Decidedly Obscure Human Complaints.

Back in the day I wrote about how, when I was hired to work on campus, a tool they use called  E-Verify flagged my social security number due to my name/gender not matching . I'd had it all legally changed in all other ways (birth certificate, I.D., etc.) but not federally yet (I can't legally change it, rendering my local gender 'male' and my federal gender 'female'). This didn't just end up impacting my campus job, but also my financial aid. I received a notice from my school that I had to go through a re-verification process, giving them my new social security card, filling out paperwork again, tracking down my 2009 W-2 and giving it to them again, and so on. In addition to this whole fiasco, when I initially received my financial aid package at the beginning of this semester I worked out a 10-month payment plan with Student Account Services for the remainder that loans and scholarships didn't cover. Yet, due to this whole E-Verify flagged mismatch...

This week... I woke up Saturday clearly infected and all sickly goopy phlegm-city gross. By Sunday, my throat was sore and my head felt like it was going to 'plode from all of the congested pressure. Yet, due to my friend acquiring tickets literally months in advance for a demolition derby, I abstained from sleep. I slugged it to the demolition derby where I enjoyed watching all the cars smash and mash (and, most of all, the people watching) via a blurred out stuffy congestion sick-ville sleepy filter. Despite the sick factor, it was a lot of fun. I can't quite pinpoint why, but demolition derbies are the only things I actually want to get tickets for and go watch. No sports, no plays, no symphonies, no concerts really - but demolition derbies? Sign me up! While there, Erin (who really visibly gender non-conforming) asked if I wouldn't mind going to the men's restroom with him (he always uses women's restrooms, but felt too uncomfortable to do so at the der...

I was fortunate enough to land a student job at my school, but have experienced a technical difficulty with the paperwork after my soon-to-be employers called  The Social Security Administration (SSA). On my first day I was told to visit the campus Human Resources (HR) department to fill out paperwork in order to be officially employed. I did so and the next day I received an e-mail requesting that I return to the HR office to discuss some things. Hrm. I was informed that part of the employee verification process is done through a system called  E-Verify, which apparently involves my social security number. The results said that my number is real, but that the information provided it isn't matching up. The HR employee was clearly baffled and admitted that this was the first time they'd had E-Verify reject a social security number. I told her that I had my name legally changed recently and maybe it wasn't updated yet in the social security database. She provided ...

On July 9th had an interview for the McNair Scholars Program . I learned about this amazing opportunity about four months ago after I had spontaneously decided to visit the Westminster College campus. I didn't believe it would be possible to actually attend school here, but it was within bicycling distance and I figured that asking a slew of academically inept questions on campus wouldn't hurt. Fortunately for me, I bumped into the right person who pointed me in the direction of McNair, which is: ... a United States Department of Education initiative with a goal of increasing "attainment of PhD degrees by students from underrepresented segments of society,” including first-generation low-income individuals and members from racial and ethnic groups historically underrepresented in graduate programs. It's so exciting. If accepted, I have access to a professor mentor. I receive training on how to actually get into a graduate school training program. I receive a summe...

Who knew that Ewoks and gender identity were synonymous? O'Reilly did! But seriously, his consistent stream of ignorance and prejudice broadcast to millions of viewers around the great U.S. of A. pains me. Interesting, how the U.S. continues to fall behind other developed nations when it comes to education. On the other hand, the Ewok analogy is a actually a compliment. They are adorable, after all.

Earlier today I had my first day of work as a barista down at the Utah Pride Center's Cafe Marmalade. Slinging coffee is a definite change of pace for a tech geek like myself, but I've caught on quick enough. Right after my shift ended I peddled across town to Costco for an eye appointment. I got there right in the knick of time, eyes all blood-shot from expresso shot testing (part of the training process and another story entirely) and red-faced sweaty. The receptionist handed me some paperwork to fill out. Once I had that completed, she requested my membership card which has my full first name on it - Melanie. This prompted her to ask how I pronounce my first name. In that moment and on the spot amongst strangers galore, I replied, "Mel-on-eye." I told her that I prefer Mel. And just like that, she asked no further questions. After waiting for a few minutes the doctor called me in, tested my eyes, said something about how phobia of contacts-vs-glasses is more ...

