Decidedly Obscure Human Complaints - VERSION 1.0

Moving to Tumblr!

2011-02-11T18:56:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone! I thought long and hard about migrating my blog over to Tumblr, as it's such a grueling pain in the buns. But, alas, the longer I wait, the harder it will get - and so I've spent a good portion of my night setting up shop over in Tumblr-ville.

It will be the same, for the most part - just a lot more interactive. Soon this domain name (http://www.humancomplaints.com) will automatically redirect to my Tumblr account. Brace yo'selves!

Binder Crisis

2011-02-08T21:34:00.000-08:00

Over these past couple of years I have been through a binder or two, and, while all of them are uncomfortable awful acid-reflux-inducing pain-in-the-lower-backs, eventually I stumbled across the Underwork's Double Front Compression Shirt (Model 997) and have since become ridiculously fond of it.

Ever since I started wearing it last June I have literally worn it every day since. Even though it's comfortable in comparison to the other binders I have, if worn for longer than 6 hours it will start to cause acid reflux and my shoulders/upper-back start to really ache. After longer than 10 hours, I will literally start to feel sick - so I started to wear it in classes and then, while wearing a baggy jacket, will switch to the T-Kingdom M801 for a chest break'ish.

This system has been a flawless one - up until Monday morning, when I couldn't find the 997 binder for the life of me. Dun dun dun! Now that I hate my other two binders (which are just ridiculous awful and there's no way I'd even try to wear one of them longer than 4 hours. I'm most likely going to donate them to a local trans dude who they may work for & fit better or to the Big Brothers Used Binder Program), I opted to just go to school to the loose-binding M801 and to just strategically wear my jacket all day to hide my chest.

But it's been so awkward uncomfortable. And finally, tonight, I couldn't take it anymore. I searched my closet thoroughly. Nothing. Searched my hamper, my room, my drawers, the laundry room, under Evilbunny, under the dog, the bathroom, the front room - still, no favorite dependent-on binder. My cute mom was roped into it and helped ruffle through clothing and piles of stuff n' things. As she searched, she shouted out from the front room, "I can't wait for your top surgery so that you don't have to deal with this anymore!"

Awww! Seriously, though... how adorable is it that I have a mom who I can whine about misplacing my favorite binder to and who will a.) help me hunt for it, and b.) yell about how she can't wait for my upcoming top surgery from the other room?

Love it. Anyway, low and behold, I had accidentally left it at my friend Erin's house when I spent the night Saturday and he sent me a text saying, "Its here!". I had suspected I'd left it there and was worried that he'd mistaken it for one of his - which, given how many people don't have binders in the world is an interesting bind to potentially be in. Get it? Bind? Ha... ah, er... anyway, I'm getting it tomorrow and I couldn't be more excited.

I am, however, with my mom on this. I-cannot-wait-for-top-surgery.

Paws In! It’s Time For The Puppy Bowl VII!

2011-02-06T13:43:00.000-08:00

SO EXCITED. This is the seventh year of Animal Planet's Puppy Bowl Sunday and it starts TODAY @ 3pm! This year there's going to be a "puppy cam", a hamster blimp and, of course, kitty half-time!

I'm rooting for Sadie and Thirteen all the way.

2011-02-06T00:29:00.001-08:00

School Pride, Youth Center & Recent Trans Survey!

2011-02-04T23:24:00.000-08:00

Earlier this week I received an e-mail from my school asking if some other students and I wouldn't mind being photographed for some promotional brochures for our school. I have never, ever been asked to appear on promotional materials for anything. We were asked to wear colorful clothes and multiple layers.

I couldn't help but wonder why I'd been invited to appear in a photo shoot for school promotional materials. Is it my funny floppy gauged ears? My tattoos? Was I chosen as some aesthetically alternative bastion of liberalism?

Whatever the reason I, of course, couldn't resist and immediately agreed to it. Images came to my mind of hopping on steps with college kids throwing school books in the air or posing with smiles or skipping or rolling around in bright green grass or... who knows what. Something epic, no doubt.

I wore a bright purple shirt and a vest. That particular day was super sunny, but the windchill factor was freezing. Yet, between shoots, we were asked to remove our coats and try to appear warm and happy. They had us run up stairs, hop, smile, walk down the stairs chatting and smiling. It was so, so good - and I can't wait to, hopefully, at some point in the near future, receive the pictures to plaster on my blog.

It's just, so... not me, ... that it's bizarrely entertaining.

On a really exhausting but positive-fun note, for my Adolescent Development class we're required to do at least 35 hours of "service learning with adolescents" by the end of the semester. For this, I have been volunteering in the T.I.N.T. (youth center) of the Utah Pride Center every week for 5 hours. It's astounding how much energy adolescents have. They're loud. They bounce from one thing to another. They crumble popcorn on microwaved pizza. They put wigs on me and laugh. For 5 hours every week, essentially, I'm a human pinata.

And love it.

The kids there are so cute. I've volunteered throughout the years in the past and, while there are fun and adorable aspects to it, other aspects are just, ... difficult. There are homeless LGBQT youth who come there and, while they're able to have food and a warm, safe place to stay during the day - come 9pm, they're out on their own, doing who knows what to survive. Hopefully somewhere safe, but most likely hiding out in abandoned properties together.

It's sad how homophobia/transphobia could result in literally kicking one's child out to fend for themselves on the streets. Who end up doing drugs at night to stay awake so they're not hurt or raped - until morning comes and they can find somewhere safe and warm to sleep.

On a semi-related sweet but sad note, my grandma sent me a Facebook message today with a link to the following article of survey results from the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and the National Center for Transgender Equality that have just been released. It's of 6,450 transgender people and is the largest of its kind:

Transgender activists face multiple challenges

NEW YORK (AP) — Many transgender Americans face intolerance in almost every aspect of their lives, contributing to high levels of homelessness, unemployment and despair, according to a comprehensive survey being released Friday.

The National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and the National Center for Transgender Equality say their survey of 6,450 transgender people is the largest of its kind. It details discrimination encountered "at every turn" — in childhood homes, in schools and workplaces, at stores and hotels, at the hands of doctors, judges, landlords and police.

"Their lives are just a crapshoot," said Rea Carey, executive director of the task force. "They don't know from one interaction to the next whether they will be treated with respect and dignity. It's not the way people should be living their day-to-day life." Read more >

According to the survey, 41 percent of the transgender respondents reported attempting suicide - almost half.

News: Transsexual differences caught on brain scan

2011-01-31T17:10:00.000-08:00

Released just a few days ago and shared with me by my friend, Sara (thank you!):

Transsexual differences caught on brain scan

Differences in the brain's white matter that clash with a person's genetic sex may hold the key to identifying transsexual people before puberty. Doctors could use this information to make a case for delaying puberty to improve the success of a sex change later.

Medics are keen to find concrete physical evidence to help those children who feel they are trapped in the body of the opposite sex. One key brain region involved is the BSTc, an area of grey matter. But the region is too small to scan in a living person so differences have only been picked up at post-mortem. Read more >

Interesting. I'm going to dig up the papers this is based on through my school's library as soon as I have time!

Top Surgery SCHEDULED

2011-01-25T12:23:00.000-08:00

The date is set: August 11th!

I have the rest of my Spring semester, May term, and McNair summer research up until August - and then Fall classes begin August 25th. This date is ideal! This should and will (hopefully) be enough time to save up and garner enough donations (which I'm so super uber grateful for).

I was also given a 10% discount, which brings the grand total down to $5,479!

I'm so excited. I can't stop obsessing about this date and fantasizing about life once it's done. I'll elaborate more in a later post, but I just wanted to make this quick and brief blog post to spill my mass amount of inexplicable excitement all over the interwebs. I can't contain it!

Wooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! On an unrelated note, why is this one of the top two Google image results for "top surgery"?

Becoming Chaz @ Sundance

2011-01-24T18:55:00.000-08:00

Earlier tonight I watched the documentary Becoming Chaz , about Chastity Bono's transition to Chaz Bono which is premiering here in Utah at the Sundance Film Festival. From the Sundance website:

Chaz Bono was a male trapped in a female shell for as long as he can remember. Growing up as Sonny and Cher’s adorable golden-haired daughter in a body he felt wasn’t his own was a crucible it took years to transcend. Now, as he undertakes gender reassignment, he’s bravely decided to share the process on camera. Becoming Chaz invites us along on Chaz’s remarkable journey of transformation. As hormone shots give way to top surgery, down-to-earth, unflappable Chaz beams with a sense of liberation and goes public with his story to put a face on a misunderstood issue. Meanwhile, his gregarious girlfriend grapples with the realities of suddenly living with a man, and it’s clear sex change isn’t solely a physical transition.

Intimate and nakedly honest, the film reveals the humanity and courage it takes for Chaz to ultimately embrace his true self. His moving struggle will reverberate profoundly for anyone to whom authenticity matters

My friend, Andrew, purchased tickets to it a few weeks ago - but when he invited me I initially had to decline due to class schedule conflicts. That conflict went away after I dropped that god awful Spanish class - but, since I'd declined initially, Andrew had given my ticket to our mutual friend, Erin. But, lucky me, Erin took today off from work to sleep at home due to being sick and gave me his ticket. Woot! Sucka!

Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato (who brought us such television gems as Sex Change Hospital & Transamerican Love Story) were there to announce the film and for a Q&A afterwards. They mentioned that Chaz approached them to make this documentary and how it's about his bravery to become his authentic self, despite fears of rejection or the media tearing him apart for it. They also mentioned the good news that the Oprah Winfrey Network plans to air this documentary.

Obviously, I personally related to Chaz's journey in the film, yet I had a really difficult time connecting with him. I'm not quite sure what it was, but throughout the entire documentary he seemed to be incredibly disconnected; his girlfriend, Jenny, carried the weight of the documentary and, instead of the substance of the film relying on him, it seemed to end up depending on their relationship to compel the audience to feel anything. I suspect this was due to him being shy and introverted. He likely approached Bailey and Barbato knowing that, whether he wanted this very private matter to be in the public's eye or not, it inevitably would be so he may as well advocate on his own behalf. I do applaud him for this and, even though the documentary didn't have a huge impact on me, I'm sure it has and will have a huge impact on many other individuals and their families.

Even though I never felt connected to Chaz in the documentary, I was impacted by how the media reacted to his transition and how distant his relationship seem(s/ed) to be with his mother, Cher. Throughout his journey in the film she never once made an appearance with Chaz during his transition. She did an interview separate from him with the directors and we don't see them together until the very end at the premiere of her film, Burlesque. It was sad, but also adorable that she was clearly trying to work on it, trying to understand it, and trying to use the right pronouns.

During the Q&A many people seemed to relate to Cher's struggle with Chaz's transition and her detachment from him throughout the documentary. One woman commented that it would feel like the "death of one child" and "learning to love a new one". I understand this sort of reaction, but I have a hard time empathizing with it. As my parents have explained it to me, they never felt that there was a "death" when I told them I was starting hormone therapy. Melanie didn't "die" and get replaced by "Dexter". My parents have always seen me as, well, me - an authentic, evolving individual and their child. I suspect, with Cher, it seems to be the sort of situation where some times there's who a parent thinks their child is and who their child really is. Like there's a model in their head of their child that, when it conflicts with reality, feels like a "death". Which, is really sad to me and must take an enormous emotional toll on everyone.

There was a portion in the documentary that spurred a bit of an emotionally tense set of questions from a woman in the audience during the Q&A that involved the mention of hormone blockers as an option for young transgender children. In the documentary, Chaz goes to volunteer with a support group for parents with gender-variant/trans children. The moral in the documentary was that, unlike when Chaz was young and he couldn't talk about what he was experiencing with anyone, these children not only have options, but their parents are working to support them and have a genuine dialog about it. The woman in the Q&A, however, was the most impacted by the mention of hormone blockers, which were never explained or elaborated upon in the film.

In the final cut, I hope they do elaborate on it a bit, but overall I did enjoy the documentary and I think it's amazing that the Oprah Winfrey Network has picked it up. As my friend Bonnie put it, "I liked it too but I guess I would describe it as conservative. Controversial enough for mainstream audiences to exotify but relatively unspectacular for self-aware Trans or Queer audiences." Something like that. To learn more about wtf hormone blockers are, this article is pretty short n' sweet: Hormone Blockers for Transgender Kids?

Consultation Day!

2011-01-21T15:23:00.000-08:00

Had my consultation today and it went very well!

It was up at the University of Utah at the Madsen Surgery Center with Doctor Cori Agarwal. I made the appointment with a super sweet over-the-phone coordinator named Haley, who informed me that it would be in the Womens Health Center and made sure to add the disclaimer, "But don't let that scare you. We're welcoming of all gender variations!", which I thought was adorable.

So this morning my mom and I got up all excited for my big consultation day. And my mom, as always in her mega supportive way, accompanied me.

We found the Madsen Surgery Center up in the cobweb of a mess loopty loop road situation up at the U of U in time for my morning appointment which was, in fact, at the Womens Health Center and was, in fact, full of women. As we waited to sign in, a nurse behind the counter, addressing my mother, said, "We'll be just a moment!" And then, once that moment had passed and sign-in time had arrived, again addressing my mother, "Alright, who are you here to see?", to which I replied, "Doctor Agarwal." The nurse didn't act surprised and was all friendly cute and handed me some paperwork to fill out and turn in.

In no time at all I was called back by another nurse who was also super nice. She explained to me that the doctor would be in shortly and that I had a little bib gown situation to put on later. I dinked around on a monster-tetris weird block game on my itouch until the doctor arrived who, as I've heard through the grapevine, was incredibly friendly and understanding. She asked me to talk a bit about my experience and why I was there. As a matter of routine she asked that I provide a letter from my doctor and/or therapist saying something along the lines of, "This is the next step in his transition", which I told her was just fine by me. When she asked me questions about my breasts, I honestly couldn't answer them, seeing as I haven't intentionally looked for years. I figured that during the whole gown check out my breasticuses situation she would get all the info she needed.

So she asked me to put the gown on and left. When she returned, she looked at my chest and commented that I would need a subcutaneous bilateral mastectomy with nipple grafts. She explained the risks of the surgery - that scars would be noticeable, but that my chest hair growth pattern would likely cover them up down the road. That with the nipple grafts, the odds that I will lose sensation there are very high. She also went over realistic expectations for results aesthetically and about what to expect with the healing process. She emphasized that during the first week, I should be an unmoving schlub and not exert myself. That I will need to plan to have someone (ma!) take me to my appointments and follow-ups and that I will for sure need to take pain relievers.

Once she finished, I explained to her that I'm not worried about scars or having my chest appear all male-typical "perfect". I think every dude has his own, individual chest and so do I - and my scars will just be a reflection of my own experiences and history. They'll be bad ass. And all will be fine n' good as long as I'm able to swim laps and won't have breast fat there triggering my male-wired brain anymore. My biggest concerns are just over having the surgery go safely and not having infections and healing properly, which I'm hoping that I will!

She also explained to me some exciting things in regards to anatomical stuff that works in my favor for top surgery. Apparently since I don't have a cleavage situation going on and my breasts are "further apart", this helps prevent any necessary scarring in the sternum area. And since they're not all perky high, I also don't have to worry about my main chest area being altered at all which, apparently, also works in my favor. Yay.

Oh, and then she took photos of my chest from different angles after explaining to me that my head wouldn't be in any of the shots and that if I wanted copies of them to let her know. I told her that I would, once I had my top surgery so I could throw my photos up on some trans surgery sites along with her name and the cost for future trans dudes to check out down the road so they at least know there's a top surgeon here in Utah.

Anyway, once Agarwal was done with me, her coordinator who I spoke with on the phone to make the appointment, Haley, came in. Who, on a side note, is epic unnerving hot and vegetarian. But, sticking to the moral of this post, she warned me that - due to my particular chest and the surgery I need, it's a bit on the "higher end" of the cost scale. So she went over the estimate of surgical fees, leading up to the grand total of $5,779.00. Which is still much, much less than it would have been to go to Florida for this.

She also brought me a little step-by-step guide on how to apply for a cosmetic surgery loan, with little pictures and everything to boot! Awww!

So, once the mom and I got home, I immediately applied for the loan through two different institutions. I'm nervous, though... I have $2,100 saved up currently for it that I could use to make the down-payment - but this is assuming I get the loan. I have no credit history, which is where I'm worried that I won't be approved. I've never had a credit card and I've never owned a car or anything huge I've had to make payments on. I always save up and pay for things upfront and bicycle around all over, so if worse comes to worse and I'm not approved for these loans, I'll first try to ask for a lesser amount and, if that doesn't work, will then try to find a co-signer.

Or just continue to save and plead for donations from all of you adorably supportive and extremely appreciated peeps.

Which, now that I have a total and speaking of donation pleading, I'm throwing my button back up now that I have a new cost estimate. I took it down temporarily due to having no idea how much I was saving up for now that I've decided to go to a local doctor - but, it's approximately the same $6,000'ish amount. So button up! Thank you!!!!

I can't freaking wait.

Update: Declined already on the loan from one institution and waiting to hear back on the other. I'll try applying for a smaller amount if this second one is declined, also. I shot for the full $5,779 amount so I could use the $2100 right off the bat to build some good credit (since I have no credit currently) - but, on round two, I'll apply for $3679 remaining and see how that goes.

WHACK, right in the ovaries

2011-01-20T12:23:00.000-08:00

After seeing my blog post about Antony and the Johnsons with their beautiful Hope There's Someone video, my friend Andrew exposed me to heaps upon piles atop a mountain of additional Antony and the Johnsons stuff - which keyed me in to another song of theirs called 'For Today I Am A Boy', which is just as epic and dramatic, of course. I'm so into Antony Hegarty's depressing crap.

So last night I, as per diligent old man student usual, went to bed at 10pm for my classes this morning starting at 8am. But, then I woke up around 3am from a discomfort I'd felt before and confused me the first time around, on December 21st. But now, Round 2, I knew exactly what it was - freaking menstrual cramps.

These new post-hormone therapy cramps are similar to what I'd experienced before; but different enough that I couldn't quite peg it initially. Unlike before, these are not distinctly painful, just, really uncomfortable. I have to pee repeatedly. I'm erect. I can't sleep. It's obnoxious. At the least, this is becoming predictable. It hasn't happened since December, but both times it happened within the few days before injection day. So last night when I woke up I first took 400mg of ibuprofen. When that didn't make a noticeable difference 30 minutes later, I took an additional 400mg. That helped enough that I was able to fall asleep again but, around 4:30am, I woke up again from the discomfort. So I cracked, went to the bathroom, got out my needles, hormones, an alcohol wipe and a bandage and did my injection. And, within about 10 minutes, complete relief and I nodded back off to sleep.

But, another consistency I've noticed - after both cramping episodes and then after my injection, I've felt a pain that feels an awful like this appears:

WHACK, right in the ovaries - but a more minor variant. And in this exact general area, too: left side where I suspect my ovaries are located. It's like a throbbing, bruise-like sensation. It's not unbearable, just noticeable and has happened both times now on the injection day after the cramping occurs.

I can't wait to figure something out in regards to health insurance while I'm a student and unable to work full-time somewhere for benefits. I'd love to at least have things like this looked at to have an idea of what's going on. I'm in debt as it is from the non-insured doctor visits I've had so far, so I'm going to pursue my options more aggressively next week and figure out what is the least trans-exclusive and, hopefully, affordable.

Consultation

2011-01-19T15:58:00.000-08:00

Earlier today I made a very exciting phone call.

Wait for it...

wait for it...

... for a consultation with the top surgeon here in Utah.

Wooooo!

I learned about her through word-of-mouth at the Trans Action conference in November through other trans guys showing off their chests and rambling on about how wondrous she is. I've been giddy and prepping for it ever since.

During the consultation I want to a.) get a quote on how much my surgery will cost and b.) figure out payment options. I have around $2,000 so far (90% of this from donations - thank you everyone!!!) to use as a down payment, if possible. If not, I will at least have a (presumably) much smaller amount to continue saving up towards than the initial fly-to-Florida for a $5500 surgery + figuring out a place to stay & food for a week, plane ticket costs, covering the costs for a friend to come play care-taker, etc., plan. Having a surgeon located so close makes the whole thing much more attainable. If I'm lucky I'll be able to have my top surgery done over Spring Break. Or maybe over the Summer. Sooner than later, that's for sure.

I can't help fantasize about life post-op. First thing I'll do when I'm healed? Run to the school gym and swim laps. I haven't gone swimming for years - initially because it was just, uncomfortable and impossible to find a swimming suit situation that would work; but then, especially post-hormone therapy, due to how confining binding is for something that requires so much movement and, without binding, how awkward and unsafe it would feel.

I fantasize about bicycling all over the place with my chest liberated, as my body sweats like crazy for blissful cool down. I can't wait to go to the gym every day and just, lift weights with my unbinded chest and rinse off in the locker room without fear. I can't wait to try dating again and, really... to work on repairing the toll a "disconnected puberty" has taken on my self-esteem. Getting closer, one step at a time!

And in regards to the donations that have been sent my way thus far, I really have no words. It's astounding to me and incredibly appreciated that you have all done so much to help get me closer to making this surgery happen. Aside from the economic help, I'm touched by how sweet and thoughtful everyone has been. How incredibly supportive, understanding, and, above all, just... knowing that I'm not alone in this - that, despite societal hurdles, in reality I have friends and incredible people all around me, always, every step of the way. And, even more adorable, how genuinely empathetic and altruistic all of you are. That, despite having your own goals, aspirations, and problems, you still take the time to read my blog and to extend whatever you can to communicate that support; whether it's through all of your sweet little comments, donating to my surgery, or by just reading about my experience and being one of those people in the world who, ya know, rock.

Thank you. Fo' real real.

Mangina Monologues

2011-01-16T23:21:00.000-08:00

Alright, enough is enough. I'm updating my blog.

Last I left off, it was day one of Spring semester. Now, two weeks in, I'm overwhelmed with 16 credit hours (plus a 4 credit hour Research Methods class that's required for the McNair Scholarship Program) and plugging along.

The class I've felt the most intimidated about? Spanish I. It's been 12+ years since I've tried to learn a foreign language. A couple of nights prior to my first day at school I expressed my language acquisition nervousness to my friend, Emmi, who is currently a Spanish high school teacher. The way she explained learning language to me really resonated; along the lines of how I learned my first language, English, as a baby picking up on individual words, learning to piece together sentences, grammar, ... eventually reading, writing, proper pronunciation, yada yada. She forewarned me of teachers who have - other methods.

During week one I had Spanish with a professor who, in a nutshell, definitely opts for those "other (crap) methods" Emmi spoke of. He left me in the dust as he rambled on (with the exception of the two students who clearly already spoke Spanish), scribbled on the board, assigned us homework and studying for our day two quiz. My chest clenched and my stomach churned - the transformation of what should be fun into an absolutely confusing sucks-to-be-you-if-you're-actually-new-to-Spanish torture chamber in full effect. The next day I asked other students about this professor. Red flags galore. Another professor on campus was frequently suggested.

So on day two, giving him one more chance, it only got worse. Class felt like a ship plowing through crashing waves where I better hold on for dear life and stay afloat, otherwise my ragged little body will be torn apart and left behind. But then, a little blip in the distance appeared. A life boat, really, called Transfer the eff out. The little blip got closer... closer... and I got out. To an 8am class the following morning with the other teacher I'd heard good things about.

The next morning? The difference was light and day. Instead of feeling like I'm being weeded out and tortured, not only is the environment fun and encouraging, but, whatdoyaknow, I'm actually learning.

But more important than Spanish I? When I received an e-mail through my school account on the 11th that read:

'The Vagina Monologues'

Open auditions to all female* members of the (college)...... Prior acting experience is neither required nor discouraged. All interested participants should complete the attached audition form and come prepared to read a short excerpt from a monologue of their choice (scripts will be provided). The Vagina Monologues are read on-stage during performance, so no memorization is necessary.

*V-Day at (college) is an equal opportunity force against sexual violence towards both women and men; however, ‘The Vagina Monologues’ as copyrighted material is an all female cast.

Despite the fact that the last time I've ever "performed" in front of an audience was in the 3rd grade dressed up as a spider with a trumpet, I absolutely had to go. Vagina? Monologues? Females only? Hmm. Mangina, check. Shit to monologue about, check. Female, - federally? Sure! Check. Manginas have monologues, too. The way I figger it, the history of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues is rooted in using this verbatim theatre to challenge taboos around sexuality and to heighten sexual empowerment. And this has stemmed to trans women also, with pieces like They Tried to Beat the Girl Out of my Boy (and Calpernia Adam's Beautiful Daughters, which explores the trans female experience). So what about actively challenging prejudice and discrimination when it comes to trans men, also?

