Parenting A Headache

I never intended to stay with my parents longer than a week; just stopped in to say, "hi," catch up with a few friends, get some badly needed beauty treatments, and move on. I did, after all, have a $140K/yr job waiting for me in Manhattan.

I didn't last a week.

They flat out refuse, under no uncertain terms, to even acknowledge my transition. Calling me by my old name, using male pronouns. To quote:

Just because you changed your name doesn't mean we changed it.

I didn't even mention (again) the fact my driver's license and passport both say 'F'.

Oh it gets better... from the mother, just after the above doozie:

You only think of yourself; you're the one that abandoned us.

>blink, blink<

Okaaaaay. Clearly all that crap about being true to yourself was just that. I didn't even respond. In this badly fractured family, one only needs to go to bed and in the morning, everyone pretends like nothing happened the day before. It's like Groundhog Day meets the Osborns.

Of course, this was the third time in three day I went to bed early without saying anything. This house is a toxic mix of stale cigarette smoke, bitter moods, and dreams unfulfilled. It doesn't matter anymore what I say, they argue or affirm the opposite of every statement. The collective mindset of the household has gotten nasty. Even the dogs are not immune to the resentment, Phoebe has gotten quite hateful and possessive, and each dog only wants what the other one has, be it attention from one of us or just a toy.

I remember listening to an interview with Alan Alda, talking about how his mother developed paranoid schizophrenia and how the family dealt with it. He and his father never - ever - said one word about the problems in the family. I'm forced to worry the same might be true here.

What's wrong with my mom?

I really, really do have compassion for them. I'm really, really sorry they lost their son, and I'm really, really sorry they refuse to accept their daughter. But this is really, really screwed up.

And so I'm leaving... this time for good. They can deal with the death of their son on their own terms, but I won't be coming back. Oh, I'll be here when they come to me as Clio, but I refuse to live under their delusions and broken dreams any longer.

It sounds harsh, these words, for in them I have failed to convey the extent of hostility and rejection toward me. Every time I have presented them with an opportunity for growth, they have shunned me... this is something they are going to have to go through on their own.

Meanwhile, my life continues to suck and blow at the same time. Job offer withdrawn. The drama in this job search is off the charts and I haven't the energy to dissipate it here. There is however, some good news. By the grace of a wonderful friend and his new wife, I'll be escaping from here to - gasp - even deeper into Indiana, habiting her now vacant home.

I figure one week in a furious depression, out of human contact, with plenty of mind-altering substances to deal with recent events. Then it's back to anonymous work-from-home until I can get myself solvent again. Who knows? Maybe I'll like it there and make it home while I rebuild. I'll still be car-less (and fancy free?) in Indiana, but there's a - gasp - Wal-Mart within walking distance. I'll actually be walking back and forth to Wal-Mart every day to get my groceries. That's really gonna suck in the winter, if I'm here that long. On the other hand, they are just a couple miles from the airport, making quick get-aways feasible.

It is easy to be thankful for that which we scarcely have; it takes a spiritual master to be thankful for that which we have in abundance.

I am thankful for my friends.

Transpirational

The original purpose of this blog was to serve as inspiration, affirmation, and hope for other transgendered people. Since the very beginning, when I started researching scientific papers on transgendered issues, I was fortunate enough to find sage advice from those who had walked the path before me. I chose to document my journey so that I could, in my own way, return to the world what was given to me.

Over time, as I came out to my friends (spread out around the world), this blog began to serve double-duty as a way of reaching out to them. Thus it turned into a diary of more than just transgendered issues.

This post is specifically for all the T-girls and T-boys out there, and for the few friends that I allowed a glimpse into the depths of my years-long depression. For my transgendered kin, let this be hope for you in your darkest hours... seemingly impossible goals, over time, find a way of becoming true, and it is with all humility that I say, "If I can do it, you can too!" For my friends who have watched me struggle, know now that finally, she is beginning to feel peace.

I LOVE MY LIFE!

Just one-half a year ago, I am sorry to say I dreaded it. Bi-polar, you say? No, I was estrogen deprived! Testosterone would lead me to extremes, sure, but the overall life experience was a winning ticket in the emotional pain lottery. It took me 30 years to finally become conscious (or at least self-aware enough to know I was self-aware), and when I did, I realized something was wrong. I couldn't quite figure out what it was until I re-invented myself in London. There, I met people like me, people who I admired, and for the first time I started to realize that my mind was female!

I changed my clothes, my diet, my habits, my behaviors, even tried to change my thoughts from the environmentally-forced masculine patterns to the inner-self feminine ones. Over the course of five years I finally fully accepted my situation and became proud of who I was. This was the first major victory, and once achieved, I knew I could survive the transition process, and believe me, that fortitude was needed to survive transitioning in Midwest America!

Then six months ago, I started taking hormones. I would have taken them sooner, but I wanted to have some stability (and support) in my life before I started permanently changing my body. It's scary! Plus, there is a lot of clerical and court work... changing name, proving you're not insane... it's the point of no return and a huge step all at once.

