grow papi, grow

Oh how I'm reveling in the goodness that is my Dominican style coffee.

For my grand return, Papi and I didn't get to have much quality time, considering the whole afternoon was spent at the casino with the old fart celebrating her 97 golden years.

She can't even remember how to push the buttons on the machine, but she only lost $40 which is better than I can say for Papi and I.

I don't really get the addiction to gambling.  I could go out and hand someone $20 and they'd smile.

Yet, when I watch that little bill slink or slither into a machine, it just disappears, somewhat like Java the Mutt would eat the treats I'd give him.

There's no joy as we watch the $20.00 nonchalantly dissolve into 5 cents.  How can someone get addicted to throwing away money like that?!?!

Oh, but they were there, and we saw them.

My favourite was the one who, every time we'd finish our $20 spree on a machine, would briskly glide in to our seats right after us.  She must've thought that we were lucky.

Maybe with my hair up and fluffed out on top of my head I looked like a lucky bingo troll?

Then we watched her whispering to each other, "If she wins I'll be really fucking pissed."

She lost as well, but onward she went to the next $20 to throw in again, thinking that this would be the winning round.

Then, when we got home, Papi decided to inform me that he has finally healed in his 'man zone' from C. difficile and is indeed again, packing.

Packing as in a Plastic Penis, the grand PeeCock.

Packing as in it's time to start putting out the seat wipes again.

Which reminds me of what I found fascinating about hanging out with the dudes from Gender Odyssey.  I was enthralled at how they mentored the younger, newly arriving dudes.

I had wished that Papi was there, because he would have appreciated the conversations.  I mean, I know he reads a lot about trans issues, and he's very verbal ...

... understatement ... ahem ...

... when it comes to getting people talking about things on his Facebook wall, but he really would have enjoyed listening to how these guys advised others.

"You have to figure out what kinda guy you want to be.  Then you have to study their walk, their clothes, their gestures.  It's about making that decision, then eventually growing into the part."

I suppose we all do that to a degree, we just don't honestly think about it.

Human behaviour can be learned, and we can become anyone we put our minds to.  We can be happy if we choose to be, by simply following the steps a happy person would take.

I studied the harshest, meanest people around me for quite a long stint in my life.  I wanted to come across as strong, because I felt so weak, meek, and had the self esteem of a gnat.

So, I learned how to act the part of a rock goddess, to entice the world to listen to my music.  It worked, but when I'd step off stage to find people wanting to shake my hand to say, "That was so awesome!" in my post performance procession line, fans would be confused.

They thought they'd meet that girl that was on that stage, but once I took a step off that platform, I was no longer the rock goddess.  What I found was, people were let down that I was actually shy and sweet.

People were attracted to that girl up there.  Hell!  So was I!  Why do you think I chose her?

Well, she left the day my head hit the ground after flying 15 feet through the air at 50km.

I can't hold that bass and rock out since the motorcycle accident, but more so, the whack to the head changed me.

It's taken me a bit, but I've figured out how to be who I am now, and I don't need to study who to be next.

I don't need to emulate someone new.

No, now I get to settle in to my new life, and serenely allow time to help Papi grow into his.

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