life is too short

No volunteering with medicine for dogs yesterday.

A monsoon hit!

Pool got filled, plants got fed, and me?  I spent the day in bed.

I thought I would cancel the day after I shed a few tears.

People can be so mean.

I left the queer 'community' once before, because it just seemed so toxic.

I returned thinking that perhaps it was just those that I encountered at that time of my life.

Well, this time around, I found even more poison than I did before.

I don't know what it is, but some of the meanest people I've ever met are in the queer 'community'.

At the same time, I've met some of the nicest people as well.  People that would lift me up higher than anything the nasty ones could put me down for.

With the proverbial 'mean girls', bullies and power mongers, there will never be anything I can do right.

No matter what I do in my life, they will take it, turn it, twist it into something else, to attempt to prove me to be bad and selfish.

But not the lovely people.

They confirmed what my heart knows; I'm a good person.

Nobody can take that away from me.

Apparently, I'm bad for ENJOYING teaching children for free.  If I enjoy it, then it's only for my own gain.  Of course I gain!  How could I not?  These children make me happy and I teach them a skill.  We BOTH gain.

If I buy crab and lobster from Pescado Pal, the money goes to support his family and I get a meal I could never afford in Canada.  I don't haggle with him, I pay what he asks and we BOTH gain.

And to you who tried to silence me for my honesty?  I will continue to speak for those who are too afraid to do so, for fear of being hurt and ostracized.

I'm not afraid of bullies.  They're really nothing to be afraid of, as they are just weak people who try to build themselves up and above another person because their self-esteem is so low.

Strong people lift others up, instead of trying to pull people down to their level of misery.

I'd prefer to be equal, thank you very much.

My moment of hurt was healed by splendid hearts yesterday.

Then a little more so with a good chat with my Eternal Friend later on.

I am finding that the stronger and happier we are, there will always someone who wishes to attempt to take it away from us and steal our light.

I have even seen it in this blog.

When life is pummelling me to the ground, my readership spikes and I triple the amount of hits I get.

When life is good, it's the happy people who come to see what's up in our zany life of never ending entertainment.

Some people feed off the bad.

All I know is, I'm happy, and the 5 people I deleted from my cyber life yesterday will never take that away.

Hell, I could die tomorrow!

I'm not going to waste my precious last breaths on the 'mean girls' or the Hen Peckers.

I'll vent about it today, and then tomorrow, I'll probably have something wonderful to write about in this amazing life I am only fortunate enough to have created for myself.

You can hate me for enjoying my life if you want.  It's your choice as to how much sickness you want to spread.  I used to be that angry as well.  So, I understand.

We just had an earthquake while I was writing this.  Obviously, not too horrible for me to stop writing, but scary enough that it reminds me of how short our lives can possibly be here.

I forgive everyone who is troubled enough to try to knock me down, but I really don't have time for the negativity anymore.

Life is too short to look at anything other than the positive.

I'll continue doing good and receiving good feelings from it, no matter what you think of me.

Because you know what?

people admire me

plan 'b': follow your heart

I had to stop and remember that there are always 2 sides to every story.

I spoke to Our Fave's Mom with complete and utter honesty.

I told her that people have said her family could rob us, and that her son could as well and that I'm scared for our safety.

She knew who I meant by 'people' right away, saying her name out loud, and with my silence, I did not deny it.

On the flip side, I told her that all Papi and I have ever seen of Our Favourite, is that he likes to work, and that's the impression we get.

We do not get the impression that he's a thief.

I told her that from the day we met him, he has been Our Favourite, because he speaks to us like he is an old soul with wisdom.

I told her that I really want to be her friend, though so far, people don't want friendship, only money, so it has really hurt my heart and it's hard to trust.

She understood, telling me that she doesn't want to take.

She told me that in her family, the only people with drug and thievery problems is her one brother.

I asked her not to tell her family who we are, nor where we live.

She replied, "I won't.  I only speak to my parents, and nobody in the village speaks to me.  I keep to myself."