By this time, I had already changed my body into a much more girly figure. I lost over 50 lbs (!) of muscle, grew my hair long and thick, and had just begun to find clothing styles that looked natural and convincing. The best thing to help me with this was living in London. There, from my living room window, right smack in the middle of the city, I watched women... I watched how they walked, how they interacted with people, how they dressed, how they wore their hair, their thought patterns, how they spoke, how they ate, how they drank, how they smoked... I felt like a child learning to become human all over again, and every night after work I would transform myself as best I could and practice what I learned, walking to all sorts of famous cultural places.

I was living as a lady, but I felt like I would never be seen or accepted as one and the pain it caused me from not passing was dreadful. It was even worse back home where the weather was warmer and my genes were much more common. In other words, in London, coats and long sleeve were in fashion year round, plus I was exotic. All that helped me pass, but back home, I was common and folks were better able to spot inconsistencies in my appearance.

Oh, I was frequently mistaken for a lady, but I was often unable to maintain the illusion upon closer inspection or even a brief conversation. Severs would apologize for calling me ma'am (I loved when they called me ma'am!) From across the street, I was a pretty girl, but up-close, people somehow saw right through me. It was humiliating, defeating, depressing, and had I not held true to my earlier convictions, had I not kept photos of my lovely T-girl friends for inspiration, had I not believed or had support from the trans community... I would not have survived!

Then came the hormone majik. Six months later and what a world of difference! Everywhere I go, I am Miss Clio. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with men all night and I'm still Miss Clio. Men flirt with me, they take me out to dinner, and still, I am Miss Clio!

Yes, I am still transitioning... I'm going through puberty... my breasts are still growing, my body fat is redistributing making my figure more feminine, my skin, soft as it is, will become even more supple. I still shave and exfoliate my face every day, but I can go 36 hours before there's even a trace of growth! (Before, thick makeup was required to cover my facial hair even just after shaving! I can't stress enough the confidence and success to be found in laser hair removal! Getting the shadows off my face was the most difficult physical and psychological hurdle facing me... it's hard to feel feminine with a five o'clock shadow!)

In the beginning it was so hard for me to envision the woman I wanted to become, but even six years ago, there were fleeting glimpses of her in the mirror. At first it was at night in the darkened reflection from store front windows under the faint glow of London's street lamps. Then chance encounters in the mirrors at home. I poured cocktails of chemicals in my body in an effort to find her so that I could latch on to her, so that I could remember the feeling and invoke her from within, but I am sad to say that I could not keep her. The illusion of reality was still too strong and she would leave as sobriety resumed. I resorted to making ever more changes to my body. Epilating all of my body hair, painting nails, learning to apply makeup, women's clothing... each step brought me closer and closer to the visions I had. Until one day, at the salon, Judith, finally realizing that I didn't want a man's styling, but instead a woman's, worked her majik on me. She turned the chair around and there was Miss Clio, smiling right back at me! Sober! There she was!

I continued to chase those images with every fiber in my being and now, still in transition, she's all I see looking back at me in the silver-backed glass! :)

The speed in which I went from not passing to fully passing has been surprising! I wonder if I was unable to pass as female because my body was emitting male pheromones? I take two kinds of estrogen now and two kinds of testosterone inhibitors... so maybe instead of smelling like a man, I now smell like a woman? (Or maybe only men smell... that's been my experience!... and now I don't?)

Perhaps I just feel her presence in my heart every day and it's that feeling which dictates what others see.

Maybe it's how I style my hair, or the clothes I wear, or my makeup or how I speak.

Probably it's all of those things!

I am so grateful and happy now that my physical gender matches my mental gender!

Please, take from this story hope and believe that the changes can happen to you too! It takes a lot of work to change your gender, especially in a society that culturally loads gender behaviors like ours does! It's okay to feel overwhelmed! Take baby steps and know that the path is finite! Over time even the burly man can become the feminine lady!

A warning: I was fortunate enough to be able to figure out a way to sustain myself working at home while transitioning, but the process occupied nearly all of my waking thoughts and ... I've seen it overwhelm others. Know your priorities! Food, shelter, medical, in that order. You can't transition if you are worrying about where you're going to live or how you're going to eat. Create that stability first!

During the transition, most people thought I was a hermit, but what they didn't realize was that 1) there wasn't much in small town Indiana that appealed to me after touring the world and 2) I didn't want to go out and not pass as female! So I didn't go out much. While this worked for me, it lead to an even greater depression which took even more mental thought to push through (evidenced by this blog), so I can't stress enough the importance of having a solid core of supportive people. You will need to lean on your friends!

But then one day you'll find yourself living as that woman you've always known yourself to be. The woman you've dared to dream about being... and when that day comes, all of the pain, all of the struggles, all of the heartaches, all that will turn into such a feeling of joy words can't describe! And now you embody that woman, and she's all you see in the mirror and she's all the world sees and finally... though the journey may never end... finally you know peace.

