Stop It

Where did July go? First I was off to Arizona with Amber for her SRS, then it was my birthday, and now it’s already over. Wow, it really flew by.

So, anyway, I sent an email to Andrea James of TSRoadMap.com recently because, well, I was looking for some advice on a touchy subject and she has way more experience than I. As I told her, I planned the dog shit out of my transition. A number of years ago, I read her site and learned the ways one could go about having a successful transition. I understand that ‘successful’ means a lot to different people, but I wanted to be comfortable being me while also allowing others to see who I was. The basic formula, in my mind, involves letting your feminine essence shine through. For me, it involved breaking down a lot of male barriers as well as letting my essence shine. That also meant working on my presentation, voice, vibe, electrolysis, and finally facial surgery.

Now some say I had it easy by having facial surgery. They might be correct, but dangit, I saved up a lot of money and spent a number of years living in the shell of a man. It wasn’t easy, but I was patient. Some people aren’t patient, though, and suffer some of the pain that society can inflict upon the gender variant. Some lose their jobs, friends, whatever, because they don’t let that vibe and essence fully mature, or at least mature to a point where one can walk down the street and not get yelled at. Or they let that vibe mature in places where it shouldn’t.

In a forum I participate in, there was a T that said she was wearing some feminine items to work, even though she was still living in boy mode. Some of the people at her work were teasing her about those items. After asking her if she was going to work in boy mode, I sent the following response:

There was a funny skit on MadTV a few years ago. It had a woman talking to her therapist, played by Bob Newhart. In the skit, the woman told him that she kept doing different stuff and it caused her psychological pain. His diagnosis: "STOP IT". 

    The reason I asked if you were in boy mode or not is because you are causing yourself the undue stress. I know the bracelet and other items may provide that feminine feeling while you are making your way through boy mode at work, but STOP IT! Go to work as a guy and work - work - work! Try to use work as a haven to keeping your job. If they see you wearing girls stuff, or doing girl things, you will start to feel the usual jabbing. If you go to HR, you'll just be setting off bells, although that would be the best way to go. The best thing is to just stop wearing the girl stuff until you are full time. 

    I know you don't want to hear that, but it's one of the keys to a successful transition...unless you are living in a very tolerant area. 

    The guys at work knew that I shaved my legs...for cycling. And they gave me crap for my ponytail. And a few knew that I shaved my arms too, but that's all I gave them...nothing else.

So, I asked Andrea how she dealt with situations with people who addressed transition differently. There really isn’t a good answer, she said, but she did shed a little light on all of it for me. Anyway, if you are going through transition, read up on her site, especially this part about the workplace. And, please, don’t just show up at work one day wearing a dress.

Why so serious?

So, I received this email not too long ago about the company golf tournament. I thought, “Hey, it would be cool to go out and play from the red tees, but would it be fair to all of the other women?” But then I thought, “It sure would be nice to bring down those big shots who win it every year.” OK, OK, I’m not that good, but teeing off from the red tees would sure be an advantage to almost any team I’d be on.

I told all of this to my new boss (hmmm…when should I stop calling him my new boss, and just give him a name…OK, well, let’s make it today…his new name is just going to be L), and so, we have a little discussion on golf. I told him I used to play golf on the weekend because it was fun, macho, and it killed time on a Saturday or Sunday morning. Now, however, I have shopping!!! He just laughed and said I was too funny.

On a serious note, I read an article today about the French annulling a gay marriage that a rogue Mayor performed. It appears that even though over 60% of the French are OK with gay marriages, the politicians have decided to define marriage as that between a man and a woman. They say that the main function of marriage is having children and that marriage is considered the foundation of family. They also mentioned that children need a mother and a father.

Ya know, I still haven’t figure out what all of these people are afraid of. What’s wrong with gay people getting married? Who is it going to harm?

OK, so let’s take a look at it from the other side. So, if people can only get married if they plan on having children, then we should annul marriages in which people cannot have children. This includes any women who have had a hysterectomy and any men that are sterile. And any family that decides to separate will have to give up their kids to families that have both a mother and a father. Oh, and if one of the parents dies, then the kids must be taken away as well.

Now let’s hit the basic part of “marriage”…a union between a man and a woman. First, what is a man, and what is a woman. Do you use birth certificates? If so, then any woman born with Androgyne Insensitivity Syndrome would be at an impasse because she is XY instead of XX. And any woman who is XO, well, she’s neither, so can she marry? And what about a man who is born XYY or XYYY? Or how about an intersexed person that is born with both genitalia? Or what about transsexuals? So, can I legally marry a man or a woman? Believe it or not, I could legally marry a woman in Kansas and a man in California. Crazy, huh?

