What Was I Thinkin'?

I started this blog 23 years ago in April of 2001. It wasn't a blog then, it was little website that I had created called iamjenna.com. It doesn't exist anymore (at least, not the way it was when I owned it) and I used it to talk about what going on in my life, in the hopes that someone out there who was going through the same thing would find it and get some use from my weird life.

I was 32 years old, living in Florida. I had been in Florida since April of 1992 which was 11 years prior to that first entry. Before that, I lived in Indiana. And now, I'm living there again. It's strange really. It's been 32 years since I previously lived here and things have certainly changed. But I have changed too (obviously). I was a young person back then, just trying to figure themselves out. Now, I'm an old(er) person, still trying to figure things out. It seems that part never really changes. I guess I could take some comfort in that. Knowing that I knew as much then about what I'm doing as I do now is oddly comforting and depressing at the same time.

You see, I had goals. Some of those goals were met while others weren't. But that's normal too. Everyone has their story about "the one that got away" ranging from fish to spouses to life goals. So if this is all normal, then why does it feel so weird? I'm pretty sure I know the answer to that. Weird became my new normal. Everyone thought I was crazy for leaving Indiana and going to Florida, at only 22 years old, with no famliy around. Everyone thought I was crazy for suddenyl announcing that I was going to transition from male to female. And everyone thought I was crazy when I chose to move back to Indiana, this year. Crazy seems to be my M.O. I've learned to bask in it and make the crazy, weird and impossible into realities.

But I gotta tell y'all, this one feels weird even for me. I'm not sure what I'm trying to do here. Sure, I know why I left, but I'm not sure why I came back here. I have "reasons" but reasons can be just as easly reasoned away as they are reasoned into being in the first place. My goal this time seems a little obscured. Let's backtrack a little. Set the WayBack Machine, Sherman! (JFC, I'm old).

February, 2023, I have a mental collapse. It was a breakdown, for sure. Florida's legislature was preparing bill after bill targeting people like me, everything from what sports we could play to where we could go to the bathroom. They were talking about rolling back several civil rights and I suddenly felt very seen, but in the worst way possible. It had been a little over 2 years since my mom's passing. At that point, both parents, all grandparents and one sibling had already passed. There were new Ramseys being created though; great-nieces and great-nephews and I was missing everything. It felt strange because I was becoming more of an aunt to my roommate's son than I was to my own great-niblings (yeah, it's a word... look it up). To my own familial tribe, I'm probably seen more as a pibling, gender-neutral term for aunt or uncle, than either one or the other. It's a weird, non-specific place to be.

Anyway, back to the story. I was terrified. At my mom's funeral a couple years earlier, I saw cousins and siblings and niblings that I hadn't seen in years. We began to reminisce and there were several who said how much they missed me and how good it was to see me. It was a stark contrast from what I was getting from friends (and the state) in Florida. That's not to say I didn't have good friends in Florida. I had the best friends anyone could ask for (and I miss them DEARLY). It's just trying to paint a picture of the mental state I was in. So I called my best friend in the world (and her name is LITTERED throughout this blog) and broke down on the phone with her... for something like 5 hours. Later that month, we flew to Indiana to look at a house. She got to see where I grew up, where I went to school, the university I went to... and she got to meet more of the family.

At that point, I realized that the possibility of living here again wasn't that far-fetched. I came back up here again a couple times, once again with Liz this year as we looked for houses again, this time with a realtor. Within a month of that, I had a house and was beginning to move to Indiana. It took so long to get there and then happened so fast that I wasn't prepared for the shock to my social system. I ugly-cried in ways that I can't imagine to do again. I instantly knew how my sister Betty feels every time we part.

So now, here I am in Indiana again. I have an asset finally, and I'm near family again. But there is a weirdness about this that is going to take time to sort out. I have to catch them up on 30 years of living (and they have to do the same for me). Yesterday was Thanksgiving and there were comments around the table of what we're thankful for. We then began to start sharing memories of people who had passed on. I was at a loss for that second part. My memories of those days are scant and few. They've been replace with memories of my life in Florida and how and rich and full it was there. That's not to say that my life wasn't rich and full back before I moved. It is more appropriate to say that it was someone else's life.

