Why is it that big, seemingly momentous events always take place after my therapy sessions? I suppose that it must be so that I don't do anything rash. I have twelve days to think on things before I go back to see Cassandra. The truth is that I don't deal very well with the here-and-now. Decisions made in the heat of the moment always seem to backfire, and I'm not in a very good spot to deal with that sort of thing. Rash actions always have unforseen repercussions, and I do not need anything more unforseen or worse, undesired. Anyway, before I go back, I'm supposed to write something about my dreams for the future. Ha! I don't know that I do that anymore.
I used to have what I thought were visions. I thought I could actually see some events in the future. The problem was, it was only ever the most mundane of occurrences, and I only experienced the feeling of "deja vu" after the fact. When I was in the seventh grade, I walked up the my history teacher's desk and caught a coffee cup that was teetering on the edge. Boing! There was that feeling, that twinge of otherness. It didn't come again until I was twenty-one. Riding up the escalator from the NY subway into the daylight of Manhattan. Boing! I can't say that I have felt that sort of cognitive dissonance at any time since. What's the use of precognition if all one can see is humdrum everyday stuff?
Showing posts with label behavior. Show all posts
Showing posts with label behavior. Show all posts
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
What Is That About?
My friends know my love-hate relationship with Facebook. I love being connected to my friends and family. It's been especially valuable in that way since I moved to Florida. I've also made some new friends. Some are friends of friends, others are people who share interests. My friend list jumped a bit when Mass Effect 2 came out. Some of my friends came to my attention because Facebook "suggested" them. That's how I came to be "friends" with a few celebrities. What brings me out tonight are the outliers. I'm speaking of the friend requests I've gotten from complete strangers who don't even share any interests. I know some people collect friends on Facebook, under some sort of "she who dies with the most friends on Facebook" vibe. That doesn't bother me too much.
What does get me is that I think some of my friends are guys with a trans fetish. Some of these men are Middle Eastern, or East African. I'm always open to making friends in new places, so I usually accept friend requests from strangers in faraway places. Occasionally I wonder what prompts their friend request, but I don't always give it a lot of thought. That may have to change.
A little while ago, I was playing a game on Facebook (Bejeweled Blitz, if anyone cares). I don't know why, but people always open chat windows when I'm playing a game. It's a minor annoyance, because my system freezes up while the chat applet sorts itself out. Anyway, I was playing the game, and I got a chat pop-up from a recently-added friend in Turkey. I won't share the whole chat, but it went something like this:
Him: hi
Me: (after checking to see the time in Turkey) Good morning.
Him: how r u?
Me: tired. it was a long day.
Him: why?
Him: cam plz
Him: i mean webcam
So already I'm a little suspicious. Why does he want to cam chat?
Him: r u male?
AHA! We come to to the heart of the matter.
Me: you read my profile?
Him: yes
Me: you know im trans?
Him: yes
Me: I am transitioning, but am not full-time yet
Him: do u have a male body?
SIGH
Me: yes
Him: oh
That was the end of that. So, it's cool that I'm trans, but not cool because I'm not trans enough. I get it now. He wanted to see my breasts. Men are pigs.
What does get me is that I think some of my friends are guys with a trans fetish. Some of these men are Middle Eastern, or East African. I'm always open to making friends in new places, so I usually accept friend requests from strangers in faraway places. Occasionally I wonder what prompts their friend request, but I don't always give it a lot of thought. That may have to change.
A little while ago, I was playing a game on Facebook (Bejeweled Blitz, if anyone cares). I don't know why, but people always open chat windows when I'm playing a game. It's a minor annoyance, because my system freezes up while the chat applet sorts itself out. Anyway, I was playing the game, and I got a chat pop-up from a recently-added friend in Turkey. I won't share the whole chat, but it went something like this:
Him: hi
Me: (after checking to see the time in Turkey) Good morning.
Him: how r u?
Me: tired. it was a long day.
Him: why?
Him: cam plz
Him: i mean webcam
So already I'm a little suspicious. Why does he want to cam chat?
Him: r u male?
AHA! We come to to the heart of the matter.
Me: you read my profile?
Him: yes
Me: you know im trans?
Him: yes
Me: I am transitioning, but am not full-time yet
Him: do u have a male body?
SIGH
Me: yes
Him: oh
That was the end of that. So, it's cool that I'm trans, but not cool because I'm not trans enough. I get it now. He wanted to see my breasts. Men are pigs.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Ma'am
I went for a walk today. It was cold, but it's been like that all week. I've gone a little stir-crazy the last couple of days. I got my paycheck today, so I had a little money in my pocket, and decided to run out to the store and pick up a couple of things.
