[This is good. In the 1990s a tractor trailer hit me, gave false information to the police, and because they didn’t double-check it, the driver never had to pay for his infraction. I managed to get the real information after the cop left, and the state of Alabama wouldn’t release his identity to the state of Virginia. So why the fuck do we let Alabama still drive its trucks through our state? Republicans? We should demand a state comply with all information requests as a condition of allowing their commercial traffic through our state!]

Anyway, the guy wrote his license plate down so poorly that the cop had to over-write it, but he wrote it wrong, changing a 9 into a 0. GOOD THING I WROTE THE LICENSE PLATE NUMBER ON MY HAND EARLIER, or I’d have an inaccurate report. At least they double check now when they didn’t in the 90’s, but this doesn’t mean there’s any less burden to double-check the information yourself. Remember that.

Even then, they tried to leave fields blank! The officer had to tell them repeatedly that they had to put their phone number on it. They resisted, citing that I would start harassing them. Old people and their fucking fear of technology. My grandparents (RIP) would not get on the internet because they believed if you posted one thing one person didn’t like, they could make your life miserable. I’d be dead by now if there was any truth to that. (Indeed, the only death threats I received via persona phone call in response to my online activities were back in the BBS days before the internet.)

So now I have the guy’s full information (born in 1930!), insurance company, policy #, birthday, address. More info than I would have gotten if he’d just cooperated with my initial, civil request.

So you know what? I called his insurance company and reported it. If he had just given me his information, I wouldn’t have done this. But because he made us all wait there 30-40 minutes to deal with this, I am now driven by SPITE.

USAA too. So he’s probably a veteran who feels that because he served in the military, he somehow has greater rights than the rest of us. That might explain his entitled attitude. I’m admittedly prejudiced against ex-military due to multiple ex-military murderers fucking up my social life with their senseless violence, including murdering Dirk and attacking my friends.

So yeah, I called USAA and filed a claim. They have a process for my situation: I am now scheduled for a 15 minute inspection at a local body shop, to make sure there’s no “internal damage” (insurance term). I am going to pick up taco bell first, because car inspections while eating tacos are better than car inspections without tacos. Basically: (x + taco) > x.

I don’t think they’ll find anything. But now there’s a blip on his insurance record. I did mention that to them. “Now that you’ve made me call the police, there will be a report, your insurance company will know about it, and your insurance will go up.” I wanted to let Mr.Oldboy know that he was stabbing himself in the foot.

This all segues into a recent conversation I had with my dad about old drivers.  He had a misconception that old drivers were better drivers, but then I brought a bunch of government statistics in. Elderly drivers have less fatalities because they drive fewer miles. Per-mile, when you get up to the age of 80, you’re actually worse than a teenager.  The difference being that a lot of teenager accidents are when they are purposely driving shittily and taking risks, while with the old people, they should know better and have a lifetime of experience, are not risktaking, and STILL crash at the same rate. That’s far worse in my book.

If this guy’s handwriting is any indication, he should not be eligible to pass the vision test to get his license.

And yes, I’ve bumped people that hard, and had them not report me. And I was thankful. Some would say this makes me a hypocrite. But I disagree. I’m me. I have my own set of experiences and rules that are different from others. It has been demonstrated to me that it is a mistake not to exchange information. That is a lesson I took to heart. That is not everybody’s lesson. If someone wants to let me off in a situation that I wouldn’t — let them. They are free to not assert their rights as much as I do. We all live our lives different ways.

That one accident that was really my fault, at age 16? The guy was a reverend driving his purple limo. I was a 16 year old kid with ripped jeans driving my parents’ shitty station wagon. He didn’t report the damage. Does this mean I owe someone else an equal let-off? Not to me, it doesn’t. But I did give someone the let-off in the 1990s, and it came back to bite me. At this point, nobody’s ever getting let-off again. Ever. You ding my car, I get your information. I may not call, BUT I GET YOUR INFORMATION. And if you don’t like it, I’m calling the police. And it doesn’t matter if you are elderly, black, white, young, old, in a suit, in ripped jeans — you’re going to be treated equally by me. Information. Police. 100% of the time.

(more…)

house_well-11(NOTE: This post is an updated copy of my 2011 post [see also: 2010,  2009,  2008])
(Check our your property value using the official Fairfax county link.)

THE BASIC SUMMARY: Our real estate assessment went up again, from $307.1K to $315.9K. A 2.85% increase (house went up 3%, land went up 2.7%), which is less than the average of 5.8% yearly gains, and slightly less than last year’s 3% increase. Our house value increased $730 a month (and our mortgage is only $1025 now that we refinanced).

