January 24th, two weeks of slow moving non-winter. I avoid the media due to it being "all Trump, all the time" with the increasing fear mongering from the Hillary camp since they have once again misjudged the commoner's intelligence and need for the non-corrupted candidate. They will revert to mud slinging and lies and in the end, lose. It got cold for awhile and the cosmos seems to have sucked out all the energy I had in reserve. Full moon depression is in effect and a week from my 66th birthday I'm not looking forward to another year of the same life. I've hit a huge wall in the two major parts of it, continuing transition and music. Transition is in idle. After 13 years of hormone treatment, this old body has changed as much as it can on its own which is not nearly enough for me to feel like the person I am inside my head. I need to be acceptable to myself as well as the broader public and that will never happen without some expensive surgeries. The current hype and exposure of trans people, particularly the celebrity, moneyed and surgically reconstructed trans people has made it much more difficult for those like myself to continue to move among the cis-gendered without being pointed at. If was better when no one knew what transgender meant, I was just an old lady with a husky voice. I do have friends but because of the stares, mis-gendering and behind the back questioning I will never let anyone get close to me. The music problem is just a follow up to that. I've given up any thoughts of ever being a professional musician again because the genres of music I play are not likely to be accepting of me in the foreseeable future. That's to say nothing of the fact that I'm "aged out" of any real chance of that happening anyway. I need to find a new drug, one that makes you like being alone.

January 7th, it got warm again in New England, thanks, El Nino. I can't ski for shit so I have no complaints for mild winters. Cowboy clowns in a bird sanctuary . . . alive because they're not black or hispanic. It would be comical if it wasn't so pathetic and an example of what's wrong with this country. They brought guns to a protest so they must expect to go down like Bowie and Crockett. I hope they get their wish. The Donald gets clobbered in Bernieland. If anyone doesn't know by now that Trump's been working for the Clintons then go back to bed. TransCanada Pipeline goons sue the USA for not coming through with the XL Pipeline deal. A little bit early on this one . . . the TPP which is not passed yet but is silently progressing with a media blackout will have a provision that will allow corporations to sue governments in cases like this . . . claiming corporate rule trumps national interest. what a world, what a world. Enough about you and the world, what about me? Well, I'll be sixty-six at the end of this month and that means I won't be insane anymore. I got my letter from the government telling me that I no longer will be designated as a disability due to mental illness but I will advance to just being old and therefore will collect ordinary social security. See, time cures everything. Many of you may not have known that I was insane as I pulled that off quite well. It will be nice to be elderly and harmless for once. By the way, I'm almost finished with the restoration of a vintage katana. Got my amended birth certificate stating that my gender designation was mistakenly recorded by the attending nurse. Frankly, I think that's a non-apology from pseudo-liberal MA legislators. Don't acknowledge the science, just blame it on the nurse. I'll take it nonetheless. No more hoop-jumping. It doesn't change much on the reality show of my transgender life, however. There will still be the mis-gendering, the staring by overweight local-yokels in the diner and the self-loathing, that never goes away. Every social media post by a celebrity or celebrity-wannabe trans person just adds more to my depression, especially the self-proclaimed academic experts and activists. Go fuck yourself, I say. There goes my spot on "I am Cait". Not much else, the world did not end today.

Ah, back again. It's 2016, a new year and I believe it's a year of writing. the fact is, I don't see past this year so I assume it is a year of diary. I was much like my father until I transitioned so that may have set the course of my lifetime askew. As I now believe that my genetic inheritance of my gender dysphoric nature is a given, I can only surmise what my ancestors felt in their confusion of gender ambiguity. As far as I know, they handled it admirably, unless I'm entirely wrong and my gender variant problems are quite happenstance as is the rule of chaos. So be it, Pooh tweet and all that. I need to speak nonetheless. As formidable as I was, I don't have the means to complete this journey. I'm stuck on a planet in a situation of little return for my efforts and I have no transport available. The beings here are quaint but ineffectual. Some work against the other for self gain while others simply give in to the status quo. There are few real warriors here. They are easily manipulated into following a stronger presence but I see no value in that. There is no reason to rally these people since there is no valid cause to set them to fight for. They are lost. They have actually deteriorated their own environment for the sake of individual profit, meaning that some of them are willing to sacrifice others to better themselves. In all the galaxy this is the worst behavior of an aware species that I've encountered. If I can't get beyond this situation then I think that this will be my last cycle, therefore I've decided to record this last year in text. Over.