I bundled up: hoodie and a big coat, over jeans and a tee. Once I got outside, I flipped up the hoodie hood, and pulled on a pair of gloves. The gloves are kind of cool. The fingers are trimmed off at the first knuckle, and there's a mitten section that's stuck the back of the hand. If it gets too cold, the mitten sections can be flipped forward over the fingertips and snugged into place. I don't think my outfit was too feminine, but what do I know?
I walked the couple of blocks out of the neighborhood, toward Olde Town. I started to walk along the river, but I thought better of that when I got a taste of the wind. Yikes! Turned down Court Street and hurried over to High, where there's a Dollar General. I went in to get a bag of mints and some razors, but ended up with a couple of paperback books. While I was looking over the book rack, a gentleman edged past me and said, "Excuse me, ma'am." I still had my hood up, and from the back, I can only imagine what I looked like. I mumbled out something that was meant to sound like "Certainly" and he went past.
A few minutes later, I got in line behind the guy to check out. He looked back for a second, saw me, and this weird look passed over his face. Then he turned around, and nothing more was said.
I bundled up: hoodie and a big coat, over jeans and a tee. Once I got outside, I flipped up the hoodie hood, and pulled on a pair of gloves. The gloves are kind of cool. The fingers are trimmed off at the first knuckle, and there's a mitten section that's stuck the back of the hand. If it gets too cold, the mitten sections can be flipped forward over the fingertips and snugged into place. I don't think my outfit was too feminine, but what do I know?
I walked the couple of blocks out of the neighborhood, toward Olde Town. I started to walk along the river, but I thought better of that when I got a taste of the wind. Yikes! Turned down Court Street and hurried over to High, where there's a Dollar General. I went in to get a bag of mints and some razors, but ended up with a couple of paperback books. While I was looking over the book rack, a gentleman edged past me and said, "Excuse me, ma'am." I still had my hood up, and from the back, I can only imagine what I looked like. I mumbled out something that was meant to sound like "Certainly" and he went past.
A few minutes later, I got in line behind the guy to check out. He looked back for a second, saw me, and this weird look passed over his face. Then he turned around, and nothing more was said.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Not the Only One
http://www.bilerico.com/2009/12/my_last_post_at_bilerico.php#more
See, I think I'm onto something here. I've been reading a lot of other people's blogs the last few days, and nearly everywhere I look, I see other people talking about the same things. I've read of others not feeling the community. I've read of people trying to push "others" out of "their" boxes. "You're not like me." "Stop trying to include yourself in my group because you're muddying the issue."
What can we do to fix this? Can it be fixed? Should we even try?
See, I think I'm onto something here. I've been reading a lot of other people's blogs the last few days, and nearly everywhere I look, I see other people talking about the same things. I've read of others not feeling the community. I've read of people trying to push "others" out of "their" boxes. "You're not like me." "Stop trying to include yourself in my group because you're muddying the issue."
What can we do to fix this? Can it be fixed? Should we even try?
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Workin' for a Livin'
I wrote a little about working with De on Sunday. Yesterday we rolled back out to Kathleen's to finish the work on the dock. Some of you may remember me writing about the storm that rolled through last month. During said storm, tides on the river rose so high that Kathleen's floating pier floated off of its pilings and landed on the dock. We fabricated a superstructure for raising the height of the pilings, so that future flooding won't loose the pier. It's not my usual kind of work. It's kind of ironic. I'm trans, and I got together with a trans friend to do supposedly macho work for another trans friend.
After the pier was finished, we hauled a chair from Kathleen's house to Bud's apartment in Norfolk. Bud has the cutest long-haired cat, a critter named "Monkey". Monkey was a little skittish around strangers, but I am an instinctive cat person, and we hit it off almost immediately. I forgot how therapeutic stroking a long-haired cat could be. Monkey liked it. I liked it. I had a hard time walking away. The endorphin rush was HUGE. It left me breathless.
(Yes, I realize I've made petting a cat sound like sex, but I couldn't help myself.)
After the pier was finished, we hauled a chair from Kathleen's house to Bud's apartment in Norfolk. Bud has the cutest long-haired cat, a critter named "Monkey". Monkey was a little skittish around strangers, but I am an instinctive cat person, and we hit it off almost immediately. I forgot how therapeutic stroking a long-haired cat could be. Monkey liked it. I liked it. I had a hard time walking away. The endorphin rush was HUGE. It left me breathless.
(Yes, I realize I've made petting a cat sound like sex, but I couldn't help myself.)
Saturday, September 12, 2009
I Sleep With a Monkey
That's the horrible confession which has been eating at my insides for months. I'm not kidding. How many adults do you know who sleep with stuffed animals?
It's partly my ex's fault. She collected stuffed animals, mostly bunnies, though she had a few bears. When we parted ways, she insisted on dividing the collection evenly, leaving me with a moving box full of unpleasant memories. I gave them all to Goodwill. Actually, I found a couple that I had missed when I was packing up to leave Charlotte. They went straight into the dumpster.
