I talked Amber into going to the Five For Fighting concert last night. I’m a pretty big fan of John Ondrasik and totally enjoy his music, especially renditions of Superman (It’s Not Easy) and 100 Years. I’m not exactly sure why his music hits a chord with me...perhaps it’s the romanticism, the poetry, the emotion....dunno. One thing both Amber and I noticed (at separate times, of course - must be the difference in straight and bi women) was that there was an exuberant amount of women in attendance. With the show in The Fillmore, we stood only a few rows back of the stage, so we were able to enjoy his onstage antics.

Unfortunately, the concert prevented us from seeing the eclipsed moon and the Boston Red Sox’s breaking of the curse (a definite sign of an impending apocalypse). John was kind enough to not only tell us a little more about some of his songs, his life with children, how small changes and a song he thought someone else could sing (Superman) would help him break out in the music industry, but he also told us of the Bosox win. He said he was glad he wouldn’t have to play 100 Years for them in another 14 years.

I also spent yesterday at a midday therapy session. Typically, I usually spend about an hour with my therapist chatting about things on my mind or asking her questions concerning transition in general. This time, though, I was with a different therapist for about an hour and a half. Why? I have to have a second evaluation from another therapist in order to obtain a second letter for SRS. Yup - the second letter. She’d asked me to kinda summarize my life up to this point in order to hopefully speed things up during the session, as well as provide her information for when she later writes the letter. Luckily, I’ve attended a few younger transitioner support group meetings that she has hosted, so we’ve known each other for about a year. Anyway, things went well and she sees no problem writing the letter. So, although transition isn’t easy, sometimes it can be. I guess it just depends on the setting.

Time

Time really seems to fly. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, months turn into a year, and a year turns the outie into an innie.

Let's just say that I've been busy.

I was in New England this past week for work, and was fortunate to spend one night hanging out with Reise and Elisa. We grabbed a nice bite to eat, sipped some hot chocolate, and played pool to the sounds of cheering fans rooting for the Red Sox to crush the Yankees in game 7.

I flew back to Cali. Worked. Dance class. Worked. Electrolysis. Slept in. Worked. Slept in. Worked. That took me up to Sunday afternoon for a meeting with Gwen Smith and company working on the details of the Day of Remembrance that rapidly approaches. After that, you guessed it, more work before finally turning in last night.

This week promises to be just as busy with dance class, an appointment for my second letter for SRS, a concert, and the grand transgender holiday of all holidays this weekend - Halloween. Now, I just need a costume.

Fruits

Pulled from the pages of my written journal. Pardon the length of this entry - it was a long flight.

I'm on yet another flight - San Francisco to Chicago, then on to New England. It’s an emergency run to a vendor that continues to cause problems. Luckily for me, though, an online friend or two live fairly near to the area I am visiting. Reise lives just outside the airport I’m flying into, and Elisa, who I met in Chicago and again at Meltzer’s, lives about an hour away.

Anyway, I’ve been meaning to get some thoughts down concerning SRS and life. When I visited with my therapist recently, I told her my biggest hang-up with SRS deals with attraction. I think I’m still attracted to women, but yet, I know that I’m also attracted to men - but it’s in an entirely different way. I’m attracted to the beauty of women - their curves, hair, hairless skin, warmth, and their softness. There is also a societal connection of some sort - something, possibly just friendship. In men, I’m attracted to their strength, muscle, firmness, roughness, a clean look - yet unkempt to some sort. The attraction to them is also a completeness - key to lock, pen to paper, peanut butter to jelly - one doesn’t exist well without the other.

So, my biggest hang up comes down to the attraction to women. If I end up with a woman, it would be nice to have penetrative sex - sex in which both were able to experience it at the same time. But yet, the times I did have sex with a woman, I dunno, it just didn’t quite seem right. Yeah, it felt nice, but it didn’t quite feel right. Sometimes I wonder if any lesbians wish they had a penis just to have simultaneous sex with their partner. I bet there are a few (who aren’t FTM’s). Anyway, that’s my hurdle. If I end up with a guy, SRS is no big problem, and really, lesbian sex, from what I hear, is still quite fun - even without a penis. And come on, sex is such a minuscule part of our lives, yet many of us think about it all of the time. Why create so much pain over the remaining dysphoria when I can have SRS and worry about the sex part of it later?

Another little fear about SRS for me is getting past the feeling of no longer being “special.” I’ll just be another girl - one that....cannot have children; has larger hands and feet; has larger shoulders, smaller hips, and a larger waist; and will be creeping up on 35 by the time she’s healed.