These lack of memories lead me to a lot of questions like, "What was I thinkin'?" Maybe I'm just getting older. My mother passed away from dementia and perhaps I'm starting to see the beginnings of something like that for me. Who knows. But at least this stuff is written down for someone to read sometime, somewhere. I think i might start actually blogging again. There's a lot going on again so we'll see.

Could you move a little to the left?

Something terrifying today: the carrying capacity of the planet.  I was watching some Neil DeGrasse Tyson videos the other day (as I am often want to do), and they were talking about the Marvel MCU and how many good scientific principles were relayed.  There was one rather terrifying one: "Thanos was right." 

I learned a new term called the "carrying capacity" of a planet for a given species.  It is related to not just the space available to the species but also the natural resources available to support the growth and life of the species.  So I began to dig a little.  Many scientists believe that the carrying capacity of this planet for humans is about 9 to 10 billion of us.  Knowing that: take a look at this:

World Population by Year

It's getting crowded!  I was born in 1969 and since then we've added a little over 4 billion people.  I'm 54 years old.  The number of people we added in the 54 years before I was born was around 2 billion.  So in the time I've been alive, we've doubled our production of humans as compared to the 50 years prior to that.  And the rate of growth has increased as well.  In the 50s we were adding about 50 million humans a year.  Now we're adding about 80 to 90 million humans a year.   

Now remember, that's resources for us.  What about other sentient life forms, for example animals.  Our ecosystem is fragile.  I'm not worried about the planet (unless we COMPLETELY strip it down to nothing in the centuries ahead) because it can bounce back if everything that's consuming it slows down its rate of consumption.  But the environment in which we life is going to get weaker and weaker in its ability to sustain us.  

We either need to SERIOUSLY slow down the baby-making machinery, have a LOT more deadly wars, or find another planet to start living on fairly soon.  Otherwise, our descendants in 100 years or more will be fighting for the most basic of resources just to live.  Long live Tank Girl (if you don't know the reference, do yourself a favor and google the movie and watch it ASAP).

That's all for now, I guess.  Home life is meh at the moment.  More on that later, when and if I feel like it.

Getting older? Me?

You know, it's kinda weird... getting older that is.  I don't feel older in my brain... at least not until I try to socialize with younger people.  Then I realize that I'm actually old now.  My body, on the other hand, reminds me of my age all the time.  I expected that.  I also expected the "you don't feel any older mentally" part.  I just didn't think about what it's like to talk with younger people.

I see myself in the mirror.  I know what I look like.  But that's not how I remember myself.  That's not my inner image of myself, I guess. I still see myself with tight skin, bright eyes, long soft hair and skinny.  That's not the case anymore.   I don't think I'm ugly... just... older.  But it's a marvel that I got here.

I've done a lot of crazy things to this body I'm still inhabiting.  Somehow, I simultaneously assumed I would make to my 80s and still also die young.  How weird is that?  I guess I never really believed that my body would age.  Every time I saw someone older than myself (or that looked older than I did), I thought, "Well, I'm still young."  Then one day, people older than me started becoming fewer and farther between.  So, I saw more younger people.  That made me feel old.  

"You're only as young as you feel" is a bit of a misnomer I think.  I think age is now relative.  Celebrities that I looked up to are getting older and passing away.  People in roles that I look up to or admire are getting younger; for example I was on a plane not too long ago and saw the pilot.  He looked so young.  Then I realized that, actually, he looks the same average age as any other pilot I've seen in my life.  The difference is that I've become older and now and the people doing all the work are "staying the same age."

It is even more bizarre being someone who has transitioned.  Many of us just don't make it.  The mortality rate is staggeringly high for transgender folks.  So finding someone who transitioned young and then got old is like finding a unicorn.  I'm used to being a trail blazer... but those other trails were ones that I meant to blaze.  This one wasn't on my agenda.

