Moon Memo-Wrestling, Boobs, and Windows Management
Moon Memo-Saturday April 6, 2024
Intro
Hello from Saturday April 6. My friend Elodie says that she loves how well I can relax. So why am I here doing work on the computer on my day off, instead of lying on the couch? Why did I make a work powerpoint on my day off? It's so annoying. Hello from Portland Oregon. Here's a moon memo. Don't be like me.
Wrestlemania 2-
When I was a child Hulk Hogan and Jesus had equal place in my heart. Hulk and his muscles, his pure power. Hulk with his yellow and red shirts and knee pads. Hulk and his 3 punches big boot leg drop the end. You could count on Hulk Hogan, more than fathers or teachers or God.
Today and tomorrow is Wrestlemania, a high holy day of my year. 40th anniversary of the first Wrestlemania. I didn't start watching until 2, a disaster happening in 3 cities. That means I was 6 when I watched Hogan beat King Kong Bundy, in the middle of the cage, Bundy's head split open, running away as Hulk posed in the center of the ring. I was in my mom's living room. I was laughing with joy. I knew this was it. This was the peak of my young life. It wasn't far from true.
Wrestling is great because it's opera. It's big broad strokes acted out with the illusion of violence. It's the story of good vs evil, or one person's quest to better themself, or a champion doing everything they can to stay champion. At its best, it's simple. You should be able to explain a wrestling character in 5 sentences, or 300 pages. What their motivations are. What their values are.
Hulk Hogan: say your prayers, take your vitamins, train hard, and you'll succeed.
Randy Savage: Pretend you are the best, but be paranoid you are not.
The Undertaker: A walking Corpse turned evil wizard turned biker turned mixture of all.
Roman Reigns: No one believes I'm the best, so I will do everything to prove that I am.
Stone Cold Steve Austin: I hate my boss, and don't want anyone to tell me what to do.
The Rock: I am the great one. You are beneath me. Pure arrogance.
Andre The Giant: I am Big, and Unbeatable, and I'm just happy to be here until I'm denied the chance to be the champion. I'm only evil because you have denied me.
The Million Dollar Man: I can buy my way to glory.
It's all so simple.
The world isn't simple. Sometimes you need simple things to enjoy, to keep from cracking. Wrestling provides that.
Happy Wrestlemania Weekend. If Cody Rhodes (son of a great champion, overshadowed by his father, trying to make his own way) doesn't win, I'm rioting.
Sex and dysphoria
"My bottom dysphoria is the worst it's ever been," my friend said. We were lying trans naked in her bed, topless and underweared, checking in after the long winter. Red hair and porcelain skin, snaggle tooth smile and beauty. We laid together in her small apartment, a place she only leaves for work and the occasional humaning now.
We first met before I was on hormones, when I was still hairy chested and feeling ugly. Built a friendship for years of awkward bodies. We go months without seeing each other, then fall right back into our easy friendship. I've grown more confident, more deft with my tongue and hands. We know that hormones swell our breasts and make orgasms harder. We end up cupping together, and talking, and laughing, and wishing for a better world.
Sex and Dysphoria. So many of my friends are going through surgeries right now. Hoping that this will fix everything. And I love watching so many of them glow afterwards. But I think that those of us that are running through our lives figuring it out without the knife's help are holy. I drove her to her orchi. She knows she can count on me.
"Are your breasts bigger," she asks, astonished. I don't know how, but yes. Had a growth spurt recently. I'm blessed. I still hate to look in mirrors, know I won't see the skinny girl I wanted to be. But I'm beautiful, and I'm full of love and friendship. I lay with my friend in her bed, listen to the traffic heading home. I am beautiful because we are beautiful.
Window Management
Spent about an hour on Friday fiddling with how my windows arrange on my computer when I log on. I want to be able to work without having to think about where to find each of the 10 apps I have open at all times. Why so many apps, you may ask? Why don't you work out of the browser only, like a normal human being?
Because I don't want to. That's why.
I think in a spacial way, with specific apps open at all times. To do app and calendar at the furthest left. Work communication next. Then my RSS feed. Browser in the middle. Drafts at the top right, Obsidian on the bottom right, keeping track of my notes (why use both Drafts and Obsidian? Because drafts is where words are written, and obsidian is where words live after. Makes sense to me. I hate writing directly into Obisidian, and hate finding notes in Drafts. Two apps to do the work of words).
Email on the second smaller screen, along with my personal phone chat and my music. Work browser closed unless I need it, smaller and available only for work. Never search on the work browser. Only do work tasks. It's blocked on Saturdays.
I spent an hour fiddling, trying to figure out how to make things more efficient. Useless. Just find your pattern and stick with it. It was a way to work without actually working. Work is frustrating right now. A lot of hurry up and wait until next week. This kept me busy.
I was thinking about applying as the executive director of Trans Lifeline yesterday. I'm wildly unqualified. But I would be the boss, and I have the gift of the gab. Maybe it would be a job I could be good at. I don't know. I won't apply. But it was fun to think of for a while.
Outro
I don't know if I wrote enough about my breasts, Sabina. But I'm at 1000 words, and I'm ready to sign off. I hope you all feel loved. I love you a lot.
Misha Lynn Moon