It doesn't happen often... but since my car caught a massive roofing nail on Saturday and no one was open Sunday to fix it (including the Walmart Automotive Center on Airport Way that I discovered is unfortunately and permanently closed), I had to leave my car at the house whilst we went back to the apartment in Seattle. Kimmer had to use her car during her lunch hour on Monday which meant I had no car for getting back to the house. So fine.
Public transportation.
Actually, the way it worked out was walking a half mile to the light rail station, taking the light rail to Northgate, catching a bus right there to the Lynnwood Transit Center, catching a bus directly west to Highway 99, transferring to the Swift Blue Line to a little over a mile-and-a-half from the house, then walking the rest of the way to the house.
It was that kind of morning.
Now, my plan was to do some writing or reading along the way but, right as I left on my travels I called a friend and we stayed with that conversation (catching up, really) through my walk, through the light rail to Northgate, while waiting for the bus, then riding the bus to the Lynnwood Transit center where we had to wrap it up 'cause I had to figure out my next bus and my friend had to hit the grocery store.
So far, the public transportation commute had gone without a hitch with pretty tight connections. Now that I was faced with local buses, however, the schedules were not so tight. There's no need for them to be so tight, of course, except for the fact that the first conceivable connection for me was close to forty-five minutes away and I needed all the minutes I could get to take care of my car as well as meet up with people who wanted to pick up furniture we posted on Craigslist and OfferUp.
Google Maps was helpful inasmuch as it provided variations on routes to the house including ones that started with buses yet somehow ended with a Lyft ride, each iteration of the trip maddeningly eating more time than the previous ones. At some point in there I remembered a long time ago I'd made it to the Lynnwood Transit Center in the midst of a snowstorm and had begun walking toward highway 99 where hopefully the road was clearer for transit. Halfway to 99, I caught sight of a bus heading my way from the transit center on its way to (or in the direction of) 99. So, fast forward back to the present day where I know about that bus, I look it up, and discover it's in a nearby bay three minutes from heading out.
Bingo.
The bus drops me near a corner along 99 where there's a Swift Station with a bus due in five minutes. I swipe my card and wait... wait... then get on the bus when it pulls up. I enter the rear section since it's basically right in front of me, taking the bench seat across from the door. A minute later, someone's standing pretty close to me in this not very full bus so I look up.
It's the transit cops!
Good thing I swiped my card 'cause they really do check who paid and who didn't once you get outside, you know, Seattle.
Anyway...
It's a Swift bus so I'm at my stop in no time which also happens to be the stop for the transit cops, the pair of them. I ask them a little about their job, by the way, and the kind of day they're having which, it turns out is so far thankfully uneventful. I was most curious if they had a list of buses and places they had to be... with the answer being they didn't have a rigid agenda for the day, just a number of buses they needed to ride in both directions. So having ridden up to my stop, they made their way across the street to catch the next bus back. Before parting, they wondered if my interest in their work indicated I was interested in getting a job with transit because, you know, there are jobs available.
I politely denied interest and we went our separate ways.
As I crossed the street, it struck me that I hadn't run into any kind of transit authority on bus or light rail for years now.
Seriously.
Years.
Ain't that somethin' ?
At this point, I checked to see what time a connecting bus would come to take me to the closest point to my house.
20 minutes.
I checked to see how much Uber and Lyft would cost.
8 bucks.
So I walked the rest of the way for the steps. The 12,000 steps I'm aiming for each and every day.
Apparently.
By 'n by, I'm at the house. I beat the bus, by the way. Never saw it pass as I walked. After dropping a few things at the house, I turned around, jumped in my car with the massive roofing nail in its front tire, and drove to Les Schwab where their techs fixed it for free.
For.
Free.
I was outta there in about forty-five minutes, part of which was the techs finishing up previous jobs before getting to mine. They confirmed the no charges nature of the day's work, they gave me a heads up about assessing our rear tires at the end of summer, beginning of fall, and I was on. my. way.
The rest of the day was pretty nothingburger. Coordinating with Craigslist and OfferUp clients, a bunch of shopping at the end, the drive back to the apartment, followed by dinner and The Diplomat on Netflix.