Nervous, I wrote the director an e-mail before showing up to the audition, just to make sure I didn't come off as an insensitive douche.

And as I sat through my night class and the auditioning hour approached, anxiety began to stir. Then I received a text from a friend of mine, who, unbeknown to me at the time, is also friends with the director. The text said that she was currently sitting by the director in class and that she was excited for me to come audition. One one hand, that was adorable and relieving. On the other, with my stage fright anxiety growing and regretting my knee-jerk reflex to e-mail, I now felt that there was no way I could back out.

Ever since my 3rd grade spider trumpet performance, I've always found excuses to avoid performing in front of audiences. But, knowing I'd regret it if I didn't, I went to the audition - the room, of course, packed full of women. And, to my surprise, ran in to an adorable MTF friend of mine there, who has apparently performed the They Tried to Beat the Girl Out of my Boy monologue in past performances.

I filled out an audition sheet. Sat by my friend. My stomach continued to churn - and then a girl sat by me, who I'd had Brain and Behavior with last semester. She also looked nervous. I asked her if she'd done this before. Nope. So we decided to do a monologue together - in a desperate effort to ease our nerves.

We did terribly. Well, I did, anyway. I couldn't perform for the life of me and had never seen the monologue we read before. I sweat. I laughed nervously. I went blank. I stuttered. But, I frickin' did it. I felt sick. I wanted to vomit. But I stood up there and did it. Tried to assert my mangina power and project faux stage confidence through an absolutely shoddy performance. But, bottom line, I DID IT. And when it comes to actually performing in front of an audience, I probably will puke. But then I'll try to pull it off as part of the monologue, as we all slip n' slide around on the stage.

The next day we all received a cast list. To my knowledge, everyone who auditioned got in. I'm slotted with a few other people and my MTF friend, who I'm meeting with asap to go over our monologue and modify it to reflect our respective *angina experiences a bit better.

I did a bit of google hunting and discovered The (Trans) Mangina Monologues, a celebration of Trans male sexuality and e-mailed them for monologue help. Adorably enough, a feller named Serge from the group replied to me immediately and even sent me some sample monologues from their book There Is No Word For It that will be coming out "Autumn 2010". These monologues are amazing and I'm very appreciative of how genuinely receptive they were to helping me out and sharing/responding so swiftly. I'm excited to meet with my MTF friend and put out transtastic combination monologue together. Then there's, ya know, the whole on-stage bit. But some times, bullets must be bit.

School Rant & Bayard Rustin

2011-01-04T23:12:00.000-08:00

Today was my first day of Spring semester! After maintaining my rigid 8am morning class go-to-bed-at-10-pm schedule last semester, it was pretty tragic how my 10am class this morning felt way too early. Staying up all night playing Fable 2 over break unraveled all that hard sleep schedule work FAST.

My morning class I barely recall. I sipped water while recovering from the shell shock of returning to school. What I do remember, however, is positive. Then I worked. And then I had my night time Adolescent Development class. Which, by that point, I was finally awake and alert for. I have the same fun and genuinely educational instructor for this class as I did in last semester's Brain & Behavior, so I'm confident it will be oodles o' actual learning and being entirely captivated by the information.

Which, to be honest, is quite literally the first time in my entire life of education that I've really felt like I'm learning something in a class. A rant will now ensue. You've been warned:

The Tale o' Schooling Woe

Throughout high school I never once felt challenged or encouraged to genuinely learn anything. From what I can recall, pretty much every.single.class was absolute torture - including one of my favorite subjects, art. Which, in my mind, takes some talent to morph into, ya know, torture.

Drawing with a little 0.7mm mechanical pencil or pen has forever & all eternity n' beyond been my prime outlet for expression and exploring. Here are a couple of excerpts from my 1995-1998 (i.e. age 13-16) sketchbook:

Emo as it was, I used sketching as a kid to really explore my imagination and experiences and as means to privately express myself. My parents were incredibly supportive of my art and constantly praised me for it, never once judging the darker themes or worrying about me because of it. They knew that it was just fantasy, exploring, expression, and fun.

However, in high school, I finally decided to take an art class. Our first assignment? Draw in our sketchbooks for two weeks then turn them in. When it came time to pick our graded sketchbooks up, I couldn't find mine in the stack. I asked the teacher about it, to which he replied, "I had a bad day yesterday and your sketchbook made it worse. Would you prefer I threw it in the garbage can for you to retrieve on your way out of my class forever, or for me to turn it over to the principal?" This, of course, I remember due to the super negative freaking imprint it burned into my noggin right at that shattering, entirely confusing moment.

Surprised, disappointed, and hurt, I asked him what, exactly, had upset him so much about my sketchbook. He told me the entire thing had, especially one sketch in particular. I turned to that sketch and, in an act of frustration, scribbled it out and wrote CENSORED on it (emo!). Then I told him that I was ready to leave his class. He walked to the garbage can, dropped my sketchbook in, and I dug it out and left his class forever.

In another class, my asking pesky questions about the topic upset the teacher so much that about every two out of five or so classes she would have me sit at a desk in the classroom closet, door shut, as a punishment of some sort.

And these are just two examples of many (like the time when the entire class consisted of the teacher not being present while students threw tools at me and, when brought up to said teacher, I was told to deal with it) that made my high school experience an incredibly discouraging one. Not to say, of course, that these are the worst experiences someone could have in high school structurally, but I felt pretty sucky about the whole shindig. I ultimately couldn't take it anymore and dropped out.

At that point, I genuinely believed that education was a sham constructed to punish genuine thought and foster mindless obedience and that I would be better off without it and actually learning through other means.

After dropping out, I immediately went to a recruiter to find out about joining the Air Force. At the time, I felt that I'd have no future prospects without joining the military. Thing is, I'd just become vegan and realized that boot camp would be the most vegan-unfriendly environment on Earth outside of a steak house, and, based on that, decided against joining the Air Force. Then, just a few months later, George Bush became President. Whew!

So then I spent all of my time working, activism, reading, and volunteering. It wasn't until I stumbled across Gene Sharp's 3-part trilogy called The Politics of Nonviolent Action and inspiring, encouraging writings from activists like Bayard Rustin that I decided to go back to school in 2005 (and then again in 2010, after that whole debt-sold-to-collection-agency-and-doubled-so-records-put-on-hold fiasco). And even then I felt that, even though I wouldn't learn anything, I had to play the game and endure the anti-learning wrath of it to make more options available to me so I could be a more effective activist in regards to the issue I'm passionate about.

Clip from Brother Outsider: The Life Of Bayard Rustin (who organized the March on Washington, brought nonviolence to the civil rights movement, and was essentially erased and forgotten due to being gay):

What I learned, fast, was that my college experience was a radically different one than my high school experience was. I can ask questions. I can actually think about the material being presented without it being seen as some awful, delinquent behavior. Now, I realize this was due to the low-income environment I grew up in and crap like the eeeevil and dubious hidden curriculum, where instead of prospects for college, our school was littered with army recruiters. I became filled with resentment and pessimism about education. I now know that, though there are a slew of structural problems, ridiculous costs, and yada yada, at least I can learn something for a change. And last semester was, quite honestly, the first time that fo' real real happened.

And it was refreshing and I'm looking forward to more. And won't stop, even after school does. Because, on the same hand, while there's a lot to learn in school, there's much, much more to learn outside of school.

Anyway, long ass rant aside, in this Adolescent Development course we're expected to spend 35 hours volunteering somewhere with adolescents. And, perfect for me, I'm betting that I can spend that 35 hours with LGBQT adolescents at the Utah Pride Center, which I've done before and will love to do again!

~ FIN ~

"My Princess Boy"

2011-01-03T20:13:00.000-08:00

Five-year-old Dyson Kilodavis is a little boy who loves sparkly things: princess gowns, hot pink socks, glittery jewelry:

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

This interview is impressive. I love how Dyson's dad says, "It's not contagious. He's just like any other kid. Plays checkers, plays in the trees...he just likes to do it in a dress. Big deal."

Whoa. The concept of supporting their child's glittery princess happiness, irrelevant to what social convention says? Interesting - society felt the same way about girls who wore pants back in the day. And now that social convention has changed.

It's so brave of this family to challenge modern social convention in the face of so much pressure for little Dyson to feel ashamed of what makes him happy. I also love what his mom says in the above interview on MSNBC:

... in 2010, in light of all of this bullying and things that have happened and the unthinkable outcomes of children taking their lives just for being different this is our chance to say 2011 is going to be about the year of acceptance. We're going to turn this around... and sooner or later my hope is that the world will embrace the uniqueness that is really within all of us.

So adorable, just letting their cute kid be himself and explore his own preferences and happiness. Aww!

Richard Metzger also interviewed the boy's mom, dad, and older brother, where he says:

This child, I think it's clear, is going to be who and what he'll be. But unlike many kids like him, he's not going to grow up thinking there is anything wrong with who he is. This kid is FABULOUS and nothing less! With all of the gay bullying, suicides and the general anti-gay bigotry going on in rightwing circles, Cheryl, Dean and their older song Dkobe, deserve admiration and gratitude from the rest of us, for being such an amazing, wise examples for other people in their situation, with their loving parenting of their "Princess Boy."

Spot on, Metzger.

New Years!

2011-01-02T14:11:00.000-08:00

Celebrated New Years Eve this year relaxed and indoors with friends by a fire eating vegan fried chick'n with mashed potatoes watching the 1,000 Ways To Die (which, fyi, might just be the best show ever created) marathon on Spike TV. Which, I realize, is highly preferable to going out and about - oh, age. I took the bus down to my friend Jude's place to spend it with her and her girlfriend, Shannon, and roommate, Shannon (and given that they both have the same name, I began using two nicknames - for girlfriend Shannon, it's Noodle. For roomie Shannon, it's Boobs).

The do-dinner-and-stay-in concept dawned on me the year before last while I was at a drrrrrrunk traditional ol' New Years Eve party and slid off to the bathroom at 11:55 and locked myself in during the midnight alcohol super soaker hysterics. While sitting there on the bowl and a headache creeping on, I decided right then and there, "Next year, I'm staying in."

Then the fact that I got sick afterwards sealed the deal. Plus, this year, on New Years Eve the roads here were plastered in ice. ABC News reported the morning after that there were a slew of accidents and that three people died in three separate crashes just hours apart, even. So yeah, the drunkest night of the year + ice ='s stay in with Jude, Noodle, and Boobs watching the 1,000 Ways To Die marathon while eating fried chick'n with mashed potatoes by a warm fire in cozy soft blankets.

Once Boobs and Noodle dozed off pre-midnight, Jude and I held in there with Body Double, which includes a scene in it thanks to Frankie Goes to Hollywood that very well might be my childhood root. I was obsessed with this scene. Not as obsessed as I was with Willow, Tales From The Crypt or Evil Dead 2, but pretty up there:

At the time I didn't quite realize why this scene was so mesmerizing and wondrous. It just was. Just like the 80s - the era of gaytastic House music, androgyny and progress with queer rights until, ya know, the discovery of AIDS and the Christian Right using that tragedy as a homophobic campaign tactic to condemn homosexuals for it.

I hope everyone had a fun n' great likely s-h-i-t-f-a-c-e-d New Years!

Love it

2010-12-31T00:05:00.000-08:00

Watching this gets me all emotional and teary. It's not every day that I genuinely relate to music, and this song, in all its dramatic glory, gets me like a little GPS-coordinated dart. D-R-A-M-A. The transgender lead singer, Antony Hegarty, is all kinds of androgynous adorable awesome.

An Interview with Antony Hegarty

lazz:
GROSS: I’d like to talk with you a little bit about gender. You describe yourself as transgender. What does that mean to you?

HEGARTY: Well, you know, it’s pretty simple. I don’t identify as a man. I identify as transgender, you know? I mean, it’s a pretty typical phenomenon. There’s probably transgender people in most families, somewhere around the line. Usually exhibits…
(Soundbite of laughter)

HEGARTY: Its symptoms, like, by the age of five or something, you know that your alignment is subtly or very overtly different than the kids that may be around you. I always aligned more with my mother and my mother’s side. And my pursuits and interests as a really young kid were more creative and always leaning more toward the feminine side as opposed to towards the masculine side of activities. So, it’s really as simple as that, you know? I made a choice to, sort of, really spell it out for people, especially since I’m not someone that is transitioned to—towards anything, really. I’m just sort of in a process of embracing myself as a transgender person and presenting myself, you know, as I am…

GROSS: You mean as opposed to having a sex-change operation to surgically alter yourself?

HEGARTY: No, not necessarily. That’s not what I meant. But you know, it could be more subtle than that. You know, I mean, I think people tend to be really obsessed with transgender people’s physical configurations. But transgender is a condition of the spirit, you know? There’s something very reductive that tends to occur in perceiving transgender people and even gay people, in that society tends to want to reduce them, in almost a crude way, around an obsession with their sexuality or even their genital configuration, which has—there’s a kind of a cruelty to that, when, in fact, what we are dealing with is people whose spirits are different.

And it’s much more subtle and there’s a lot more potential there within each of those children and within each of those adults that remains unacknowledged and sometimes even unexplored, because people, even individuals, fall victim to society’s impression of them or society’s reduction of them. And what you tend to notice about a transgender kid, you know, they’re usually the ones that are kind of dancing by themselves in a little circle of light, and they see colors more brightly, and they’re very sensitive to the feelings of kids, other kids, and adults around them. And my suggestion is that they have a little gift inside their hearts that could be a real asset within the family. And I think that’s true of gay kids, too, you know?

(Click for audible version of Terry Gross’s annoying questions| NPR)

Reblogged from lazz |>>>>

The Old, The Wise, and The Cranky

2010-12-27T23:29:00.000-08:00

My cat, Evilbunny, is 84 years old in kitty years now. What the? That's 17 in human years! Madness. He just keeps going and going and going and... I think all of the cuddles I've been giving him throughout the years (since I was 11 or 12) are keeping him alive and sufficiently plump. Or so I say.

Here is a photo taken yesterday of our usual nightly sleeping arrangement. Since I had to get up to acquire my camera and take the photo, I doodled in where I sleep and the position I arrange myself in, like a puzzle piece, to fit:

CHRIST-mas

2010-12-26T18:59:00.000-08:00

Vacation is going by way too quickly. I've spent about 80% of this break social whoring it up like a chipmunk storing food in preparation for the winter season. I'm signed up for 16 credit hours next semester, plus 2 extra credits for a research methods course required for the McNair Scholarship program I'm in. This is a great time to have school break though, seeing as it coincides with out-of-town friends pooling in to the fine state of Utah for the holidays!

Christmas has been super fun. Throughout the month my grandparents snuck by our place to drop off soup and rolls and whatnot all ninja style. Which were super delicious and very sweet of them. Then, on the eve o' xmas a couple of little presents were opened between my parents and I. My dad unwrapped his gift to discover a box of crackers and my mom unwrapped her gift to discover a vegan "cheese" ball to dip said crackers in. Mmm!

Then, as per family tradition, we nibbled on the above mentioned deliciousness while watching a Christmas film together. This year we chose Christmas Evil (also known as You Better Watch Out and Terror in Toyland), which is a 1980 slasher film where I learned that nothing beats watching Santa Claus get chased down by a torch-wielding mob or paint a sled on a creeper van full of toys to get around in. John Waters calls this awesome piece of crap the "greatest Christmas movie ever made." It predates the horror film Silent Night, Deadly Night, which up until just this December I thought was the earliest Santa slasher film. Eh, wrong.

It was, for sure, a pleasant surprise. I expected the usual crazed Santa slash em' up, but this was a lot more bizarre and entertaining. Fiona Apple's dad plays the father. That explains a lot.

The next morning I woke to loud festive Christmas music pounding through our atheist household, the fake tree all lit up, and my dad cuddling my mom. I made them coffee, my brother arrived, and then we took our sweet time unwrapping gifts. The most enthusiastic member of the family was Gany (our pup), who had two presents to unwrap - a little snowman of three white tennis balls and some biscuit caps for a chew toy of his. He was just like a little kid shredding the wrapping off and flipping out about how exciting it was. And he had a little bit of a hard time abstaining from helping everyone else unwrap gifts that weren't his due to how freaking fun it was:

I got a pack of much-needed socks. Living here with my parents, there's what I refer to as the "mother vortex". I have no idea where this vortex is located or how it works - all I know is is that, once items enter, they never re-emerge. I also received some Planet Bike bicycle lights, which are the brightest and most blinkiest of them all! Also a super insanely soft grizzly bear blanket AND, most importantly, a modernized Glow Worm.

Remember these?

I do. My brother and I spent hours hiding under our beds with these god awful things. And both received modernized versions this year (taken with my camera phone):

Seriously. ... which also explains a lot. I actually like it. And not-so-secretly it's on my bed. I played it last night (it glows and plays bed time songs, one of which is the "Hush little baby" song from Evil Dead 2! Which is how I remember it, anyway) as I fell asleep. And then the TRON soundtrack. Then, throughout the night, my cats stepped on the Glow Worm a million + 1 times and it played a million + 1 bed time songs. Thanks, cats.

And thanks to my friends and family, too, for always being so wonderful, giving, thoughtful, supportive and generous - all year 'round.

Cramping, Poke Pain, Refund & 2 YEAR TRANNIVERSARY

2010-12-21T00:51:00.000-08:00

Finals, at long brutal last and as all wonderful things do, came to an end on the 14th. Since then I have spent my time in recovery-mode NOT writing, playing video games, socializing profusely, and lounging around.

So now here I am, ready to do some writin'.

Something peculiar happened last week.

Chapter 1: Health

On Monday, the 13th, like the diligent lacky student that I am, I went to bed at 10pm-almost-on-the-dot. About an hour later I woke up, all... uncomfortable-like. It took me about a half hour to fall back asleep and, again, I woke up all... uncomfortable-like. I rationalized that, since my last two finals were that following Tuesday morning back-to-back starting at 8am, perhaps I was stressed or nervous, causing me to feel off?

Although, I wasn't thinking anything anxiety-inducing, it was the only thing I could come up with. I then forced myself to get back to sleep.

So this process repeated, over and over, about five times until I woke up again at 4am, pissed, uncomfortable-like, and defeated. And then it dawned on me. Was I having menstrual cramps? It's been, ya know, about two years since I've experienced the whole cramping sensation, so I wasn't quite sure. But on a hunch, and now feeling anxious about only having about 2 hours of sleep pre-finals, I used my age-old cramping medicine and took me some ibuprofen. And magically felt better. Damnit.

So yes, on the eve of Monday, the 13th I was, in fact, experiencing menstrual-what-the-fuck-cramps. Worried, while up at 4am and as the ibuprofen kicked in, I did some online hunting about menstrual cramping (i.e. contractions of the muscular organ in the uterus) and FTMs - and stumbled across this Gender Centre Female-to-Male Information Kit, which has something to note about this whole cramping business. But not much:

Some of the older F.T.M.s have had the advantage of having an hysterectomy before they've sought hormone therapy. Many F.T.M.s feel there is an advantage to this as there will be less of a strain on the liver once testosterone therapy is initiated. Some symptoms of chemical/hormonal imbalance (such as migraines) often disappear after the F.T.M. has his hysterectomy....

There are many who choose not to undergo an hysterectomy and suffer no ill–effects, although there does seem to be a greater degree of difficulty dealing with the last few days before the next injection, known as the trough. In the 3 to 4 days before the next injection, many F.T.M.s... report irritability, shortness of attention span, headaches, fatigue, lack of sex drive, and sometimes cramping similar to menstrual cramping. Some F.T.M.s who experience extremes of these symptoms then pursue hysterectomy, or opt for an oophorectomy.

Which is something, out of the miniscule amount of info out there on FTMs health-wise... which, doesn't necessarily address if it's something to worry about or not. However, not surprisingly, Hudson's most excellent FTM Resource Guide provides a lot more information on it:

If a trans man chooses not to have a hysto/oopho procedure, he should continue to have regular Pap smears (to screen for cervical cancer) and should seek out the care of a doctor if he experiences any irregular vaginal bleeding (including spotting), cramping, or pain. It is not uncommon for trans men who are pre-hysterectomy to experience a buildup of endometrial tissue, especially during the first few years of testosterone therapy.

Endometrial tissue is normally shed during menstruation, but since this process is usually stopped a few months into testosterone therapy, additional tissue may continue to build up and may eventually begin to shed in the form of spotting. Because irregular bleeding can be a sign of cancer (though this is often not the case), trans men who experience any bleeding/spotting should see a doctor who will perform tests to determine the cause of the spotting. These tests may include an endometrial biopsy and/or an ultrasound.

The doctor may advise a short course of progesterone to cause the uterus to shed the excess endometrial tissue-- this is much like inducing a period. While this may be unpleasant, it should be understood as a preventative measure, since the unusual buildup of endometrial tissue has been linked to endometrial cancer.

Thanks, Hudson! This way helps. In my case, this is the first I've experienced of any cramping business since transitioning. It occurred three nights before my injection day (the 16th). And - for now - if it happens again within the first few days before my next injection day and seems to be getting worse, I'll make an appointment with my doctor. I'm assuming that, as Hudson's guide says, it's likely a build-up of the endometrial tissue that wants out, and I'll need some of that spiffy progesterone to do it.

We'll see. In time.

Chapter 2: School

Anyway, I did well last semester! Most importantly, I got a B+ in my most intimidating class, by far: Brain and Behavior. It was a whole lotta chemistry, anatomy, and biology - none of which I've ever taken before. Plus, I have a mega irrationally low self-esteem when it comes to the academic department. With biology/anatomy/chemisty whatnot, I know I had these classes in high school but completely failed them due to never going and, ultimately, dropping out. So after that and a 7-9 year school hiatus, it was a steeeeeeep learning curve.

Yet, I managed and came out afloat. Boo-ya, bitches. Which now has me all inspired, prepped, and confident to dive in to next semester in January!

Chapter 3: Injection

Oh, on an injection note, I don't know what's up, but my thighs are becoming less needle-poking site welcoming. Last Thursday was the worst. I'm not sure if it was a dull needle or what, but I had to literally stab it through the skin to puncture it rather than just having it slide in like butta as it always has.

These past few injection periods I've considered going the butt injecting route - but, it's just so intimidating for some reason to figure out where exactly to poke it and twisting around to do the poking. When it comes to thigh land, I can just sit, poke, done. Minus the whole more-painful-than-usual deal lately.

In other news, with school, the whole financial aid situation was resolved and I was issued a refund, which I can now use to get my school books. Yay!

And, p.s., my official two year tranniversary was on the 11th!

Finals

2010-12-09T13:29:00.000-08:00

Finals slay me. Until the 14th, anyway. And then I'll sleep until January to recover. I suspect this is a violation of my human rights.

Butt Rock Epic

2010-12-05T01:59:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine asked me to find some high-resolution photos of the most recent Trans March this past Pride. So off I went to computer land to sift through my photos in hot pursuit of said high res's - and ended up falling down a rabbit hole of old pictures galore.

I found one that is absolutely butt rock hair epic, of me when I was the wee bot age o' 16:

Whoa. This is a never-before-seen photo sharing blog exclusive! Did I not own a hair brush? Actually, I don't recall brushing my hair ever... so uh, yeah, about that. EPIC.

Thank you Bernie Sanders!

2010-12-05T00:40:00.000-08:00

This is a FANTASTIC speech given by Bernie Sanders on income inequality here in America. Graphs and images have been added to this particular version for those that need a little more stimulation to get them through a political speech. The music is from the Cinematic Orchestra album. You will enjoy and hate every minute of it:

Financial Aid & "Coming Out"

2010-11-30T20:17:00.000-08:00

Good news in the financial aid department! ... thus far.

So yesterday I met with Student Account Services showing them this pile of statements from them all saying different things. One saying, "You owe $4,654 something another dollars! Pay it now! Your account is on HOLD!", then another saying, "You owe $2,000 something another dollars! You may arrange a 5-month payment plan with us! In the meantime, your account is on HOLD!", and then a third saying, "Not only do you not owe us anything, but you have paid almost $2,600 in excess which we will refund to you promptly."

The recipient of my confusion was also confused as she typed on her computer, then her calculator, then the computer, and the calculator again. She said, "Um, we're not seeing your McNair scholarship on here.", and then, "Oh wait, there it is." And then, "When you initially signed your 10-month plan this or that scholarship hadn't kicked in yet... and it looks like your two loans never kicked in." So, about twenty minutes and no solid answers later, I told her that I'd just go have my meeting with financial aid the next morning (this morning) and relay the results to her.

Forward to this morning, where my alarm didn't go off and I woke up to my pops knocking on my door around 7:17am. My mom and dad were both getting ready to head off to the hospital to drop off some stuff and so my mom could get poked and her blood suckled out by a phlebotomist. Since my appointment wasn't until 9am, I went with them. Two hours for mother pokage is plenty of time!