Almost There...

$300 gets me a one-way ticket to Vegas, a car for a week, and a hotel room overlooking the city for two nights.

So we're really leaving...

Getting Closer!

A victory of sorts... That place on the 29th floor? Guy turned out to be a jerk toward trans-folk, however the good news is that his problem didn't affect me at all... I was just really bummed to lose the opportunity to scour the gym and pool for potential roommates.

Moved the bulk of my stuff into storage. It feels good to get exercise!

Came home, applied for 10 or so jobs in Vegas and printed out some housing leads (5 Vegas, 2 Vancouver, 1 Amsterdam) for quick access/memory when I get off the plane.

Yes, that's right... gonna live out of a suitcase for a while until I find a good spot. I think Vegas for the next 3 months, and unless I find a perfect spot, probably Vancouver next, but perhaps Amsterdam en route to Italy. Maybe all three!

Now that my stuff is stored, I'm finally starting to get excited about traveling, which is a welcome change from the fear acquired after my 2 1/2 year stint in the midwest.

Breakdown!

I can't find a solution. Less than a week to go and I got nothing that even "seems like a good idea at the time." Seriously starting to freak out! Moving to a desert at the start of the summer season seems like madness.

A friend said, "you'll get into survival mode, you'll know what to do."

Perhaps; but what if "survival mode" is telling you to give up? I feel like I got into survival mode back in London and haven't been able to get off Defcon 1. Oh wait, wrong decade, I meant "terror alert level: severe"

I'm not sure there's any more will left. I'm not sure I care about tomorrow. Even a plant needs a sunny day. For all my accomplishments, I can't help but feel I've failed miserably on the human front, and now, whether or not it be true, I feel like I'm facing a long, hard winter alone with no provisions.

Not everyone sees it this way. My friend used words like "enjoy" followed by "adventure." Practical optimism. It might work. Would an optimist going to hell at least enjoy the journey there? Would doing so stifle preparations and only make the final decent worse, or would such an act of faith redeem? Is it possible for the fervent to fear the path to heaven?

The possibility of complete and total collapse is now very real.

Well, I still have a dream and I've gone this far... no point in looking back now!

Around The Smalltown World

If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be? If there was nothing tying you down, no kids, no job, no home, no family... where would you go?

I felt it was always a dubious decision to move from smalltown Indiana to smalltown Georgia. Athens feels just like Muncie. (To be fair, Bloomington might be a better comparison.) If I had hesitations before, now there is no doubt: Georgia is out!

Why? A friend had offered her place to stay while I regrouped, but last night I learned that she was not going to be around, as in, not living in Athens. The house is like, over a mile away from the nearest gas station, and I never did see a grocery store, so riding the bus everyday in the Georgia heat? Ugh! Plus, she's pushed back the move-in date so that I'll have nowhere to stay for nearly two weeks after I'm out of here. Bummer. If she really didn't want me to stay there, but wanted me to make that decision for her, I'd give her an A+... these two events make what seemed like a safe haven no better than here. Worse, actually. I was really looking forward to being the lady of the house, cooking, cleaning, and generally taking care of her. So that's a bummer.

Maybe it's time to apply some gorilla warfare tactics to my life. Life is hard, I'm soft; lesson is that I'm flexible. Life is jobless with no home; lesson is I'm free. Assuming I shell out $120 for a year's worth of climate controlled storage (a tiny little lot) then I am now quite mobile. Conclusion: life is telling me that now is the time to travel. Pack up the office, fit everything you own into a 4x4x4 space and move on!

Okay, but where? Someplace familiar? Someplace where kind friends are? I've been meditating on this for the past two days. Some might say I've been sleeping 14 hours a day, others might say I've become depressed. Sometimes I do my best thinking unconscious. (It's a meditation trick... perhaps now I'll have more time to develop it!)

Italy keeps popping up on the radar. Never been. A soul mate met in London has offered a bed... she lives in, you guessed it, small town Italy. LOL.Wouldn't mind the crash course in fashion! Would love to see the history. I have no idea how I'd earn a living, but I'd enjoy learning Italian. Please please please let my passport go through without a hitch!

Wales might be an option. I have an academia friend from ... you guessed it ... small town Wales who might be able to get me a research or teaching job there. The campus is beach-side... Of course, he doesn't know about my transition, and that might be a hurdle.

There's always Vegas. Poker is an option. Plus, I could meet someone, or make an opportunity there. And, if poker fails me, Vegas would be a good city to make a living as a transsexual escort. Of course, for that, my breasts might need to grow a bit more first.

I'm also trying to get a job teaching, but 3 weeks is not a lot of time to find a job, and with no permanent address...

Finally, I swear I connected with the mind of one who once told me he'd be there for me if ever I needed him. Spooky. On the one hand, he's hurt me before. On the other, I can't imagine anyone better to help medicate myself though this crisis... I've not had fun like I've had with him, and I sure could do with some laughs.