I know some people are threatened by those who don't follow the clique.

I know this to be my own experience and I told her so.

"I'm sorry people hurt your heart.  It can be the same from where I come from.  You need a friend.  I'd like to be your friend, because I need a friend too."

Then I started to think about the source which told me that she is not good in the first place.

This is the same person that I have trouble trusting, whom I have proof has stolen from us.

I've decided that I am going to follow my heart, not my head, and certainly not what a busy body says about another person.

Papi and I spoke about it, and our hearts say she is a sweet person, who has fallen prey to the clique of the village.

In every 'community', there are always the 'mean girls' who gossip and tell people lies about someone to get the others on their side, in a quest for power.

I've experienced these people.

Then there are those, like myself and Papi, who choose to judge a person on our own accord.

I don't listen to the queen bee very often, because I like to consider a person's worth on my own.

I know that others have stood by me when the Hen Peckers were in full force.

At the same time, I know others who have ostracized me, choosing to believe the lies, instead of asking me personally for my side.

My heart says she needs a friend, and oh how I can relate.

My heart says to try this out and if things don't work, I can always leave the friendship like I've done with other people who have broken my trust.

My heart says she is good.

I look in her eyes and I see love.

I have the feeling that she is drawn to me, because she doesn't follow the crowd, and that she sees that in me.

In her, I see a strong person.

Maybe she sees that in me?

In her, I see goodness.

Maybe she sees goodness that she can trust in me?

Yesterday, someone left an absolutely AWESOME folklore tale in my comments box.

Please stop by and read it.

We will find all kinds of people, whomever we choose to look for.

So do we choose to look for good?  Or do we choose to look for bad?

It's ok that my intuition doesn't work here.

My heart is good and I'm following it, because I like her.

It may be a mistake, or it could turn out to be a wonderful friendship with another member of The Pariah Club.

And oh, how I can relate.

i have every bit as much brightness to offer the world as the next person

We are not alone.

So, I've had an outpouring of people support me by telling me of the varying diagnoses they've been handed.

That's exactly what I wanted!  I want people to talk about it!

There is nothing to be ashamed of.  We all deal with life's difficulties in different ways.

Every single person out there who has told me their secret can rest assured that I'm not going to judge you.

I praise you!!!!!

The people who wrote in to tell me that they too have been told they have 'this' or 'that' diagnoses have done so bravely, but it also means that they have released a bit of the power that the interpretations of our mental health took from us.

I wasn't really disturbed by the allegations of my 'lack of sanity'.

I don't really care, because I know that I'm happy and my life is good.  That's all that matters.

What I do know, is nobody can say I created these mental glitches on my own.

One of my readers reminded me that it's not my mind that did this, rather the fact that I grew up with difficulty, and this is how my mind reacted.

I grew up with a deadbeat dad/sperm donor/drug dealer who could care less that we existed, unless he had a girlfriend who would convince him we were important, and his phone calls would come in at that point.

Not to mention, we moved around from school to school when we grew up with a single mom.  It was the best she could do, to give us the best home we could have.  She was also very young and really did what she could to take care of two out of control girls.

Still, having to make new friends over and over screwed me up a bit as well.  I'm pretty sure that's where 'performing Andréa' came from.  She needed to put on an act in hopes that people would like her, because she thought the 'real Andréa' wasn't good enough for anyone.

Dealing head on with all of the above, plus a little more I don't feel like blabbing about, made me stronger.

I write this blog without a care that my psycho ex, The Beast, is sitting there, right now, obsessively stalking my every word and literally laughing at my disdain with whichever sick and creepy friend is joining her. 

... hey beast! how's that divorce treating ya? karma's a bitch eh? ...

Now I feel sorry for every person who thinks that this is 'supporting' their 'friend'.

It's not.  I have true support and I know what true friends are.

The Hen Peckers who try to harm me don't even phase me anymore.

I have what is known as unconditional love in my life.

