So yesterday I get the best Christmas gift ever! As I write this he's napping in the bedroom after I fed him a huge holiday dinner.
What I said to my husband… And what I couldn’t say.
It all ties into the same thing really...
Lots of stuff going on since I last posted.
So the last week has been a little slice of hell...Mixed with a little slice of affirmation(leavened with some idiocy). Anyway, step 1 of getting hubby healthy has been accomplished. Full mouth extraction(Which his cardiologist insisted on prior to surgery to repair a congenital Atrio-Septal Defect). He tried to chicken out and I had to gently bully him into going.
The surgery itself went just fine, although he almost didn't survive check-in. Not from any medical issue aside from my intense desire to strangle him...
I haven't written anything for a while, I've been dead busy with a new job, transitioning and having a great life. As the title of this blog suggests, I should have known it was all too good to be as perfect and wonderful as it seemed.
I always bike and I'm so involved with dodging traffic and not running into things and people that I don't think about myself or how I look or anything. Its like the world isn't relevant. So yesterday, because I had a flat, I walked and I totally had this major freakin moment of self realization/actualization/recognition.
I also realized that the tan on my legs makes me look like I'm wearing a twelve year old's stay-ups.
I went and got a fresh tire and innertube yesterday and just now I went to install them, preparatory to going grocery shopping. The tyre wasn't a problem. The tube, however, had some sort of newfangled valve that I've never seen the likes of and that my tyre pump won't fit.
Oh, and I can totally tell you that using american tools on a bike with metric fittings is a recipe for scraped-up hands and lots of rather inventive cursing....
Anyway, I'm bruised and scraped and I still don't have a bloody working bike.
I ran across this article yesterday and just had to share it.
What an incredibly lucky little girl, and what a great dad!
It was Saturday night, the evening after the airshow(so I thought).
I was a tad pissed, but not too much. I had been unable to even see the airshow from my house, unlike the normal deal where the stunts were mainly focused on one of the airbases’ runways which happened to be not more than a mile or so from my house.
Anyway, when our sort-of kid called and said he was taking the boat out to the harbor to watch the next day’s airshow, I was excited. I had to argue it out with hubby, but I was determined to go, and I was determined not to go as a boy.
Watching this video reminded me of a time when the world was new and bright and I was young and hopeful.
The wall had just fallen a couple of years before and it was a time when we all wanted something better than the clusterfuck we've got...
2 songs that meant a lot to me then.
I wanted to give yawl the 1989 video, the one that gave me hope for a better world back then, but I think this one is more appropriate. Sadder, wiser, but still hopeful.
The music that made me angry enough to live. Nothing short of pissing me off that badly was enough to do the trick.
Crank it up!
And just because I thought I'd be kinda brutal, here's the last kick in the teeth.
There are lots of things to say about Afghanistan's plains, but I think Metallica has done something really important here and I wanted to share the video with yawl.
I might write a story to go with this, but honestly, I think anything I might add would be a pitiful effort beside the story they tell. This is something worthy of Kipling.
I was gonna do this as a comment on another blog post, but I figured it was important enough to have it's own spot.
At the link below is a website telling the history of Bikini Atoll. It is not a happy story.
I gotta tell you, I wish I could be as proud of my country as these kids are(justifiably, IMHO).
Here's the official version.
A few months ago I remember responding to someone who asked would people be willing to post a photo. Nothing Salacious, just a sort of "Hey, this is me!"
Well, at the time, I didn't have any photos of myself, but I did state my willingness to post one, so here it is. Now whoever asked has to look at my face every time I comment on something. Serves ya right!
That was when my sis visited at the end of Novemeber '09. Great visit, horrible picture. Now let the making fun commence!
So I sent this letter off to my parents, not really expecting a reply.
Well, I get up today, ready to go run errands and while I'm throwing a braid in and getting ready for a little bicycling odyssey my mom calls. I was unsure whether to answer. After a moment's hesitation I answered.
You could have knocked me over with a feather. She says "Well, we got your letter."
I just mailed this letter to my parents. I figure it's my birthday, why not?
I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just get right to it. Mom, Dad, I am a transsexual. I am transitioning from male to female now and should have done so 25 years ago at least. I debated bothering with telling you, I know that I am dead to you per your religion and have been for 23 years. You disapprove of me for simply being gay, so I’m pretty sure you’ll think this is worse. I actually wish I were just gay, it would have made things so much easier.
A musical story cycle. Listen and hopefully enjoy. If you don't enjoy it, that's ok too.
I didn’t feel good about what I’d done. Strike that. I felt absolutely awful about what I’d done, what Jimmy and coach Morrison had encouraged me to do even when I knew in my soul it was wrong. I‘d damn near killed that poor girl. Her punctured lung and compound fracture were entirely the result of my insanely hard hit, a hit I knew I should have pulled because I saw the kick go clean…
The something is this...
I'm trying to be very spare with the storytelling, sketchy even, and allowing, even demanding the music to supply the emotional content. I'm not entirely happy with the results and anyone who has an idea how I could address my artistic shortcomings re this endeavour is welcome to say their piece.
Another musical interlude.....
Halftime was over and we were down by 10. I gave a quick shout out to Karla who relayed it to Geoff. I had a hard time getting the guys to wait, but when they heard the opening strains of the song I’d asked for, they changed somehow. A batch of somewhat dispirited football players turned into a team of… Geee, I don’t know, but definitely something predatory and very nasty. They were stomping in unison and charged onto the field as the bleachers shook beneath the crowd.
Well, somebody mentioned writing a story centered a round a song. This one has always spoken powerfully to me.