... or not.

Once we got to the hospital about five people were all surrounding one woman with needles trying to successfully poke her. After four unsuccessful attempts, they sent her out to take a break and drink some water. After a little bit she went back in to get poked some more and, after about ten or so minutes, one of the defeated nurses came out to take my mom to another room, not knowing how long it would take to get this other lady poked. So off my mom went with the nurse, needles, gloves, and wipes in hand.

Meanwhile, they finally got this other lady poked by the sixth attempt and the room erupted in joy and praise. But then the nurse from my mom's room emerged to bring them the bad news, "We have another tough one."

So then the gang of nurses traveled to my mom's room to take turns poking her, too.

But, apparently, they only got through three pokes before giving up, calling my mom a "Hard Stick" (which is now her official nickname) and releasing her to "Wait for the phlebotomist." - meaning, I guess they're fill-in phlebotomists trying to poke a bunch of tiny-veined early-morning-its-cold-out dehydrated victims?

After a while, I got the gist that there was no way I'd be making it to that 9am appointment, so I gave them a call and rescheduled for 9:30-10:00. Anyway, long story short, the phlebotomist DID successfully poke the Hard Stick - by poking her hand.

And I did make it to Financial Aid, around 9:45, to be greeted with encouraging news! According to them, all of my financial aid has, at long last, kicked in. And so have my loans, which should be processed around noon tomorrow. Which means that Fall and Spring semesters will be paid for, I won't need to do the payment plan anymore, and I will be reimbursed for everything that I have paid thus far and the excess on my loans. Woot!

Which is AWESOME, because I was all anxious about how to make my monthly payment and afford textbooks for next semester. And now, assuming all goes to plan, I will be able to afford it all, no problem. And get some spiffy water-proof socks for morning winter cycling. Epic win!

In other news, I came "out" to some fellow students and a professor during lunch today. Which, as I've mentioned in this blog before, is a strange occurrence for me seeing as I've never had to put any effort into "coming out" for my entire life essentially up until a year ago. I don't know how it came up, but when it did everyone seemed shocked and then, of course, the questions came flooding in. One asked me to clarify what transgender was, which I simply explained in terms of MTF (male-to-female) and FTM (female-to-male), but nutshell-emphasized that there can be more to it. I very briefly ranted about V.S. Ramachandran who is famous for his ground-breaking work with phantom limb syndrome and has more recently focused on transsexuality. In his paper Phantom Penises in Transsexuals he writes,

We explain the absence/presence of phantoms here by postulating a mismatch between the brain's hardwired gender-specific body image and the external somatic gender. Further studies along these lins may provide penetrating insights into the question of how nature and nurture interact to produce our brain-based body image.

So exciting. The professor there admitted that he had the mis-impression that transgender people were all "unhappy", "mentally ill", "hidden" and "ashamed", and was astonished that I'm so "together" and happy. I explained to him that it can be a very difficult thing to feel "trapped", in essence, in a body that's completely detached physiologically. Compounding that, there's having to face disproportionate amounts of discrimination in all areas of life, from families to employment and health care. How many who are older generations have experienced complete isolation with their experience, being told that they're "wrong", sick and perverted - and, fortunately, for those of us who grew up with the Internet, many of us at least have had access to some amount of information and social networking to feel less isolated in our experiences.

And for anyone who is gender-nonconforming, transsexual or not, the discrimination is just insane. Thank you gender binary! There's well-documented and unconscionable levels of hate violence towards trans people, especially young, low-income transgender women of color. For years, trans people have been murdered on an average of more than one person per month and many more have been assaulted. #END RANT#

Ahem, rant button pushed. I didn't rant about all of that in response - that's a special treat here in blog land - but I mentioned a wee bit. Anyway, long story short, "coming out" is such a different experience. As Ivan E. Coyote put it in her piece to femme lesbians:

I want to thank you for coming out of the closet. Again and again, over and over, for the rest of your life. At school, at work, at your kid’s daycare, at your brother’s wedding, at the doctor’s office. Thank you for sideswiping their stereotypes.

I never get the chance to come out of the closet, because my closet was always made of glass. But you do it for me. You fight homophobia in a way that I never could. Some of them think I am queer because I am undesirable. You prove to them that being queer is your desire.

Thank you for loving me because of who I am and what I look like, not in spite of who I am and what I look like.

I freaking love this bit. The whole glass closet shindig - that is exactly how it was for me. And now I'm off in inadvertent stealth land having to actually put forth effort in "coming out". Adjusting as necessary!

Financial Aid Fiasco and a Frozen Girl on the Porch

2010-11-27T23:53:00.000-08:00

Back in the day I made one a drawn-out blubbery post about how, when I got hired to work on campus and they ran this E-Verify check on my social security number it was flagged due to my name/gender not matching, as I'd had it all legally changed in all other ways (birth certificate, I.D., etc.) but not federally yet (and currently the gender is mismatched, because I can't legally change it, rendering my local gender 'male' and my federal gender 'female' - wtf?). This didn't just end up impacting my campus job, but also my financial aid. I received a notice from my school that I had to go through a re-verification shindig of some sort, giving them my new social security card, filling out paperwork again, tracking down my 2009 W-2 and giving it to them again, so on and so forth.

In addition to this whole fiasco, when I initially received my financial aid package at the beginning of this semester I worked out a 10-month payment plan with Student Account Services for the remainder that loans and scholarships didn't cover. Yet, due to this whole E-Verify flagged mismatch situation, plus how financial aid and student account services apparently don't communicate with one another, I received a letter from them saying that I had now faltered on my payments and that 4,000+ would be due, in full, by January 1st, 2011. A "HOLD" was placed on my account (and still is), notifying me that I would not be able to register for classes next semester or transfer my credits/grades to any other institutions until the $4,000+ had been paid.

Of course, this spurred a "What the fuck??" moment, and then caused me to spiral into a mopey state of semi-despair, where I felt disappointed in myself for some, no matter how good I do in school money will somehow doom me to fail reason. I couldn't shake the knot in my gut all night, so I finally went to bed and woke up feeling better. That morning (about a week ago) I immediately called Student Account Services. Low and behold, I was told that I should "resolve things with financial aid" and report their feedback to the student account services peeps. Fine, good. Meaning there's hope yet! I decided to ignore the scary letter and the whole situation and to just make my 10-month plan payment as usual, so at least I'd have that going for me once things will resolve - hopefully.

All last week due to Thanksgiving holiday or something another whatnot, I never heard back from Financial Aid about meeting with them - which means I'll bumble in there Monday morning to physically appear pathetic and in need and, through that, compel some poor chump to meet with me.

Anyway, then a few days ago I received another letter in the mail from my school, informing me that my "Stafford Loan and/or Perkins Loan funds have been applied to [my] tuition account...", and that now instead of $4,000+, I owe the original $2,000'ish sum. The letter included a 5-month payment plan option, which confuses me because I'm already on a 10-month payment plan. And then, two days ago I received another letter saying that the "Total amount due from student" ='s 2,132.00- <-- what does the negative sign mean??

So in conclusion, I'm confused, the whole cost of education in the United States headache sucks (i.e. how I'm an all A's and B's student and still, the bottom line is money, end of story), and I'll just go hassle people left and right, back and forth as much as possible Monday.

In the very near future here come much-dreaded, anxiety-inducing finals. Ew.

And on to the frozen porch girl,

This morning I wandered out to walk my little cat, Theseus Arkadash, real quick before heading to coffee with my dad. Upon returning, we discovered a bizarre sight on the porch - a shivering young woman, with two purses and a red hoodie on. Caught off-guard, I asked, "Oh, wow, it's cold out here, isn't it?", then brought Theseus inside. I then told my dad, who was just putting his jacket on, "There's some girl out on our porch all frozen and shivering." Also caught off-guard, he replied with, "What?", and I repeated myself. Still confused, he walked outside and there she was, young woman all frozen.

I set Theseus down and walked out to the porch to find my dad comforting her, asking if she was okay and if she needed a ride anywhere. She told us that she was with her boyfriend earlier that morning in his car, on their way to his parent's place in our neighborhood. According to her story, he got upset and violent, so she ran from the car and had been hiding behind our home for a few hours, terrified that he'd find her.

My dad grabbed her a coat, I grabbed our pup, Gany, and we all headed to the car, turned the heat on, and asked if she wanted to get coffee with us before going wherever she needed to go. She did. The second we got to the cafe she went directly to the woman's single-stall restroom. We ordered drinks and got her a plain, hot coffee (having no idea what she wanted, if anything), and sat down. After 15 minutes she still hadn't emerged from the bathroom, so I knocked to check on her. "I'm okay!", she said. After another 15 or so minutes, my dad went to check on her - and again, she said she was doing fine.

I don't know how long she was in there, but I went to check on her again and she, at long last, emerged from the bathroom. She sat with us, tasted her coffee, got bitter face. Poured oodles of sugar into it, and my pops asked what she usually preferred. Cappuccino, she said. So he got her one, and also two muffins - poppyseed and chocolate.

Then she went out for a smoke, came back in, ate her muffins, talked about wanting to get her materials back from her boyfriend, yada yada... throughout, we talked about maybe taking her downtown to the YWCA. She didn't seem happy about the idea, commenting that she didn't "like authority figures". And, shortly thereafter, she grabbed her purse and went back to the bathrooms. During that time I took Gany on a walk near the cafe to a little snow-covered field, where he found a big ol' stick and frolicked around with it.

By the time she was done doing whatever purse-dependent thing she was doing in the bathroom, we had been at the cafe for almost three hours. My dad brought up the idea again of taking her downtown where she could at least stay warm in the library for a bit, or have access to the YWCA or other resources - but, again, she wasn't interested. She asked if we could take her to her aunts place.

On the way there she had a really hard time staying awake, as sleep-deprivation and whatever drugs she'd just taken in the bathroom at the cafe were kicking in overtime. When we got her to her aunts place, my pops walked her to the door and relayed that her aunt wasn't surprised and had this, Oh boy, here we go again attitude. Sadness. Definitely a girl in trouble.

It really pains me to see situations like that where, for whatever reasons, someone ends up in a tragically destructive, seemingly hopeless cycle of drugs, abuse, self-hate and whatever else. If she didn't just happen to hide by our home, if we hadn't woken up as early as we had, and if we hadn't been leaving at just that moment, there's a super high likelihood that she would've stayed there on whatever drugs she had and just fallen asleep, to just freeze to death and never wake up again. Crazy.

But for now, this time, she is okay. My dad wrote down the address and phone numbers for some resources and I hope, at some point, she taps into them and breaks that seemingly insurmountable cycle she's in.

Transgender Day of Remembrance

2010-11-20T16:58:00.000-08:00

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance, which happens every year to pay tribute to individuals who have died due to anti-transgender hatred or prejudice.

Related to this, a recent U.S. transgender discrimination survey found that 41 percent of trans people in the United States have attempted suicide, which is more than 25 times the national average. Sadness! And definitely a very clear illustration of one of the many consequences that stem from misunderstanding, ignorance, and discrimination. Just released yesterday on MSNBC:

Transgender Americans face high suicide risk

November 19, 2010 - A staggering 41 percent of transgender people in the United States have attempted to commit suicide, according to a new survey. About 19 percent of transgender people report being refused medical care because of their gender-nonconforming status, and a shocking 2 percent have been violently assaulted in a doctor's office. Read More >

On a more uplifting note, things are -much- better now than they were ten years ago, twenty years ago... Thanks to my trans predecessors, the history of our LGBQT movement, the allies and non-bigots, awareness, and openness there has been increasing acceptance, support, knowledge and exposure. Let's keep on truckin' on and making it better n' better!

Gender Conference

2010-11-18T16:43:00.000-08:00

TransAction's 2nd Annual Gender Conference took place this past weekend. It started at 9am on a Saturday morning and, being the sleeping-in schlub that I am, I didn't get there until about noon. My awesome pops went with me and, aside from the panel we were on together in one workshop titled "Trans Family" and the keynote address with queer artist Elisha Lim, we attended separate workshops.

I went to three!

While my dad went to some trans in mythology something another, I went to one about state violence. A feller named Nathan talked mostly about trans incarceration and police brutality against trans people. It reminded me of this documentary along similar lines called "Cruel and Unusual" where the filmmakers spent three years with several trans women who were placed in men's facilities. This presentation (and the film) basically brought up how prisons don't have mechanisms in place for trans women.

As illustrated in the stories of the women in the film, for example, it didn't matter for any of the women how long they'd been transitioning, had breasts, etc. - if they hadn't yet had bottom surgery, they go to prison with men. End of story. Of course, higher incidents of rape becomes a problem, so the trans women are put in solitary confinement as a "step up" from rape, even though solitary confinement is a madness-inducing punishment.

For trans women who don't "pass" as cisgender women, it was pointed out that many can't find work and are often denied access to shelters and rescue missions. For example, one woman in the documentary I mentioned (named Linda), this led her to steal to survive, which led to prison. While in prison, unable to get her hormone treatments and going absolutely nuts going through withdrawal and watching the progress she'd made with estrogen fade away and in an act of desperation she castrated herself. Lawyers observe that the taxpayers could have shelled out $20 a month for generic hormone therapy, but instead they had to pay tens of thousands of dollars for two trips to the emergency room.

The next workshop addressed health concerns and had a few professionals present, including an awesome MTF therapist. I brought up my concern with being uninsured as a full-time student and how the insurance available for students is also trans-exclusive - and most others also brought up problems with insurance being trans-exclusive. And how, once flagged as trans, the companies are able to argue out of covering most anything (even cold medicine for family members of trans individuals in some cases).

My dad was on the Trans Family panel with me, where there were three other trans guys with their moms and one trans girl with her mom. The panel facilitator had us share our stories and, eventually, had a brief audience Q&A. My dad said the most adorable thing when speaking at one point, saying that he never once felt like there was something wrong with his child, but that I've always been "incredibly unique" and "neat". Awwww.

The greatest thing I learned at the conference, by far, was news of a top surgeon here in Utah. Someone who will be $3,000-$5,000 max - no travel expense necessary! This whole time I've been planning to travel to Florida which would be $6,000 for the surgery itself and then however much two plane tickets would cost on top of that (one for myself and some poor friend to take care of me), motel for 1-2 weeks, and other expenses yada yada. This makes everything much more attainable and affordable. Very exciting!

p.s. watching The Hot Chick with Rob Schneider is a lot more entertaining now that I've been transitioning than it was in 2002.

Transgender Awareness Month: Oh Boi in IN Magazine

2010-11-18T00:03:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of Transgender Awareness Month, an article about trans dudes - myself included - in IN Magazine by the most goygeous of them all, Princess Kennedy:

Princess Kennedy talks "Original Plumbing" with Amos Mac in IN Magazine

I invited a good friend of mine, Dexter Thomas -- you might remember Dexter from my last months Zombie tutorial -- to fill me in on what he was going through on this mental and emotional journey.

Thomas started taking hormones about two years ago, technically beginning the transition. Standing about 6' tall, blonde and incredibly handsome, I see him out and think "who's the hot new guy?!" With my exceptionally large and male-dominated family, I'm no stranger to the effects of puberty, so it was fascinating to see and hear what he was going through..
Read more >

The blonde thing confused me seeing as, ya know, I'm not blonde. Then it dawned on me that when Kennedy and I initially met, I was doing the blonde thing. Temporarily, anyway - until I realized that, combined with the shaved head mohawk-combed-over cut, it looked a little too haircut of the SS for me. Oops.

First Openly Transgender U.S. Trial Judge!

2010-11-17T09:22:00.000-08:00

Judicial elections don't usually gain a lot of notice, but one such race in California has drawn national attention as it prepares to place the country's first openly transgender judge on the bench.

Victoria Kolakowski nearly did not become a lawyer after the Louisiana State Bar Association rejected her application. "I was initially denied because they said I was not of a sound mind," she said. The association made the claim because she listed herself as a transsexual. She ultimately had to appeal the decision to the Louisiana Supreme Court before she was allowed to even take the bar exam.

After passing she moved to California to practice law and has been a private lawyer, as well as a corporate attorney.

OAKLAND, Calif. — A 49-year-old California patent lawyer has been elected as the nation's first openly transgender trial judge.

Alameda County elections officials say Victoria Kolakowski beat prosecutor John Creighton 51 to 48 percent – a margin of nearly 10,000 votes – in the Nov. 2 election to fill the vacancy in California's Superior Court. Read more >

Rear Observation

2010-11-16T22:22:00.000-08:00

I just finished my longer-than-necessary paper for a class titled 'The Psychology of Body Image". Which, not surprisingly, I got a little excited about. And I get to make a PowerPoint all about it for extra credit!

In other news, while typing said paper, the bunchy undies I've been wearing distracted me. Since transitioning and having my fat redistribute from lady places (bum/thighs) to dude places (i.e. stomach mostly), my underwear have essentially become ill-fitting saggy cotton diapers. While flicking the band of my underroo's and thinking about how I should invest in new underwear I caught sight of a transtastic development! A thigh-butt-dimple thing!

Exactly like this:

But chubbier.

In other news, I will be writing a post ASAP about last weekend's conference. I had a test earlier today and a paper due tomorrow morning that have delayed the inevitable.

It's a hell of a lot more interesting than what you read about in The Atlantic

2010-11-12T19:15:00.000-08:00

Even before I learned the term "gender binary" and understood that it referred to the arbitrary (and thoroughly unscientific) notion that there are only two genders and we must all be one or the other, I knew I didn't fit in. It took years for me to figure out that my not fitting in had less to do with the shape of my body, the pace at which I developed, or my dreams, than it had to do with these ridged and unrealistic ideas of who gets to wear what, and which bathroom door it's okay to walk through. Once I figured that out, things became clearer, but no easier. Ignorance may not be bliss, but knowledge is also no ticket to happiness. And so, as I do at least once or twice a month, I found myself staring at a magazine cover, shaking my head, and trying to reconcile the world I'm reading about with the one I'm living in. One thing I can say for being aware of your own and others experience and living in this world. It's a hell of a lot more interesting than what you read about in The Atlantic.

~ Cory Silverberg

College Article n' Gender Conference Schedule

2010-11-11T20:52:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago I received an e-mail from the editor of Westminster's college paper saying that he'd caught wind of my trans shindig and asked if I'd feel comfortable being interviewed. Seeing as November is Transgender Awareness Month, his timing couldn't have been better - especially seeing as this Saturday a local trans-advocacy group called TransAction is hosting their 2nd Annual Gender Conference themed "Engendering Community" at Westminster College (1840 S 1300 E).

A story in the Westminster paper would be swell no matter what - but particularly spiffy as a devious gender conference/trans awareness plug.

When it comes to an interview, I wrack my brain over what to say and, most importantly, what not to say. I worry that I don't really know how to relay my experience and perspectives in a nutshell that won't just come out as completely foreign blabber. But, somehow, someway, this poor journalist student somehow deciphered my ranting and raving and turned it into a cute, sensible article. The print version has a huge red Ken and Barbie doll backdrop and also an advertisement for this Saturday's conference.

A complex equation: Transgendered student speaks out

X. XY. Sex and gender is as simple as that. Wrong. In a world of transgendered, transsexual, pansexual, gender-queer and more, sex and gender is no longer determined by a couple chromosomes. Read more >

And now on to the underlying moral of this post. It's a bit close to the date, but the official schedule for Saturday's conference just came out. I can't find it posted anywhere outside of my e-mail, so here it is in all its glory:

2010 TransAction Gender Conference Schedule (click on "Read More" link below):

Session One (10:40am-11:40am)

Bodywork Transformation
Taylor Lamont and Jennifer Jackson
Education for the transgender population in working with their body during physical, emotional, and psychological changes. Discussion of femininity and masculinity in their body structure and how more appropriate form and relaxed movement and body awareness comes through alignment with gravity. Lecture in scientific support and physiological rationale for Alignment Therapy and its benefits.

Transgender 101: An Introduction to Trans Identities
Nick Critchlow
This training covers key issues for transgender and gender variant individuals such as terminology, language and strategies to create safety for transgender people.

Recognizing Health and Unhealthy Intimate Relationships
Hildegard Koenig and Katie Anne Sutton
This workshop will help you recognize healthy and unhealthy relationships. What to do and say when someone you love is being abused and where to find resources.

Free HIV Testing

Session Two (11:50am-12:50pm)

Performance Poetry
Elisha Lim
We will write individual and collaborative poems about gender identity.

No soy mugre: A critical dialogue for (re)claiming Jot@ spaces
Juan Jose Rodriguez – Education Culture & Society, University of Utah
Ricky Gutiérrez Maldonado – Education Culture & Society, University of Utah
Eduardo Galindo – Health Promotion and Education, University of Utah
Queer people of color are placed into a reductive binary as we are constantly asked to embody a singular identity particular to a space/time and leave all other identities “at the door”. As Jot@s we physically, and metaphorically, embody the intersecting planes of race/ethnicity and sexuality. On our backs a third space is born. We become bridges for our communities to build coalitions and work towards social justice. The roots of our indigenous past recognized the importance of our fluid identities in the creation of these sacred spaces. We must continue with the legacies of survival, resistance, healing, and creation that our ancestors left for us.

State Violence
Nathan Goodman
The LGBTQ liberation movement has its roots in resistance to police harassment. Today, police brutality and the prison system protect violent expression of societal transphobia. I’ll discuss the policies that enable this violence and what can be done to change them.

Free HIV Testing

Lunch on Your Own (1:00pm-1:50pm)
To take advantage of Westminster College’s Café for lunch options, follow the signs. Limited vegan options available too.

Session Three (2:00pm-3:30pm)

TransFocus
Makeda Meeks, J. Gill, Cathy Martinez, Anthony Shirley, William Shwartz
The TransFocus focus group will center on creating a round table discussion about health issues that impact the Transgender community. These issues include Tobacco use, Cancer, Surgery, Hormone Replacement therapies, and the overall Health and Wellness of the Transgender community. This focus group will also include professionals and community members with backgrounds in Transgender Health.

Who Says She Was Your Brother?
Dacia Holliday and Esther Kim
What does it mean when community organizations endorse something before thoroughly investigating the implications of such actions? Queer Students of Color (QSOC), a student group affiliated with the University of Utah, plan to address this issue as it pertains to the play She Was My Brother, opening at the Plan-B Theater company, and the endorsement and collaboration with the Utah Pride Center and Transaction, as well as how the phenomenon of ethnic misappropriation extends into other sections of the queer and liberal community.

Gender-Variant Figures in Classical Mythology
Silence Maestas
Ancient myth cycles are filled with gender variation. In this session, we will explore a number of classical Mediterranean and Middle Eastern stories to inspire new ways of considering modern gender identity and expression.

Session Four (3:40pm-5:10pm)

Gender Identity and Romantic Relationships
Rick Weber and Jesse Fluetsch
A dynamic group discussion about romantic relationships with gender-variant & trans-identified persons and their partners. This discussion is open to individuals, couples, and mental health professionals.

It’s not that simple: Privilege in Trans Communities
Bo(nnie) Owens and Renae Widdison
We already know that as Trans people, our identities, our expressions, and our bodies are often sites of interrogation and violence; violence that leads to repression and shame. But our gender is not the only aspect of our identities. Race, class, education, language, our intricate identities complicate our experience of, and position in the world. Some of us are White. Some of us have pension plans. Others of us were born in the US. But we are all in a position to disrupt the systems of power that oppress us as individuals and as members of intersecting communities. In this workshop, we want to unpack how our privilege impacts our ability to activate across communities. We cover basic principles and complex ideas so whether you’ve just heard of privilege or have been studying it for years, we encourage you to join the conversation.

Trans in the Family
Jude McNeil
When a family member comes out as Transgender, parents, siblings, and relatives often need an outlet to learn, ask questions, and share experiences. During this panel, several Utah families will tell stories, share memories, and offer advice about welcoming the Transgender experience into the family. If someone in your family is Transgender this is a perfect place to connect with other families and learn about various resources in a safe and open way.

Finding a Trans-Affirmative Healthcare Provider
Jeff Lubsen
Finding trans-affirmative and trans-competent healthcare providers can be a daunting task. Many transgender people avoid seeking medical care from a traditional provider-patient relationship, largely because of the fear of discrimination, or the inability to find knowledgeable medical staff who understand transgender-specific healthcare needs. This workshop is designed to help navigate the process by identifying trans-affirmative qualities to look for in all types of healthcare providers. We will also discuss specific health issues that are unique to the transgender community. In addition, we will examine the benefits of finding a proactive therapist who can serve as a transitional life coach, healthcare advocate, and support person.

