It’s been a month since moving to Missoula. How have things been going?

Well, for starters … since trying to change my number to reflect my move, I elected to get one that definitely reeks of Jersey, instead of getting a 406/Montana local phone number. I was drunk, and my VPN still located me around New York instead of something more local like Seattle or Denver, and I am not going to change it again. So, yea, shitload of services I still have to update, like banks, my apartment complex, health stuff, that kind of shit. But rather have it than what was re-assigned to my hometown 30+ years ago. But 201 is also old-school Jersey, and a part of me will always be a Jersey boy.

I haven’t yet updated my drivers license nor registration, as the local DMV is only open while I’m working—but I registered to vote. I am glad I updated things when I did, as Gianforte (our govenor) is a pain in the ass to the trans community—I can register to vote as a man.

A city car comes in handy for city living. How many times have I found tight spacing where other cars would barely, if unable to fit?

I have engaged more with the local lgbt community in the past month than I have in the past two years since COVID hit. Karaoke, meet-and-greets, history lessons on the two-spirit.

I have changed my phone number. While trying to get one with a local area code—I was hammered on alcohol, but to relax and not drown out problems for once!—I stupidly decided I wanted one still located back in Jersey. I didn’t want one from my old area code, but the one originally assigned to NJ, to show off my scruffy heritage. I could have paid for one, but I wasn’t going to scrap up $50 when I could play the system a bit. The problem … I thought I had all my 2FA accounts covered, except my domain registrar. I am awaiting for them to validate who I am so I can update my info to my new number, and see if I can use the new 2FA addition to iOS instead.

This chapter of my life is based on a seasonal, but full-time position at a local warehouse. I doubt I will upgrade to a permanent position, but it pays the bills for now. In the meantime, I am detoxing from microaggressions I have long had to put up with as someone who’s transgender. I am easing into living on my own and taking care of myself without mooching off my parents, and having to deal with toxicities that came from such an arrangement. (Again, it’s not due to something pitiful like cerfews, it’s because of their increasing Trumpism since Biden became president and because of a toxic work environment that I chose to quit rather than continue to endure. I was once suicidal and saw the triggers—I knew I had to get out, which is why I figured it was high time to make it on my own.)

So far the culture locally and professionally has been far more laid back than anything back east. People want to help me discover new sites. People are helping me network. Cooperation means more than competition, whether informally or at work. It’s also a liberal haven, a safe space; I have finally reached a point in my life where my, and others’, existence are no longer up for debate, and if someone tries to, I don’t have to tolerate it anymore—I can simply up and leave.

I still hate the cold. That’s the only thing I so far hate about out here.

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