The big deal about the remains of the afternoon is that it was my first opportunity to work in my new edit suite.
Oh... it's not an edit suite yet. All my gear's still at the apartment. However, Kimmer has been working on the room, transforming it from its former glory days as Linzy's bedroom. The brightly colored walls that were really scrapbook design writ large... were muted way, way back, painted over in what experts in color, especially the color brown, call "tope". The curtains Kimmer hung actually hold most of the outside light at bay, leaving the room quite dark. Darker than its ever been in broad daylight. Darkest at the wall against which my workstation will be.
In the meantime, there's a small couch in front of the window, a couch once use at her office in Ballard once upon a time before the pandemic. In front of the couch is a faux leather storage bench coffee table which, if you flip the top over, serves as a table, a super convenient desk/work area for producers when they come up to work, is what Kimmer's thinking.
Speaking of producers, the space that was formerly dedicated to being Linzy's closet, is now an open space with a pair of cabinet drawers painted like Harry Potter luggage with the drawer handles doubling as the "suitcase" handles. The tops of the cabinets combine to form a tabletop upon which rests a coffee pot and other items in preparation for a place for drinks and snacks. Because yeah. Kimmer completely knows what she's doing. And it's exciting to see this space, my future edit suite, take shape.
Even Linzy's a little jealous. 😉
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what do you mean youre technically a detransitioner cause of terf bullshit?
it's a v long story but i detransitioned for a couple of years when i was 16/17, for multiple reasons but mostly because i fell into the blaire white/kalvin garrah chamber of "you have to be This way to be trans otherwise you're not real".
i was already Deeply insecure about myself and my 'passing' and i was led to believe that i couldn't want to wear makeup or skirts, and i couldn't choose not to have bottom surgery, and i couldn't do anything but bind for 12+ hours a day to the point that my ribcage is still misshapen. basically i thought that if i wasn't suffering enough doing 'feminine' things, i couldn't really be trans, so i should just go back to being a girl and suck it up.
the terf bullshit is because i'd seen a lot of terfs/detransitioners talking about the 'dangers' of testosterone and how it would turn me into a horrible ugly evil monster and how there was nothing worse than wanting to be a man. which combined with 'you need to fully medically transition to be valid at all' creates some very dangerous and upsetting feelings to cope with.
it also came from trying really hard to put myself in a little box before i realised that my sexuality/gender are very fluid and it's FINE for me not to have a label and just do whatever i want. when i was 19 or so i went back to using they/them (and eventually he/him) and changed my name again because even though i like doing 'feminine' things, i don't want to be seen as a woman.
tldr: i was conditioned by transphobic/terf rhetorics to think that i was being trans the 'wrong' way so i couldn't be trans at all, so i believed i must actually be a girl if i still wanted to do 'feminine' things. nowadays i am a transmasc who does feminine things because i don't give two shits about what any transmed prick thinks of me anymore.
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truly the most egregious part of the 2012 Les Mis is that they changed Valjean’s line from
“It’s the story of those who always loved you, your mother gave her life for you then gave you to my keeping.”
to
“it’s the story, of one who turned from hating. The man who only learned to love when you were in his keeping.”
LIKE?????!! How dare they remove Valjean specifically mentioning Fantine’s sacrifice and putting that before he mentions his own part in the story?? How dare they make Valjean imply that it was only when Cosette came into his keeping that he stopped hating everything and learned to love WHEN THE FUCKING BISHOP IS THE REASON FOR THE GODDAMN SEASON????
Like OF COURSE Cosette softened Valjean, of course he became a better man when he became her father, of course their relationship is important.
But this story would not have happened without the love of the bishop and it was his love that rekindled the love that was dormant in Valjean’s heart. And it was Fantine that fanned that flame, then Cosette’s that kept it steady.
I just hate how flat it makes Valjean’s story seem. “It’s the story, of those who always loved you.” Is THE answer Cosette has been searching for her whole life. I wish they’d kept it in instead of feeling like the audience would only feel fulfilled by Valjean’s story if he only mentioned his direct relationship to Cosette.
Whatever idk. It’s a good Les Mis for a lot of reasons, but a bad one for a lot of reasons too 🥲
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