Summary:

• Italy/? - Life unscripted, 100% new experiences, old flames
  
• Wales/Research - Life re-attempted
  
• Vegas/Poker/Escort - Life unscripted, w/no net, but familiar
  
• ?/Teaching - Life resumed
  
• D/Party - Life enjoyed, contemplated
  

Sigh. More mediation required. Maybe one more day... no one's knocking down my door to do stuff anyway.

The Personal Relocation Expert

Of course the follow up dialog goes:

Man: But that's enough about my penis.
(pause)
Man: What do you think of my penis?

I'm not sure I understand boys. This is to be expected, as I didn't understand them when I was one, but experiencing them as female is ... I don't know what word fits. Maybe you can help?

So like, I spent all night packing and stuff and now it's 3am and I'm outside enjoying a well-deserved cigarette (as you do). Until just recently, it's been way too cold to even want to be outside at this time at night, but the past few nights have been nice, so I'm continuing my long-standing tradition of enjoying the night.

Now I'm just minding my own business when along comes a tall, young man walking home from the bar down the street. (All the bars are down the street.) He walks by and says, "Damn, girl, you look guud!" and asks if I own the shop connected to the alcove I'm standing in. He's cute, strong build too. I start to fumble for words then quickly recover, reasoning that nearly 50 people live in the building beside me, so anonymity is on my side. "I live here."

He then proceeds to tell me that he thinks he lives in a poor side of town (again, just down the road) but it wasn't long before I understand what he really means... he's racist! Before I can come to this conclusion, however, he notices my feet. Oh my, you have long toes! I may be green, but I can see where this is going... second man this week to talk about my toes. He tells me about this girl who can eat with her feet (mental note, get a pedicure) and next about his old girlfriend. Okay, let's have some fun... "So you like footjobs, huh?" I throw out playfully. Caught him off guard! Heehee.

I don't really know how what happened next came into motion, but he then started telling me his life story, focusing totally on the parts involving altercations with the police. First, he wires up a property owner with free cable to all the tenants. The owner pays him $50, but acts like he doesn't know this guy when he comes around next month asking for $10 from each tenant, who are now being charged an extra $20/month for cable. After a few weeks of ignoring the guy, he gets pissed and started banging on the door kind of stuff, and the police pick him up for aggravated something or other.

Next he tells me that while on probation, he's walking past a pimp in Birmingham when police swarm down on him and he gets arrested for public intoxication... gets house arrest but then gets all mouthy when a cop plants drug paraphernalia on him, so now he gets slapped a charge for intimidating a police officer!

Bizarre. I just met this man. I ask if he's still wearing the leg collar, he laughs, hikes up his pant leg and says, "no- that's finally off" (OMG, he was wearing one!) when, what was that I saw? Yup, that was a knife tucked to his ankle!

His story continues... Next he's walking home and gets mugged by four (N-bomb... yeah, he used that word on me freely) people and the police find on him - go figure - some pot so now he's in violation of parole and gets sentenced to a year in county jail when he pleas that "maybe I have a drinking problem, your honor!" Nice save. More house arrest.

And now he's here. An armed young man with anger issues. He says he's just newly arrived. He's looking to get high. Most boys like him are. Knowing Dave taught me how to take care of boys like this, and if he didn't just come from a bar I know to be smoky and - oh yeah - totally creep me out, I'd have asked him up to share a joint. Instead, he offers another cigarette and tells me of a time in sixth grade where he both got beat up and beat up a girl. Charming!

Sensing he's not going to see me again unless something changes, he offers up that he's a personal relocation expert. Ah, a mover... big strong man come help move my stuff! Okay, there's an in! But before I can say anything, he starts to tell me how he recently hurt his shoulder moving a mattress. (Mental note, get help moving the mattress.) He touches my hand to his shoulder and asks me to feel his rotator cuff. There's a sense of urgency in his action, as if he knows that I'm a healer, and that I wouldn't otherwise be touching him. After our conversation, he's probably right. I touch him anyway. Maybe I healed him... who can know such things?

I did, however, know that I was freezing. A fresh blanket of cold, heavy air swept under the wind as we were talking. I introduce myself. He gives me his name and phone number... I rememberize it and guide him home in the right direction, waiting until he turned the corner before going to my door.

What just happened? Why did he tell me all of that personal stuff? What larger forces are at work here? Can it all really be explained away by alcohol? Ah, does it matter? Queue Flower Drum Song!

Aural Fixation

After a long night of work, I hit the sheets, exhausted at 8:30 AM. If I'm lucky, I can get to sleep before the sun floods my darkness with tomorrow.

At 9:00 AM, the person in the flat above me wakes up and proceeds to thunder around for an hour or so. Usual behavior except these were abnormally loud thumps... like people jumping. What is going on?

Because I lay awake unable to shut out the thumps, I mediate on the noises and discern, in addition to the normal thumping, there were sounds of a rope being thrown across the room and people jumping after it. Finally it clicks... they got a dog! That's a dog dropping a rope bone on the floor over my bed. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.