In 1999, we bought the house at  $141K.
In 2000, we  were  assessed  at  $142K.
In 2001, this  grew   by 3.5% to $147K.
In 2002, this  grew   by  39% to $205K.
In 2003, this  grew   by   3% to $211K.
In 2004, this  grew   by  24% to $261K.
In 2005, this  grew   by  34% to $349K.
In 2006, this  grew   by  13% to $395K. [addition basically complete]
In 2007, this  grew   by   3% to $406K  (peak)
In 2008, this dropped by   7% to $375K. [addition officially complete]
In 2009, this dropped by   3% to $364K.
In 2010, this dropped by  18% to $298K. (ouch)
In 2011, this  grew   by   3% to $307K. Finally a gain! 
In 2012, this  grew   by  ~3% to $316K.

We’re 22% down from our peak (but not 37% like 2 years ago), and it’s still worth 2.32X (2011=2.27X) more than we owe on the mortgage (which is $136.1K, actually about $700 more than last year due to rolling our refinance costs into the mortgage).

This means we’re still $179.8K ahead (2011=$171.7K, 2010=$163K). We’ve lived here 12 years, so that’s $14,903 (2011=$15,609) ahead each year, $1249 (2011=$1300) ahead each month. Our mortgage is down to $1025 from  $1300 (refinanced), so this place seems to practically be paying for itself.

(Of course, the addition wasn’t free, it was about $80K, so we’re really only $99.8K ahead ($91.7K in 2011), or only $8,317 ($8,336 in 2011) ahead per year, $693 ($694 in 2011) ahead each month. Still not shabby. These people who say houses aren’t a good investment don’t know what they’re talking about. Even if it’s value drops 90%, you’re still getting 10% more of your money back than if you were renting! And we’re sure as hell doing better than dropping 90%!)

Here’s the new graph:

2011’s graph:

Broken down via land vs. building:

LAND:
2000: $71K
2001: $71K
2002: $90K (+27%)
2003: $100K (+11%)
2004: $150K (+50%)
2005: $184K (+23%)
2006: $166K (-10%) [addition completed]
2007: $166K
2008: $184K (+11%)
2009: $166K (-10%)
2010: $148K (-11%)
2011: $148K
2012: $152K (+2.7%)

BUILDING:
2000: $71K
2001: $76K (+7%)
2002: $115K (+51%)
2003: $111K (-3%)
2004: $111K
2005: $165K (+49%) [addition possibly counted here]
2006: $229K (+39%) [addition completed]
2007: $241K (+5%)
2008: $192K (-20%)
2009: $198K (+3%)
2010: $150K (-24%)
2011: $159K (+6%)
2012: $164K (+3%)

FOOTNOTE: 2006 was about when the construction was mostly finished, but due to problems with it being completely finished, it might not have been legally counted as finished until 2008.

RANDOM NOTE: The Google Chart Playground is very, very useful. Saves a lot of manual page refreshses…

Mood: suddenly less dissatisfied with unemployment
Music: NOT Megadeth – Tornado Of Souls

THE END

house_well-11 [NOTE: This post is an updated copy of my 2010 post, which itself was an update of my 2009 post, which was a copy of 2008, which had tons of comments relating to how Fairfax County seemed to change its assessment forumulas, flipping more of people’s value from their house to their land.] [Check our your property value using the official Fairfax county link.]

THE BASIC SUMMARY: Our real estate assessment finally went up again, by 3% (less than the average of 8.5% yearly gains), to $307K. At least we’re back on the right track again.

In 1999, we bought the house at $141K.
In 2000, we were assessed at $142K.
In 2001, this grew by 3.5% to $147K.
In 2002, this grew by 39% to $205K.
In 2003, this grew by 3% to $211K.
In 2004, this grew by 24% to $261K.
In 2005, this grew by 34% to $349K.
In 2006, this grew by 13% to $395K [addition completed].
In 2007, this grew by 3% to $406K (peak).
In 2008, this dropped by 7% to $375K*.
In 2009, this dropped by 3% to $364K.
In 2010, this dropped by 18% to $298K. (ouch)
In 2011, this grew by 3% to $307K. Finally a gain!

We’re 24% down from our peak (but not 37% like last year), but it’s still worth 2.27X more than we owe on the mortgage ($135.4K, the same as last year really).

