Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Today I finish my work week, and I'm off until April 6th. It's kind of a vacation but kind of not. It's not like when I went to Orlando last year for a week revolving around relaxing and fun. There's an agenda.
We are helping Cousin David and Mark move to Virginia. I think I've been in denial that they are really leaving. They've been my constant for so long that if I really thought about it I would scream and claw at my face. At best, most people are a distraction; nick-knacks that take up space where space is needed. True friends are a rare gift. The boys are the truest of friends. In my life they've been The Scarecrow and The Tinman...not sure that we ever ran into The Lion but that's real life for ya. For years they've kept me company, talked me off ledges, ignored my bad behavior, wiped my snotty nose, celebrated my successes,close calls and mistakes. They helped fix what was broken, rearranged furniture, made sure every party had a theme and never apologized for leaving body hair in my bathtub. They were by my side when The Crossdresser walked into my life and they fell in love as well. Happily Ever after. New Beginnings. At least we have phone calls and emails and visits to plan.
Helping them move is the least I can do for two I'm forever indebted to and besides, it's on the way to New York. A good coincidence, I suppose. My ex-husband has loaned me his big tough pick up truck and we'll move the rest of Jeanie's incidentals though the trip is mostly about Jeanie walking his Baby Sister down the aisle on her big white day. I've been moaning about it all week. Life is real enough without discovering that he really comes from some place; that he isn't just a manifestation created as a token of God's favor for me. He existed long before we met and now I must become familiar with that far away place. With that place comes a Mother and a broody moody bunch of sisters and it's no secret that I get along with females less than well. Despite my handicap, I doubt that they will even notice. I'm Southern and they are not even familiar enough with Southerners to know that we are pleasant, gracious, and kind in all situations. I will not bother to explain that Southerners are forced to be charming or face a death that will later look like an accident. Cruelty veiled in charm! It's a beautiful, twisted thing.
I thought to leave the packing to Jeanie but he scared me with the words, "There's a washer and dryer..." I need style and variety! I will not be up for meeting strangers if I'm not perfectly attired. What girl is?
I am not sure what kind of Internet access will be available to me, and maybe that's just as well. I think it's sometimes a good thing to just leave all forms of communication with the familiar at least for a few days. I"m looking forward to hunting down new treasures, placing my thoughts on pages not screens and diving into my latest book titled "Suits Me" -the story of Billy Tipton who lived, loved and performed for the world as a man but was later discovered to be a woman but only after death. It's an intriguing read I highly recommend.
Today I'm going to tie up all the loose ends at work, research all the places of interest on Long Island, and send out a token of affection to a Blogger I absolutely adore named Chrissie. She's a fascinating read and a doting email friend. If I ever make my way across the pond to visit my fair sister, I am going to meet Chrissie. I just have to. She's so lovely!

Ethics and the Like

When I was 20, I briefly gave up my given my name and everyone called me Jo. I drove a Red Chevy Beretta GT that I still miss, wore my hair Texas beauty queen big, and wore clothes skin tight. I had a great fake ID that got me into all the wrong places so that I could experience all the wrong experiences but that's okay. I learned to be fearless and it's served me well. I became a regular at a little bar that was frequented by green berets with hard-ons for me and a DJ who played Mustang Sally every time I walked in. I drank $2.00 whiskey sours and gave my cherries to those I wanted to conquer. I often saw Jesus sitting at the bar and danced with the devil a couple of times. My whole goal was to have a blast and take absolutely nothing serious. I succeeded.
I recall one particular Green Beret-just not his name. I never fancied him really but I spent a lot of Friday nights chatting with him because he would buy my drinks when I did. He was sweeter than the whiskey sours and I never gave him my cherries. I had already conquered him without even trying. One night he came in with his roommate. His roommate was really dreamy and looked like the poster cowboy on my closet door. They took turns dancing with me and invited me to go back to their place. The roommate said, "We want to share you. You'll love it."
That would take away all doubt and make me a certifiable slut.
I wanted to know but ....
I will never know, though I've wondered many times. Maybe I've done more than wondered. Maybe I've fantasized about it.
I've received similar offers but never accepted.
It was too taboo but maybe...
Maybe 16 years later I allowed myself to do more than fantasize about it.
Maybe I finally know what it is to be shared.
Only this time it wasn't Green Berets.
Maybe this time it was The Crossdresser and another Crossdresser.
Maybe as I kissed Jeanie, Kendra just kind of wrapped her arms around the two of us and we fell into embrace and debauchery and there were moments where I saw Jesus in Drag between my legs while an archangel in a wig and perfect makeup held me and kissed me so deeply that I had to call on God himself.
Slut?
I'm not a slut.
I'm a fucking Goddess.....