I don't have many models to follow and socializing with others in this context is confusing.  So, I guess a new chapter starts now.  I started transition in the mid to late 90s.  The time between my birth and starting transition, and the time between then and now is almost equidistant.  So I guess this is the beginning of my "Phase Three" in MCU terms.

At any rate, I'll try to keep things updated here (in case I never get around to writing that book).  

It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn

I alluded to some changes coming in my life soon, and it's true.  I've been making preparations to return from whence I came.  When the state of Florida began it's assault on LGBTQIA+ people (of all ages), I finally realized that I was being given signs that it was time to leave LONG before now.  This was just the last straw. So I started putting a plan in motion.  That plan involved saving enough money for a down payment on a house, enough money to move the belongings I want to keep and buy new for the ones I want to replace, and getting my credit score in a good healthy place.

I also wanted to make sure there was enough time to so a last hurrah in the sunshine state before I left.  That meant staying through the holidays (since it would be my last set of actual holidays in the state with my extended family here), and planning several events for myself like theme parks, pride events, etc. 

But as we get closer, there are tensions mounting and rising across the board.  Today is a rough day.  It's been a rough weekend, TBQH.  There's a lot of tension on the home front and I'm not really sure what to do.  On the one hand, I want to help ease those tensions and make things better.  One the other hand, I feel like they will be viewed as empty self-serving gestures.  The "why do you care now if you're still bent on leaving in a few months" scenario. 

Part of me says that my life is my life and I should just do whatever I want because we don't get another chance to do what we want.  Another part of me feels responsible for the heartache and the tension, even though I did nothing to perpetrate it.  This mental anguish is just compounded by the fact that friends are coming over today to enjoy in an event of my creation.  The whole house is involved (and has enjoyed the event many times before).  However, the current situation makes me feel so unsure about trying to promote revelry when there are larger forces to combat.  

I know I should press on and try to bring peace to the household.  But I am old and tired now and it takes more of a toll on me now than it ever did.  I find myself looking forward to the peace of mind that solitude will bring, even if it will be accompanied by loneliness.  C'est la vie, eh?

They say it's always darkest before the dawn.  But we're not even close to that dawn yet and it's already feeling pretty dark.  Le sigh.

10 Years Later...

This is so bizarre. I'm back here, writing again after 10 years and an odd number of months.  The last blog entry I made was not long after I had moved to Cocoa, Florida.  I've been so busy living and loving life, there was no reason or time to write anything about it.

I am grateful.  I am extremely grateful that I've had so much time with such great new friends in a new place.  Some never get that.  I did... and I got it for 10+ years. 

That doesn't mean that everything is bad again.  Writing doesn't have to indicate that.  But I think it's healthy and correct to state that sometimes we just gotta write something down somewhere that other people will see it if they care to look for it.  It's more the act of the writing that means something.

Let's see, how to sum up 10 years.  I moved away from PSL (already should know that since that happened in 2012).  I met a lot of new friends here.  I started working a side gig at a bar called The Ultra Lounge.  I started as a DJ and then became a "drag" entertainer as well.

Since then, I DJ'd many different events, performed in drag at multiple bars and events, started a film and events production company that closed up during Covid, served on the board of Space Coast Pride as their entertainment director... twice... for about 3 years each time, learned how to play Magic the Gathering, got back into Role Playing games, wrote a Trance track that I really should have gotten published (but didnt), created a show called Trancegiving that started as a DJ mix and then became an event that raised money for charities, moved two more times, had multiple roommates, lost two cats and gained two more, severed my connection with Sadao for good and allowed my other connections to others (and to myself) blossom.  

And... my mother died.

Two years ago, in fact.  I miss her still, so very much.  When I was home for her funeral, I got to reconnect with many family members that have asked me when am I coming home.  It's been over 30 years and they're still asking that question.  I think that's gotta be a record.

