"can i help you, sir?"

Butches are funny creatures. At least this one is. I’m very particular about 95 percent of the time, especially when it comes to taking care of myself. I like certain things a certain way. That other 5 percent of the time completely throws me for a loop (kind of like how I’m super diligent about applying sunscreen all over except on the back of my neck, but just that little line of sunburn will make me pay).

For instance, I will go completely out of my way to have Burt’s Bees beeswax lip stuff; it’s my favorite, and nothing else works as well. It’s to the point where I panic a little if it’s not in my right front pocket. Even though I know I’m off without it, I never really took proactive steps to make sure I had backup until a few years ago.

It started after I spilled on one of my favorite shirts again and began bemoaning the fact that it would certainly stain the fabric. One of my smart and pretty co-workers said, “Why don’t you just keep Shout Wipes at your desk?” So simple, right? Especially since I tend to spill more often than the average person (does anyone have a statistic on that?). Yet until she mentioned it to me, it hadn’t ever occurred to me think ahead.

So I decided to pick up some Shout Wipes. Then I started thinking of what else I could keep at my desk to make my life a little easier, instead of getting caught unprepared and raising my blood pressure. It started out modestly: Shout Wipes. Mints. Advil. Hand lotion. Mini bottles. You know, the basics. Before long, I was adding a toothbrush and toothpaste, dental flossers, deodorant, antacids, a manicure kit (a semi-masculine one, mind you), cold medicine and touch-up shoe polish. Oh, and an extra Burt’s Bees for the days when I forget it at home. I ended up with a pretty nice little collection of things.*

You guys, it was almost like having a purse.

I also kept a spare button-down in my closet, which came in handy for spills of mass destruction. It also worked well for the times when I needed to upgrade my business casual Friday outfit because of an unforeseen client crisis or media interview. Or both.

My job now isn’t quite as formal, but I still keep that little butch care kit** at the office. I used to have a modified version of it in the car too, so I need to replace that. I think it’s downright handy to have some of the basic self-care items around – whatever those items might be – no matter what you do for work. And it completely appeases my inner OCD demons.

Did I miss anything? What else would you add to the kit?

*I can neither confirm nor deny whether or not my butch care kit now contains cuticle cream.

**I’m not thrilled with this name, but I can’t think of anything else to call it. Office purse? Butch hoarding? I’m open to suggestions.

In a previous life, I worked at a public relations agency. The attitude there was a work hard, play hard – at warp speed. It was stressful, yet creative. Individual expression was the norm. One day, I was called into a meeting with my manager. I could tell something was wrong by the way she wouldn’t really make eye contact with me. She began with I’ve been told to tell you and then explained that my attire was not professional. Not only that, but some people were concerned about the negative impression it might give potential clients. And apparently my outfit that very day had raised some questions; I was wearing jeans, a short-sleeved button down, and flip flops. Let me be clear – the clothes I was wearing were high-quality; it wasn’t the frat boy uniform it was being portrayed to be. And besides, it was summer, and most of us were more casual that day because we were attending a patio happy hour right after work. It wasn’t how I dressed every day, and certainly not at client meetings.

I felt humiliated and ashamed. I’d never been told anything remotely close to that before in my life. I just kind of nodded while she made a pointed effort to say that she didn’t see why it was such a big deal and this wasn’t the way that she liked to do business, but the damage was already done. (I knew she was just the messenger; the only person who could tell her to say that to me was the VP of the department, and he never seemed at ease around me.) The best part was that as I left the meeting room, I glanced over to see a male co-worker, chatting at someone’s desk, wearing flip flops, jeans and a t-shirt.

Just remembering that incident still makes my stomach twist and my face burn. To this day, I’m very wary of appearing too casual at work, even if we’re encouraged to do so because of a work event. Not only that, but it’s tough sometimes to reside in that gray area between honoring my own authenticity and the expectations of someone else, especially when that someone else is a superior. In my younger days, I was definitely influenced by what I thought I should wear, versus what I was comfortable wearing and what I thought best represented me because I was worried about the reaction I’d get.

Now that I’m more comfortable in my gender identity, my wardrobe is 99 percent men’s clothing; that’s just how butch looks on me. This hasn’t always been easy, and it’s certainly had its more difficult moments because for some people, the dress code for men is simply different than it is for women, even if the clothing itself is exactly the same.But I’ve learned a couple of things. I’m no fashion expert, but I threw together a few simple tips that have helped me out along the way. I think they’re general enough to be useful no matter where I work, and they have nothing to do with how much I spend on my clothes. So here’s my top eight, because I’m too random for a nice, round number: Continue reading

I had to entertain an executive’s 10-year-old daughter for a portion of my day today. I was just one in a line of employees in my department who had to chat with her about what we do. Secretly, I think he just forgot he was supposed to do something with her today, so he sent her to us.

