I gots nuttin' ta say.

So, I'll blog. 'Cuz I know there's stuff on my mind. And hopefully, some of it will take shape in random words. Blog as Rorschach Test, perhaps?

I'm back from vacation. Drove a long time on Friday, had a late lunch with the ex-, drinks with a college buddy, and completely snubbed my t-friends in Omaha.

Saturday, more driving. Lunch with another college buddy, and then a family reunion.

And that was the template until Tuesday, when I drove home, and my trip started over: lots of driving, snubbing a t-friend in Missouri, and more driving.

One might think that after 15 hours on the road, I'd have some deep thought to share.

No. No more, no fewer than usual. Perhaps because I was focused on making a vlog of the journey. For my guy identity. Because the guy identity has been dominant lately. Very dominant.

For more than a month, probably going on two, Ronnie's been almost hibernating. Until Monday, I had a full beard. (Now it's a stylist goatee.) I don't know why. But, it drives me nuts, this going-back-and-forth thing, these pendulum swings: in the days before the this swing to the macho side, I'd been gung-ho about everything trans... to the point where I was considering hormones, and wondering how I could pay for electro, or laser.

And the reason I don't, or haven't done anything like going full-time? Because I know the man will come roaring back, with manly interests, manly pursuits, and macho pasttimes. (Okay, as a friend pointed out that while I'm hardly macho, it's relative.)

And I don't purge or take down my online presence because I know Ronnie will rise again. I can't figure it out. But I know I just want a little consistency.

There. Whaddya know. A blog.

***
Changing gear: we had all 17 members of the clan together, for the first time since the summer of 2007. Those nephews are cute, but damn, they're loud. And kinetic. Hard for adults to have any kind of meaningful discussion, when the parents and grandparents are constantly chasing little ones.

And now that I'm back home, and everything is in its place, I find that I'm missing them. Maybe not missing them specifically, as I do like quiet, but I'm missing the human presence. I'm finding it to be a feeling not dissimilar from the blues I get after a fun femme night out. And that just solidifies my theory on that: Just because you're depressed after a night, or a weekend with lots of good femme time doesn't mean you're TS. It just means you enjoy having fun.