This means we’re still $171.7K ahead (we were $163K ahead last year). We’ve lived here 11 years, so that’s $15,609 ahead each year, $1300 ahead each month. Our mortgage is only about $1300, so this place seems to practically be paying for itself. (Of course, the addition wasn’t free, it was about $80K, so we’re really only $91.7K ahead, $8336 ahead per year, $694 ahead each month. Still not shabby. These people who say houses aren’t a good investment don’t know what they’re talking about. Even if it’s value drops 90%, you’re still getting 10% more of your money back than if you were renting!)

Last year’s graph:




^^^^

Broken down via land vs. building:

LAND:
2000: $71K
2001: $71K
2002: $90K (+27%)
2003: $100K (+11%)
2004: $150K (+50%)
2005: $184K (+23%)
2006: $166K (-10%) [addition completed]
2007: $166K
2008: $184K (+11%)
2009: $166K (-10%)
2010: $148K (-11%)
2011: $148K

BUILDING:
2000: $71K
2001: $76K (+7%)
2002: $115K (+51%)
2003: $111K (-3%)
2004: $111K
2005: $165K (+49%) [addition possibly counted here]
2006: $229K (+39%) [addition completed]
2007: $241K (+5%)
2008: $192K (-20%)
2009: $198K (+3%)
2010: $150K (-24%)
2011: $159K (+6%)
(more…)

house_well-11 [NOTE: This post is an updated copy of the post I made last year, which was a copy of the post from 2008, which had tons of comments relating to how Fairfax County seemed to change its assessment forumulas, flipping more of people’s value from their house to their land.]

THE BASIC SUMMARY: Our real estate assessment dropped again, by 18% (ouch!), to $298K. Biggest loss yet..

In 1999, we bought the house at $141K.
In 2000, we were assessed at $142K.
In 2001, this grew by 3.5% to $147K.
In 2002, this grew by 39% to $205K.
In 2003, this grew by 3% to $211K.
In 2004, this grew by 24% to $261K.
In 2005, this grew by 34% to $349K.
In 2006, this grew by 13% to $395K*.
In 2007, this grew by 3% to $406K (peak).
In 2008, this dropped by 7% to $375K*.
In 2009, this dropped by 3% to $364K.
In 2010, this dropped by 18% to $298K. Ouch. Biggest loss yet..

We’re 37% down from our peak, but it’s still worth 2.2X more than we owe on the mortgage ($135K), meaning we’re still $163K ahead.

Broken down via land vs. building:

LAND:
2000: $71K
2001: $71K
2002: $90K (+27%)
2003: $100K (+11%)
2004: $150K (+50%)
2005: $184K (+23%)
2006: $166K (-10%)
2007: $166K
2008: $184K (+11%)
2009: $166K (-10%)
2010: $148K (-11%)

BUILDING:
2000: $71K
2001: $76K (+7%)
2002: $115K (+51%)
2003: $111K (-3%)
2004: $111K
2005: $165K (+49%)
2006: $229K (+39%)
2007: $241K (+5%)
2008: $192K (-20%)
2009: $198K (+3%)
2010: $150K (-24%)
(more…)

house_well-11So my real estate assessment dropped again… I believe we were assessed at $475K a bit ago, but I filed a bunch of paperwork and got them to drop it $10 or $20K. But this thing says our 2007 value was only $406K, which I don’t remember ever being that low. And for 2008? $376K.

That’s quite a drop, and the weird part is how the values flipped:

From 1999-2007, the value of my land only went from $150,000 to $166,000. That’s $2,000 a year. This year? Land is $296,000. WTF?!?! It goes up $2,000/yr for 9 years, then suddenly goes up $130,000/yr in 1 year? So the rate increased by 65X as much?!?!?!?!  [UPDATE: On 3/25, new assessment made value of the land $184,000, so the change is not so drastic.  Only 9X as much of a climb instead of 64X as much.]

The value of the building was $240,780 last year, and now is listed as $80,000. WTF?!? This is the first year that our home addition is legally recognized (I believe), so if anything it should have gone up, not down. [UPDATE: On 3/25, new assessment made value of the building $191,970, so it did go down, but not nearly as drasticly.]

Of course, if these numbers are true, that means our house could completely collapse into nothingness (say, from bad contractors), and the land would be worth $296K. [UPDATE: As of 3/25, this is no longer the case.] Considering we owe about $159K on the mortgage (which was originally $139K) , we’d still end up with $137K profit even if the house collapsed.  [UPDATE: As of 3/25, we would only end up with about a $25K profit, instead of $137K profit, now that the house is worth $191K instead of $80K.]

This just doesn’t really make much sense to me. It’s almost like the county is trying to get back at me for having it lowered last year. Thing is, I WANT the land to be most of the value. Houses degrade; land doesn’t generally (barring a mudslide).

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