I showed her a few things I’ve worked on and asked her a few questions. The kid is pretty bright, I will say that. It wasn’t as horrible as I thought it would be. Don’t get me wrong; I like kids, and I’m good  with them. But there’s something about having them at work that totally throws me off. It’s hard for me to switch from work mode to kid-friendly mode sometimes. But she and I had a pretty good time.

At one point, she asked me if she could ask a few ice breaker questions that she’d brought with her. Her first question was simple enough: What historical sporting event do you wish you could attend? Easy: the 1908 World Series, which is the last time the Chicago Cubs won. Her next question: If you could change your name to anything, what would it be?

Yeah, what would it be? I was stumped. I’m actually totally at peace with my given name; it feels comfortable on me. It’s not super feminine, which I think would make me uncomfortable. Balancing my masculinity with a feminine name would bother me on some level, I think. I can’t imagine being a Sarah or Vanessa or Mindy. Those names are all perfectly fine, by the way; it’s nothing against the name, I’m just glad it’s not my name. The only names that had come to mind were those that could go either way: Sam, Jesse, Shawn, you get the idea. I told her I was at a loss, but she apparently wasn’t.

“You look like a Chase to me. That would be a good one for you. Or Chandler.”

“You’re not, like, a regular girl. You look like you’d want a cool name instead of a pretty one.”*

It might seem like a little thing, but in that few minutes, I felt like this kid actually saw me. She looked at me and actually thought about what I would like. She gauged my mannerisms, looks and personality and came to a conclusion that was incredibly insightful, in my opinion. I actually really appreciated it, even though I couldn’t express to her why. And then we were off, talking about her totally weird neighbor who had a baby girl and named her Xantha.

The whole experience reminded me why I actually like kids. No judgment, no expectations, no rules. A lot of adults could learn from that.

*Wanting something cool instead of something pretty could pretty much sum up my life’s wishes. Barbie? No thank you. Pocketknife? Yes, please.

I haven’t had all the time that I want to write lately. I’m under tremendous stress at work in a job I hate, so when I’m not at work or job hunting (shh), I’m trying to just relax. My personal life is also crazy for other reasons too, not the least of which was a car accident the other day in which some unfortunate soul decided to just ram her car into mine on the freeway.

But! There have been good things, too.

Quality time in the hammock

I saw Jonatha Brooke in concert again!

Want to be an OG on July 4th? Wear a glow necklace and drink apricot hefeweizen. FROM THE BOTTLE.

I saw Brandi Carlile in concert again, too.

I cuddled with a magnum of cava while my friend ... well, anyway.

I’ve had good times with great company this summer, including two amazing concerts, and more fun on the way. Here’s to more fun on the horizon – I need it to retain my sanity! And if you have the chance to see either Jonatha Brooke OR Brandi Carlile this summer, you should certainly do so. Both are amazing artists who make incredible music.

Oh, and the title of this post is from “Of Graves” by another favorite singer, Alexa Wilkinson:

I’ve been in a bit of a writer’s funk lately. I blame it mostly on the fact that I’m in the midst of a HUGE writing project at work, the kind that is causing me to work some 13-15 hour days in the past few weeks, in addition to some weekend work. That project is making my brain feel like mush, and the last thing I want to do when I finally get home is open up the laptop to write. If I can get a decent dinner made, some quality time with the kittehs, and maybe a bit of reading in before I hit the hay, I’d say that’s a good day.

But this type of post is usually pretty easy for me to write, and it actually cheers me up a little (I’ve had a very bad attitude for the past three weeks. So much so that my WBFF has given me an evil alter ego named Santiba, which he says he hopes goes away when my project is done). And if it helps me get back on the horse with writing because I love it and want it and need it, that’s even better.

Things I love. Go:

Phone calls and emails from far-away friends. Fresh raspberries. Barbecues. Turning my alarm off on weekend mornings. Hiking in warm weather. Joking around with my brother. Weekend getaways. Summer concerts. Getting home and finally relaxing for the evening. Happy hour. Shorts. Ginger ale + vodka + fresh strawberries. A cool breeze at night. Spending time with my best friend. Unexpected cards in the mail. Chips + salsa + handmade guacamole. Baseball. Collaborative creativity. Flip flops. My new favorite local market. My goddogs. Florence and the Machine.

Okay. Things you love. Go.

In the meantime, enjoy.