Keynote Address (5:20pm-6:30pm)

Elisha Lim was born in Toronto and grew up in Singapore, in a Catholic convent girls’ school overrun with queers, many of whom inspire his first graphic novel 100 Butches published on Sister Spit Press. Other sources of butch inspiration have been his bosses on German construction sites, his neighbors on the Spanish coast, his fellow drag kings in Israel/Palestine and restaurant guests subject to his waitressing in London. He returned to Toronto, and now he proudly hosts a monthly event for queer people of color called POCstars. He was thrilled to be named “Artist in Residence” by Curve Magazine, a “Queer Woman to Watch” at afterellen.com and to run his strips in magazines like Diva, LOTL, CapitalXtra! and No More Potlucks. His continuing work can be seen on his blog www.newhearteveryday.blogspot.com.

Casimir Pulaski

2010-11-08T09:37:00.000-08:00

My dad recently mentioned a friend of his who is majoring in anthropology. She mentioned something she'd learned in class about a war hero named Casimir Pulaski who led troops in battle against Russian occupying forces in his native Poland and later fought here in America during the American Revolution, where he commanded four cavalry regiments in Washington's armies.

Apparently he was so exceptional that he was singled out by George Washington and the Continental Congress and was credited as the Father of the American Cavalry. There's even Casimir Pulaski Day, which is a holiday observed in Illinois on the first Monday of every March in his memory. This holiday is also observed in Wisconsin public schools.

Back in the day his remains were dug up and for ten years the findings were kept secret, due to a required pledge to the Pulaski Identification Committee in Savannah. The conclusions were finally released in 2007, stating that "the collected evidence is consistent in remarkable detail with the physical appearance, life history, and cavalry lifestyle of Casimir Pulaski."

And what did they find? Given the nature of this blog the results won't surprise you, but after examining the physical evidence related to his human remains, it was discovered that he was born female. Surprise! Professor Karol Sliwka and Professor Tomasz Grzyb, DNA specialists conducting research for Nicolaus Copernicus University in Bydgoszcz, Poland commented on these conclusions with the opinion that this thesis was "highly probable."

The physical characteristics of the skeleton in height, stature, age and ethnicity are all consistent in every component with the 5' 3" tall, slender, 34 year old Polish nobleman, including even the shape of the face and forehead. The healed wounds on the face and skull, healed injury on the forehead, broken nose and cheek bone are true to form with an experienced military man occasionally engaged in hand-to-hand combat. The broken fingers on the right hand of the skeleton match the description in Pulaski's own letters about the debilitating injury that he received to his right hand. The extension of cartilage and the wear of cartilage surrounding hip and shoulder bones are to be expected from persons who spent their life in the saddle bearing a sword in combat. The fusion of the tail bone adds to the physiological evidence that reflect the effects of a life as a horseman.

Even the apparent tumor under his left eye that is represented on the skull by a damaged area of bone and its discoloration is also clearly reflected in an 18th century portrait as a birth mark on the painting in the same position relative to the left eye. Read more >

As I rant and rave about constantly, human gender and sexuality is often perceived as two distinct categories of either male or female. It isn't just a recent phenomenon that many of us do not conform or fit into this dichotomy, as history continues to demonstrate. If we exclude the vast variations when it comes to biology (for example, like how on the Y chromosome, a gene called SRY usually makes a fetus grow as a male. It turns out, though, that SRY can show up on an X, turning an XX fetus essentially male. And if the SRY gene does not work on the Y, the fetus develops essentially female.) and only focus on the physical manifestations, from one to two percent of human beings exhibit sexual ambiguity so that physically they cannot be classified as exclusively male or exclusively female, which has been known for ages.

Yet, we have this contemporary idea of choosing between one of two gender roles - which dates from the sexist to all hell Middle Ages in Europe when society established male hereditary rights. Over the years the issue of a continuum concerning a range of maleness to femaleness has been largely suppressed and forgotten, and even adamantly perpetuated and reinforced all over society; even by more liberal camps like radical feminists (the most popular in academia; but only one of many types of feminists) with gender binary/segregated concepts like "the patriarchy".

Sexual/gender variation may be even more common than realized because of the private nature of such experiences. For example, there is a whole slew of data indicating that the number of people whose bodies differ in some way from typical definitions of male or female anatomy is 1 in 100 births, which leaves even more possibilities when it comes to physiological/neurological variation.

Back to our good friend Casimir Pulaski who was mortally wounded and ultimately died in the Siege of Savannah on October 9th, 1779. His remains are all kinds of warrior jacked up.

On January 13, 1770, when Pulaski was in a guerilla war, he was injured in a battle with Russian forces near Grab. He dictated letters at the time, he reported that due his broken right hand, he was unable to personally write a letter for weeks. The examination of the skeleton and X-rays of the bones revealed that two fingers on the right hand were broken during life and healed long before death. Burns noted: "the fifth metacarpal healed with a pronounced palmar curve." In other words, the skeletal remains indicated a deformed right hand due to injury from broken bones that would have been painful during life but healed. This is consistent with this unique characteristic reported concerning Pulaski's right hand.

He had athritis, a wear pattern on thigh bone and pelvic stress with his tailbone fused to the sacrum from lots of horseback riding, on and on. What the stereotypically macho hell. Oh, and according to Wikipedia there's some 80s post-hardcore band called Big Black that have a song titled "Kasimir S. Pulaski Day" on their album Songs About Fucking.

The Additional Challenges of LBGT Aging

2010-11-05T23:25:00.000-07:00

From The Huffington Post:

Throughout November, public television's "In The Life" program shows the incredible challenges faced when a person who transitioned to live in the opposite gender, and who lost the support of family in the process, is confronted with a terminal illness.

The November program presents excerpts from the new documentary, "Gen Silent." "Gen Silent" sheds light on a serious issue facing many LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender) seniors: homophobia, transphobia and insensitivity in the health care system. Of the four stories told in the documentary, I think that of KrysAnne Hembrough, a transgender woman, is the most profound, and is the one "In the Life" chose to feature.

Read more >

Photo Documentation: Almost 2 Years!

2010-11-05T01:05:00.000-07:00

Almost 2 Years on Testosterone Cypionate (0.7 mL every 2 weeks)
(Click on images for larger so-detailed-it-hurts versions)

Stomach (hair growth + fat redistribution):

Gettin' fuzzy!

Fuzzy progress indeed!

Facial Hair/Acne/Facial Masculinizing:

I grew my sparse whiskers out as much as I could muster before cracking to shave 10 minutes later.

Side profile shot of whisker action.

Whisker Action Take 2.

Whisker Action Take 3.

Shaving time at long last!

Arm (upper body development):

Haven't done one of these in a minute.

Hugging Snapshots!

Better-late-than-never birthday lunch with Brit.

Farm pup my fam and I took in temporarily during the Herriman Fires. He was so cute n' good!

Very Essential Dog Shots 2 Boot

Gany's one-night-car-hat.

Fancy car hat blowing in the wind.

~ FIN ~

Halloween!

2010-11-03T17:15:00.000-07:00

One year ago Halloween day I had promised my good friend Ralph that I would be the Batman to his Robin.

And not just any Batman.

1960s Adam West Batman.

Looks simple enough. One year to muster up a grey leotard of some sort, little shiny blue undies, some gloves, boots, and whip a fancy matching cowl together. Assuming the simplest, I procrastinated. Not too much, though. About 6 months ago I started actually looking for a pre-made costume - or at least something resembling it enough that I could work with it.

I found a lot of Dark Knight crap. A lot of padded muscle suits. Crap, crap, and more crap. So then I turned to eBay. Here are some examples of what I found:

Men's Batman Costume

Uh, no, no, and ... no.

So I then concluded that I probably couldn't successfully modify a pre-made suit and, even though sewing is probably #3 in What-I'm-Worst-At ranking, I should enlist the aid of a sew-talented friend and figure out how to make this damn thing from scratch.

So, step one? I found this 1966 Batman Forum and joined it. Fans of Adam West would definitely be the best source for how to make an authentic-appearing Adam West Batman costume!

Low and behold, not surprisingly, not only was this the best source to find "authentic-appearing" costumes but really, really authentic. To the point that I got completely enamored with how, exactly, his cowl was made and learning that there are fans making replica costumes for $1000+.

Anyway, long story short, by the time Halloween rolled around and due to a combination of no money, costume-making obstacles, and lack of time due to school, I didn't end up with an Adam West Batman costume. So, in an act of complete and utter defeat, I decided to be a banana to my friend Erin's gorilla.

The gorilla had suffered from furry costume heat stroke earlier in the evening and, therefore, was not pictured in the creeper background of this photo.

And, to spite me, my friend Ralph dressed as a banana dressed as Batman.

Next year!

Pap Terrors n' Voting

2010-11-03T16:18:00.000-07:00

Record-breaking blog neglect has taken place! The bane of midterms spanned a period of about two weeks resulting in my falling off into a pit of midterm-recovering laziness and then, shortly after, Halloweeny-obsessed bliss.

But before I could get my recovery on I had my paptastic appointment of sedative-laden doom on Friday, October 22nd. The time had definitely come - the first and last one I had was in January of 2009. I procrastinated the inevitable as long as I could muster, but the worry of not knowing what's up with my innards caught up with me and overrode the aversion. So I cracked, and decided that fine, I'm uninsured, but I need to get my hormone levels checked and I need a pap smear (especially to make sure there's nothing precancerous going on). So just, go in, do it, and figure out the cost part of it and the potential results later.

For hormone levels, my levels are higher than they should be so my doctor reduced my bi-weekly dose from 0.7 mL to 0.5 mL. Then in pap-ville, my doctor slotted our appointment as her first of the day.

Learning from the last time I had this done, she injected me with a massive amount of pregnant lady sedative first thing (I scribbled the name of it down after my appointment, but have no idea where these scribbles are) - but, unlike last time, she used a huge ol' spinal needle. Why? No idea. What I do know is that it's a.) huge and b.) hurt. Oh, and c.) bled.

She then left the room (leaving behind a hospital gown for me to throw on) and took in another patient while I waited ... my muscles relaxing, go-pap-getter affirmations galore ... increasingly tired, bit by bit, my eyes were closing... time passed... and then, after finishing with her other patient and giving the sedative time to kick in, she returned - tools for the deed in hand. Despite being on planet sedative zot, once stuff n' things got going I still clenched and essentially paniced. As I've described before, it's a phenomena very different than anything else I've experienced - something that definitely stems from an innate gender-specific body image that time and further explorations into the human mind will increasingly reveal.

Due to the magic of sedatives and having gone through this whole ordeal before, it was 80 gazillion times less horrible than it was the first time. I was out of it, it went quicker, and it was less painful. No walk in the park by any means, but improvement nonetheless! Could just be a symptom of learned helplessness, but, ya know, glass half full or empty shenanigans.

My parents took me (thank you!), and when we left I was feeling fine enough to join them for lunch. By the time we got home a couple hours later, I stumbled a bit on the stairs, then vaguely remember giving my cat a kiss and then waking up around 9pm. I slept the entire day. Jebus! Staying awake was a challenge, but I was up long enough to get some water, then went back to sleep. Slept through the night, and felt floaty all day Saturday.

A two day vacation on planet sedative zot is definitely worth it. If I had it my way, I'd ask my doctor to clonk me out with that magical laughing gas dentists use.

All n' all, I'm relieved that it's done n' over with and that I have 1-2 years til' the next one.

Voting Day!

Yesterday I voted, and it was surprisingly painless given my whole name/gender/home change shindig and having to re-register. Just a week prior to elections my online registration still had me listed under my old name and address. Then, when calling in to the registration office, they had me listed under my current name, but my old address. And then, by mail, I received a voter registration card with my correct, current name and address. Wtf?

In the end, when wandering in to my polling location, I didn't quite know what to expect. Would I be in their books under my old name? Would it be a big confusing ordeal and spectacle?

I brought the voter registration card I'd received in the mail with the correct info on it with me, my ID, and hoped it would be enough and that I could just vote, no problems.

And it actually almost happened that way! I slithered in to my polling location before 5pm (when everyone gets off work and it would be flooded), so the wait was short. I was asked for my name and ID, and as the volunteer sifted through their book for about a minute, she ended up not finding me. So another volunteer called the registration office peeps which, of course, continued to result in a busy signal. Until, about 5 minutes later, she got through then handed it to me and directed me to confirm that I'm registered, that I'm in their books, and to figure out what was what with what.

It didn't take long to get through, and the voter registration peep on the other end told me, to my relief, that I was registered AND it was under my current name and address! And also, that I should be in their books. So I handed the phone back to the volunteer, and she was directed to just write me in. She did, I signed, and then got to vote, no problem! Yay!

On a separate note, earlier today a fellow student asked me, "Are you growing your beard out or just lazy?" Woot! Which reminds me, I need to photo document. Pronto. I have about 10 more neck beard whiskers to show off!

Halloween Makeup 101!

2010-10-13T11:53:00.000-07:00

Halloween 2009

Look what just came out as a web-exclusive in In Utah This Week written by my most gaggle o' faggle friend, Princess Kennedy; and featuring some of my slopped together zombie makeup how-to recipes; starting with a super easy Level 1 Zombie to a more advanced with foam latex prosthetic Level 4 Zombie!!!!!

I enjoyed taking a quick break from midterms to put these recipes together - especially seeing as this year I will NOT be partaking in gruesome zombie makeup fun (no time!) and instead will be the banana to Erin's gorilla. Close?

Princess Kennedy: Halloween Makeup 101

When it comes to Halloween, I think it's more appropriate to go the scary route when it comes to costumes. There is nothing wrong with cowboys, pimps and naughty nurses, but I like to use this time of year to cover myself in as much fake blood as I can. Read More >

Last Night's Demonstration

2010-10-08T10:25:00.000-07:00

Today's news related to last night's demonstration here in Salt Lake City, Utah (in support of vulnerable LGBT youth affected by the anti-gay discrimination perpetuated by LDS leaders like Elder Boyd K. Packer's right on the heels of numerous LGBT teenage suicides):

Utah Gay Activists Protest Mormon Church Remarks Connect 2 Utah
Thousands protest outside Mormon church over LDS leader’s anti-gay remarks LGBTQ Nation
Thousands ring Temple Square to protest LDS apostle’s words about gays Salt Lake Tribune

And also, from the Huffington Post today:

4 Bullied Teen Deaths At Ohio School

MENTOR, Ohio — Sladjana Vidovic's body lay in an open casket, dressed in the sparkly pink dress she had planned to wear to the prom. Days earlier, she had tied one end of a rope around her neck and the other around a bed post before jumping out her bedroom window.

The 16-year-old's last words, scribbled in English and her native Croatian, told of her daily torment at Mentor High School, where students mocked her accent, taunted her with insults like "Slutty Jana" and threw food at her.

It was the fourth time in little more than two years that a bullied high school student in this small Cleveland suburb on Lake Erie died by his or her own hand – three suicides, one overdose of antidepressants. One was bullied for being gay, another for having a learning disability, another for being a boy who happened to like wearing pink. Read More >

Discrimination is an ugly, tragic thing. I'm relieved that so many people are speaking out against hate speech and highlighting the dire impact it has - including fearless non-homophobic Mormons who love and accept their LGBT family members and friends and speak up amongst their discriminatory leaders and peers.

Update: The LDS Church published an edited version of Packer's talk; altered from what he originally said. I find it interesting that the president of the quorum of the twelve, the next in line to be the president of the church, has to have his words edited before they're published.

LDS Temple Square Surrounded in Protest & Racist Packer Excerpt from 1977

2010-10-07T22:37:00.000-07:00

LGBT rights activists lay on the sidewalk in front of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints' church office building Thursday, Oct. 7, 2010, in Salt Lake City. The demonstration was a response to remarks from Elder Boyd K. Packer that homosexuality is an immoral condition that can and should be overcome. (AP Photo/Jim Urquhart)

From Q Salt Lake:

Organizers estimate a crowd of 4,500 people completely surrounded the two blocks of Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints administration building and Temple Square in downtown Salt Lake City in protest of Boyd K. Packer’s remarks during the church’s semi-annual General conference last weekend.

I just got home from going to this protest with my parents and some friends. We were extremely impressed by the turnout (the organizers literally walked around and counted, one by one, how many people were there) and how well it conveyed the underlying core message: that hate speech results in really, seriously hurting LGBT individuals, especially our youth - even killing them.

Nine gay teenagers all committed suicide in the month of September, victims of homophobic bullying - and one, right here in Utah, committed suicide just two days before Boyd K. Packer (who is basically next in line to be prophet) gave his anti-gay speech to an audience of millions.

Billy Lucas (15) September 9, 2010. Indiana

Cody J. Barker (17) September 13, 2010. Wisconsin

Seth Walsh (13) September 19, 2010. California

Tyler Clementi (18) September 22, 2010. New Jersey

Asher Brown (13) September 23, 2010. Texas

Harrison Chase Brown (15) September, 25 2010. Colorado

Raymond Chase (19) September 29, 2010. Rhode Island

Felix Sacco (17) September 29, 2010. Massachusetts

Caleb Nolt (14) September 30, 2010. Indiana

Alec Henrikson (18) September 30, 2010. Utah

As Eric Ethington, the organizer and blogger over at PrideinUtah.com put it during the demonstration:

Alec Henrickson
We represent all colors of the rainbow tonight. We are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, straight, black, white, latino, Mormon, Catholic, Muslim, Jewish and atheist – but we all stand firm in one thing, stop destroying our children,...

... And to the youth of the church: Never let anyone tell you that you need to be any different than who you are. There are thousands in this state alone who will love you and accept you. You are beautiful and perfect just the way you are!

Tomorrow, October 8th, the Utah Pride Center will be hosting a workshop from the Trevor Project Lifeguard Program | Suicide prevention. The Trevor Project is "a nonprofit endeavor established to promote acceptance of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and questioning (LGBTQ) youth, and to aid in suicide prevention among that group."

Follow The Rules, the LDS 70s Version

Speaking of discrimination, here's a link to an address that Elder Boyd K. Packer gave at Brigham Young University on 14 January 1977 titled "Follow the Rule", helping to give us a fuller picture:

I have a lingering, sensitive, prophetic idea that as you obediently follow the prophet you will live to know a stability and a fulness and a plenty in your own lands that by comparison now seem deprived economically. You will have far more of what matters most than you would have if you should go elsewhere seeking your fortune. When you come to find that which matters most, you will always find in the long run that to be the rule and not the exception is to see the fulness of life. Should there be exceptions, the Lord will designate those in an unmistakable way.

Now, one other subject. It's been the policy of the Church--and it's been spoken on many occasions--that as the gathering of Israel is in Mexico for the Mexicans, in Tonga for the Tongans, in China for the Chinese, and so on, so has been our counsel as it relates to marriage.

We've always counseled in the Church for our Mexican members to marry Mexicans, our Japanese members to marry Japanese, our Caucasians to marry Caucasians, our Polynesian members to marry Polynesians. The counsel has been wise. You may say again, "Well, I know of exceptions." I do, too, and they've been very successful marriages. I know some of them. You might even say, "I can show you local Church leaders or perhaps even general leaders who have married out of their race." I say, "Yes--exceptions." Then I would remind you of that Relief Society woman's near-scriptural statement, "We'd like to follow the rule first, and then we'll take care of the exceptions."

I was with President Kimball once some years ago when, in a small group, he told the story of his courtship and marriage to Camilla Eyring. They only knew one another for a short time. I'm even hesitant to say how short the time was before their marriage. He told of meeting this beautiful young schoolteacher who had come to the community, and in the course of a few weeks they were married. After hearing this, one young man in the group later said, "Well, if President Kimball can find somebody and be sure in that short of a time, I guess I can do that."

Someone else replied, "My boy, before you think that applies to you, you ought to be very sure you have the inspiration and power that is present in the beginnings of an apostle."

You may not be the exception. We counsel in the Church, for instance, that we ought to be old enough before we marry and we ought to know one another before we're married. Our courtships ought to be adequate. You may pick out a couple--he was 18 and she was 17 when they married--and see how happy and successful they've been. Yes, an exception! For every exception we can show you tens and hundreds, and I suppose thousands, who were not happy. Plan, young people, to marry into your own race. This counsel is good, and I hope our branch presidents are listening and paying attention. The counsel is good.

Racism... heterosexism... hmm, guess LDS Church representatives feel better about being more open about one than the other these days? Packer also openly supported gay bashing in a 1976 address: Boyd K. Packer Advocates Gay-Bashing (Yes, Literally, Not Figuratively)

4500 Protest Against Boyd K Packer And LGBT Suicides Pride in Utah
Thousands Surround LDS Temple Square in Protest of Packer Speech Q Salt Lake
Utah gay activists protest Mormon church remarks NPR via The Associated Press

Promoting Equality Is Like Opposing the Law of Gravity!

2010-10-04T20:34:00.000-07:00

Downtown Salt Lake City was swarmed by General Conference this past weekend, where a leader for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints named Boyd K. Packer brought up "any relationship outside of heterosexuality", stating:

“There are those today who not only tolerate but advocate voting to change laws that would legalize immorality, as if a vote would somehow alter the designs of God's laws and nature. To legalize that which is basically wrong or evil will not prevent the pain and penalties that will follow as surely as night follows day."

"A law against nature would be impossible to enforce... Do you think a vote to repeal the law of gravity would do any good?"

And this on the heels of the suicides of at least four teenagers over the past month, all victims of anti-gay bullying or harassment? Wow, Packer. The Human Rights Campaign released a statement in response,

"When a faith leader tells gay people that they are a mistake because God would never have made them that way and they don’t deserve love, it sends a very powerful message that violence and/or discrimination against LGBT people is acceptable. It also emotionally devastates those who are LGBT or may be struggling with their sexual orientation or gender identify. His words were not only inaccurate, they were also dangerous."

It's unfortunate to me that this 86 year old man has an audience of 20,000 – and millions more watching via satellite transmission - to espouse words of fear and hatred that only serve to promote discrimination and further LGBT youth homelessness, self-hate, suffering, isolation, and suicide; instead of using that influence to promote a message of compassion and conciliation.

Disappointing.

There's a protest this Thursday, October 7th, from 7pm - 8:30pm at City Creek Park (State Street and North Temple).

From the news here in Utah (VIDEO):
LDS Apostle declares church will 'stay on course' in opposing gay marriage

And from Pam's House Blend,
The homophobic bile of LDS Apostle Boyd K. Packer

Viddy Documentation: 1 Year & 10 Months

2010-10-04T18:30:00.000-07:00

I made a video on September 28th and haven't been able to upload/post it til' now. So, here we go - and almost at the two year mark! And it was about time I made another contribution to my blog's video archive.

Take notice: I chose a most excellent spot to sit in for the filmage to encompass the world I now inhabit - my parents. Notice my mother's fine decorative skills - the beautiful brown wall thing, merging splendidly with the vivid colors of the chair quilts. And, of course, also a fine addition to the ambiance: my feline companion Theseus perched above my shoulders.

I'm so cool it hurts:

No, really, it does.

p.s. I added some question/answer blogger thingamabop to my blog - under "Get Answers". I'm not quite sure how it works or if it works currently, but I added it because I'm frequently e-mailed questions and figured I should have a more accessible, interactive dialog with them that more individuals could benefit from and contribute to. So if you have questions or want to spur discussion about something pertaining to the ramblings of my posts, feel free to throw it out there - assuming this thingmabop works.

Middle Sexes: Redefining He & She

2010-10-04T14:57:00.000-07:00

Back in 2005 I stumbled upon one of my favorite trans documentaries EVER, back when I was all closeted and terrified about being trans, and it helped so.much To this day, it's still, by far, my favorite and the one I relate to the most. And guess what? It's currently on YouTube! So, before it dissapears, I'd strongly recommend taking the time to stuff it under your viewing belt:

Appointment and Ramachandran

2010-10-04T14:54:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning trying hard not to feel anxiety about today's appointment. I ran through my affirmations, and, to be honest, felt fine about it. But, inevitably, I can't help but remember the last time - the only time - I've successfully had a pap. I add "successfully" because twice prior there were attempts - both epic fails. With attempt #1, the doctor started and, after only a few minutes, stopped and told me, "You know, we don't have to do this.", and, not anticipating it would be -that- awful, I agreed.

With the second attempt, I relayed to her how difficult attempt #1 was and the doctor informed me that since I'd never had intercourse, paps weren't necessary for me. Whether this was true or not, I liked the answer and rationalized that she was correct and ran with it.

For years and years I accepted this logic and had resolved to never get a pap, ever - until I went in to meet my current doctor for the first time. Clearly, she's had a lot of experience with trans men avoiding the necessary health inevitable. Right off the bat she a.) asked, upfront, if I'd had one done before and, upon learning that I hadn't, b.) put me on the spot and asked if I'd like to have one done right then and there. Despite my excuses and stammering, I eventually relented.