It's hard to convey just how loud is the noise just from my neighbor walking around - there's no insulation between my ceiling and their wood floor. Just 6" of rafters. Normally, I can pinpoint the upstairs neighbor's location, if they are wearing shoes or not, and if so, if they are rubber soled or heels or flip flops. They are heavy walkers.

I choose to be a light walker because of the long-term preventive health benefits to joints and bones. One day, really watch people and concentrate on their gait. Feel it. Imagine what it would feel like if you walked like that. Notice how you walk. See if you can walk a bit lighter. Try it for a few strides. Notice how much less impact stress there is from your joints.

In fact, I feel sorry for the person upstairs thumping around because it feels like they are doing damage to their joints! Ouch!

These thoughts occupy my mind as I lie awake until around 10:00 AM when the thumping subsided. Ah, come sweet sleep! But no! The peace was not to last! Suddenly, I'm living in the middle of a dog kennel! Was there a memo I missed? Is this month national get a dog month? Where did all these animals come from?

Don't get me wrong; I love dogs, just like I love children. It's other people's dogs and children that not always keen on. Some people just aren't very good parents.

Anyway, my 'dog' is a bit rusty, so I couldn't make out the exact conversation, but it went something like this.

At first the dog upstairs is frightened, and there are high-pitch squeals. Roughly translated, sie was saying, "AR-AR-AR-AROOOW!" or "Where did everyone goooo?"

The came even shriller whines of lonliness. "ERMMMMMmmmmm ERMMMMMmmmm"

Now this went on for about 10 minutes when another dog, feeling sorry for the other dog, tries to console.

"ARRROOOOWWW" which means, "It's okay!" in dog, now colors the soundscape. Calls of "ARRRRRooooWWw" which means, "You'll be alright!" follow.

Unfortunately, the first dog wasn't consoled, so we had another 10 minutes of this before a third dog joined the chorus, sympathetic, but speaking from a position of power, "Don't worry, now be quiet! Both of you!"

All this barking just confused the first dog more, and sie started her routine all over again, triggering the second dog's reply, until eventually it got the the third dog's annoyed reply. As this was the only interaction the first dog could get, she kept this up as long as sie could, around 20 minutes more or so.

Finally around 10:30 there was only the faint bass thump from the music of the lower neighbor's intercom, the normal sounds for this time of day, and finally, I fall asleep.

Two hours later, right in the middle of a soothing sleep cycle, the 9:AM routine starts all over again. The neighbor's home for lunch and playing with what sounds like two dogs. I later find out that the dog living above me is a huge black lab, maybe 70 pounds. That explains the people running and jumping.

It's 2pm before I finally lose consciousness. It's amazing the sounds that leak through when you are completely still. It's almost like being able to see through walls... matching sounds with experiences to discern activities. Neat, but tomorrow... earplugs!

Growing Stronger

Read an awesome blog entry from Our Lady J (no relation) excerpted here:

a man is screaming

faggot

he gets closer

in my face

queer

he gears his fist back to take a swing

and i run.

as i’m running

i’m thinking that perhaps i deserve this.

perhaps when i’m in line at papa john’s, i deserve death threats.

perhaps when i’m in the parking lot of wal-mart, i deserve bottles being thrown at me.

perhaps when i’m visiting my family, i deserve being locked out of their car and left behind.

so much screaming. from strangers to family. so much hatred for what i was growing up to be.

because i was queer, because i defined my own happiness.

...

i learned to surround myself with love and to shut out the people who didn’t support me.

i learned to fight back when being attacked.

i learned that i didn’t deserve the chasing, the harassment, the day to day degradation.

Lady J, Muncie is not so different from Dallas... and I am learning. I am shutting out those who don't support me... but I will be there when I can support them. I am learning to fight back... but I am also learning how to avoid attacks altogether. I don't deserve the harassment... but their words can no longer hurt me. I don't deserve the day-to-day degradation, but it reflects their insecurity, not mine.

Finally, at last... I am enjoying confusing the normals! I am enjoying making men question their own sexuality because they find me sexy. I am enjoying women taking their beauty cues from me. I will enjoy confronting those small minds, and I will enjoy being a positive role model for trans-women and -men everywhere.

Dwight

Testing out my new theory of not being afraid, I engaged in conversation a passing local citizen with whom I'd normally avoid making contact through use of combination of chance looks in wrong directions and strategic body placement.

Dwight appeared to me to be homeless and quite down on his luck. But, as I was no stranger to this time of night, I soon noticed a fairly regular walking pattern from him. Turns out, tonight I was on his path.

Clio just thought she was enjoying a cigarette.

Looks, however, can be deceiving.

Dwight was in need of medical and dental care. He either was missing part of his tongue or most of his teeth for he spoke with a marked speech impediment, and I found it necessary to concentrate with all my effort to understand his words.