Popular Opinion

Today one of the guys from the IT department called me and asked what my daughter's name was. "The Scene Girl". He quickly brought a CD found in an old computer that was once mine that was labeled Mom and Scene Girl. I decided to take a look and it was a bunch of pictures of the two of us from I guess around two years ago. My girlfriend Shelley came from behind and I quickly closed the window. She thought I was checking out something good and I had to explain that they were old pictures of me that I didn't really care for. She whined until I showed her a picture from a company party two years ago and she said, "That doesn't even look like you. Why do you look so different in that picture?"
I explained my hair was lighter and I think I might be a little thinner. Whatever the change, I look better at 36 than I did at 34. Just goes to show that aging isn't necessarily a bad process. I don't know if it's that I'm aging well or if it's the comfort I've found in being myself. I am certainly happier than the woman in those photos. It was post heart ache and about six months before removing most of the straight people out of my social circle. And before I get a comment on straight hate, I'm not speaking merely about sexual orientation. I mean, most people think I'm straight but those in the know are more than certain that it's not true.
Life in the alternative lifestyle has its ups and downs and mostly I don't mind that. I'm learning as I go and most of that knowledge is coming through experience and it's mostly always been that way for me. It makes for a lot of mistakes but luckily I'm a quick study. While I might not speak openly to everyone about my life, I certainly don't hide how I live. I introduced Jeanie as a cross dresser to those I'm closest to and others have heard and question why I chose a man who enjoys dresses as much as I do.
To each his own....or her own? Last night I heard RuPaul say, "I learned a long time ago that other people's opinions about me are none of my business." For me, the answers are not so hard to come up with. I chose someone I love and adore who in turn loves and adores me back. I chose someone with similar interests and designs with a great deal of kindness and capacity for joy. These things seem more important than traditions and trends. I knew that I would not choose at all if my choices were to be with someone who would hold me back and bring me down. Those were not options that were at all acceptable to me and yet obviously, those options would be more acceptable and pleasing for those that look out over my landscapes than God forbid, I have a boyfriend who wears make up.
Actually I see that as a perk! We run out of a lot of things, but make up is never one of them. Nor do we run out of nail polish, panty hose....or devotion, encouragement, laughter or hope. If they ever get up the nerve to ask me instead of discussing it with those I'm closest to, I'll be sure to tell them that but ....they won't.
You can't change people but you can always change your mind about them.