Since that time, my life has changed in unfathomable ways, ways I never saw coming.  The very state that I moved to because of it's open arms and good vibes has gone on the attack.  The place where I learned about myself, found others like myself, found work that didn't care about the body I was in and gave me the job I needed, the place where I learned to dance like no one was watching, the place where I learned about Peace, Love, Unity and Respect and all the good things about humanity... yeah, that magical place... has said that people like me are abominations.  It has said that entertainers like me are trying to trick children into becoming unwitting participants in sexual deviancy.  It has begun to say all manner of vile things about me, my friends, and those I call family.

Many like me have already left the state.  Many are still working on getting out.  While still more just don't have the means to leave... or if they did, would be leaving everything they've ever known.  

How did all this happen?  How is it that the place I was running from is somehow looking better than the place I ran to?  Is it time to make a change?  Possibly? More like definitely.  But what change is to be made?  Some are easier than others (and I happen to know a thing or two about making drastic changes in one's life).

I think this is the beginning of a new set of writings to chronicle the new few months, maybe even years, as we enter into a new era of conflict.  Brace yourselves.  It's probably gonna get bumpy.

Miss Stake

I miss him.  I say it quite often.  I miss him.  Every time I meet someone else, I miss him.  Every time I feel the way I did when I was with him, I miss him.  Every time someone makes me feel the way he made me feel, I miss him.  Every time someone says something or does something that he would do, I miss him.

I fucking miss him.

Friends tell me to get over it, get through it, get past it... especially since it's been almost a decade.  They say that the only one who's hurting from it is me.  I know I'm the only one.  I know I was the one that caused the whole relationship to begin, continue and end.  It was all me.  That doesn't change a damn thing.  The facts are there and clear as daylight to all, but it doesn't make anything less unbearable.  

We all need a reason to live, to keep going, to survive and press on... otherwise we wither and eventually die.   My reasons are getting slimmer and slimmer as I see friends accomplishing their goals, starting new paths with life-long partners, and needing me less and less.

I'm not saying that I wouldn't be at the same place I am now if things had been different before.  There's no way for me to know what the most recent past would be like if the distant past had been different.    I just know that I miss him, and tonight it really hurts... and I just needed to say it.

I've been missing him since before we split up.  It never seems to go away.  There's a "him-shaped" hole in my life that I'm having a helluva time filling.  He took the time to get to know me.  He loved me for me and we had a beautiful life together.   

Then suddenly it was as if there was a stranger in his place.  Same face, same smile, same body... different person.  Maybe he felt the same way about me... he never said it if he did.  

I wish that spirit, that beautiful person that I met about two decades ago would come back to me.  I wish I could be that person for a day to maybe understand where it went and I why it left when it did.  I wish I could stop.  

I miss him.  And I probably always will.

War, good God y'all.

It seems I was wrong about something.  I've always said that the way to stop war is for one side to stop fighting, forcing the end of the war.  Within the strictest guidelines of terminology, that is true since one definition of war is a state of being between two or more entities.  But even without the war it appears that hostilities remain. Sometimes they stronger than ever since the war, at least, assuaged the hostilities.

So I won't try to stop war anymore.  Ceasing hostilities is more noble goal... but also a harder one to achieve.  You cannot exert control to cause the cessation of hostilities.  That takes time and absence.  Even death cannot cease hostilities.  In some cases, it can even cause hostilities to breed.

I know that love can do it, because love cannot exist where there is hatred present.  But it's not as contagious or as boisterous and pushy as hatred.  It won't force it's way into someone's heart... it has to be invited and accepted and cared for.  It is a very weak force of nature in it's infancy... but it can grow to be mighty and strong if cared for properly.

The older I get, the more I understand some of the words of wisdom passed down to me from those older and wiser than I.  They made little to no sense at the time, until I saw them in practice in my own life.   It's not an easy thing to love your enemies.  It's not an easy thing to watch your friends and loved ones wrestling with a hatred that you know will consume them if they let it.  It's not an easy thing to give of yourself to those that "don't deserve it" based on what the law and the dogma say.   But everyone has a breaking point.  At some point, the fight must end.

We reap what we sow, make sure it's love that you grow.