She injected one arm with some kind of sedative used for pregnant women, and then we chatted while waiting for the effects to kick in. As I became woozier, she started - and, despite feeling fine consciously, my body began flipping out and kicking in to a panic attack of sorts. Despite positive affirmations and the sedative, the second she started my breathing became rapid, I started to sweat, pain triggers were activated to the max and I clenched my teeth as tears ran down my cheeks. She stopped and injected more sedative into my other arm and resumed once I was a bit more out of it, and, through the hell of it, eventually finished and boom! my first successful pap! Much fun!

Due to the severity of my reaction, she asked if I'd been raped or sexually assaulted before. Nope. Plus, I genuinely have no conscious aversion to it. Again, personal experiences like this have me extremely, selfishly interested in learning everything I can about human noggins - my favorite, currently, being this Ramachandran feller I've mentioned on and off, the neuroscientist famous for his research on phantom limb syndrome.

A nifty byproduct of this whole college shindig being that I can ask the campus library for any which article from any journal and they magically acquire it for me. The first article I asked for that I hadn't been able to read yet? Phantom Penises in Transsexuals: Evidence of an Innate Gender-Specific Body Image in the Brain by V.S. Ramachandran, where he posits:

How the brain constructs one's inner sense of gender identity is poorly understood. On the other hand, the phenomenon of phantom sensations... has been much studied... As transsexuals report a mismatch between their inner gender identity and that of their body, we wondered what could be learnt from this regarding innate gender-specific body image... We explain the absence/presence of phantoms here by postulating a mismatch between the brain's hardwired gender-specific body image and the external somatic gender. Further studies along these lines may provide pentrating insights into the question of how nature and nurture interact to produce our brain-based body image.

So exciting! And way more spot on for my particular experience than some gender this or that yabble babble.

Er, ahem... back to my initial story here - so this morning I woke up, thinking about my upcoming 10:30am appointment. I sat through my morning class, anticipating pap horrors, and had a difficult time focusing. And then, at long last, ... the appointment.

My mom went with me to provide moral support. I signed in, waited... doctor arrived, asking, "What are we in for today?", to which I replied, "A check-up. Hormone levels. And, uh... other stuff.", my voice clearly filled with defeated dread. "A full physical?", she asked. "Uh, yes.", and then she replied, "Oh, darn. It looks like we just have you down for a blood test.", then she took me to the exam room.

While in the exam room, my brain immediately traveled towards a route of escape, and when she returned I proposed, "How about I make an appointment for my physical later down the road, seeing as I'm due, and for today we'll just have my hormone levels looked at?" - cha-ching! Seeing as she had another patient behind me who had been slotted in due to the mistake in how long the appointment would take, she accepted my proposal and wrote me down for December 13th.

On one hand, I felt incredibly relieved. On the other, it's even more relieving to just have it done and over with, knowing that I can rationalize another one or two years away until going in for another.

But, once I looked in my little student planner, I realized that December 13th will be during finals - and my fall break is coming up in the near future here. After a long, solemn sigh, I called to reschedule for sooner than later - October 22nd.

Can't I just make out with George Bush instead or lick feces off a sidewalk or something?

SSA Update n' Doc Visit Tomorrow!

2010-10-03T21:07:00.000-07:00

Alright! Time to update! So on the 23rd, a Thursday, my pops and I peddled together downtown, stopping for coffee as we do every pretty much every morning. It's this fun, addictive routine that, to my surprise, has actually morphed me in to a morning person. I'll get all giddy the night before about prepping my bicycle outfit and waking up to peddle.peddle.peddle, then relax and hang out for a bit before my 8am class or 10am class. Messed up. I know.

Er, moving on, after our peddling and coffee, I went in to the Social Security office first thing, right at the wee morning hour of nine. Unlike the last time I meandered in, this time it was completely packed with people - so I whimpered internally and grabbed a number. Fortunate for me, the girl who had helped me the first time around was there at her window, so I chose a seat she'd hopefully spot me in. And when she finished up with the current chumps at her window, she waved me over.

I thanked her profusely for making the whole process as painless as possible. She got my name updated in a jiffy and sent me on my way, apologizing again for the SSA's policies on gender and being unable to change it. So, as it is currently, I'm legally male when it comes to my birth certificate and identification - but not so when it comes to the Social Security Administration. And, as the Social Security Gender No-Match Letters and Transgender Employees document put out by the National Center for Transgender Equality in 2008 points out, at least the gender component of something like E-Verify is optional, which I made sure to relay to the SSA employee in the event other trans folk come through there in the future in a similar situation.

After getting that worked out, she gave me a receipt saying that my new social security card should arrive in the mail within 2 weeks. So I frolicked down to Financial Aid on campus to let them know that things are in motion, stuff has been submitted, I have a new card coming - and that the gender component is optional. I was told to bring in my social security card once I receive it so that they can get it scanned and, hopefully, at this point my loans won't be on hold anymore and will go through!

I also got everything updated with Human Resources in regards to my campus job, but even though I've been working there for a few weeks now, I'm still unable to submit time and get paid until my card comes in the mail and Human Resources is able to re-submit everything.

So, in regards to the whole social security shindig, for short-term I'm waiting for my card to get things resolved with loans and my campus job (I want to be paid!), and for long-term, after top surgery I'll try again to have the SSA update my gender marking, presuming this is sufficient for their surgical requirements. We'll see, when the time comes.

With school, it's been so interesting experiencing the world of being perceived as a boring ol' cisgender dude for a bit here, seeing as most of my life has been spent in gender androgynous ville. "Coming out" was never a process I had to go through, because I was never necessarily "in" to begin with. Ya know, the whole "closet made of glass" shindig. And, at this point and moreso which each passing day, for anyone to know I'd have to actually conflict with some preconceived notion (cisgender) and come "out". Which, like I mentioned, I've never really had to do.

Back in my read as female 89.6% of the time days, I would just bring my girlfriend to extended family functions, out and about in the world, yada yada because I a.) wouldn't have been able to pass as hetero even if I tried and b.) figured that if anyone took issue with it, it was only a byproduct of their own insecurities, phobias, ignorance and homophobia - which, they should deal with and I've never had any interest in catering to. Super simplified summation there, of course - but, I'm trying to bring this in to my trans experience as well, where I'm just me, myself, and I.

I don't feel frustrated by it or anything... it's just, interesting.

Although, if anything is frustrating about it, it's mostly this whole shut the fuck up oppressive majority white man jive I get these days. And it makes me want to announce, before speaking about anything gender or minority related, "Uh, before I speak, I'd like to, uh.. announce that I'm trans and grew up in female-land for a gazillion plus two years... sooooo I'm going to say something about gender now and uh...", but, I don't. Especially because I shouldn't have to. I've always felt that everyone - male, female, intersex, trans, cisgender, queer, hetero, homo, whatever - all have input in discussions about their own experiences with gender and the pressures, abuse, and consequences felt from a highly pressured rigid binary. Yet, in every gender class I've taken, it's been more about an anti-male or anti-masculine agenda based on anecdotes than an actual, genuine analysis of gender.

In other news, I finally made an appointment with my doctor tomorrow morning after deciding that having non-insured appointment debt is better than no check ups. The last time I had my hormone levels checked was in March of 2009, which means that I'm definitely long overdue.

Then, last night while thumbing through Issue #3 of Original Plumbing, I bumbled across a little article titled, You Say 'Vagina', I Say 'Awkward' written by Chase Ryan Joynt, encouraging trans men to stay on top of the whole gynecological care shindig. I shuddered, and as my eyes skimmed through it I got caught at:

"Without being dramatic: the word gynecology makes me feel like I am going to break out into a rash. I can think of approximately 203,789 things I would rather do than get a pap smear. That list includes but is not limited to: going to the dentist, retaking high school mathematics and licking the bathroom floor."

So true. I could easily add about twenty awful things off the top of my head I'd rather do, for sure. And then, on to a more motivating point, he writes,

"While being on T doesn't directly help or hinder my chances of cervical issues, it does have a tendency to mimic cell abnormality on the cervix and therefore requires extra attention to make sure everything is in working order."

.... dammit, Joynt, you pap encouraging for trans male health jerk.

I say this because then it dawned on me - I had decided back in the day that instead of going through pap-induced agony once a year I'd do it every two years. And, given that probably stupid pap avoiding rule, this December is my two-year mark and when the next one is "due". Which is only two months away. And, for my pathetically poor non-insured ass, scheduling another appointment for December would cost me more money unnecessarily - when I could just do everything in one fell swoop tomorrow morning. Ugghh.

I laid awake, until 3 am, thinking back on the last and only time I've had it done, when the doctor had to inject me with pregnancy sedatives that knocked me out for almost two days after just to get the deed done. I'm assuming this will also be the case tomorrow. Doubting that I'd make it to my 2pm class after the appointment I e-mailed my professor and have essentially slotted the remainder of tomorrow for a sedative-induced all day pass out planet zot session.

I'm trying hard to just think rational happy thoughts, but they didn't work for me last time. No matter how hard I tried to think positively about the whole thing, my noggin just subconsciously insisted on flipping out, in inner-map violation mode. I'm hoping tomorrow will be easier than the first time around. Boo.

Oooo, but on another tranny health note mentioned in #3 worth passing on, there's an article called A Holistic Approach to Trans Health written by Jacoby Ballard, where he writes in regards to protecting the liver:

"Hormones are processed in the liver, so taking exogenous hormones makes our livers process twice as many hormones. As we are often warned, one of the 'side effects' of taking hormones is a risk of liver disease, but there are many ways to protect our livers! ... I recommend Milk Thistle in a tincture form or ground up in food - a liver-protectant and nourishing tonic for the liver... As a tincture, take 1 dropperful 2 times per day; ground up, take 1 handful of the seeds, grind them in a coffee grinder or mortar and pestle, and sprinkle into food.",

but warns that,

"... Milk Thistle is not soluble in water and should not be taken as a tea."

I've heard this before and actually bought some in tincture form from Whole Foods back in the day, but I've been negligent to all hell about actually taking it. I had no idea it was soluble, so this is good to know and I'm all inspired to stay on top of it. Thanks for the info, Jacoby!

Trans Teen Denied Homecoming Crown

2010-09-27T21:01:00.000-07:00

Posting stories soon! In the meantime, look what popped up in the news today:

Read more >

Nom Nom Nom

2010-09-22T18:28:00.000-07:00

Lunch today! P&B sandwich on whole wheat bread, banana slices, peaches, and a brown rice pudding with raisins and soy milk. Mmm!

Sickliness, Herriman Fire, and Social Security Hurdles

2010-09-22T18:13:00.000-07:00

This frakkin' week. I woke up Saturday clearly infected and all sickly goopy phlegm-city gross. By Sunday, my throat was sore and my head felt like it was going to 'plode from all of the congested pressure.

Yet, due to my friend acquiring tickets literally months in advance for a demolition derby, I abstained from sleep. I slugged it to my poor friend Erin's place until Melanie arrived in a 4-wheeled chariot - which I then slithered out to and she transported us all to the demolition derby where I enjoyed watching all the cars 'splode and mash (and, most of all, the people watching) via a blurred out stuffy congestion sick-ville sleepy filter.

Despite the sick factor, it was oodles of fun. I can't quite pinpoint why, but demolition derbies are the only things I actually want to get tickets for and go watch. No sports, no plays, no symphonies, no concerts really - but demolition derbies? Woot!

While there Erin (who is mega gender ambiguous) asked if I wouldn't mind going to the men's restroom with him (he always uses women's restrooms, but felt too uncomfortable to do so at the derby). Seeing his plight reminded me of the situation I'd become all too familiar with after years of being androgynous and attempting to navigate binary restroom terrain. The most uncomfortable venues are ones exactly like this - demolition derbies, country bars, small towns... essentially anywhere or anything that attracts a culture that does not get much exposure to anything other than hyper-binary polarized notions of man and woman (and can end up reacting unpredictably).

We walked to the least occupied men's restroom, a little further away from the stairwells. He entered a stall while I dilly dallied washing my hands, played with the dryer, then re-washing my hands... no one entered and we exited, no problem.

Whew!

Then, on the way home from the derby, I received an emergency call about the Ching Farm Animal Rescue and Sanctuary in Herriman, Utah needing help a.s.a.p. to evacuate animals due to a huge fire that was only a mile away at that point, with winds hitting about 50mph spreading embers. The fire was started by a nearby National Guardsmen training at Camp Williams.

As Jess Fruhwrith wrote, "The blaze in Herriman that has closed seven schools, destroyed four homes and displaced several families has left a number of retirees homeless as well: the retired farm animals housed at the Ching Farm Rescue and Sanctuary. Most of the animals are safe, but needed to be transported to safer areas--a costly, time consuming and stressful endeavor, no doubt."

My parents and I rushed out there as fast as we could and rendezvoused with some friends near the first police barricade (the area had been evacuated and was then closed off). Following them we made it through about five police barricades -with a friend in the lead-car getting out of their car to speak with the officers at every stop - before making it to the sanctuary. As we got closer and closer the air became much less breathable - and once we arrived at the farm we were given gloves and masks.

It was surreal with such a huge fire so dangerously close to the farm, burning across the mountain. Many animals had already been evacuated and the rest were let loose on the farm due to being too sick or old to evacuate safely.

We took Faith's farm pups with us - Blue and Red (creative names, eh?) - each dawning appropriately colored farm dog hankies. Blue came with a bag of insulin shots for his diabetes. Both pups were adorable and swell, and my grandparents babysat our way-too-hyper-for-the-farm-dogs pup, Gany, while we had them.

The fire department did an amazing job stamping out the fire by 50% the following day (Monday) so my parents were able to go to a guard post and have an escort take them to the farm to return Blue and Red. And as of today the evacuation was lifted and people were let back in to their homes in Herriman.

Yay!

And now, on to school updates. Remember the whole Social Security Administration E-Verify mismatch reported to my employer? Well, in addition, I also learned that the SSA mismatch also stems into messing with my financial aid going through. When I went in and spoke with a counselor yesterday around 4:00 he explained to me that some of my loans aren't processing due to ,"an E-Verify hang-up." with my SSN not matching.

I had received a voicemail from the girl I'd met with last Friday in SSA earlier telling me that she would call back around 4:30. So when the financial aid counselor asked for an ETA on when "everything will be resolved.", I told him that I was expecting a phone call right after our appointment and reassured him that I'm doing my best to get things worked out within my means - and that I have 8 days to get it resolved in order to hold on to my campus job, which is an ETA of sorts.

The SSA employee called me and began the conversation by warning me that she had "bad news". Essentially there's no way Federal will grant my updated SSN without "proof of sex reassignment surgery". She told me that they will grant my name change, however - but not sex, which will cause a perpetual mismatch between my state-held legal documents (Identification and Birth Certificate) and SSN until I'm able to get surgery.

After doing some research online, I found this Social Security Gender No-Match Letters and Transgender Employees document put out by the National Center for Transgender Equality in 2008, which states that if the gender marker can be changed with SSA:

This requires providing proof of “sex reassignment surgery” to SSA. If you update your gender marker with SSA, there is no need to reveal your transgender status to your employer.

And, if the gender marker cannot be changed, which apparently mine can't:

If you are unable to update your gender marker with SSA, then a coming-out conversation with your employer may be unavoidable (if you are not already out to them). If it becomes apparent you must out yourself, first request assurances that the health information you are about to share will be kept confidential and restricted to the fewest necessary people, and kept within the Human Resources department, if possible.

and also that

... When you talk with your employer or HR department, you can ask your employer to resubmit your data without gender. Gender is optional data for SSA number verification.

... oy'. So I've sent out an e-mail to the Human Resources lady in charge of my campus employment requesting a meeting time tomorrow to explain what's happening to her and that I will at least have my name updated with SSA and that, at least according to the above document, she can re-submit my information excluding Gender, since it's optional.

And will then meet with the financial aid feller to see if the same can be done in regards to my loans.

Lunch!

2010-09-17T13:48:00.000-07:00

By the way, my lunch today:

Tofurky and cheeze sandwiches, raisins, and vanilla soy yogurt! Mmm!

Social Security Fiasco and Oodles o' Teeny Boppin'

2010-09-17T10:52:00.000-07:00

With this whole interning at school bit I stumbled upon a little technical snag... one they call The Social Security Administration (SSA), dun dun dun! On my first day of work - Monday - I was told to head down to Human Resources (HR) on campus to fill out paperwork in order to be officially employed.

k, sure - so off I went, filled out papers, and - the next day - I received an e-mail telling me that I needed to come back to the HR office to discuss some things.

Hrm.

Upon return I was told that they had gone through this E-Verify shindig with my social security number and that it had come back saying that yes, this number is real, but the information provided with it isn't matching up. The HR employee seemed baffled and admitted that this was the first time they'd had E-Verify reject a social security number. I told her not to fret - that I'd had my name legally changed and hadn't yet updated it with the social security peeps.

She apologized for the inconvenience, then gave me some E-Verify paperwork to bring with me to SSA - Notice to Employee of Tentative Nonconfirmation and Referral to the Social Security Administration forms.

I'd decided right then and there that I would head down to SSA the morning o' Friday - today.

My dad used his fancy Droid to Google map the location of the downtown SSA (on 400 south between state and 200 e) while we were at coffee, which also auto-grabs the phone number. So I called to discover that they open at 9am. Fortunate for me, when I showed up around 10 or so, they were not slammed and I didn't have a chance to even sit down and wait before my number was called. Woot!

The girl working was super nice and felt enthusiastic about the documentation I'd brought in, telling me that she felt confident this "would only take ten minutes!" - my new license that reflects my current legal name and gender, my birth certificate reflecting new name and gender, and also the official Amendment of Birth Record To Reflect Court Order Change of Name that I was told could be used in place of the court documents I'd received for getting all of this jazz updated.

Which has actually worked for everything.. updating my bank information, getting my new ID from the state, updating everything at school, yada yada - until now.

The employee hit a bump while typing this n' that into the computer. She apologized, then went back to talk with her boss. When she returned to the window, she told me that she could update my name, but that the SSA has a policy in terms of changing the sex on my social security card - that I show them proof of sex reassignment surgery.

Wha? Despite the fact that I am legally male, that my ID says I'm legally male, that my birth certificate says I'm legally male - the SSA requires documentation from a surgeon saying that I've had "sex reassignment surgery"?

Which means what, exactly? That I can't acquire employment until I have enough money to afford the right type of "sex reassignment surgery" because E-Verify will report to my potential employers that my SSN is non-confirmed? And what type of surgery does it pertain to even, exactly? Because, the thing is - with trans men, many of us do not opt for genital reassignment surgery.

From Hudson's FTM Resource Guide:

Most (but not all) trans men will have at least one surgical procedure in his lifetime related to gender transition, if not several of them. However, it is important to note that many trans men do not avail themselves of the surgeries listed below due to cost considerations, health reasons, or personal reasons. Currently, most surgeries related to gender transition are not covered by insurance companies, so costs can be prohibitive for many trans men of lower or fixed incomes.

FTM surgery is generally divided into three main groups:

1. Chest reconstruction surgeries (also referred to as "top" surgery or male chest contouring);
2. Hysterectomy and oophorectomy (removal of the uterus and ovaries, respectively); and
3. Genital reconstruction surgeries (also referred to as "lower" or "bottom" surgery or GRS).

In other words, this could be a pretty serious predicament. And a definite hurdle, when now all of my legal documentation reflects one thing while my SSN reflects another - which would consistently generate E-Verify mismatching, errors, confusion and potential employment-barring hassle.

To remain optimistic, though, I told them that I will bring in what I have and they will put the documentation together and "give it to regional" to go over and either accept or reject.

With documentation, I have my original court order that I'll bring in. I will also ask my doctor to write a letter; and, unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to get a letter from my therapist until I get enough money together to pay for an appointment with him.

The employee was as helpful as she could be and doing what she could within her means, which was nice - and she told me that when I returned with the documentation, I wouldn't have to wait. I could just flag her down and she'd come out and get the paperwork and, if she was gone, I could use the envelope she'd provided for me and drop everything into their drop box.

So, for now, original court document and letter from doctor. Hopefully that will be enough and I will be able to move on and become legally employed.

On a separate note, I sure do get playful punched a lot at school. The bizarre nature of being an adult student while appearing well, not to be or something 'ish is just, way interesting. The other day a fellow student scribbled to me in class, "If I fall asleep, punch me." ... so, when she seemed to be nodding off, I punched her arm. She looked surprised, then whispered, "Why did you punch me? I told you to pinch me!", to which I replied that her scribble "pinch" looked an awful lot like "punch". So, during our class break, out of nowhere she punched me in the chest while saying, "How does it feel?" She looked a bit surprised by the boobly peck she'd just punched - which could've been my projecting (for all I know, she didn't notice), but... geeeeeez.

Poppycock, school, n' unisex loos

2010-09-16T08:27:00.000-07:00

I haven't had a chance to watch much television since school started, which has brought me much Battlestar Galactica and Shield-deprived woe. However, once upon a Wednesday evening as I passed through the front room while my parents watched television something sparkly and gaytastic snagged at my peripheral vision.

I stopped, turned...

... to be greeted by this performance:

What the? Such a sebang of gaggle faggle spewed all over mainstream television!?

I had always assumed that only the most bland of conforming acts would make it so far on a casting show like America's Got Talent - but, there was Prince Poppycock all over the screen owning himself, fireworks and dancers galore. In one performance he even gives tribute to fo' real real patriotism with images of Harvey Milk and Rosa Parks.

Most importantly, if only one kid who feels like they can just be themselves - no matter how "different" - silly shows like this aren't entirely pointless after all.

Aside from the magical land of Prince Poppycock exposure, the gender dynamics at school are becoming increasingly ... interesting. It still hasn't come up to any of my peers that I'm transgender, so I feel all weird inadvertently stealth. And when the topic of gender pops up in my classes, I have this urge to rant and ramble on and on with my tranny gender input - but, never quite sure how much to share that won't divert from the main focus of the class.

For example, the other morning in Psychology the teacher covered sexual biology. Barely. For a fleeting second. She talked about XY and XX. Men and women. Then, for "other" developments, a couple of syndromes. She mentioned some terms, like "sex", "gender", and "gender identity" - but didn't really distinguish between them too much. Nothing about intersex or transgender. She didn't ask for input or feedback before moving on to the next topic - but I felt this insane gnawing itch to say something to highlight that it isn't always that simple, the complexities of sexual development.

It pained me within. But, knowing she had her presentation setup the way she did for a reason and was covering this n' that in whatever depth she felt necessary, I abstained, resolving to instead talk to her after class starting with, "Have you heard of Dr.Money?" Her brow furrowed and she appeared to be attempting to recall a memory, "Ooo, this sounds very familiar." -- I reminder her about David Reimer, and she enthusiastically replied, "Yes! I do remember!", which led to a discussion about gender socialization vs. what's intrinsic, and then about intersex.

I hope that by showing interest in going into it in more depth after class we can talk more about it in class. I know that it's not just a tranny-captivating topic; gender/sexual biology and the psychology associated with stuff n' things is one of those subjects that's interesting to a lot of peeps and can be rambled on about for all eternity and beyond.

Or so I say.

Something I hadn't really noticed pre-transition, but in most of my classes something has been said along the lines of, "All of you white dudes...", and then some stereotype about being the oppressive majority, where it immediately feels uncomfortable and inappropriate to lend any input to discussions on minority issues. I feel like an invisible minority, of some sort - where there's clearly this aura of, oppressive and ignorant white guy trying to act like he knows something about minority issues, shut the f&%# up going on.

Which is flippin' weird. And uncomfortable. But, ya know, I'll raise my hand on occasion and participate anyway. I oppress like that.

In other news, I officially started interning with the student government Monday. Apparently I'm technically a marketing intern, which means that aside from web development I also get to do things like wear neon yellow shirts and peddle fliers about student events to other students.

I'm also invited to partake in school-funded student government road trips. Next week, for example, we're all carpooling out to the itty bitty town of Price, Utah to "reflect positively on the school.", where I'm to ramble on about web accessibility for students with disabilities and other design elements that I'll incorporate into our new school site(s).

Honestly, it makes me a little nervous - the idea of traveling with the other students. I'm friendly, but for whatever reasons I recognize that I'm a bit distant and guarded about getting too close to fellow students. I'm reserved about myself personally and feel anxious about knowing anyone outside of school. I'm not quite sure why this is, but I recognize it's happening.

Despite this anxiety that I can't quite pinpoint, I'm going to do my best to go on the road trip. It's just so, unfamiliar, I think. Something. I'll figure it out.

Also, yesterday between classes I walked around campus with my pen and notepad looking for single-stall unisex bathrooms. I found four total thus far, which I want to incorporate into a little map and bring to the LGBQT student group meeting, whenever that happens. I'll find out and scribble it into my calendar. Anyhoo, having this map for other students will rock in terms of knowing where the unisex bathrooms are when men/women restrooms feel unsafe or uncomfortable.