At first, it was easy; she had just looked into his soul and saw the good in him.

Clio just thought she was introducing herself.

Then, his words changed from the weather to troubles times and he started speaking in a language I could not understand. Not one word or one syllable. Dwight's demeanor now changed from cheerful and pleasant, as was still the night, to scared and stormy.

I tried to understand, but all I could say was, I'm sorry, I don't understand, and he would repeat it again exactly the same as the way he had said before. I was beginning to run out of nice ways to say, "I can't hear you" when finally he shortened his sentences to just one small phrase: In the Navy. "In the Navy," he kept saying louder and louder until I acknowledged my understanding by repeating back the words.

Then again, for a brief moment I could understand his next few words, but he was speaking very quickly and his words were becoming more and more affected. At first, it was just a word here, a word there, but soon it became hard to make sense of what my ears were sensing.

In the end, I could pick out a story about parents, and it wasn't happy. Whatever trouble it was, he appeared to be saying, "it has been a year."

But since I had followed along till the end, he expected me to act in a way I could not, since I could not understand his thoughts. I could tell this would upset him, so I did what Sandra taught her to do back in London: whenever someone was talking to her in words she couldn't understand, she agreed.

Then I let slip I was from here, not realizing I just earlier agreed that I just been here a year. Both were true statements, but this seemed to set off a large number of bells and whistles in the man's psychic alert system and he suddenly became eager to part. He eagerness to leave was matched only by desire to say just one more thing that he then repeated. The last half of what he said was:

Monday afternoon. Give me until Monday afternoon and I'll get it for ya.

As he left, the rain began to fall from the sky like tears from the faces of Angels.

Mandala Inverse

So the day begins as the last fifty:
I washed and I cleaned, made myself pretty.
The madness of March had not settled in,
My alma mater lost to Wisconsin.

Afternoon sushi, I love it so much!
Shopping required; perhaps after lunch?
Made music for friends down on the corner,
The mall this weekend? Oh no, the horror!

Public ridicule, giggles from curls,
What else to expect from all the girls?
For this is their turf; keep on walking through,
Let them have some fun; courtesy of you!

I wish they were not so vocal that way,
Can words from the young rain on my parade?
The smile is gone; the chin starts to fall,
All because we had to shop at the mall.

And at our lowest, a miracle comes,
But not one or two, here are three at once!
Strangers took your joy, but one fills to top...
He wants your digits, he thinks you are hot!

And then an old friend from days in the past
Calls on her birthday... an amazing chat!
And then from nowhere, a bolt from the Blue,
Aosaf connecting, reaching out to you!

It tickles me pink to get back in touch,
I'll try it in verse, it tickles so much!
Extending from here electrons to there,
My mind to your eyes, many thoughts to share.

Through air and wire I reach in the net,
I am almost there, can y'all feel me yet?
Please excuse this poem of quality fair,
It reflects my skill, not how much I care!

Getting The Austrian Town Out Of Dodge

A real photo of a real sign from a real Austrian city. The sign underneath, with the children says, "Please... not so fast!"

I'm sure they're nice people. If you think it's a fake, google it, or check here.

And so the countdown continues... < 60 days until I'm officially homeless and unemployed. One thing is for certain though, I won't be here in this town. But wherever shall I go? Whatever shall I do? And will there be a man named Rhett there when I arrive? With one option, that's actually a possibility, for once again, I might find myself in the southern charms of Georgia... stay tuned! Oh, just in case you can't get enough of the F-word, here's an educated presentation of it. Enjoy!

Fast food, faster buildings...

I can't keep up! You've heard me complain that all Muncie has is fast-food restaurants, right?

Tell me if this makes sense.

TacoBell builds a new building, three blocks away from their old one. They then close the old one and leave the building decrepit.

Bob Evans does the same thing, but they build their building in the parking lot and then tear town their old one.

Then another TacoBell store on the other side of town does the same thing.

This is what you get if you believe in things like "the economy" ... madness!

And, just for fun...

There is a new restaurant opened up ... on the building it says, "Authentic Mexican," and on the same sign underneath, "We sell Gyros!"

Since when did the Mediterranean become a part of Mexico?

I thank God everyday the only sushi restaurant within 50 miles of me (itself just one mile away) is also the highest quality sushi restaurant I've seen. It's the only place I eat out at in this town.

A Legal Sense of Humour (Resolution #3)

I filled all the paperwork at the courthouse today to legally change my name. YAY! This was a huge milestone!!!

Turns out, there's a lot you have to do (and a lot you have to pay!) In addition to lots of paperwork for the court, you also have to put an ad in the local paper for three weeks announcing the change, and you have to get the fact that you did so certified by the newspaper. You also have to pay the paper for the honor.

But, I did, and I strutted myself down to the paper from the courthouse in my stiletto boots and back again, and I was given a court date to appear in court.

Previously, my longest supporting friend asked me what my new birthday would be, and I didn't know what she meant. I had only just recently picked a new name!