We had been together since Junior High, but I was still scared. Make that terrified. It was the first time ever that any of my classmates would ever see me as I truly am, as I had always wanted to be. I knew I had the love of a good man, one who had wanted to have me on his arm for the Junior prom. And he’d made it clear he’d be crushed if I didn’t come this time and I loved him so much and… anyway, I said yes when he asked me.
I've passed the point of no return. I told hubby tonight what I have been doing for the past 2 months, to wit, HRT
Self prescribed and incredibly irresponsible, yes. Preferable to the alternative (which I almost did) of suicide?
Will hubby throw me away? I dunno. I hope not. I wouldn't know what to do with myself.
You will be missed.
So I've made my decisions and now that it is time to begin implementing them, I'm really quite scared, much more so than I had hoped or thought I might be. I look at myself and think I really must be quite the coward, to have pushed myself to almost dying just because I couldn't stand the thought of losing love, when that isn't even a certainty. I mean, I'm truthfully not changing from the person he fell in love with, I've been the same way the whole time.
Okay, I have some interesting info to share today. It turns out you can get a beauty consultant to come to your home and do a full makeover on you in private and then sell you the products!
I had no idea this was an option except on the very high end, but I was talking with my sister a while ago and she sells Mary Kay cosmetics part time. I wound up asking her if she had a problem doing the home makeovers for TG people and she replied "Of course not!".
I've had the most brilliant experiences yesterday and the day before. I'm still on an emotional high from them.
I didn't lose any friends on 9/11, but a friend of mine was there(in NYC)and sheltered a lot of people when it went down. I have lost friends in the subsequent wars.
I will not make any political commentary of any kind here, and I would ask yawl to please follow suit, but I would like to ask one thing, that we all take a moment to remember our honored dead.
That, I think, is only proper.
I found myself living with my parents again, only this time they wanted me to pay 300 dollars a month worth of rent and they still expected me to live by their rules. My sister had managed to move out and she lived in a ramshackle trailer that smelled something awful. It was a mixture of mildew and sulfur(from the water). She did her best to fix it up and make it look decent and the truth is, I was jealous of her.
The same old argument raved again.
“Look, how can you not understand that I have always needed to be a woman?”
“You stupid fuckin faggit, all I ever wanted was a man with a dick! I told you 20 fuckin years ago that if you wanted that, you need to go be a whore or find yourself a rich man to do that for you! You sure as hell don’t fill my needs! All you are is a goddamned fag that couldn’t accept the fact that he was gay so he thought he had to be a female!”
I'm not exactly sure what I said because the blog entry was depublished and I did not save it on my own machine.
In any case, apparently I have offended people and I apologize for this.
Specifically, I apologize to Kristina and Angharad.
I am sorry, I did not mean to be offensive.
I would be more specific, but I'm not sure exactly how I offended.
I will no longer darken your doors.
I abase myself, beg your forgiveness, every other way I can think of to say that I am truly sorry and I hope you can overlook my intolerable rudeness.
Sean walked into the store, nervous about her bicycle. There wasn’t anyplace outside the store to tie it to, so she was left with nervously watching her bike through the window while she stood in a line at least 20 people long. She fretted while the line proceeded slowly toward the counter. Just as she was about 5 people from the front of the line, a guy just walked into the line in front of her. She was completely dumbfounded and had no idea what to say to him, but after about five minutes of nervously eyeing her bike through the window, she decided she had to say something.
Admin Note: Sephrena I have disabled commenting because this thread is spiralling towards argument. It's best to leave this be and agree that some cannot agree on this issue.
Sometimes, I kinda doubt my femininity. I mean, I grew up with images of women who were just as strong as the men they loved, but to be honest, I think I’d have to call myself a Warrior woman if I’m any sort of woman at all. Think Red Sonja, except more militantly feminist.
I suppose today at the dollar store would be a perfect example of what I mean.
“Like it or not, you are our only hope. I just thank my lucky stars you aren’t as homely as Obi-Wan Kenobi.” If they hadn’t both been so exhausted, that would have triggered another round of sex. As it was, they snuggled into each other’s embrace and fell fast asleep, not without some giggling.
Vasily was plainly nervous, fidgeting in the back seat as they approached the glass and steel edifice that was CareGiver’s Orlando facility. The heat as they stepped out into the sun was an oppressive blast in the face even though it was still early in the day and He found himself adding to his nervous perspiration with genuine sweat as the foursome entered the building and strolled across the lobby to find Anne at her usual post.
I don't even know how to say this. I've always known that my man doesn't like women in any way, in fact, he hates anything even remotely tinged with femaleness.
“I know what you’re thinking of doing!” She hissed the words into Sean’s ear. “I just want you to know that every single one of us backs you. Just make sure you hit the right target!” Sean broke their embrace and looked into Anne’s eyes, searching for something, some sense of the other woman that would tell her how to respond. In the end, there was only one thing she could say.
“Captain Honore, this is Captain Helen Hunt of the Fleet Strike Carrier Hermes. That would be the “Giant piece of shit we choose to call a ship”. I would appreciate your company in my ready room ASAP. I think we have some items of mutual interest to discuss. When do you think I can expect the pleasure of your company?”
Today was the first day of the rest of my life and I hated it. I bade goodbye to my husband the night before. He looked into my eyes and told me he loved me before he died.
I spent my day looking for stray aluminum cans. 500 cans meant I’d be able to stay the night at the Salvation Army as long as I got to the recycling center before 5 o’clock.
I'm so angry right now.
He had an evasion course programmed, and he found himself holding his breath as the clock ticked downward, holding a single finger supported by the others, ready to stab the button which would cause his ship to engage in fairly violent maneuvers. He nervously checked his harness with the other hand as the numbers on his boards dwindled toward zero.
This is the story of my life, at least the bits I remember. Some of it is missing and some of it may be just a little off, but here it is.