Pimp.

2010-09-09T15:01:00.000-07:00

Oh, something else - I'm finding all kinds of ways to celebrate the awesomeness of my dazzling and entirely legal first name. For example, look what brand of shoes Payless sells and that I now own a pair of, thanks to my pops:

So.bad.ass. And there are others, too - with Dexter sprawled on the sides or back, ranging from $10-$20. Pimp!

Oh, and this pen I found:

Yes, that IS a "D". And yes, those are jewels on it. Mega-pimp!

Since I mentioned my awful cat Theseus in my last post in regards to sleep-deprivation pre-test, I thought I'd post these fairly recent images of her in crazy town.

Bizarre note on Theseus - throughout my years of co-habitating with feline companion animals, whenever I buy some special cat toy or bed, it goes unused and they always instead opt to play with little milk rings or sleep in shoe boxes or something. With Theseus, she actually uses every single piece of cat crap I've bought - a slumber ball (cat version of a bean bag), her cozy heated cabin, little cat crinkle balls, yada blah blah - and then, one day while passing by the baby aisle at the grocery store, I noticed this blue baby blanket covered in baseballs, bats, and stupid stars. I knew that I absolutely had to buy this stupid thing for Theseus.

And, of course, the second I brought it home and set it out she immediately laid on it. Purred in it. Climbed underneath it, around it. Fell asleep on it. She's loved it ever since.

So, I come home a few weeks ago and, of course, she's hiding in her blue baby blankie:

The beast lurking in her blue baby blankie lair. Terror inducing! But all amped up on steroids, I'm brave. I'm not afraid.

The beast has been revealed. Oooo, scary!

Kill mode, kill mode!

Gross.

Brrrrrrains

2010-09-09T13:56:00.000-07:00

Today was off to the worst start. I spent last night studying for today's test. Ate dinner. Got ready for bed. Set two alarms. Got my school outfit ready, bag packed, hung my rainy day cycling outfit on my bedroom door after professional duct taping fenders to my bike.

And then, as I went to get my clothes out of the dryer, caught my mom putting together my lunch and she screamed, "You keep your big eyes to yourself!", or something along those lines... so I covered my eyes to stumble to the laundry room, see that the dryer hadn't finished, then stumbled blindly through the kitchen and back to my room. Then dimmed the lights, turned on my melatonin-spurring Solaris soundtrack and dozed off by 10pm.

Then, throughout the night, my cat Theseus laid on my head. Then purred in my face. Then pawed at my nose. Then used the litter box three times. Then knocked something off a shelf. Then meowed at my bedroom door. Meanwhile my other cat, the old and bitter Evilbunny, did the same - hassling me to no end, all night long.

I woke up on and off, over and over. The worst.sleep.ever. And finally, at 6:00, my alarm went off. I turned it off. Then my second alarm went off. I set it for 20 minutes later, to attempt to sneak in some extra sleep - while both of my cats glared at me, wide awake and excited that I, too, was now awake. I texted my dad in a semi-unconscious blur that I was sleeping in and would still be cycling with him.

Not seeing my text, he knocked on my door about 5 minutes later. And I surrendered... woke up.

Low and behold, my cats had about 5 kibble bits of food in their bowl (i.e. they had some food, but were panicking about running low on food. Seriously.) Whhhhyyyyy!!!!! I'd gone through this obsessive crap checklist for nothing last night, forgetting the most essential of all essentials: pour a massive amount of fat cat food in their fat cat anus food bowl for my fat fucking cats.

Oy'. I woke up irritable to all hell and back. Poured food for the beasts. I then gave Theseus a massive noggin slurp to vent my aggression and pushed Evilbunny over on the bed declaring, "Four legs is not enough!" (What? It made me feel better).

My dad sat in his cycling outfit watching the morning news as I threw my gorgeous face on (with the magic of benzoyl peroxide and toothpaste), then we peddled off to the coffee house.

Where I ordered a beverage and pulled my laptop out to put my favorite new flash card studying tool - Anki - to use in "cram" mode to prep.

And, of course, there had to be a business meeting of about 30 people upstairs loudly giving a presentation, clapping, laughing, and getting everyone all pumped about some accounting something another. I attempted to form some paper towel into earplugs, which semi-worked, but in my irritable sleep-deprived-anxious-for-test state of mind, I began to feel my stomach knot and my teeth clench, and this desire to flip into crazed ape shit mode began to surface.

Which was then rationally suppressed, and I focused on little ol' Anki.

Then we peddled off, I separated on to a little side road leading to school, and then studied some more before my Art class. Then rehearsed little bits and pieces about my test during Art class. And then, after Art class, had 40 minutes before the big test to escape to the library to eat lunch and cram some more.

And opening my lunch sent a huge wave of warm calm over me, in all it's adorableness:

Some BBQ chips, faux "tuna" sandwiches (made from garbanzo beans; which doesn't sound like it would work but it actually, surprisingly does), peppered cucumber and, of course, essential gummy bunnies.

Anxious and sleep-deprived, during lunch I also swallowed one of these down:

, which, placebo-effect or not, seemed to help. It was god awful, though. Like swallowing cold medicine - which the gummy bunnies helped a great deal with ingesting. Ew.

Crammed. Felt confident 'nuff. Then on to the test.

... which turned out to not be so bad, after all. I'd definitely hyped it up way more than I needed to - which is at least better than, ya know, doing the reverse. Anki helped a LOT with the test. I only missed two questions, which I suspect I'll get partial credit on for getting them, well, partially right. We'll see.

And second, the most important of all important, the teacher did bring in a treat. Two human brains - one in a jar o' liquid and the other in a tupperwear bowl, which was then opened up and spread out on a tray. First, the jar was passed around so that we could gawk at the brain. Neat.

Then, we got to see the brain all laid out - and gloves were provided to hold it, too. Talk about a highly effective way to turn an anxiety-inducing test period to a super fun period. I got to hold bits and pieces of a real human brain all solidified galore in formaldehyde:

Anyone else see the roast beef similarities? If you don't, google image "raw roast beef".

So.much.fun. And, while holding the bits and pieces, I tried to figure out what was what - and, thanks to the magic of flash cards following algorithm whatever the hell, most likely got them right.

And now, I'm crashing from my coffee/soda/energy shot high. Poor body and the crap I put it through some times.

Does one hemisphere go to heaven and the other go to hell?

2010-09-08T18:48:00.000-07:00

Oh, speaking of neurocrap, know that Vilayanur S. Ramachandran feller I've mentioned on and off throughout the life span of this blog? The feller that's known mostly for his research with phantom limb syndrome and who has now redirected his attentions to transsexuals?

Well, I found a video of him speaking about someone who had his corpus callosum severed - making it so that his right and left hemispheres could no longer communicate. Thing is, one hemisphere was atheist and the other theist. To which Ramachandran asked, "If this person dies, does one hemisphere go to heaven and the other go to hell?"

Ha!

Brains, P&B, and Anki

2010-09-08T18:38:00.000-07:00

On a related note, this is what I got for lunch today:

P&B on whole wheat, mixed fruit, chocolate chips, and little gummy bunnies.

On a giddy anticipatory note, my neuropsych teacher revealed during class that she was going to show us a "treat" tomorrow after our anxiety-inducing test. After class she admitted to me that she was going to attempt to take us to the lab where we'll get to see a real-life human brain. I'm crossing my fingers enthusiastically hoping that this happens.

I suspect it would smell an awful lot like formaldehyde and ethanol.

With anatomy-like courses that require oodles upon oodles of memorization, I end up feeling anxious because my memorization skills just.... well, suck. But, I've discovered a nifty little computer tool that is actually helping a great deal. It's called Anki, which is Japanese for "memorization". Apparently their method involves some spiffy memorization algorithm called the SM2 algorithm:

The SM2 algorithm, created for SuperMemo in the late 1980s, forms the basis of the spaced repetition methods employed in the program. Anki's implementation of the algorithm has been modified to allow priorities on cards, and to show cards in order of their urgency.

And it feels like it's actually working and helping a great deal - assuming that the flash cards I made for it are focusing on the right stuff. We'll see! Either way, a lot less nervous and ill-prepared feeling than I've been in the past.

Now if -that- isn't exciting, I don't know what is.

2010-09-07T21:59:00.000-07:00

Living out in the boonies with my parents does wonders for my ability to study without social intervention. See, I'm buffered from run-aboot-slacking temptations by miles of sprawled Utahrded roads and my phobic-about-school-so-I'm-obsessing and also, of course, partial laziness.

Bro-bonding is a social phenomenon I still haven't adjusted to. It's not a bad thing, just ... different. Coming from the world of female to aesthetically blatant queer to, how to put it - a more gender-typical appearance? - is an extremely different social journey... and difficult to accurately convey.

A slew of little things; which, I'll attempt to babble on about... but, it's not going to work. I'll try, though! So -for example, in all of my classes I have a tendency to pick a preferred little spot to sit in and stick to it.

Off to a good start!

In my neuropsych class, I pick my spot. Sit in it again next time. And the time after that. Low and behold, I come in one day to discover that the dude-dudes in the class are sitting around my chair turf - but my chair is empty, available for me to sit in. So, I sit in it. Surrounded by dude-dudes. In the land before gender-appropriate time, the dude-dudes would not be sitting with me. I'd rationalized that I was just too queertastically binary confusing to be all that alluring to some.

Throughout class they'll bond with one another, joke, chatter on and off, talk about the party they were at last weekend or yada blah blah - and earlier today as our teacher showed us a 20 minute video of a corpse's skull being opened up to remove the brain (my stomach actually got sick-feeling during this), I was whispered to, told stories about actually seeing a corpse in anatomy, - I respond, but honestly it feels so different that I don't quite know how. I'm myself, but it's an entirely different world that, ... yeah, hard to express. A lot of "Dude", and "Man", and "Bro", I've noticed.

... or social things that are apparently abnormal for men to do, like hugging other men? I get in trouble for that one some times, so now I make sure to hug male friends and shake the hands of my female friends just to bask in the joy of insulted reaction. And then hug, of course, to make up for it.

Like the other day when my dad and I went to visit my grandparents for my grandpa's 80th birthday (side story: when we arrived my grandma was outside, alone. Then my grandpa opened the door, letting us all in. Turns out they had been locked out and, for his 80th birthday, he got to play cat burglar and break in to their home through a window. Go grandpa!), when I hugged him goodbye he was surprised, then asked, "Oh, so we can still hug, even though you're a guy?"

It's just a different social experience for me, entirely. It's better in some ways and worse in others. Better in a practical sense, where I feel safe and comfortable using a public restroom (for the most part). Worse in another sense, where I'm becoming increasingly invisible to the people I relate to the most.

Or how I feel a great deal of pressure to conform to masculine stereotypes, to the point that it's even uncomfortable to cross my legs or smile at strangers or - it's ridiculous. I recognize it's there and do my best to just be myself, as I always have, and to recognize it for what it is - gender-abusive social pressure; but still, it's definitely there.

As Ivan E. Coyote put it in her tribute to femmes,

"I would never say that the world is harder on me than it is you. Sometimes you are invisible. I have no idea what this must feel like, to pass right by your people and not be recognized. To not be seen. I cannot hide, unless I am seen as something I am not. This is not more difficult, it is just different."

In other news, this was my lunch today:

Again, taken with my shoddy camera phone that doesn't give it's glorious adorableness credit. Grapes, crackas, banana, a sandwich, and orange juice. Mmm! Definitely dude macho and entirely transition-appropriate. Thanks, mom!

Also, I'm calling my gym-scared hiatus off and going back with my mom starting tomorrow. I'm going to try just wearing my Cotton Concealer Compression Shirt, Style 974 from Underworks (which I mentioned in my blog here) with a loose shirt and see how it goes.

It's going to be a brand new, entirely different gym than the one I had been going to pre-transition, which I actually think will make it feel more comfortable; not worrying that the manager who has known me as "she" for years may walk into the men's locker room and see me, or other gym-goers who have known me there, yada yada... just, nice new clean slate. And I'm way excited to go again, especially with my gym-partner mom. Very mutually motivating!

If I Ran the Zoo

2010-09-05T17:54:00.000-07:00

School has been good - and, of course, socially bizarre and interesting to all unprecedented hell. I'm inadvertently stealth socially, which is strange for me because everyone I've known since beginning my transition have all been via a pre-existing social bubble. On campus, it just hasn't come up and the other students are all disconnected-from-my-social-bubble teeny bop strangers. Essentially, I'm sticking to the same out policy I always have - just being myself, and open about in the same way I would be if we all bobbled along in a non-discriminatory world.

So last week I got all giggity giddy about the prospect of signing up for the school's LGBQT student group during the campus club fair, and marked it in my calendar to ensure I didn't forget! I intended to go alone, seeing as I'm just barely beginning to make new li'l campus bop friends - but, the club fair happened to be going on as I was leaving class with a new friend, who also wanted to go.

For a moment I actually felt a twinge of anxiety about walking up to the LGBQT student club table and signing up with her by my side, thinking that she may ask why I signed up for this club and I would just honestly respond that I'm trans, yada blargity. I almost considered just perusing the clubs with her, then - once she was gone - returning to sign up for the club. But all of the above was fleeting, and when I spotted the LGBQT club, I walked up to the table and signed up.

She didn't ask any questions, but later brought up that she's LDS and ,"... hates how discriminatory the church is."

Awwww.

In other school-related news since this consists of 89.9% of my life now, my neuropsychology professor delivered some very refreshing news last time in class - she does not research on animals and told me it's 100% possible to get through the program without animal experimentation.

WHEW.

The prospect of unavoidable animal experimentation had me so terrified that I'd initially opted to avoid neuro-anything altogether, but... then decided, dag nabbit, this is what I want to major in and there HAS to be a way to get around it.

And, low and behold, there is. When she revealed that she does not partake in animal research, I literally felt my chest release and little stomach butterflies erupt.

Oh, in other news, I'm going to be interning for the student government on campus. I couldn't resist. It's too college-esque to pass up and if I'm going to transport back to the future into the presumed body of a 21-year-old nerd dude going to college I may as well go all the way. Well, not all the way - but least some of the way.

The word nerd, by the way, first appeared in a 1950 Dr. Seuss book, "If I Ran the Zoo." The Nerd is drawn as an angry humanoid, with the following caption: "And then, just to show them, I’ll sail to Ka-Troo And Bring Back an It-Kutch a Preep and a Proo A Nerkle a Nerd and a Seersucker, too!"

Fitting indeed!

Day 2 of The Gauntlet

2010-08-26T12:51:00.000-07:00

Had my second round of new classes today, which went super well. I bicycled with my pops, which went much faster than I'd anticipated. For some odd reason, everything seems faster in peddle land than automobile-ville. Hard to explain... but, the distance didn't instill peddling afar reluctance in me -

... but the idea of binding while wearing an insanely heavy backpack and sweating profusely going a great distance, then showing up to school all god awful salty gross sweaty did.

Which didn't happen! See, I've developed a solution of sorts.

Last night I put together my bicycle outfit (consisting of my loose jersey, my T-Kingdom 801 zip-up binder, and some light Underworks shorts) and then biked early enough this morning that I had time to stop for coffee near school with my pops. I then used their single stall restroom to change out of my bicycle outfit to dig into my backpack for another dry and clean binder, shirt, and shorts.

I then went to school feeling all refreshed, dapper, and comfortably worked out.

So with all of that binder-swap prepping under my belt, my first class was an art history one, where I was initially caught off-guard with the teacher saying, "Oh, and this must be Dexter. Hello!", to which I immediately wondered, have we met somewhere, or...? Which was then answered when another student walked in and he had their name pegged, also. Apparently he had spent time memorizing our faces and names in preparation for class - which actually hit the nail on the head when it came to making the environment feel more comfortable and personal.

I was also impressed by how hard the professor worked to garner class interaction. He sweat profusely and talked quickly, however, making it clear that he was nervous and - as I later learned - this was his very first class and first time teaching, ever.

And I learned this after I had been speaking with another student right after his class whining on about how lame it was that the building we were in was insanely cold and lacked chairs - and the professor overheard the "so lame" something another portion and mistakingly believed we were referring to his class. Awwwww nooo!

He tried to keep walking, but cracked, turned around, approached us, admitted what he'd overheard, things were cleared up, and he then asked for our feedback on Day 1. He clearly felt frustrated in class about the students who weren't paying attention or who couldn't even name a single artist they liked, so I told him that I appreciated how hard he worked to get the class excited about art, but to realize that he's fighting against YEARS of academic training that completely paralyzes students into absolute fear; into being extremely guarded and nervous, especially on Day 1 of class. And that, over time, students would open up and progress will be made!

And, again, on Day 2 of school "Dexter" was utilized left and right. I love hearing it repeatedly in reference to me, as it feels just so dern' cozy.

Today's mom lunch, from the land of crap mobile phone picture taking:

Some type of faux-shrimp noodle casserole shindig, peaches, chocolate chips with vegan marshmallows, gummy bunnies, a P&B sandwich I'd consumed pre-photo, and peaches. Mmmm!

I know.

"Oh, you're so COOL, Brewster!"

With the whole binder shindig, for heading home later I've scoped out another nearby single stall restroom (coffee shops = great for studying AND contain single-stall restrooms!) that I'll use to change back into my loosely-binded bicycle outfit for peddling home. I think this system will work out just fine.

Speaking of restrooms, I really want to meet with my school's LGBQT club when they get together next to discuss the possibility of making a map outlining where unisex/single-stall restrooms are located on campus. I only know of one, but it's in a high-traffic area so it's frequently occupied and, if I do get in, the lock is all kinds of doesn't-lock messed up. If someone were to walk in, I guess I'd just have to wave and say, "Hello!" mid-top-changing. God forbid.

First Day of School

2010-08-25T19:44:00.000-07:00

These past few days I have been moving.moving.moving - in with my parents. After 10 years of economic independence and living on my own, I ultimately decided that in order go to this insanely expensive private college, maintain above a 3.8 GPA to hold on to my scholarships, and do the whole McNair program shindig to boot, biting the independence bullet a wee bit was a necessity.

Still, for a bit there - from some deep irrational nook of my psyche I almost preferred to just skip out on the academic opportunity and snag me a full-time job so that I could continue living on in my independent world.

But, the other thing is, that's silly. Especially when I'm mega-excited about finally finishing college and have the opportunity to accept my parent's adorable help - which isn't an opportunity everyone has.

So for a couple of weeks my parents and I worked hard to clear out some space at their place for me to move into. And despite my whimpering about feeling like a burden and yargity blagh - the entire time they were reassuring, sweet, encouraging, and even excited about it.

And, after a few days of beating my irrationality with a stick, I got excited about it, too. About the longer-than-usual bicycle ride, which will rock for my health - and to bicycle with my pops to coffee three mornings out of the week. It's also a super spiffy study environment, away from the too-easy-to-run-amok lure of downtown. And my parents are the greatest roommates on the planet. And our family dog, Gany, is way into my being here.

Yesterday we moved my kitties in, which has sealed the feels-like-home deal for me. Seeing as they're all cracked out on pheromone balls and collars, they're loving it here, too. Wherever "here" is, as they float along in the land of kitty clouds and far out spirals.

Then last night, as I was setting up the final touches in my room, my mom screamed out from the front room, "Dinner!!!" -- ooo! perk! -- which I gobbled up, thanked her for, then cleaned the dishes. After about 45 minutes later she hollered again, "Popcorn balls!!!", which are these adorable little vegan caramel popcorn balls thangmabops.

I ate three, thanked her, cleaned the pans, then got prepared for bed - brushed my teeth, picked my school outfit and hung it up by my bed, filled up my backpack, checked the fridge to... ... discover my laptop lunch box. My mom immediately screamed from the other room, "Don't look in there! It's a surprise!"

Holy.shit. After 10 years of enduring the relentless wrath of empty nest syndrome, my mom is clearly excited that I'm back. I get dinner. Popcorn balls. A lunch packed for me. My clothing thrown in the dryer when I'd forgotten it in the washer.

I then set my alarm for 6:30 and went to bed by 10.

Alarm went off. Woke up. Rinsed my face. Brushed teeth. Put on my school outfit consisting of a button-up and thin-as-hell Underworks shorts, sneakers, cap. Packed my mystery lunch then sneaked out to the bus stop.

And received a call.

Mom.

I answered.

"You didn't say goodbye!"

"I didn't want to wake you."

"Well, I'm up for a minute. Say goodbye before you go!"

Haha. I told her I would, then she said, "Have a great day at school!"

It's like my first day of kindergarten. It's moments like this that remind me of Evil Ed in Fright Night pointing at Charlie and saying, "Oh, you're so COOL, Brewster!"

I am so cool.

And my dad took the bus with me on his way to work. Fun!

And my first day of school rocked. First thing I noticed? Going from a community college to a private college ='s really soft ass comfy chairs. In community college land when a teacher wanted to do a powerpoint presentation or show a video, it was always a big grueling ordeal - they'd usually have to tell the IT guys in advance, who would come wheeling in a little ol' dusty television 10 minutes into class. And then it would take another 15 minutes to get the teacher's laptop setup or the video stuff working. And 8 times out of 10 it wouldn't end up working in the end.

In big college land? Just doing the syllabus my psychology teacher used a powerpoint - on a screen that was setup in the wall. wow. schmancy. And she has us post our assignments online. And creates powerpoints for us to review and/or download before class. The future is here!

And she passed around an attendance sheet that I signed, "Dexter Thomas.", avoiding any fear that my name change hadn't been updated yet throughout the school's system.

Then around lunch time, my stomach grumbling, I couldn't resist any longer and opened up my lunch... to discover this:

A tofurky and cheeze sandwich, celery sticks, banana, and little gelatin-free gummy bunnies.

Seriously.

This crap camera phone photo doesn't give my lunch justice.

It's so.damn.cute. And I had opened it up in front of my friend, Gina, who commented, "I can't believe there isn't a note in there. Something like 'Have fun on your first day of class!'" -- and who later admitted that she was jealous and wished she had pre-made mom lunches, too.

Oh, and while I was eating my lunch, a friend of hers approached and she introduced us, then followed up with, "Oh, and look. His mom made him lunch today." -- which I used as a platform to brag about how delicious it was, which then turned into learning that he was vegan, too, and then admitting that he, too, wishes he got mom lunches.

Thing is, it actually is exciting not knowing what my lunch is going to be. It's hard to explain why it's so damn exciting, but it is. Like opening a present or something - and then devouring it whole.

After lunch I had my second class of the day - where the teacher called role. Ah shit. My heart started to race in my chest, worrying that my name hadn't been updated on his roster and he'd call out, "Melanie Thomas." in the class. In anticipation, I'd resolved that if he did call out "Melanie", I'd raise my hand, deal with it, then talk to him after class. And after all of that inner-terror build up, he called out, "Dexter!", I raised my hand, and he immediately moved on to the next student. Whew! Not scary!

I'm so.happy. that I had my name legally changed. I hadn't anticipated that it would become such a big deal to me, but it has - and I feel 80 million x's more comfortable and safer because of it.

I'm way stoked to be back in school.

p.s. when I brought up how my login stuff all had my old name, the school's I.T. department very swiftly updated everything!

Piranha Goregasm

2010-08-20T21:51:00.000-07:00

I try to abstain from rambling on about horror - seeing as I'm entirely obsessed and could (and should) have a separate blog dedicated to it.

But, tonight's the exception because I just had the most goretastic big screen movie experience ever and can't help myself. Forgive me.

It's all Piranha 3-D's fault.

It was so good that I'm seriously considering framing my stub - especially due to the scene that caused four people to immediately stand up and leave the theater.

I'm definitely gathering up a horde of my poor, hapless friends to see it again before classes start next Wednesday.

Just How Bloody is 'Piranha 3D'? Just Wait Until You See This!

How quickly the hype behind a film grows. I went from delivering a series of deep sighs to being off-the-chart excited over the course of the past few months. After seeing Mirrors, it was hard for me to get behind Alex Aja (even after the incredible High Tension), but I seriously think his remake of Piranha 3D is going to be mind-blowing. Not only is it 3-D, but it features one helluva fun cast and promises more gore than Kill Bill. Sure, it's easy to say that, but to prove it another. Thanks to B-D reader 'Ghengis Tron' who delivered B-D an exclusive look at some behind-the-scenes photos that are sure to immediately change your view of Dimension's latest. The blood WILL flow come March 19, 2010.

Official Statement: Hate Speech Tagged At Utah Pride Center

2010-08-20T11:42:00.000-07:00

Sad! Look what the staff of the Utah Pride Center and the little cafe downstairs (Cafe Marmalade) were greeted with this morning:

This is just a block north of West High School, where I went to school. I attended West High during a period of time here in Utah where all student clubs were banned in order to prevent LGBT students from having a GSA (Gay Straight Alliance), in complete violation of the Equal Access Act.