When I got my court date, it was obvious what my new birthday would be... April 1st, 2008!

It seems life (and the court system) is not without a sense of humor!

Worst Christmas Ever

Ever!

My family has a typical Midwestern approach to dealing with problems... ignore them and hope they go away.

Now, my family has gone from not talking about the white elephant in the room to actively insisting it isn't there.

After being obviously out to them for nearly two years, they refuse to call me she, or Clio, despite me looking like I do. Thanks mom! Thanks dad! (I pity them both.)

Worst Christmas Ever!

Wicked Little Town

Most people have never heard of the movie, "Hedwig and the Angry Inch." This is unfortunate for many reasons. First, it's a great movie, evolving from a ground-breaking NY play. Second, it touches on (in a positive and uplifting (but not cheesy) way) some very complex themes that are of significance to those outside the transgender community. Finally, the soundtrack was written by one of the best songwriter/composers since Cole Porter- Stephen Trask. The man is pure genius.

On of the songs, Wicked Little Town, is really two different versions of the same song. The first part is sung by Hedwig, and is a soothing poem to her masculine half, here represented by the androgynous Tommy Gnosis, and the second part is a response from Tommy to the feminine side represented by Hedwig.

As I said, the movie has complex themes... the soundtrack is more so. (And I haven't yet talked about the song written based on Plato's Dialogs!)

Anyway, this song faithfully represents to me both halves of myself struggling to make sense of it all, and of my experiences in Muncie (and around the world).

First, Hedwig's version to the young boy she loves who is in the same situation she was in when she was a young boy, and, the situation I find myself in now.

You know, the sun is in your eyes
And hurricanes and rains
And black and cloudy skies

You're running up and down that hill
You turn it on and off at will
There's nothing here to thrill or bring you down
And if you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town

Oh Lady Luck has lead you here
And they're so twisted up
They'll twist you up, I fear

The pious, hateful, and devout
You're turning tricks 'til you're turned out
The wind so cold it burns
You're burning out and blowing 'round
And if you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town

The fates are vicious and they're cruel
You learn too late you've used
Two wishes
Like a fool

And then you're someone you are not
And Junction City ain't the spot
Remember Mrs. Lot and when she turned around
And if you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town

And then we have Tommy's reply, also a painful realization of my present condition:

Forgive me,
For I did not know.
'Cause I was just a boy
And you were so much more

Than any god could ever plan,
More than a woman or a man.
And now I understand how much I took from you:
That, when everything starts breaking down,
You take the pieces off the ground
And show this wicked town
something beautiful and new.

You think that Luck
Has left you there.
But maybe there's nothing
up in the sky but air.

And there's no mystical design,
No cosmic lover preassigned.
There's nothing you can find
that can not be found.
'Cause with all the changes
you've been through
It seems the stranger's always you.
Alone again in some new
Wicked little town.

So when you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town.
Oh it's a wicked, little town.
Goodbye, wicked little town.

Musically, the song is not like anything on the radio. Check out the chord progression on the chorus: G7/D, C, Cm, G, G7, C, Cm, G. The Beatles used to experiment with chord progressions going from major to minor of the same chord, but you just don't hear that kind of stuff anymore. Throw in some arpeggiated bass lines with right hand quarters and you've got an idea.

I'm trying to sing and play this song but am having difficulties because of the interplay of rhythmic patterns throughout the voice and right and left hands. Let alone the fact that I don't know how to sing with any known technique! But I'm trying. The song is so beautiful and the effect is so strong when I've only just barely played it, I can't wait until it's second nature and I can simply emote the song instead of actually trying to play it.

By the way, if you watch the movie, don't confuse how a transsexual looks in everyday life versus how she looks on stage... it is after all, a movie about an eastern European punk-rock band! We don't always wear metallic eye-makeup with sculpted blush! (Well, okay, we do, but there are the in-between moments when we are washing it off!) :)

Snow Job Blows!

It's always a bummer to be expecting 12 inches and only get 6.

Although getting 6" three times ain't bad.

Stay warm!

Boys Will Be Girls

I had a crazy day; even by my standards!

I decided to go to the mall via MITS, the local bus. It's bitterly cold, but the central hub is a block away and the bus goes straight to the mall front doors. It's a weekend, so I know that the bus will be filled with the youth of Muncie. I hesitate, but am resigned to my journey. I manage to buy my ticket ($1) and take the last open seat on the bus (it seems everyone wanted to go to the mall too!)

At the mall, I pick up a total steal: a full-length ultra-soft terry cloth robe for $15, retail $100. Score. And, I made a new friend today at Victoria's Secret. (I can't help it! Beautiful VS store managers are just naturally drawn to me. ;;)

So, I'm feeling pretty good, looking pretty, got a great deal and begin my hunt for a Colt's jersey. You can't host a Superbowl party and not sport the home team attire. Of course, Muncie doesn't have pink & white jerseys, just the blue and white ones. (I'm not completely unreasonable in my expectations) Nay, they are even out of most of the blue ones too.. just the white ones left. And expensive! Oh my!