Something I realized the other day, when I looked back at those 2 weeks I gave Papi to clean up his act, was astounding.

Every time I've had to leave the current 'addict' in my life, I had to leave for good.

Time and again, I had to let go of security.

With a new breath, I had to start all over again and begin a new life, searching for new hope.

This time was different.

After the blip, I got to come home to be with my love.

I got to continue with my relationship and didn't have to start over again.

This is a new experience for me.  This is beautiful!

This is, what I call, success.

I don't give a fuck about scrutiny from the bottom feeders who would judge me.

I don't need to avoid life anymore, and I certainly don't need a little doctor's opinion to tell me I dealt with it by way of these mental illnesses.

They weren't there while I struggled through to find happiness on my own.

What I need, is for people to continue talking about mental illness so it loses it's power!

So please everyone.  Keep talking! 

We are not alone.

i rejoice for the success and abundance of others

Hell of Halitosis!

It's such a beautiful day.

Not just the weather, but because I get to see my love for the afternoon.

Our date has no schedule or timed itinerary, and I don't care.  I just want to be with Papi no matter what.

Our day will involve a visit with the G'ma, who is still giving us the guilt trip for 'abandoning and neglecting her, and forcing her into a home while we take over her house'.

... you know the drill ...

Anyway, Papi now has 7 days of healing.  I'm 7 days happier.

Yet still, I just want to go home NOW.  I want to renege on my 'rule' of not being there for 2 weeks until his socks are fully pulled up.

Yet, I won't, because I'm too afraid of what that will bring.

I miss my Fuzzy Family so much.  It's nice to have Java the Mutt here for a distraction, but he's not my babies.

The last time I went to the house, The Mrs. gave me the cold shoulder.

There is nothing more heartbreaking than an Fuzzy Family member snubbing you.

It adds to the sadness.

To know that this whole thing is affecting each and every one of us just sucks.

Such is the life of us addicts.  We really do affect everyone around us.

It's made me realize that a lot of my pain around Papi using is really not about my love having a weak time, it's my own P.T.S.D.

When I had to leave the home with the heroin addict I was in love with, it was torture.

I grieved for 2 years over the fact that I couldn't help her, couldn't change her, and couldn't suffer watching her disintegrate to dust.

She didn't really wither, however, she just cleaned up her act a bit so that I looked like I was lying about her addiction.

That created a whack-load of Hen Peckers who to this day believe that I was only trying to cause trouble and make her look bad.

When I had to leave mi esposo on his night of the big ending, it was like reliving that hell all over again, and there I was.  In agony once more.

I had to leave the addict again.  I believed that Papi would spiral down and that would be it for our marriage.

I believed the worst.

It's hard not to when you're living in my brain with my life experiences.

I've lived the worst and come out the other end every time, but knowing the pain I had to endure to get out of the Pit of Doom was so deep, I was terrified.

I'm grateful I have medication for my chemical imbalance, and I'm able to get out of the hell a little faster than I used to, but it's still not comfortable.

Nor is it good for my breath.

Yeah.

I get a nice heaping load of halitosis when I get stressed.  My stomach can't handle the acid and out it comes, wafting through my mouth like great wads of green stench you'd only imagine from the Grinch.

Or the Malboro.

Last night someone told me how bad my breath was and I felt like crying, dying, and crawling under a rock, but I couldn't.

I was there to sell tickets to the public for the Queer Arts Festival.

Person after person would come up and I'd be speaking with my mouth covered, or I tried to talk as loud as I could from as far away from them as possible.

I felt embarrassment like you could never imagine.

However, I know that this is the deal and I carry my toothbrush around with me everywhere anyway for my brace face, so I just brush a whole lot and try my best to keep my distance.

Good thing I have dogs in my life.  They don't care about my Buffalo Breath.

Apparently, neither does Papi.

i heal all issues affecting my self-confidence

rolling with it ...

It really is the worst possible time for this 2 week sabbatical.

Papi and I are both feeling it, but most importantly, we're still moving through it.