One of my greatest concerns with the aesthetic changes associated with hormone therapy? Ending up in male-only spaces, like locker rooms and public restrooms. Why? Because apparently individuals in these spaces have the potential to be downright weird, bizarre, and creepy. Just yesterday I spent some time studying at the downtown library. Eventually, I had to use the restroom. There were a few stalls leading back to a fourth, larger stall. Since the restroom only had one occupant (a guy sitting in the stall directly next to the larger stall), I darted to the larger stall. As I engaged in my business, my phone vibrated. I checked it, selected "ignore" with the intention to call them back - and then I noticed something unusual in my peripheral vision. I caught a glimpse of activity beneath the stall divider to my left, near the floor. It looked like the top of a head, upside down, darting up quickly. What!? I was stunned. And stuck, wishing that I could just stop ...

I think I've finally snapped out of my funk. For about 6 months I've been feeling really overwhelmed and hopeless. Then my brain and I had a very serious discussion. It went something like this: "You know what, noggin? I'm sorry that I've let you sink so low. I know that once you're down, it's hard to drag you back up again. How about this? If I promise to get enough sleep, to get up early, work out every morning, and eat better, will you return the favor by keeping my mood more stable and energy levels high?", to which my brain replied, "Yes, please! I'm tired of this funk! It's all over the place and, with your help, we can get this mess mopped up. I just need you to provide the tools I need to clean it up." And, with that epic discussion, we came to a mutual agreement, my brain and I. One concern that contributed to the onslaught of funkiness had much to do with losing my health insurance, which has really stressed me out. Bu...

I worked for the company that I was laid off from for approximately 3 years doing front-end web development. I was hired on to a little team of tolerant, diverse people by a wacky feller with funny glasses who cared that a.) we were all tolerant and got along and b.) could do our jobs. Done and done. All was well in the land of employment. Then the wacky boss with funny glasses left. His position was filled by someone else who happens to be much more conservative and also LDS. I learned about his more conservative perspectives after a co-worker introduced me to his blog, which consisted of many posts complaining about the country taking a nose dive into socialism now that Obama's President, about the LGBQT community persecuting the victim Mormons over Proposition 8, etc.). Incrementally the team members I initially worked with dropped off and new team members popped up. One in particular instantly became my boss's favorite. ♥Derek♥. LDS. 6 kids. Brigham Young Univer...

Alright, now it's hitting me a bit. There's a little nugget of dread throbbing in my stomach, ready to pOp and let out a whole can of panicky worms - but I won't let it, dag nabbit. No way, no how. The little nugget manifested around the time I finally slowed down and got home, where I was greeted by my excited little furry feline friends, Theseus and Evilbunny (I named him when I was 12. Don't judge.) and my little rat friend, Ben. I immediately felt this twinge of failure stir in my gut and creep up my throat. I'm a horrible guardian , I thought. I have a responsibility towards my companion animals who are 100% dependent on me and they entirely deserve the security I've promised them . They were entirely oblivious to my guilt and just super uber happy to see me, purring and ready for treats and cuddles. I'd spent the day with my mom. She made me lunch and beamed all happy mom-style and we went to the gym together. It was nice. My brother took me to din...

I got laid off today. Earlier today when I went stumbling into work the first thing that was said to me was, " A lot of people have been laid off today. " I could feel the aura of tension, anxiety, and sadness in the air. Numerous people were teary eyed and solemn. Then, before I even had a chance to login to my computer my work phone started ringing on my desk. The name of the H.R. person popped up on the caller ID. Ah damnit , I thought. When I answered he asked, " Hey Mel. Would you mind coming up to my office? " I immediately knew that this was the call. I've never experienced being laid off or fired before, so I couldn't at all predict how I'd react. Surprisingly, I didn't feel a wave of emotion. No fear or anxiety, or even shock. I didn't feel like it was surreal or that I was stunned, either. Just, that I'm one person out of millions that are have become unemployed in the United States. It's something I have no control o...

I noticed yesterday while typing away furiously at work that I smelled like, well, mold . My own potent odor was distracting, in fact. Flattering bit of information to share, I'm aware. But it's true. And some times, the truth just isn't all that flattering. Especially a little over 3 months after starting hormone therapy. Prior to injecting myself with goop that has transformed me into an awkward acne-ridden greasy perspiring slightly hairier and horny 200 lbs mess of a thing, I could get away with showering once every few days. Longer if I really felt like it. It was no big thang. I could wash a pair of jeans and re-wear those jeans multiple times, only washing them when the filth became visibly apparent. Same logic applied to shirts. I could peddle around furiously on my bicycle, no problem. Even on the hottest days in the summer. I could work out in the morning and then go to work without showering. I didn't sweat profusely and had no potent, grody odor, n...