Under the Equal Access Act, if a public high school allows any student group whose purpose is not directly related to the curriculum to meet on school grounds, then it must provide all other non-curricular student groups equal access to the school’s resources. In other words, schools may not pick and choose among non-curricular student clubs based on their preferences for what students discuss. If the school does so and it treats some non-curricular clubs differently than others, then it risks losing its federal funding. The Equal Access Act upholds students’ rights to free speech and association, which are protected by the First Amendment to the United States Constitution.

But, fortunate for us little LGBT wee bops, we had the Utah Pride Center right down the street. Having the little cafe there, the support groups, and the entire compassionate and supportive environment - my friends and I could escape the discriminatory high school environment to go socialize in a place where we could feel safe being ourselves and having discussions about our experiences. This included a slew of non-homophobic heterosexual peers, who also didn't feel comfortable at school.

I <3 our pride center and this is messed up. From a press statement released just barely:

Salt Lake City, UT: This morning, August 20, 2010, staff of the Utah Pride Center and Café Marmalade discovered that the marquee in front of the building had been vandalized during the night with the word "FAGS". Staff made a report to the Salt Lake City Police Department who dispatched the Crime Scene Unit and are investigating the crime.

The Utah Pride Center works diligently to create a safe environment for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people in Utah, and will not stand for instances of hate.

"We realize that often times the purpose of these actions are to cause widespread fear among the members of our community," said Valerie Larabee, Executive Director. "Thatis why today we are speaking out. This will not be swept under the rug. We will not be scared into silence by acts of intolerance."

The Utah Pride Center board and staff acknowledge that in any social justice movement, the more progress that is made, the more resistance the targeted community will face. "We welcome civil, respectful dialogues with those who disagree with our mission, but this kind of hate language and vandalism will not be tolerated," said Larabee.

The Utah Pride Center appreciates the work of the Salt LakeCity Police Department and the LGBT Public Safety Liaison Committee.

Lady Gaga as a dude for Vogue Hommes Japan.

2010-08-19T13:39:00.000-07:00

Transfer student orientation and the Sweet Bro

2010-08-19T13:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I attended a transfer student orientation for college-land. I didn't quite know what to expect, especially after the campus tour I went on last month with a slew of grumpy teenage kids who hadn't even graduated high school yet.

Registration for the orientation took place in this schmancy little banquet hall where they were handing out packets and name tags. I felt a bit nervous, ... the last I spoke with the college was earlier in July after I had my name legally changed. I found the registrar and brought them my new birth certificate information and requested to have any mention of "Melanie Thomas" changed to "Dexter Mel Thomas".

So when I walked up to the registration table, I told them my last name, "Thomas." - and then, for first, "Should be Dexter, but could be Mel." She shuffled through the folders and, woot woot, there I was. Dexter Thomas! Boo-ya!

On a side note, I discovered recently that there's a band called The Dexter Thomas Band, formed in 1995. Totally beat me to the punch.

Anyway, I put on my little name tag and randomly chose a table that a few other students were sitting at. Introductions and small talk ensued Where so and so had transferred from, majors, yada yada so on and so forth.

Eventually the table was full - there were two other guys there and four girls. Which usually wouldn't be relevant, but is something of note in this little tranny tale of mine.

I interacted mostly with two girls at the table - one who had also transferred from the local community college and who was also a McNair Scholar - and also with the girl to my left, who said she was from a small town in Utah called Heber, had moved to California, and had now transferred back to Salt Lake City.

The guy across from us (Let's call him Sweet Bro) chimed in that he had been to Heber for a rodeo, to which she replied, "Yep. We had a lot of them there." and the other McNair scholar jokingly talked about how she'd like to attend a rodeo, but doesn't think she could pass as a cowgirl. And Sweet Bro replied, "You totally could! Just wear some boots and make sure they're covered in shit!"

My two cents consisted of something along the lines of how I tried to pass as a cowboy at a rodeo once, but was instantly outed and escorted out, camera and all.

True story.

Anyhoo, eventually Sweet Bro asked about ages and I instantly felt this on-the-spot anxiety about it. Expressing age pre-transition had never been a problem, but now when I do it's an instant shocking slew of questions and prodding. "How do you look so young!?", which could either lead to an honest response, "Oh, well, I just started my male puberty a year and a half ago." (which then becomes the insta focal point and more questions) or a dishonest response... which I haven't opted for. I'm not a good liar. And I'm so into the whole out n' open bit, it's not all that enticing.

... in general.

In this scenario - at this table of stranger student peers in a small talk situation... while I knew that I didn't feel comfortable sparking the trans conversation here and now, I knew that answering with my actual age would be a big shocking question prodding fest. Having already experienced the usual shocked response to it time and time again, I impulsively decided that, at long last, I was sitting in a unique opportunity with a group of strangers, none of whom know me from before or have ever met me before, to gauge how I actually appear age-wise in my new student world.

And so, for the first time, partly based out of fear and partly out of curiosity, I opted to lie. The ages varied. Heber girl answered, "22.", other bro answered, "26.", and everyone else within that range - and so, I decided to answer, "25."

Shock. Instantly. From the entire table.

"Seriously?", Sweet bro asks.

Had I lied too old? Too young?

"Yeah."

Still stunned-looking, "You're kidding. You don't look a day over 20."

Seriously? The other students at the table all nodded in agreement.

And then he continued on with this high-pitched little kid voice, "Jimmy, you want candy?"

And the girls at the table all laughed and one said, "Oooo, burn!"

oh.my.gawd. In response, I smiled and replied, "Well, I'm sure that if I added a propeller to my hat it would shave off an additional three years!"

Geez! 20? Seriously? From now on, I'm doing my best to avoid mentioning my age. On the tranny hand and also on the adult student hand, I'd rather avoid it unless I'm friends with someone. It's difficult to describe how uncomfortable it is dealing with an onslaught of questions immediately after the number comes out of my mouth that I don't like answering in all situations. And I don't like lying, either... er,

Also - on a purely social level yesterday's experience was entirely unprecedented in my life and foreign to me. When I attended college the first time around, I was very clearly perceived as androgynous queer something another encompassing a whole lotta radical faggle. I had entirely adjusted to it throughout my life, a world where 9 times out of 10 going into a bathroom would cause a big scene involving screaming or calling security, where girls would cover up and leave the locker room if I walked in and most dude-dudes (who, like many people, some times see a world that only consists of “butch male” and “femme female.") had no idea how to interact with me.

This time around, apparently I'm perceived as a 20-year-old li'l dude who should put a propeller on his little hat. It's seriously like I'm living the same thing all over again with all new peers and professors in a completely different body and a whole new social experience.

It's like I've fallen into this entirely captivating and unintentional social experiment of sorts.

Back to this orientation - once done in the banquet hall, we relocated to the computer labs. The first thing I noticed about many of the other tables: girls were all lumping with girls and guys were all lumping with guys. With my table, I had assumed that I'd likely be walking with either of the two girls I'd been interacting with 90% of the time, but instead all four of the girls immediately clumped together and walked ahead and the other two guys at the table walked with me.

... even though we hadn't really interacted. And it wasn't a bad thing per se, just incredibly bizarre to me and hasn't happened before - where two traditionally masculine cisgender guys insta-bond with me as fellow dude and socially clump with me.

Guy #2 commented on my messenger bag, "That is an awesome bag, man.", and I commented that it was super swell n' all, but had one design snag - the big red button on the seatbelt buckle strap. A design flaw when you're someone like me surrounded by cruel friends who love to push the button when I have a lot of stuff in my bag, causing it to just instantly detach from my shoulder and fall on to the ground.

They both chuckled, and he replied, "I totally had the urge to push that button.", and Sweet Bro also confessed, "Me, too!" - and I said something along the lines of how it would be an interesting study to figure out why we're all so irresistibly compelled to push red buttons.

But, now in safe bro gender company with no girls present, Sweet Bro had a different theory, "No way, man. I bet it's a dude thing. It's our testosterone, makes us do stupid shit. Like how we drive cars and insurance rates are sky high. Cuz we do stupid shit, get road rage.", and Guy #2 nodded in agreement. Sweet bro than elaborated, "Chicks, though... I think they get into accidents for different reasons. Like being distracted by looking in the mirror to do their makeup, or just zoning out and rolling through red lights."

Guy #2 laughed, "It's so true."

This is quite the social experience for me because in my "past life" there's no.way.in.hell two dudes would have clumped with me and gone on about chicks and their makeup-in-the-mirror habits. This wasn't an intrinsically bad thing - in a way, it's kind of cute that the second they're all in binary dude-company the all-mysterious "girls" of the world are the insta-topic of excity bondy conversation - just foreign, mostly. And interesting to me.

Then Sweet Bro elaborated, "Just the other day I saw this blonde bimbo drivin' a car, and a brunette bimbo driving next to her. They were merging into the same lane, but brunette swerved right in time. I don't thing blonde even noticed."

In response, I relayed a story about a girl I knew who was stopped at a red light, but then hit the gas to go through even though it was still red and got T-Boned. And added that I also knew aggressive female drivers and... yeah, I don't think it got anywhere.

Then, once we got to the computer lab, they both sat with me. And as we all logged in to our school e-mail and web stuff, the name "Melanie Thomas" popped up, and also, Welcome, Melanie! This is the name that my professors can see when e-mailing me, or the name anyone would see if I were to e-mail my professors or other students from my college account. Gaaaahhhh!!!!

I felt anxious about Sweet Bro or the other guy seeing this name all over my screen, but despite that figured that if either of them noticed and asked, I'd just reply with, "That was my name before I had it legally changed", and just see where it went from there.

Hence learning that, apparently I'm much more comfortable in a smaller group than an entire table of strangers when it comes to being open to or avoiding the trans topic.

It didn't come up, however, and once computer lab was done I broke off from the orientation party and said goodbye to my new bro peers. And immediately piloted to the Registrars office to inquire about why my name hasn't been changed yet and to stress the urgency of it, especially before classes start next Wednesday.

They told me they would have it resolved asap, and even got my number to give me a call the second everything had been updated. Yay!

Which I just checked, a day later (today), and nothing has been updated yet. So I sent an e-mail to boot and will check again tomorrow. Please.change.soon!

And, once learning how to login to my computer stuff and figure out what books are required for my classes, I was reminded of just how insanely expensive books are.

I have 4 books to acquire, all at about $100-$150 a pop. I was able to rent 1 of the 4 so far for less than it would be to own, but now I'm broke until either next Tues - the day before classes - or until I receive my additional McNair funding. Which I'll hopefully get by the end of this week to buy my remaining books with. Especially before those lowly Freshman have their orientation Saturday and run off with all of the used/rental books, leaving me with only shiny expensive new ones. Cha-ching!

FRIDAY THE 13TH

2010-08-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

Friday the 13th is the most ideal excuse in the world to make a post in homage of Jason Voorhees, the hockey masked (after the third film, anyway) killer zombie who drowned at Camp Crystal Lake due to the negligent sexcapades of the horny teenage camp staff.

I first watched Friday the 13th when I was just a wee bop and, knowing that the film was all fantasy and not real, became completely enamored with the how behind the gruesome visuals in the film.

I learned all about the world of delicious corn syrup combined with red food coloring for "blood". About foam latex prosthetics, monster masks made out of silicone, rubber mask paint, skin paints, prop making, animatronics... on and on and on.

For as long as I can remember horror films have been an obsessive well of endless fascination for me, worsened by the day I got my hands on a magazine called The Monster Make-Up Handbook by artist Dick Smith (The Exorcist, The Godfather, Taxi Driver, Scanners, The Hunger...), which was initially created and distributed in 1965. This later led to finally putting together my first mini makeup kit and making my first facial prosthetic - primarily made out of liquid latex and toilet paper.

With Friday the 13th, FX Artist Tom Savini created the initial little kid zombie Jason (and, rumor has it, it was his idea to have Jason in the series at all) - and who also worked on another childhood favorite, Creepshow.

Aside from discovering Dick Smith and Tom Savini, I also became completely enamored with Rick Baker, who did the werewolf transformation scene in An American Werewolf in London, makeup for Michael Jackson's Thriller, Harry in Harry and the Hendersons, donned the gorilla suit and played the title role in the 1976 remake of King Kong (which makes me blubber), did makeup for The Howling, Videdrome... on and on.

Anyway, rambling aside, in homage:

Degrassi Introduces Trans Character

2010-08-12T22:10:00.000-07:00

Earlier tonight while I was feeding my addiction to the television show The Shield starring Michael Chiklis the human testicle my roommate blurted out while perusing this Jezebel site, "Oooo, there's an FTM character on Degrassi.", "On what?", I asked. "Degrassi.", she replied. Then posted the link on my Facebook wall.

I have no idea what in the hell this teeny bop Degrassi shindig is all about and still don't, but I do know at least two things.

Thing #1: Kids at the LGBT youth center rant and rave about it. Apparently it's a popular show for the kiddles.

Thing #2: They just introduced an FTM character who is transitioning.

After watching all of the little excerpts, it looks like a predictable after-school special WB something-another drama of some sort, but an adorable one that aims to add a diversity of characters that kids in the real world can actually relate to. From this article about the show, the writers even read online diaries of trans kids and also had GLAAD consult on the script. Cuuuuute!

Read more: Degrassi Introduces Trans Character

Great FTM Article in the New Yorks Times

2010-08-12T20:56:00.000-07:00

Go New York Times, with this article regarding one of Original Plumbing's (FTM magazine) founders, Amos Mac:

Giving Voice to the Once-Silent

"WE figured we’ll print 500 copies and they’ll take months to sell," Rocco Kayiatos said the other day, referring to Original Plumbing, a quarterly he started a little over a year ago with a friend, Amos Mac.

“We just thought there was a need because the world is pretty much ignorant of the existence of transmen,” said Mr. Kayiatos, a poet and rapper who performs under the name Katastrophe and who, like Mr. Mac, identifies himself as a transman. Read More >

A whole lotta yippity yap about school

2010-08-12T12:45:00.000-07:00

On July 9th I had an interview shindig of sorts for determining if I'd be accepted in the McNair Scholars Program. There's a long-winded version of the program name, too - but McNair Scholars Program is good 'nuff.

Anyhoo, I stumbled across knowledge of this nifty academic program back in the day (4 months ago?) when asking a slew of entirely academically inept questions on campus while projecting my usual ambiance of grew-up-in-trailer-park higher education confusion and terror. Fortunately for me, I had been speaking to the right person who pointed me in the direction of McNair, a program that's, as Wikipedia puts it,

... a United States Department of Education initiative with a goal of increasing "attainment of PhD degrees by students from underrepresented segments of society,” including first-generation low-income individuals and members from racial and ethnic groups historically underrepresented in graduate programs.

Unfortunately, the program does NOT recognize anyone in the LGBT spectrum as underrepresented -- - but I did hit the nail on the head with being first-generation and low-income. And it's way exciting. I get a professor mentor. I get special graduate school training programs. I get a summer stipend for research. And, best of all, I was accepted.

I received my acceptance letter on July 16th, and opened it with much giddiness. It read,

"Congratulations! You have been selected to be a member of an elite national program: The Ronald E. McNair Post-Baccalaureate Achievement Program..."

"... the McNair Scholars Program is a recognized producer of undergraduate students who are prepared for success at the doctoral level."

and,

".. We will schedule a number of activities as well as special classes during the academic year, and participation in the funded summer research experience is a fulltime commitment. As you consider acceptance of our invitation to the program, please bear in mind the time needed to be a fully participating member."

Ahhhh so exciting! Transfer student orientation is next Wednesday and then classes officially start August 25th.

I feel nervous and excited. It's a little bizarre, how I began school as an androgynous queer-to-all-hell legal female named Melanie and will now be resuming school as a 200lbs stinky legal dude named Dexter with a whole new set of peers and professors.

And due to the time commitment this whole academic shindig will require (I have to maintain over a 3.8 GPA to hold on to my very-necessary scholarship; and now McNair. Wooo!), I'm moving in with my parents (which is another opportunity I'm not taking for granted - not everyone has that option). And I'm going to a little student job fair next week.

Which is also bizarre for me, seeing as I moved out and have been living in independent-ville since I was 18 and then had a full-out big kid professional salary job with benefits for years.

I suspect that this truly is as close as it gets to living Back to the Future in real life. Like I've traveled back in time into the body of a 20-year-old dude going to school with a little student job living with his parents.

I'm so cool.

And to beat the dead McNair horse with a stick even further, I received an e-mail from the program director saying, "I recently asked ___________ in the financial aid office to take a look at your funding now that you have been accepted as a McNair Scholar. She has informed me that you will receive an increase in your institutional grant funding, and that she has sent you a new award. I hope the letter has arrived, and I trust it was welcome news!"

This is all above and beyond anything I expected. For a while there I had almost entirely given up after the community college had swiftly sold my semester debt to a collection agency and froze my records. If it wasn't for my brother being a.) awesome and b.) in a time and place where he's making enough money to help, that would've been the insurmountable end of it. And now, with that economic hurdle obliterated, because of my GPA I'm getting scholarships and get to study neuropsychology and can even aim for a Ph.D. The excitement of this insane opportunity slays me inside.

Speaking of awesome, my poor parents and brother all need this shirt:

Photo Documentation: 1 Year & 9 Months

2010-08-10T16:31:00.000-07:00

My poor ol' blog has experienced a bit of a dry spell this past month. My ghetto laptop of yesteryear imploded, but now a nifty little Samsung N310 netbook is in my possession!

Exciting things are afoot that I fully intend to babble on about, but in the meantime, let's get this photo documentation nonsense out of the way. What must be done - must be done.

1 Year 9 Months on Testosterone Cypionate (0.7 mL every 2 weeks)
(Click on images for larger so-detailed-it-hurts versions)

Stomach (hair growth + fat redistribution):

Not too many pictures of my stomach this time around. I couldn't help myself and shaved it two weeks ago, stemming from an impulsive moment of curiosity. It was satisfying at the time, and then disturbed me five minutes later. I'm excited for it to continue growing back! Grow stomach hair grow!

Facial Hair/Acne/Facial Masculinizing:

(this was taken a few days ago: pre-shave!)

(post-shave!)

Also post-shave. I can't handle letting it grow out - but I'll try to one of these days, when it's not as god awful patchy.

Leg (hair growth + muscle development):

Inner-thigh hairy action!

Calves and thighs are getting more muscly every day!

And also, since I'm on a photo documenting roll here, here's an out-and-about excursion shot of me in my natural environment wilderness documentary style:

And since I did not mention this in blog-ville - last Thursday was Halloween in July! - i.e. a DJ feller's birthday and all-around excuse to wear costumes when it isn't Halloween yet.

I only had about 30 minutes to do my makeup, so I went down the good ol' quicky hamburger head route - which looks zombie gross, and works in a pinch! So, with explanations aside, here are a couple of pictures:

Heat, heat, and more heat

2010-07-26T16:48:00.000-07:00

Time to whine, moan, and complain a tad. My whimpering note of the day? 100 degrees of summer heat combined with binding. Holy shit miserable hot diggity damn.

I have been wearing the Underwork's Double Front Compression Shirt (Model 997) as my primary summer binder. It is the lightest, by far. It's comfortable to all hell and it binds so well without restricting my breathing that I can wear it with my lightest, transparent white shirts.

But, because it covers my entire frickin' torso my skin underneath doesn't get a lot of air (especially necessary when bicycling!), so on occasion I'll wear the zip-up T-Kingdom 801. But, alas, it doesn't bind as snug as I'd prefer, so I end up wearing a loose button-up or t-shirt over it. And as the day progresses it gets looser and binds less and less effectively, so I generally end up switching between the two.

The other ones I own are just, miserably awful when it comes to heat.

Just the other night, for example, I tried my old winter binding method that I blogged about back in the day, with the T-Kingdom M801 zipped OVER my comfortable cotton Underworks Style 974 binder. As a summer binding method? No way. After only an hour I was coated in sweat. The tip of my nose became a drippy salt faucet.

The second I got home I ripped the things off and threw on the T-Kingdom M801 combined with a very loose button-up. Which give me the appearance of morbid obesity - which, well, is fine. 70% of the time.

Exerting myself when it's this hot just, sucks. My forms of transportation are my feet and/or bicycling, so exposure to the uber heat is a get around and aboot necessity. And the exercise is good for me, but just... jebus hewey christ. Seriously.

I did stumble across a solution of sorts, however! A week ago I peddled to a diner to meet my family for brunch. This was a peddling excursion I'd done numerous times last summer, no problem. This time? Even 30 minutes after being in the air-conditioned diner, I was still sweating, red, and not cooling down. I tried putting ice on my neck, to no avail. Eventually I cooled down, somewhat - but after witnessing this pathetic endeavor an idea of pure genius occurred to my parents.

See, my dad has been cycling in a spandy bike jersey for years. Even after my ten years of cycling it never dawned on me that a cycling jersey would be worth much benefit. I also assumed that all cycling jerseys were obscenely tight, which, for a binding tranny, does NOT sound appealing.

So when they took me to REI to get my first ever nifty cycling jersey, I felt spoiled to all hell. I tried some on and picked one out. The Cannondale Caffeine jersey:

Soft, stretchy fabric blend moves moisture to the outside of the garment for fast evaporation
6.5 in. front zipper allows on-the-go ventilation
Casual style is appropriate for both the beater and the ''good bike"
Single rear zippered pocket secures a few essentials
Traditional collar with classic stand-up neck band
Relaxed athletic fit for freedom of movement

It's not tight at all. And combined with a binder, instead of having it desperately try to wick my sweat away and then being trapped in a hot ass cotton exterior I have two layers of ventilation! Genius! The black color of it is the genius loophole in this whole fiasco but, I haven't actually noticed a problem. I'm betting a lighter color would be even better but, this is definitely 85.6 x's better than the non-cycling-shirt crap, for sure.

Speaking of heat, just a couple of weeks ago my roommate, parents and I saw this truck in the parking lot of a nearby grocery store in 90+ heat. The windows were completely rolled down, so at least their guardian was trying... but, in no time at all, both of the little dogs jumped out of the car. One darted around the parking lot while the other ran IN to the store.

I ran in and asked the employees to announce that dogs were running about, and fortunately the guardian came out to scoop them up.

His solution? To put them back in to his truck, roll the windows up leaving a few inches, and go back inside to resume shopping. I stopped him and asked if he had leashes or something to tie them up outside and he replied, "I'm only going to be a few minutes.", and continued on his way.

I understand that he was likely frazzled and in a hurry, but... gadz, it's the worst, dogs in cars on hot days - which are essentially ovens acting like a greenhouse, trapping the sun's heat. Even after just a "few minutes" his truck would become a death trap even if it was a mild sunny day--where the car's temperature would incrementally rise to well above 120 degrees.

Fortunately, that kind of crap is illegal here in Salt Lake City, so we called the police. And, to my relief, they took it seriously. The guy wasn't just a "few minutes", as he claimed. But in less than 10 minutes two police cruisers pulled up to his truck, got him out of the store, and I overheard the officer telling him, "Sir, on a day like this in less than ten minutes the temperature in your vehicle can rise to 130 degrees.". It wasn't a joke or a slap on the wrist. They were pissed, responded, and treated it like the serious issue that it was.

20 points for team police, who have a debt of about 300 points... so, now they're at -280. Which is progress!

Then, just last week while getting said bicycle jersey, we noticed another pup trapped in a car in the parking lot with the windows rolled all the way up. Then, upon closer inspection, I heard the car's engine running. And saw the pup's fur blowing around. They had their A/C on while they ran in to REI. So.damn.cute. And, while our pup was tied up in the shade outside, someone had given him a plastic bowl of water. Awww!

Miss Teen USA 2007

2010-07-23T00:47:00.000-07:00

Don't ever forget these inspiring words:

Some people out there in our nation don't have maps and I believe that our education like such as south Africa and the Iraq and everywhere like such as and I believe that they should our education over here in the US should help the US or should help south Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future.

Zzzzzzzzz

2010-07-14T21:18:00.000-07:00

In general, this whole transition fiasco has affected my precious and oh-so-delicate sleep cycle. I mean, this was predictable. My body has been working over-time getting all hairy and packing on bulk. Still, being the savant that I am, I hadn't really given it much thought and it wasn't until a few weeks ago or so that it dawned on me:

I require more sleep.

Who'd a thunk?

See, back in the day my elderly ass had acclimated to 6-7 hours of sleep per night, no problem. Now? If I set an alarm for 6-7 hours away from nod off time, the next day I'm all grumbly and lethargic. Without an alarm? I sleep 8-10 hours. And the closer it gets to my next injection day, that teeters closer to the 10-hour side of the scale as my hormone supply dwindles off into metabolized bye bye land.