A few months before that, I bought my monkey. It was May, and I was out spending my tax refund. I had just bought a few things at Torrid in South Park Mall, and was on my way out, when I came upon a kiosk selling "make your own" stuffed animals, like a knock-off Build-a-Bear Workshop. They were having a sale. I decided I wanted one.
They had several different animals on offer, not just bears and rabbits but assorted barnyard and "jungle" animals. I picked out a monkey, just because I liked the way it looked. The vendor let me choose how much stuffing to fill it with, and offered me a selection of hats and clothes. I thought that was a little much.
On the way home, I remembered having a sock monkey when I was little. Its name was Monkey. Yeah, I was an imaginative child. Anyway, to honor the toy I had when I was younger, and make light of my youthful naming conventions, I christened the little fellow "Mr. Sock". Naming it somehow made it more touchable. I hugged the little thing. It felt good. A few days later I found myself holding it while I tried to fall asleep one morning.
That was two years ago. I've found that I can sleep without Mr. Sock, but I don't like to. It's not like anyone else is clamoring to share my bed.
A few months before that, I bought my monkey. It was May, and I was out spending my tax refund. I had just bought a few things at Torrid in South Park Mall, and was on my way out, when I came upon a kiosk selling "make your own" stuffed animals, like a knock-off Build-a-Bear Workshop. They were having a sale. I decided I wanted one.
They had several different animals on offer, not just bears and rabbits but assorted barnyard and "jungle" animals. I picked out a monkey, just because I liked the way it looked. The vendor let me choose how much stuffing to fill it with, and offered me a selection of hats and clothes. I thought that was a little much.
On the way home, I remembered having a sock monkey when I was little. Its name was Monkey. Yeah, I was an imaginative child. Anyway, to honor the toy I had when I was younger, and make light of my youthful naming conventions, I christened the little fellow "Mr. Sock". Naming it somehow made it more touchable. I hugged the little thing. It felt good. A few days later I found myself holding it while I tried to fall asleep one morning.
That was two years ago. I've found that I can sleep without Mr. Sock, but I don't like to. It's not like anyone else is clamoring to share my bed.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Movie Night
So here I was, on my third weekend off in a row, with no plans for my nights off. I emailed around to see if anyone was doing anything, and ended up hooking up with my friend Debbie. We had a nice, casual dinner (Red Robin), then went to the movies, where we saw 'Gran Torino'. This is the latest film starring and directed by Clint Eastwood. It's a beautiful story, not quite what I was expecting.
While we were at dinner, Debbie corrected my language once. I should have said, "May I", instead of "Let me". This wasn't the first time she's reproached me on something I did or said, that wasn't ladylike. We were at a club last year, waiting to get into the ladies room (one toilet). When I got my turn, in the interest of speed and trying to be considerate of the ladies behind me, I peed standing up. I was wearing jeans. My male genitalia are functional, despite being useless. I got out of the bathroom in record time. I told Debbie what I'd done, and she acted like I'd sinned or something. Apparently, I was supposed to pee sitting down, even though no one could see me, and no one would have known, otherwise.
On a related note, I've been thinking about something all week. I attended a meeting of the Richmond-area James River Transgender Society last April. One of the members there gave a presentation on the importance of planning transition. She gave a step-by-step plan of how she transitioned. This lady is of an old school. She talked about moving to new community, changing jobs, cutting ties with people and finding new, more feminine hobbies. I don't have many hobbies, but I don't want to give any of them up. I'm an aircraft nut, and I love to go to airshows and take pictures. I take lots of pictures, and not just of planes. I love video games. I am a mediocre player, but I love the "Halo" series. Give all that up and take up knitting? I don't think so.
While we were at dinner, Debbie corrected my language once. I should have said, "May I", instead of "Let me". This wasn't the first time she's reproached me on something I did or said, that wasn't ladylike. We were at a club last year, waiting to get into the ladies room (one toilet). When I got my turn, in the interest of speed and trying to be considerate of the ladies behind me, I peed standing up. I was wearing jeans. My male genitalia are functional, despite being useless. I got out of the bathroom in record time. I told Debbie what I'd done, and she acted like I'd sinned or something. Apparently, I was supposed to pee sitting down, even though no one could see me, and no one would have known, otherwise.
On a related note, I've been thinking about something all week. I attended a meeting of the Richmond-area James River Transgender Society last April. One of the members there gave a presentation on the importance of planning transition. She gave a step-by-step plan of how she transitioned. This lady is of an old school. She talked about moving to new community, changing jobs, cutting ties with people and finding new, more feminine hobbies. I don't have many hobbies, but I don't want to give any of them up. I'm an aircraft nut, and I love to go to airshows and take pictures. I take lots of pictures, and not just of planes. I love video games. I am a mediocre player, but I love the "Halo" series. Give all that up and take up knitting? I don't think so.
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