Lots of queer softball, job hunting, packing, and gender pronoun mishaps galore. I will be moving this Wednesday into my 3 bedroom duplex pimp pad where I can live out the American dream of having half a backyard to BBQ in. Queer softball has been difficult. I mentioned that I'd been roped into joining a gaggle o' faggle softball league a few weeks ago in a previous post , where I also stumbled across a predicament in regards to binding that has prevented me from participating in sports ever since being a tweeny bop high schooler. The whole scenario of running around with breasts that my brain isn't connected to is incredibly awkward, uncomfortable, and upsetting. It's a definite trigger for feeling the umph! of that disconnect (aside from intimate relationships), where the mental/physical mismatch is incredibly difficult to ignore. I've been to a few practices so far and one glorious game where the final score was 34 to 3 (we got the 3). I tried loosely bind...