David and Mark's Going Away Party

I Never Was the Girl Next Door

I love things that show up in the mail.
Always have, always will.
This was a good week for mail.
My order from E.L.F. (eyeslipsface.com)came in yesterday. Most of the products are only a dollar, the shipping only double that and the order showed up in about a week. I've been curious about the whole mineral make up thing and ordered a starter kit for the scene girl. She was not impressed at all and asked when I was going to buy more clinique clarifying foundation for her as she dumped the starter kit on my vanity (she did keep the nice carry case and all but one of the brushes). I tried it out myself this morning and I agree with The Scene Girl. It was not enough coverage for a Drag Queen like me. My face felt naked, and it did little to cover the shine or too much red in my natural skin tone. I did like the eye brow kit and the nail polishes I ordered for Jeanie and I. The eyeliner pen that The Scene Girl ordered is pretty cool too.
A few weeks ago I signed up at Book Mooch after a girl at a used bookstore recommended it as being a way to score all the Charlaine Harris books for very little money. It's a book swap of all the books you don't want for all the books you do want. I've sent out four books and have received two so far. My wish list is filled with books on transgender issues, though I realize I may never run into many of the books I want. I was crushed when a Canadian refused to send me Miss Vera's Finishing School for Boys Who Want to Be Girls . I did receive one on my transgender list and haven't been able to stop reading.
She's Not There by Jennifer Finney Boylin is an autobiography in which she details her lifelong struggle with her burgeoning femaleness and the path she followed to become a female, both physically and mentally. While I believe she leaves out certain details, she seems to write honestly with what she is comfortable discussing about her choice to become a woman while maintaining her role as a husband and father. She did not tell her wife that she was transsexual until after years of marriage and two babies; she never told anyone. It was her belief at a young age that if she found a woman to love, these feelings would go away. This is the best explanation I've come across; the only one I've not held in slight contempt. While I stand the chance of offending some, I must admit that I've never understood why people choose to marry someone while hiding such a huge secret. And yet, so many seem offended that their wives cannot accept them. Maybe this would have been a good conversation around the third date. Why should your true nature be more important than hers?
As I was reading about Jennifer's decision to tell her wife, I watched Jeanie in the kitchen. I wondered if he would be happier as a full-time woman and what would that mean for me? I didn't have to wonder long. I love Jeanie-all aspects and I would gladly give up the male aspects if he thought this would bring him greater fulfillment. I sometimes see Jeanie as being lost, fragile, delicate. I think his duality is a tough fit in the world in general so I asked him would he like to be a girl all the time.
His response was, "You mean cut off my penis?" I nodded yes, and he quickly explained that he would always be pre-op; that the ability to be both was much more appealing to him. Yes, he would love to be free of his five o'clock shadow, but he enjoys his penis and its functions even if he chooses to sit not stand.
I know that he is crazy in love with me and that there might be a fear that saying he wants to be a full-time woman might change the way I feel for him but I believe what he says. He's always chosen to be so true and honest that I've learned not to question what he says. If in time, his truth changes I will accept it.
And maybe that's true for any love. Maybe I underestimate the typical woman. I am curious to learn if Jennifer's wife accepted his crossover but I won't tell.
You should read the book.

Don't Think Twice

The spirit rules the body. I've witnessed this to be true with Nanna Jones. Any time Nanna feels out of sorts she develops a mystery illness that can never be diagnosed but excuses her from stress or deadline or whatever she can't handle. She would spend a week in bed, skip out on the rough stuff and resume perfect health. While it was obvious to myself and others that she used this as a defense mechanism, it didn't make her any less sick just because she created it. It makes me wonder: don't we all invent our pain?
I think of Nanna Jones now as I deal with this throb in my face. I define these throbs as sinus infections and I've gotten them for years. Only when experiencing one am I aware that they show up anytime I find myself confronting feelings concerning my Mother.
I blew in on a wild September storm on the year that Momma and Daddy turned sixteen. Momma has always been quick to say that the weather that day perfectly predicted our relationship. I try very hard to bury any feelings I have left for her in the darkest of my rooms. I find resolution in the the truth that some things will always be unresolved. No happily ever after here, friends. It's just not going to happen.
On Tuesday I had to go for my assessment. In order to evaluate anyone, the pros always go for the throat or in my case, the traces of my mother found on my person. As I listened to myself speak to this gal with hair that matched her skin tone, I listened to my Momma and Daddy take turns talking. Momma did most of the talking. Marilyn the Rehab Professional's assessment was that I don't have a drug dependency. My assessment is that I am so much like the very woman I like the very least.
It makes my face ache.
And it's hardly worth it.
My current comfort level is zero.
It's hard to sit well with these feelings in my lap and this ache in my round face.
I should be happy.
My life is sweet.
The traits that I inherited from Momma have served me well and have taken me on an entirely different path than the one she walks. While she is submissive, I am dominant. While she serves, I am waited on.
I cannot help who I am anymore than she can help who she is and a level of forgiveness should be forged on that alone.

Squeeze

I think Jeanie is depressed.
He got laid off today.
I'm not upset about it all.
His bills are minimum and I can pick up all the household stuff.
Maybe now New York will grant him unemployment.
That would be really sweet.
It does seem a little tight for us this week.
On Friday I had to sign my soul away and agree to rehab.
My evaluation is tomorrow.
The upfront costs are squeezing me until next pay day.
No one other than Human Resources has said anything to me.
My boss T didn't learn about it until Friday.
His response to HR was "I just want it to go away"
He's spoiled on all of my good nature and wit.
I got to move into my new space at work.
Away from the sales agents, I get lots more done.
I had to pick out furniture for the new reception area.
I love color and I'm wondering if I picked wrong.
All I know is it's contemporary and beat the alternatives.
I hear Jeanie....