Why can’t we just use love to define marriage…two people who love one another enough that they want to share the rest of their lives with one another? Think of the positive aspect of it. The marriage business would see a 10% jump in business, and who knows what type of boon it would be initially since we have a little catching up to do. That would mean an increase in catering, cakes, hall rentals, marriage fees, DJ’s, tux rentals, wedding dress sales, photographers…and such. And just because a government body allows gay marriages doesn’t mean that all of the churches must marry them. The law would just allow two people to become wed by those that would perform the ceremony. So, what’s wrong with it? Are people afraid of gay people? Who knows? Plus, I don’t know why they think it will affect the foundation of marriage, because there are plenty of straight people already doing that. I mean, seriously, what’s the divorce rate nowadays? OK, OK, I’ll get off my stump now…who’s up for a little golf or shopping?

The serious and not so serious sides

So, I was at my therapist’s for a session this afternoon, and we talked about my recent trip with Amber for her SRS. I talked about some of the things I have mentioned here in my journal, such as SRS being the best viable option for a life...yet that I was also scared to a degree, and she said it was good I was thinking about all of this. I also talked to her about moving on in life, but we ran out of time as we spent too much time talking about other topics. I think she enjoys our conversations…hopefully they are a little brighter than her typical sessions.

On a not so serious note, have you ever googled your name just to see what pops up? I have. It’s fun. It appears that the National Pork Producer’s Director of Communications is also named Kara Flynn. Now, stay up with me because there’s a little story here.

So, it appears this woman named Karin Robertson who worked for the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) decided to change her name to GoVeg.com in order to get people talking about vegetarianism. Those that are in the meat industry obviously weren’t too big on her decision. The spokeswoman for the National Pork Producers Council, yes – Kara Flynn, decides to state, “It sounds like she needs to get a life.” She’s probably right, but hey, Karin can change her name to whatever she wants, right?

This little topic ended up on a number of different forums, with someone bringing up the Pork Producer’s Kara Flynn statement. Obviously, someone did a little search on her to try to dig something up, and well, they found me. So, then they posted my link and made fun of the porky Kara, as well as me. This came up on a little google search, and since I’m one to have a little fun with all of it, I decided to post something as well…albeit a little late after the story was big.

Crash

I had a set of dreams Friday night/Saturday morning that made me wonder what is going through my subconscious mind. In the first mini dream I was in a facility with a friend as she was going through her SRS slightly before my own scheduled SRS. In the next little dream, I was riding in my own car, except my electrologist was driving, and when I’d woken up from sleeping while riding in that car I found that she was sleeping as well, and that we were flying off the road and about to crash. When I either woke up from within that dream or moved on to the next dream, I found myself post-SRS, not due to the accident, but due to my own scheduled surgery. I felt down below and noticed the changes. Wild.

After waking up, I later told this story to my electrologist as she was drinking her coffee. I asked her why she crashed my car, and stared at her as serious as I could until I broke up laughing.

Looking at the dream, though, it does probably have its symbolic qualities…although I don’t quite know what the symbols or messages are.

Lucky for me, though, I have a Dreamer's Dictionary. (insert clapping, cheering, and whistling here) Let's see....

crash: Whatever it's origin or cause, a crash in your dream heralds an important achievement, and the louder or bigger the crash the more noteworthy will be the accomplishment.

automobile: The meaning of a dream involving a motorcar depends very much on its aspect. If the car was merely a means of transport, it has, in itself, no particular significance, and other details of the dream should be carefully considered. However, if the car was speeding, you can expect some sudden news from a distance; an accident forecasts recovery of something lost; if the engine lost power or stalled or if you ran out of gas, you could be embarrassed by misplacing your confidence and/or affections.

passenger: Easy success is the forecast in a dream of being a passenger in a wheeled vehicle, and the message contained in a dream of being a passenger on ship, plane, boat, rocket, balloon, or what have you is escape from worry and/or responsibility.

They didn't have 'electrologist' in the book, nor anything about having a sex change....well, actually they did, but I don't think it related to actually being a transsexual.

The Day After My Birthday

Dawg! I’m tired. I went to bed around 1:30 and got up at 6am in order to be where I need to be for the second day of this class. Why was I up so late? I was out to dinner with Claire, Amy, Tyler, and the visiting Vivianne. We ate some very nice Vietnamese at Tao Café, although I could have done without some of the mint they added to everything. I think I must be the only one that doesn’t like mint in their food – even preferring that it not taint my chocolate, although I can tolerate it enough to get my cocoa fix.

Lucky for me, there was no mint in my Chocolate Decadence which arrived with a lit candle atop it. (My friends had mentioned my birthday to our waitress.) Before I knew it, or table neighbors had started up a very in-tune rendition of “Happy Birthday.” Since our neighbors didn’t know my name, they stopped right after “dear” at which point Claire became the only one who said (or was loud enough to be heard to say) “Kara” before they continued on. Claire became a little embarrassed when that happened, but she was cute in her solo performance before the rest continued on with the song. I then blew out the candle. Tyler asked if I made a wish, at which point I realized that I didn’t. So, I relit the candle, made a wish, then blew it out again. (what do you mean “that doesn’t count”…of course it does…it’s my wish dammit) I can’t tell you what I wished for because then it wouldn’t come true. I’ll let you know if it does though. I did tell Tyler, though, that all of my previous wishes were already coming true. I wonder how many TS have wished away GID or for the opportunity to be themselves?