Believe it or not, I have a small garden - very small. Actually, it’s more of a remnant of a garden. A bell pepper plant survived from last year. A while back, I saw a huge green pepper on the lower section of the plant. The hard part about the pepper plants that I’d planted is that I had green, yellow, and red - so it’s hard to know if it’s a regular green pepper or one that hasn’t ripened from green to yellow or red. When a slight red tint appeared, I knew I still had a little time before I should pick it. Gradually, though, it ripened into this really nice red pepper. Here was this half dead pepper plant trying to survive, and yet, there on its lower branch was this remarkable, pristine red pepper. The thing is, I almost didn’t want to pick it because it was so beautiful. It made the plant special, and if I took its sole pepper, well, then, the plant would no longer be special. It would just be a plant without any fruit. But then I thought, “It’s still special to me” and “It’s not the fruit that makes it special, it’s the amazing ability for it to survive that does.” It will still be an amazing pepper plant to me. With that, I reached down to the pepper, grabbed it firmly, and ripped it away from the plant.

Battle for the Planet of the Kates

I visited with Kate one last time before she flies out tomorrow. We had dinner in the Castro at a nice little restaurant that had some soft pasta for her to eat. She has all of her bandages off and is looking pretty good. Her nose/forehead profile looks great....and is very close to the shape I was actually hoping for. Now she just has to battle thru the psychological trauma of saying good bye to San Francisco and the Cocoon House - places that have become her safe haven for recovery. She’ll also be saying good bye to Dr. O and Mira, two people that have helped change her life in ways many of us will enjoy for as long as we breath. The main part of her battle, though, will be dealing with the possible depression that follows such a momentous event in a person’s life, as well as the “coming down” part of it as she readjusts to her regular life.

Like a Book

Joe and I flew down to LA for a day trip to deal with some business problems. We had a conversation on the plane discussing his ability to “read” a person after talking to them for 5 minutes. He said it worked really well with women in bars. So, I asked him to read me.

He said I was strong willed, as evident in my job, and that I was very opinionated. He said he actually didn’t see me as an engineer, but as more of a chemist or a teacher - possibly 5th or 6th graders - teaching science. Hmmm....I have to say that he was hitting some good points. For a long time, I kinda wanted to be a teacher, but the money just isn’t really there. He said he also saw me wanting to be a coach since I was pretty athletic. I told him he read me pretty good, except 5th or 6th graders kinda annoy me, and that I’d probably work better with high schoolers.

Conquest of the Planet of the Kate's

After watching a little football and talking with Joe, I visited with Kate a little more. She has one last night with the nose packing in and she will be home free on that aspect. She’s made it past the hardest part of FFS - the first three days out of the hospital - but she still has the long term effects to deal with. Although most of the physical pain has subsided, the psychological pain will continue for a little while.

Football

I’m traveling for work tomorrow with another co-worker who works out of Texas. He was flying in tonight and I figured we’d meet up after work to chat about tomorrow. Since Mikhail and I, along with L recently, usually watch football on Monday night, I invited Joe to watch with us. We decided to watch the game at one of the local hotel’s dining areas with huge screens. I got there a little early to secure a decent table, and the bouncer working the front door asks for my ID. At first, I thought I misheard what he said, but, I thought, “OK, they must check everyone as they come into the bar area.”

I sit down and wait. Soon, Mikhail shows up. We chat for a little while, and then order some food. As we are waiting, I ask him if the bouncer carded him. He says no.

L shows up and he orders something that he can eat according to his South Beach Diet. As we are sitting there watching the game, I ask him if he was carded. He says no as well.

The game proceeds further with my Packers totally getting trounced. Since I’m mainly there to talk with Joe about tomorrow, I turn around once in a while to see if I can spot him when he comes in. On one turn, I spot this blonde haired woman walking in. The thing is, though, instantly, I knew she was T.

So, because my Packers are getting killed and I need to pee, I head to the bathroom. I get a better view of the T and confirm that she’s definitely T. As I exit the bar area, I stop by the bouncer and ask him why I was carded and my two friends weren’t. He points to the sign across from him that says anyone looking 30 or under should be carded, and he guessed me around 29-30.

When I walked back in, he says, “Plus, I really wanted to talk to you.” Well, I’ll give him credit for trying, and for being honest.

When I returned to our table, I found that the T had moved spots and was now sitting at the table directly behind me. I almost wanted to say hi, but in the T world, you learn that you just don’t out someone even if you know that she’s T. You just don’t know how someone will react. Sure, if someone came up to me, I’m sure I would be fine, but most people can’t pick me out of a crowd. This girl was wearing a blonde wig, a froo-froo skirt, and a classy semi-tank top. She had male musculature, similar to mine, although she was a bit taller. L thought she looked quite nice.

Once half time rolled around, we all started making our way to the exit. I finally found Joe, who was in a booth on the other side of the bar and sitting by himself. He hadn’t seen me when he came in because he “didn’t expect me to have my hair up like I had it.” The T, however, had left shortly before we all decided to leave.

Funny thing, though, is that hotel was the first place I ever basically went out dressed in girl mode, besides the few late nights I did it in the Midwest. I’m sure this T looked way better than I did that first time, and all I did was walk from my hotel room to my car, never even pondering the courage it would take to go in the bar in girl mode. It’s wild how far I, and most who travel a similar journey, have come.