Ooo ooo! Just a moment ago, the very.first.thing a project manager who I haven't worked with in some time said after I asked, What can I do ya for? was: " Your voice sounds deep today. Are you sick or something? "

Just this past week I've noticed some eenteresting reactions from strangers when it comes to processing which gender I am. More importantly and just to clarify, the point of my transitioning is NOT to be perceived as a cisgender male, but entirely to connect with my own body physiologically, completely irrelevant to the gender side of things. The change is just very uber gradual and it's hard for me to see and gauge on a daily basis - how strangers react to me is a soothing reminder that change is, in fact, happening. Some strangers have used male pronouns to address me even after I speak . Emphasis added because, in the past when someone would say Sir or He it would be instantly "corrected" and apologized for once I spoke. That isn't happening anymore. Last night, for example, I was off causing mayhem with a couple of female friends and when it came time to pay for our dinner the server asked them, " So he's paying the remainder? " When I s...

Thinking about spending the next 2 - 3 years diligently saving while living with this sternum fat (disclaimer: not in reference to "breasts" overall, but how I feel about mine) is a really discouraging, daunting thought. Prior to coming out and starting my transition, I didn't anticipate that it would amplify a lot and actually become more difficult in many ways than it had been. Since change and hope have become a reality for me in regards to this part of my being, I've admittedly grown impatient. I waited until I just couldn't take it anymore before I snapped and made an appointment with a therapist for the first time in my life, which instantly led to coming out and starting testosterone. After spending 14 or so years repressing, ignoring, and letting it gnaw up my insides, my mind, my self-esteem... the lid just blew off the steaming kettle. I just want to finally.connect . I'm tired of it. I'm tired of stressing out. I'm tired of being ...

Yesterday my friend, Gina, came over to help me bury my little friend. We made him a grave by a cute tree that will be nourished with little bits of Socrates for years to come (it sounds creepy, but it's true). I placed his little body in there with my left hand, buried him, then went inside to comfort Ben. Ben hadn't left his little house all day. He was acting frazzled and afraid, but when I held him and cupped him in my left hand, his little nose sniffed it and he instantly calmed down. Then he licked my hand for about 10 minutes, which he'd never done before. Here's the last image of my little baby Socrates, suckling on his water bottle: Sigh . So today I'm back at work, although I feel like I've accomplished a double-flake-whammy. Over a month ago I promised to speak on an LGBQT panel today up at the University of Utah, the theme being " In the spirit of reducing hate and its companion - fear, we offer the stories of these panelists. By knowi...

I pulled the pull cord on my engine earlier tonight and the motor revved up again. Little engine that couldn't? Psssht! Who's that? Not me. So the debate tonight was something else that has compelled me stay up past my bed time, blood shot eyes and greasy needs-to-shower skin to rant and rave in my longest and most grueling blog post yet. The core of it oriented around Equality Utah presenting arguments in support of why the Utah State Legislature should pass legislation associated with the Common Ground Initiative , while the Sutherland Institute debated why these bills should not be passed. The debate began with opening comments by each side, followed by a question-and-answer exchange between both teams. The debate concluded with a terrifying Q&A from audience members (Seriously. There was an audience member who actually shouted out that gays should want to go to prison because they would get more action and another audience member compared same-sex marriage to a man...

Gadz. Yesterday was exhausting. It's a highly dramatic analogy, but it felt like we were all skipping aboot on a field of green grass and daises (doesn't everyone feel that way about work?) and then, next thing everyone knew, we're lined up against a wall and higher management takes aim. Bullets are whizzing by, it's a whirlwind, friends are getting hit and collapsing. Tears galore. On one hand it's sad to see them hit and then, on the other, everyone who's still standing is wondering who's going to get shot next. It's like I dodged a bullet and, once the bullets stopped whizzing by, I kind of stumbled off of the bloody field through a haze of smoke shell shocked thinking, " what just happened? " Moral of the highly dramatic not even entirely relevant analogy: I was really tired last night. I usually volunteer until 9pm but left early to go home to get some rest. I actually ended up popping pimples and staying up late watching Prison Break w...

Co-workers are being fired left and right. The economic depression is really hitting us and it became real today when I went to the break room to make a sandwich and my co-worker was in tears. She had just been fired. No warning. She just came in and, next thing she knows, she doesn't have a job. An entire web of people were fired today. Some on my team, people I've been working with every day for the past few years. There's obvious tension in the air. I see the look of concern on everyone's faces. Most conversations are permeated with fear and tension, having no idea what to expect tomorrow or the day after. I feel a lot of sympathy for everyone who walked in today to discover they don't have a job and a lot of anxiety for the rest of us who are still here. For my own situation I'd gone most of my life not feeling too much anxiety over the prospect of ever losing a job. Then again, I've never been a working adult during an economic depression, ...