So I've got my jersey and I'm off to the other wing to Old Navy where I figure I can get a cheap blue turtleneck. On the way, this little kid and his friends just go nuts when they see me. You'd have thought I had six heads and was breathing fire the way this kid kept circling me, pointing, saying, "that's a dude!" He follows me for a bit until I turn around and smile at him and say, "nice grill," referring to the chunk of metal in the kid's mouth. At this, he runs away screaming.

I am not making this up. Can you make little kids run away simply by saying hello, or is this a talent just for me?

On my way back from Old Navy, I run into the kid again (it's a small mall, just an L-shape). He continues this act and keeps backing away from me as I walk toward him. Unfortunately, instead of just going around, he keeps retreating to where I'm heading, and the more he retreats the louder he gets and the more he points.

Finally, the kid runs out of choices and backs himself into the same small exit wing as where I'm going and runs outside. I chose to stay warm and sat on the bench inside where I met a lovely lady who was stood up by her friends, she thinks because it was too cold. (She reminded me of my great-grandmother). I should have offered to buy her lunch, in retrospect, not just cause then I wouldn't have had to ride the bus with that kid, but eating alone didn't seem to bother her, and, before it dawned on me to ask such a thing, she gave up on her friends, stood up, and went off to eat at MCL.

As I listen to the kid and his friends jeer on the ride home, I reminisce about Talia, a transsexual I knew from the islands of Tennerife. To me, she was a typical transsexual in appearance, and by that I mean beautiful and totally passable as a woman; you'd never know her secret unless she showed it to you. However, the one segment of society she couldn't pass at as a genetic woman was with pre-teen kids. Her pet peeve was that they could always read her. How much fun she would have had today!

So I laughed and thought about Talia and the good times in London.

Shakespear in rejection

I've got the cable on the wall for no reason other than I figured since I'm paying for it, I might as well see what's out there. One afternoon at 4:20, while I'm reflecting on the fact that I just lost a boy for cross-dressing, the wall shows me images of a girl winning a boy while cross-dressing.

So... I guess it's a wash?

Sigh, no. It's so depressing to find out someone you thought was a good person, someone you thought was a cool... someone you called a friend turns out to be just another bigot.

A bigot is a prejudiced person who is intolerant of opinions, lifestyles, or identities differing from his or her own.

Harsh words from me? After being ignored for weeks, check out this IM I received from a friend:

It's not that I dont want to hear from you. It's that I don't know how to relate to people that wear women's clothing. I don't understand it , I don't like it, It's is crazy to me, and I kind of wish you had never let me see that part of you. we could have been friends without having to know this. I'm sorry, but I don't want to hangout with a thirty year old man who thinks he's a fourteen year old girl.

Ouch! With friends like that, who needs enemies? How shall I deconstruct thee, let me count the ways...

• It's not that I dont want to hear from you. Um, I'm sorry but with phrases like "I don't like it," "I wish you had never let me see that part of you," and "I don't want to hangout..." it sounds like you exactly don't want to hear from me. Please forgive me for acting accordingly.
  
• I don't know hot to relate to people that wear women's clothing. Approximately half of all humans wear women's clothing, but don't worry, relating to them is easy. Just be nice to them, take a shower, wash your clothes, maybe buy them dinner, and you might see more of them.
• I don't understand, I don't like it, It's crazy to me. Honey, you won't understand 1/50th of the knowledge contained in my brain or my experiences. You calling me crazy is like a pebble calling a mountain small; it ain't true empirically or relatively, it's just naive. Crazier is to harbor intolerance with a closed mind. You don't understand? ASK! You don't like? Find what it is within you that is causing such a reaction, and ask yourself, "Am I free to judge?"
  
• I kind of wish you had never let me see that part of you. Then you never would have met me...
  
• We could have been friends without having to know this. Not really, my friends like me for me, and not because I'm what they want me to be. But I would have still been nice to you.
  
• I'm sorry, but I don't want to hangout with a thirty year old man who thinks he's a fourteen year old girl. Ouch. That's rich coming from a man who lives at home with his parents. I'm sorry you turned out to be a bigot.

Alright, where's the Hagen-daz?

The Strangest Things Seem Suddenly Routine

It's surreal how moving to Muncie from London has dramatically changed my social network.

I mean, while in London, I regularly had occasion to hang out with some pretty extraordinary world citizens: heads of states, astronauts, performers, and some of the most brilliant minds and scientists of our day. This was my company. This was where I felt I belonged.

In Muncie, I get to have a cuppa joe with Wee Man.

In London, I watched David Soul give two amazing performances in "Jerry Springer, the Opera." In Muncie, I watched Eric Estrada arrest an 80-year old woman selling crack. I feel like I should go watch C.H.I.P.S. or something.

So... from mighty-men to moon-men to mini-men... "My life is such a freak show," said the half-man. Or was that half-woman? Or just half... woah, man!