And, no matter how tired I am, I can't for the life of me fall asleep until midnight or so.

Thing is, teenage boys are notorious for over-sleeping. And not too long ago researchers discovered an internal biological clock, a clock that sometimes acts against the sleep-wake cycle by keeping us alert when we should be feeling tired. A sleep researcher named Mary Carskadon and her chum Bill Dement had seen this biological clock in action when they tested a group of 10-12 year olds at Stanford. Dement wrote about these experiments:

"After centuries of assuming the longer we are awake, the sleepier we will become and the more we will tend to fall asleep, we were confronted by the surprising result that after 12 hours of being awake, the subjects were less sleepy than they had been earlier in the same day, and at the 10 o'clock test, after more than 14 hours of wakefulness had elapsed ...they were even less sleepy."

The researchers found that the biological clock opposed the sleep-wakefulness cycle at certain points of the day and at certain ages. People would stay awake even when they were very tired.

I can't help but wonder what happens to an adult tranny's biological clock when, essentially, teenage puberty kicks in all over again.

With all of this extra sleep my body is forcing upon me, I absolutely have to own this bear sack sleeping bag:

Seriously!!!

Plenty of room for my cats in there, for sure! Right in the mouth!

Speaking of sleep cycles, ever since my botched injection job last Thursday, I didn't feel my usual "peak" with energy, mood, etc. Instead, I've felt like I do during the last few days of my dosing cycle, when my T levels are at their lowest (T levels can reach a low-point a few days before the next shot is due, which can cause irritability and low energy).

It's this running on empty feeling, ... need... fuel... which has me worried that I did actually inject into a vein. Would that mean that the oil was not absorbed by muscle the way it was supposed to be? Wasting a shot is the least of my vein-injecting concerns. I hear terror rumors n' myths, like how the oil will travel in the bloodstream and straight to the heart! Dun dun dun! Which, I have no idea if that sort of thing is true or not, but I opt to repeat my doctor's reassuring words, "If you accidentally inject into a vein, don't worry..."

I could've just passed through a small vein while inserting the needle. Either way, right after it happened I applied pressure with a gauze pad, then after putting the bandage on I rubbed the muscle in a deep and circular motion to break up the “clump” of solution in the muscle and reduce knots and swelling.

I've considered doing another injection but, I'll just hang in there until my next injection date - the Thursday after tomorrow.

In other news, while locking up bicycles outside of a yum coffee shop with my pops the other day a neighbor we'd had all throughout growing up and who I most recently lived near just five years ago bumped into us. He was in a hurry to see someone, so we all swiftly exchanged enthusiastic hello's and how have you been's, and, as he left, he made sure to point at me and yell, "You look just like your sister!"

I wanted to yell after him, "I am my sister!", but.. let him go thinking that I was my dweeby brother.

Vein injection, gender change perks, n' school/health care whining!

2010-07-09T18:43:00.000-07:00

I hit a vein yesterday during my bi-weekly injection for the first time since beginning hormones back in the days of ancient 2008. Everything was going to honky dory like butta plan until I removed the needle - and immediately a faucet of blood turned on and welled up from the injection site. Surprised, I immediately dabbed it with my little alcohol wipe, which was instantly soaked. The blood flowed down my thigh and dripped on to the floor until I was able to clean it up with a gauze pad. Once I had all of the blood soaked up, I noticed what appeared to be a partially swollen vein, and covered it with a bandage.

Ahhhh ha, so this is what it's like to hit a vein, I thought.

I would have been more anxious about this whole shindig, but I remember bringing this concern up with my doctor before injecting for the first time, even. She reassured me that I don't need to fret if it happens; that I wouldn't die and nothing horrible should happen.

My leg didn't hurt and I took the bandage off last night to discover that the vein was no longer swollen and was now a quarter-sized bruise.

Risk or no risk, I'm definitely going to be less lazy with future injections and won't skip the step to test if I'm in a vein or not before injecting:

After the needle has been inserted, aspirate by holding the barrel of the syringe steady with your nondominant hand and by pulling back on the plunger with your dominant hand. You’ll see some air bubbles in the testosterone. If there’s just air/clear fluid--no blood--then it’s ok to proceed. If there is blood either push the needle in or pull back a little and pull back on the plunger again, or pull the needle out and start over.

Oh the bane of becoming too comfortable after doing something every other week for a year and a half now. Which is bizarre in retrospect, because it was so terrifying to start in the first place.

In other news, this gender/name change shindig is much more refreshing than I had anticipated. Especially with all of the little things, like my last driver class last night where I wasn't worried that there would be a scene in front of this room of 20+ strangers when my gender didn't match, or if the instructor were to yell out, "Melanie!". Instead, he yelled out, "Dexter!", which not only feels comfortable, but it feels like a name that actually suits me. And, legally, all is well in terms of my preferred masculine pronouns!

Or how earlier in the day I was on campus for a meeting with Mcnair

side note: (On April 1st I wrote,

In other news, earlier today I completed the remainder of my application for the McNair Scholars program - which is a federally funded effort to increase the number of students from underrepresented groups who go on to graduate study. For me? That would be 1st-generation and low-income, and the program looks uber-beneficial!

and this meeting was like an interview process of sorts to see if, ultimately, I do become a Mcnair scholar. I have my fingers crossed!)

.. and I stopped to get a replacement student ID reflecting my new name. Behind the desk sat a girl and her three friends, slurping juices and enthusiastically watching a soccer game. While updating my information, she confirmed that my address would stay the same - yep! , then my name, and with the gender part didn't ask and instead said, "Not female..., check!", ... which, just a few weeks ago, I would've had to correct, "Oh, actually, female." - resulting in a slew of apologies, feminine pronouns, and awkward situation central. Nope! Not anymore! Boo-ya!

I can use my debit card with ease, and my I.D. doesn't cause brows to furrow and question my potentially fraudulent ways. It's strange. After living my entire life up until very recently experiencing a great deal of difficulty navigating the world as a gender-nonconforming person, little things like this are incredibly refreshing. Just getting around, using bathrooms, .. all of these things I don't, in the slightest, take for granted.

Frickin' spiffy slew of side perks next to physiologically connecting more n' more, it is.

In general, much is changing! With the mention of school, I will be starting soon - next month. It's been a while since I've been a student, so I feel all giddy-anxious about it, especially because I'm only in this school due to having a high GPA and a scholarship that is entirely dependent on being able to maintain a GPA above 3.8.

But, I feel anxious about not having health care right now. Lucky me, I discovered an insurance plan that corresponds with my college that could be affordable, unless I'm denied or if premiums would be hiked due to my trans "condition". Hoping for the best, though, so I'm applying for it tomorrow. If that goes through, that would relieve me of a huge amount of health/mental care anxiety!

Knowing of the potential risks associated with transition, I intentionally stopped going to school four years ago after knowing that the physiological torment would compromise my life and education in order to find a full-time job with benefits to do everything as safely as I knew how.

Since being laid off in 2009, I have been uninsured and have gone in to see my doctor only twice since when absolutely necessary to have my hormone levels tested (to make sure that I'm injecting the correct amount). Just those two visits, out of pocket, were a few hundred dollars each. I also stopped seeing my therapist.

The thing is, I'm due for getting my innards all checked out and have been rolling the dice with my health, obliviously hoping for the best. I don't feel comfortable relying on luck to neglect my health while trying to maintain honors in college, so I'm hoping that I'm approved for this student health insurance plan and that they won't dink me around for being trans.

I'm due soon for another pap test and pelvic exam, for example, which can identify pre-cancerous cells on the cervix in their early stages, in time for treatment. Thing is, there are physicians who recommend having a hysterectomy (surgical removal of the uterus) and oophorectomy (surgical removal of the ovaries) within the first 5 years of starting testosterone therapy because there is some concern that long-term testosterone treatment may cause the ovaries to develop similar symptoms as those seen in polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS).

And, according to Hudson's FTM Guide,

PCOS has been linked to increased risk of endometrial hyperplasia (a condition that occurs when the lining of the uterus (endometrium) grows too much) and thus endometrial cancer, as well as ovarian cancer.

Paying for that out of pocket, on top of what I already owe, does not sound fun. Especially while in impoverished student-must-prioritize-maintaining-honors-in-school-to-stay-in-there mode! Plus, last time I had that god awful test done, my doctor ended up injecting me with a slew of gorilla sedatives in order to essentially knock me unconscious so it could happen. I was down for the count, sleeping, for two days after. And I'm betting those VERY NECESSARY sedatives are damn expensive, too!

Which I want to be on top of, dag nabbit! I want to at least know what's going on in there and catch anything odd before, ya know, it's too late. Plus, there are a number of blood tests that are used to evaluate liver function, which is affected by the use of testosterone (which is metabolized in the liver), and I want to be able to have my doctor monitor my liver levels.

Plus little things like red blood cell production (testosterone has been shown to increase this, which can thicken the blood and impede its passage through small blood vessels and causing a number of potential health problems), cholesterol testing, blood pressure...

Gimme, gimme, gimme! I want my health care!

Finger crossing.

Speaking of health care and while I'm rambling and whining anyway, with top surgery, getting closer! $2,000 of it was going to come from my brother, who had to revoke it. Which brings my grand saved up total to $1555 instead of $3555, so I'm now looking into a loan potentially. I grow more impatient and poor with each new day!

I found this CareCredit, which I confirmed with my preferred surgeon, Dr. Charles Garramone, would be accepted for the surgery. Then I could get a loan for X amount (hopefully!), depending on how much I save by the appointment date, which I haven't scheduled yet. Soon, I'm hoping. Then I'll go rock climbing/backpacking/swimming/dating NUTS! A bonanza of chest liberated hairy belly freedom, 24/7!

A word's worth

2010-06-30T23:32:00.000-07:00

Ivan Coyote on gender pronouns earlier today:

I have never cared too much about what you call me.

I’ve never been too hung up on labels, mostly because there are so few that stick properly to me, not to mention the fact that most adhesives give me a nasty rash. I can’t even tolerate a cheap band-aid.

Four decades of straddling the gender fence has taught me many things. I have learned to tolerate being called things that I really am not.

I have come to an uneasy truce with the fact that there are not really enough gender pronouns, boxes on government forms or safe bathroom stalls for people like myself.

Dexter Flashing

2010-06-30T14:18:00.000-07:00

Look what I got today: A new card from my bank reflecting my name change! I got to flash it earlier for a delicious refreshing iced beverage.

Posed by my equally enthusiastic kitties, Theseus "Kitten" Arkadash Thomas (calico, 4 years old) and Evilbunny Thomas (Wearing the tuxedo. 16 years old! I've had him since I was a wee 12 years of age):

No more debit card utilizing problems for me!

Related posts:
Tom, Your Neighborhood Citizen Lobbyist
The name change band-wagon

Amended Birth Certificate n' New I.D.!

2010-06-29T21:58:00.000-07:00

Today I got an amended birth certificate and a new state I.D.!

It all began when Jay brought her car over for me to borrow for errand-running shenanigans. In exchange, she borrowed a laptop so she could work from a coffee shop instead of real-work for the day. Done, deal, next.

I then asked my roommate, Steph, and brother to head downtown to the vegan hot dog stand with me. This part of my tale is very essential because it fueled us for the errands ahead! As I scarfed down my Italian Sausage with chips and beverage, I asked my roomie if she would also like to accompany me to the Utah Office of Vital Records and Statistics to acquire me an amended birth certificate! My brother darted off back to work.

I don't know quite why poor Steph agreed to come. It could have been the good mood she was in eating a vegan hot dog, or just that it was sunny out - for whatever reason, she accepted my unsavory errand-accompanying-to-NOT-FUN-places offer.

And onwards we went, to the land of Vital Records. Prior to wandering in, my mom called in a frenzy about bringing her kitty, Mr.Yellow, to the vet. He has had some gasping/breathing fits, one resulting in an E.R. visit, so she was asking for me to accompany them to his appointment at 3:30 to help keep him calm on the ride. Yes, will do!, I said.

The wait wasn't long. I filled out some paperwork for a new birth certificate. Turned in my Certified Order of Gender and to Amend Birth Certificate. Showed her my I.D. She was really swell and acted like this was something she deals with on a daily basis. She gave me a little buzzer to hold and I waited with Steph watching Toy Story 2 (can't fail with that one, Office of Vital Records!).

In only about five minutes the buzzer vibrated violently (so violently a woman on the couch nearby jolted and thought it was her incredibly buzzy phone), and I walked back up to the window. She had me review the new information. Name, check. Gender change, check. Parents info looked good, check. I signed it. Handed it back. Then, after only about ten minutes, my new birth certificate was ready! Along with an additional page that she told me would be necessary to get a new state I.D.: an official Amendment of Birth Record to Reflect Court Order Change of Name.

The total came to $25. $18 for the new birth certificate and an additional $7 for name change service fees something another.

Armed with my slew of papers, my hapless roomie and I then descended upon the DMV. Wait also wasn't too bad. Filled out paperwork for a new I.D. Stood in line. And, once we got to the counter, I said, "So, I'm not entirely sure what the process is for this, but I am seeking a new state I.D. reflecting my name and gender change from female to male. I have the following documents..." yada yada. This was clearly something he hadn't seen or dealt with before. He stammered a bit, and then directed me to Booth 1 where he said, "You should bring this to our, uh, supervisor. Have him look this over. Just go stand over there. I'll buzz him."

So we wandered over to Booth 1 (having Steph there made the process much more comfortable) where a flustered looking employee asked me, "Do you have an appointment here or something?"

"No. I was sent over here by the front table feller. I'm seeking a new state I.D. to reflect my name and gender change, and I'm supposed to show the documentation I have to the supervisor."

Appearing frazzled and occupied, he didn't respond and wandered off. Eventually the supervisor came out and asked, "So you're the one having a name and gender change?", "Yes.", and he began thumbing through my paperwork. Then exclaimed, "FEMALE TO MALE?" , to which I replied, "Yep!"

He then nodded, said all looked good, and told me to return to the front desk and proceed through the standard process. If anyone had questions, I should tell them to contact him and he would descend to clear the air.

Awesome! Good! It could have been in my head, but I felt like quite the spectacle in that moment. The employees who were in ear-shot of the supervisor were all staring at me. People who were sitting and waiting were all staring. Not inherently a negative thing, but definitely noticeable. I turned to Steph and we chit-chatted as we exited.

No time to finish at DMV just yet, see. The time had come to help my mother with Mr.Yellow!

So off my roommie-napped friend and I went to help my mom and kitty. Steph rode with my mom and Mr.Yellow, keeping him calm as my mom followed me to the vet - Pet Stop - which I referred her to after some negative experiences she'd had with another vet.

Got to the vet where we were greeted by a pup who had two eyeballs literally popped out of his sockets that were blistering red. It looked really painful, so I asked the guardian what had happened. He'd been hit by a car, she said. Sad!!! But, it looked like he was getting better, but would potentially lose his vision. Car scary land for pup.

Mr.Yellow faired much better than pop-eyed pup. Ensuring that he would be good to get home without calming aid, Steph and I darted back to the DMV. I waited in the line. Got a new picture taken. Got a number. Sat. Waited about fifteen minutes. Wandered up to the clerk.

"Hello, sir. What can I do for you?"

I told him that I needed a new I.D. reflecting my name and gender change.

His eyes got wide and round. This request was literally blowing his mind, which Steph later commented was apparent from just witnessing his body language from afar. As he processed my paperwork, he whispered, "Is it okay if I ask a few questions?" Which then turned into the flood gates busting wide open for a whisper-question-frenzy that lasted literally about 45 minutes.

In-between enthusiastic questions he would forget to send this or that, or didn't input this or has to put this through the scanner. "Oh, no, whoa, I almost forgot this. I need to scan this. And stamp that! Oh, and sign this, please!", which would then lead into another question.

I didn't mind. It was blatantly inquisitive and not malicious, and I knew that I'm most definitely likely the only trans person he's interacted with - knowingly. He leaned in and whispered questions like, "So uh, what happens? When you transition?", "Oh, ya know... secondary sex characteristic stuff. Hair growth. Body fat redistribution...."

Catching on that I wasn't offended by his curiosity (I understand when people are more private about their experience and don't want to be a spectacle. I don't, either - but I also don't mind questions, because I love doing what I can to demystify my particular trans experience and, in turn, helping to promote an understanding of difference!), he whisper-asked other questions like, "Can you get pregnant?", which brought up media sensation Thomas Beatie. He asked, "So have you always been attracted to girls?", to which I replied, "Oh, well, I have been, yes. But sexual orientation and gender are very different things...".

He asked about surgery, about if I had a girlfriend, about so on and so forth, and then about how my parents felt about it. When I told him that they're supportive, he commented, "That is such a relief. I bet a lot of people who are trans do not have supportive families, and that must be really hard for them. Probably say that they don't have a daughter anymore, like they lost their kid. That's really something that your parents support your happiness, and know that they didn't lose their daughter. He's just their son now!" - cuuuute! Go clerk guy!

And then, as he was almost finished processing my new I.D., he took it upon himself to also update my Learner Permit which, being a dolt, I hadn't thought about - and then commented, "You know, women are usually much smarter than men, it seems. It's nice to have someone from the more intelligent side join ours.", and then held out his knuckle for a solidarity bro fist bump. Which I gave him.

And somewhere in the blurred mix of questions he asked, "Are you a metrosexual?" - Bah! No! I'm so retrosexual it hurts! Pssht! I'll take that as a compliment!

In the fray, the supervisor who reviewed my paperwork prior came to visit and asked, "Where did ya go? I was back there waiting for your paperwork to come my way, and you disappeared on us!" When I told him that I had run off to help my mom take her cat to the vet, he replied, "Hey, I guess that makes you a mama's boy now!", then had a good jolly laugh and wandered off.

The whole process was so friendly. Totally rocked their worlds in a really inquisitive, positive way. My poor roomie rotting in the waiting room that entire time, on the other hand... to thank her for her companionship, I bought her an orange snowie.

The new I.D. cost $18 total. I have a temporary one currently until they mail my official one. Comparing it to my old one will be horrifying, as I've gone from 170lbs to 200lbs. Thanks, testosterone! I'll get this under control.

Tomorrow I'm going to try to get more nitty gritty accomplished tomorrow. New social security card, update bank account info... it's all the easy stuff from here on out, legal-wise!

Furry friends love beans.

2010-06-29T00:35:00.000-07:00

Erin in her furry outfit and I on our magical adventures!

It's Official! I'm legally DUDE!

2010-06-28T23:31:00.000-07:00

Back in the good ol' days of last Wednesday, June 23rd, I heard back from my therapist that he had faxed two letters to the Judge appointed to my case. One saying that yes, I'm a tranny and yes, I should have my gender legally changed. The second being a copy of the original letter that he wrote for my doctor in support of beginning hormone therapy.

Figuring that enough time had passed, earlier today after 16 ounces of the most yummiest of all soy vanilla lattes to ever be created on Earth, my friend Andrew and I frolicked yonder to the court house with the following mission: relentlessly, without mercy, hunt down the poor clerk assigned to my case to pry answers from her, willing or not.

The hunt was simple. Her presumed locale was easy to find but - she wasn't in! Instead, there was a note at the front counter that directed my attention to a phone on the wall next to a list of clerks and extensions to reach them.

So I dialed her extension and she answered. I gave her my info and she replied, "Oh, yes. Everything has been granted.", wha? Seriously? Even the fee waiver!? To clarify I asked, "Everything? The name change, the gender change, and the fee waiver?",

"Yes. It looks like everything was granted. I have copies of your Order Changing Name and the Certified Order of Gender and to Amend Birth Certificate. Stay there. I will come up in a moment to bring these to you."

What excellent of most affordably excellent legal dude news! So, today, as of June 28, 2010, I am legally male. I'm legally Dexter. I'm definitely poor. I'm going to dedicate an entire day this week to running amock getting a new birth certificate, a new license, updating my bank info, school info, so on and so forth!

I called my school earlier today with a question about financial aid and, while I was at it, also threw in asking about who I should talk to about updating my legal name. When I told her that my gender has also changed, she was a bit confused, "We have you in our system as Male. That's changing?" I defintiely marked my paperwork as "Female", which means that someone, somewhere, typed in "Male" without even thinking, or to my knowledge. Hmm!

Last week I went back and forth quite a bit on making this ultimate, final decision to - in addition to name change - also have my gender legally changed. As I've elaborated on in previous posts, I essentially identify gender-wise as genderqueer, and sex-wise as transgender male (in contrast to cisgender male). Right off, I know that throwing out labels and language like that is an instant, confusing turn-off of gender babble for many. It was to me once upon a time, for sure. It makes me sound all gender-pompous and pretentious when, in truth, I'm really just desperately grasping for whatever language is available to me to communicate my experiences as best as I can in a world where we're just beginning to understand the plethora of possibilities while developing a language to communicate the whole shebang.

Of course, I've found it easiest to just use a term like FTM (female-to-male), or a "man's mind in a woman's body" kind of rhetoric that, while it is applicable for some, isn't so much for me. I don't mind it, though, if it helps to facilitate communication and an understanding of some sort.

I also don't have a problem with binary gender so much - it is definitely not imaginary. There are a lot of people who entirely fit into those notions. But, the fact that there are so many of us who do not on every identifiable level (sex, gender, chromosomes, expression, on and on) but are pressured into it anyway irks me, since there is clearly much more to the story of the various folds of human tapestry.

The thing is, growing up being an androgynous little tyke in addition to having a physiological disconnect forced me early on to ponder a great deal about gender identity and sex in between filling water balloons with pee, trailer park turf wars and pizza.

Of course, I don't know if gender identity starts in utero. What I do know is that people have a wide variety of gender identities. And also that people whose gender identities do not strictly conform to their sex assigned at birth are not respected. And that what gender means - men are masculine and women are feminine - is definitely a social construct that changes throughout time and culture. These are expectations imposed on us by other people, and frequently even ourselves.

In terms of sex, I am VERY inclined to believe that there are many of us who are neurologically wired to be male or female or neither or other possibilities. Dr.Money's failed guinea pig experiment with David Reimer is a great illustration of this.

Lucky me, while bouncing about in my teenage skull about all of this, I had access to a great deal of information on the Internet. I got to benefit from the political and social gains made by previous generations of transgender activists. I was much less likely than transgender people who grew up in the 1960s to mid 1990s to feel that I was completed isolated in my experience. As a result, I got to acknowledge and embrace my trans identity much more quickly while depending on other trans people, rather than the medical profession, for support, information and validation.

I learned that there were others who felt they did not need to transition entirely or at all in order to be "real". That one's genitalia is not the defining aspect of one's gender. That we can take hormones, but not have any surgeries. That one could have breast augmentation or reduction procedure, but not genital surgeries - or may reject medical intervention altogether. And I also learned to own who I was, and that there was a semblance of language for everything "other": genderqueer. I felt that as more and more people came out as genderqueer, the less society will be able to foster and enforce a male/female gender dichotomy.

I have experienced a lifetime of women screaming when I'd use the womens restroom and call security, girls walking out of the locker rooms when I entered, trucks full of cowboys assuming that I was a gay male and aggressively following me screaming "fag" - or, if I dressed more feminine - drag queens desperately trying to show me how to "pass". I learned to own and accept the fact that I didn't "fit" within the narrowly-defined binary (how many of us really do?).

Instead of assuming that I was unattractive or lesser-than, I knew that I was just a bit different from the story I'd been told about sex and gender. I even learned that there are a great deal of people in the world who not only accept gender variance, but are all about it!

Meanwhile, I was also experiencing that physiological disconnect. I had never translated it once as "I am meant to be male." What I did know is that no matter how I tried to rationalize it away or how fine I felt with my body as it was, that disconnect expecting male-typical development gnawed and chewed in the shadows of my psyche, pounding louder with every passing day.

As I exhausted all other mechanisms of emoting and coping, I ultimately realized that hormones were necessary for my self-esteem and ability to even function. Still, no desire to be seen as cisgender "male". I just want to feel connected in this sack o' meat my noggin inhabits. But, from living in a society that only recognizes two legal possibilities, it was becoming increasingly difficult on levels I've never experienced before to just get around. And so, as a push, I concluded that, alright, I am a trans dude and the legal language conflating sex and gender was, at this point, probably convenient.

But then came the guilt. I've been wearing that blatant variance on my sleeve for as long as I can remember. I'd learned that while society experiences the gender variant person at first as shocking, then as a person, people end up realizing that their sense of threat is unfounded. And it is that process that alleviates the terror and shame experienced by those who follow.

Losing that has been socially unsettling for me; but, I realize, there are many other ways to still be out, open, and to help facilitate understanding and compassion; just not as gender variantly!