My love has been working hard at his end of the deal, and so have I.

It's really not easy.

I have seen mi esposo a few times, where we can.

Yesterday he did his chauffeur job and drove me to an appointment after I got to the Vancouver side of the Burrard Inlet.

Even if it was for those 20 minutes of getting a ride with my love, it was worth it just to see him.

The hardest part is when I have to leave, knowing that I don't get to sleep in our bed.

"Can you drive me to the SeaBus now, Papi?" is the hardest question to ask.

I just want to be with him.

I don't want to be somewhere else, even if I do have the coolest temporary roommate, Java the Mutt, not to mention, my Eternal Friend whom I'm grateful I'm able to spend a little time with.

It is wonderful to get to get to have this quality time with my Eternal Friend whom I've known since elementary school.

It's like a little holiday with her gorgeous North Van condo, complete with soaking tub and bubbles!

At the same time I'm making the best of this situation, it's still difficult to have to live out of a suitcase.

However, I would rather that than to live with an active alcoholic.

It's important for me to know that I can live away from him, in the off chance his addiction could one day convince him that the bottle is more enticing than a life with your love and your soul mate.

I have to do this to know that I'm still able to have a sober, drama free life, even if the addict/alcoholic is abusing their drug of choice.

I have to do this so I'm safe.

Papi now has 5 days clean and sober.

Every day he works on his part, is a day I'm closer to going home.

A day closer to getting back to my Fuzzy Family who are currently not speaking to me.

Yeah, they're pissed.

They're not impressed that I've 'abandoned' them.

I'm sure they'll get over it when I get home.

We all will.

'I just want my life back to how it was,' is just a myth.

Everything is changing.

There is no 'how it was'.

Ever.

If we try to stay with 'how it was', we'll be sorrily surprised when life gives us the gears.

If we don't roll with it, we'll remain the victim.

So, I'm rolling.

Even with all the rocks and roots that jab me as my little muscles careen down that hill, I endure bump after bump.

I roll.

It's better than being in the Pit of Doom

Honestly, I'm cool with rolling, as long as I'm not being kicked when I'm down, and so far, everyone has left their hen pecking, shit-kicking Daytons at home.

Instead, I'm feeling so much love, support and hope.

i discover new aspects of my self-confidence daily

i am the fucking honey badger

Ok.  I'm mother fucking bitchy.

I spent the day yesterday at a 9.5 pain level.  10 would mean I passed out from the pain, or couldn't lift a limb.

I got sent home in an emergency cab.  They wanted to send me to the hospital, but I assured them, "All they are going to do is pump me full of drugs and send me home."

I would rather go home and pump myself full of natural drugs thank you very much.

So, today I'm mother fucking miserable, hence, with my bitchiness comes the inevitable bad feelings I am responsible for creating, from the actions of others.

On a good day, I am the honey badger.  I just don't give a shit.

However, when I've had to take pills for the pain to knock me out so I can sleep at night, well, Hurricane Andréa steps in and I feel the need to spit out the feelings that are like venom in my heart and head, so I can make room for good emotions.

There can't be both up there, so I need to get the shit out, and now, I will.

Well, I must be pretty powerful.

People block me on Facebook and G+.

Not because I stalk them.

Not because I'm verbally abusive to them.

Not because I spread hateful words about others there.

... no ... i just vent about them here to 'you', my imaginary friend ...

But because they like to collectively ostracize others, like a high school gang.

Good god, I hope these people aren't considering bringing up children.  What will they teach them about bullying?

Normally, I don't really mind being blocked, because then I don't have to see their ridiculous posts that are full of hate, or pompous words to try to make them out to be better than everyone else.

It actually weeds out what I am forced to see, leaving me with only positive, loving, inclusive people's words.

So, I suppose they've actually done me a favour, but damn, I must be powerful to have that kind of affect on people, eh?!?!

I'm really relating to quotes about honesty and truthfulness lately.  They're helping to keep me within my own inner power of peace and honesty.

