Atypical Trans Late Bloomer

Last weekend I went out to two events, a Bear coffee klatsch and a BiSexual dinner-and-discussion group. They were both very interesting. They made me feel welcome and it was pretty comfortable. Living alone is a hard transition, and I've got it pretty good. I'm staying in a friend's house which is empty, because they winter in Florida. I have the house until April 1st, which is five weeks away. I need to come up with a plan. My plan for the spring and summer is: I'm going to be a trail tramp. I'm going to ride back and forth on the GAP and C&O, ride a lot of miles, camp almost every night. I think I can live that way cheaper than getting a cheap apartment. It appeals to me more than getting a cheap apartment. We'll see if the experience matches the appeal. I'm going to consider this my "GAP year". (GAP Trail, GAP Year, I'll be here all week) So I'm on the verge of what could be called chosen homelessness, or it could be called a sum

First, we have from Slate: Just because you're Suicidal doesn't mean you're mentally ill" , a rational examination of the question of suicide. I believe we should treat suicide somewhat like we treat guns and abortion: a 30-day waiting period, a clinic to go to, and either self-administered or assisted suicide for those unable to do the act themselves due to disability (no hands, for instance). It would solve a lot of problems. Primarily to me, it would solve the problem of a suicide's body left for some poor unwilling participant to find, to haul out of the river, to cut down out of the noose, to see the body with the head shot off. The family members called to some obscure location because their loved one's car was discovered in the river - we subject the Finders and the Survivors to life-long trauma because we have no place to go do what we need. We need a way to do this without harming others. Second, we see the pope has defrocked a cardinal charged wi

It's been four weeks since I've moved out of the house we shared and relocated to a town about ninety miles away. It was a rapid disconnection. I would say there was an initial "honeymoon" phase of our separation, or at least in my experience of the separation. Since then it's come back to earth. I've been quite solitary, a bit bereft, somewhat morose. Depressed. I've been fortunate to strike up some friendships with neighbors around my new quarters. I was welcomed to a Game Night, to a local arts show, to a fund-raising steak cookout. I've managed to spend some time with friends from my life before the breakup. That's how I'm measuring time now. I've referred to eras such as Grade School, High School, the Navy, when I lived in Virginia, when I lived in Pennsylvania. My new era is Post-Separation. I feel too old to be in this situation: uncertain of where I'll be living in 60 days, without having somebody else who had my back - e