Afterward, a majority of us went for drinks at a bar over on Polk Street, and like dinner, I found front row parking. And just like last year, I got my drink for free without even mentioning my birthday. Of course, it was only a cherry Sprite.

After a slightly emotional sendoff to Vivianne, I dropped the other two rugrats off at BART before heading home…crashing at 1:30. At least on the way to class today, I heard an alternative version of Tomorrow – yes, the same song little orphan Annie sings – except this was covered by Rivers Cuomo of Weezer. It wasn’t as alternative as I thought it could have been, but it was enough to give me a little smile to start tomorrow today.

It’s my (birthday) party and I’ll cry if I want to

Yep, I’m 34 today. Wow, 34!!! I’m getting older and older every year. Duh. I think it’s just the rationality of the physical number change. Time is fluid, yet birthdays are not. They let us, ok me, know that we are, indeed, mortal creatures. Anyway, I’m old. OK, yeah, yeah, I’m young compared to some, but to others, I’m old. I guess it’s all relative.

I check my email on my old boy account here and there just to make sure that I’ve transferred everyone over to my regular email, and when I do I get a few people that IM me thinking I’m someone else. I established that email address way back in 1993, so it uses very common words. Now I get these kids that think I’m someone else because they are either boneheads who have written down AOL instead of something like Yahoo, or their friend gave them the wrong screen name – whatever. They’re always asking me who I am. When I tell them that I am not who they think I am, they don’t believe me. I tell them that I’m not in high school and I am, at this time, 34. I could basically tell them anything else and they wouldn’t believe me, but when I tell them I’m in my 30’s, they do. I think their logic is based on the concept that “why would anyone lie about being in their 30’s, or being old?” I think it’s funny.

What’s really funny, though, is that new people that meet me in person or see my pictures after FFS seem to think I range around my late 20’s. Even my new boss guessed my age at 28. Ahhhh…..how nice, huh? Some have a hard time believing I’m 34 now. OK, well, they don’t have that hard of a time. It’s nice looking like I’m in my late 20’s, but I still feel like I’m in my mid 30’s. Ouch – I’m now mid 30’s instead of early 30’s. Anyway, yeah, getting old to me has meant more about my body being sore, my hair turning gray (which started in college for me), and just not having the energy that I used to have…but it’s nice to look younger – especially since the girl inside is way younger than she looks.

So, I’m not a work today, but then, I’m not off either. I’m in a 2-day training class. I was starting to doze off earlier so I decided to write an entry between the important parts of the training. The instructor is obviously a former machinist, as are two participants in the class, except they are current. The bad thing is they keep bashing engineers even though they know Robi and I are engineers. It took a little while, but I think the older male instructor has taken a liking to Robi and myself. I guess he likes pretty girls. Earlier, I was thinking about the dynamic of two girls in here being “smarter” than the boys, but I didn’t want to seem like a bitch. I’m sure over time that the treatment of intelligent women, or just women in general, by men, will get annoying with time, but it’s been ok today. I think some of it was because I was passively intelligent while also trying to be warm and charming. I don’t know what type of trouble that can get me into, either with the instructor, classmates, or a female coworker, but I can at least ask the coworker on the drive home….or, then again, perhaps I’m overanalyzing things.

Be a Man

Last week, I was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It had been a while since I’d made one because the lid to the strawberry jam would not budge for me. Since my roomie was in the kitchen as well, I handed it directly to him and said, “Here. Be a man.”

Ha ha, the male ego is so fragile. Here it was presented with a mission…a possible obstacle in which to show it’s proud might, even with the slight possibility that it could fail and be labeled a wuss. Mike strains and strains. He pauses, then resumes his attempt to open the jellified jar of jam. Go Mike, Go!!! The top begins to move, and his ego breathes a sigh of relief. Yeah, he’s a man!!!

You know, I kinda like this aspect of being a woman. I don’t really know how to describe it, but there is the, of course, unwritten dynamic to the male-female world. Given an obstacle, a man must overcome all challenges to prove that he is a man…that he is worthy of the woman he desires. OK, OK, Mike is not my desire, nor am I his, but you get the general drift of things. A man has to be a man. Ahhh…they fall into my little trap every time. Of course, with great power comes great responsibility…so, I’ll have to be sure to use that power sparingly.

This is very similar to another situation this past weekend. After the tourney, I called up a friend who was helping another friend move apartments. I caught them on their final trip and sorta helped them load and unload some of the items. During the unloading portion, I told them I could only carry so much because I was tired from that day, plus I was wearing non-moving clothes at that time. I also didn’t want to break a nail. Ha ha!!! Just kidding. But it was rather funny that I’m standing there telling Blair that I can’t lift anything really big because I might hurt myself, and I might get dirty. OMG…did I actually say that? Four years ago “the boy” probably would have slightly mocked any woman who said that, or at least jovially teased her, but here I was saying it now.