I can't find the quote anymore, but my very favourite goes something like this: being truthful will make you enemies in those who have fear about your strength, but it will also win you good honest people.

It will bring us people who can handle the truth, and talk it out with us, and perhaps, people who can help us see the other side of the coin.

Abraham Lincoln said, "Truth is generally the best vindication against slander."

Only problem is, when you have a group of people telling lies about you, there is always and inevitably sheep who will believe their handlers.

One important thing the sheep have to remember is this Bosnian Proverb: Who lies for you will lie against you.

I am fortunate to be enriched with those who love me for my honesty.

I actually opened up to another person and told them who the 'mean girls' are, but, that backfired.

I won't go into details, because that's just negativity that doesn't need to be hashed out, but I see the truth in their game.

I'm not hurt.  I'm more enriched.  One more weed to pluck from my garden.

My Trust List has begun to shrink a little lately, but it's all cool.

I have enough hearts I've collected in my basket that the other ones I've taken out won't be missed.

Yeah, it hurts, but 'hurt' is just an emotion, and it won't kill me.  It's just a human feeling that will cease the moment I fill it with love.

So, block me bitches. 

'honey badger don't give a fuck'

Times. They are a changin'.

photo by Jezebel

It's only the beginning.

There is so much more we need to do to help heal those who have been harmed by homophobia and transphobia.

So many people are saying it's a 'risky' move before an election, but it's also a good move for humanity and morality.

I hope that this will help the thousands of homeless kids out there, who have been harmed by the ridiculous hatred from their families, who have been brain washed by religious leaders, who's hearts are filled with hate.

I hope that these kids who have come of the age to vote, will actually get out there and make a move to vote to keep this person fighting for them.

It's only the beginning.

For those of us who have our own struggles with acceptance, I hope that it transforms us as well.

I say us, because I'm looking at myself.

Where I was a year and a half ago, experiencing my love's male transformation, was a far cry from where I am now.

I know that my views have evolved.

We all have the ability to evolve.

If we want to.

I wanted to.  I wanted to be able to love mi esposo with the same eyes that saw him as a perfect butch I married.

He is still perfect.

As a matter of fact, he's even more perfect now.

He's a whole person, who is on a path to find himself, and I am only the lucky one to be walking along side of him on his journey.

The person who was in emotional hell a year and a half ago is not the same today.

Those thoughts that I had were terribly hurtful, yet people loved me through them.

My true friends allowed me to have those feelings, they steered me in the right direction, and they supported me when I needed it.

They watched me transform.

Unlike the Hen Peckers, mean girls and haters that I had to face, truly good people held me until I was ready to say, "I love my transgender husband.  He is perfect." 

Ah, the roller coaster of life.

When you're sliding down that hill, it can be exhilarating, or it can be scary if we don't know what to expect around that bend.

The moments where we get to come back up the hill are our times to reflect.

We might even feel the tendency to say, "Do it again!  Do it again!"  The fact that this ride comes around full circle is healing.

We can choose to step off the ride and say, "Damn that was fun!" or we could leave with a sick feeling in our stomach.

Either way, we got through it.

Personally, I love a good roller coaster.  I love the thrill.  I also love the thrill of life.

After the pain subsides, I am free to love the surprises we get, as I'm also given moments of reflection.

The same week a country's leader made a bold statement, my mother actually invited me to a Mother's Day Brunch.

I am shocked and impressed.  She really is going against Mr. Homophobia's wishes.

It's nice to see my mother fighting for my love.

It may be a small step to her, but to me? 

Massive.

Times.  They are a changin'.

what would you do if you were NOT afraid?

Fuck you and your elitist panties.

I told Papi I wouldn't write about this to 'you', my imaginary friend, but it's so hard not to when I'm so angry.

This is where I work it out.

Hen Peckers.

I'm not the only one they've done this to.

They kicked another of my friends when they were down.

Seems the only way they can feel powerful, is to find someone who's hurting and twist that knife in their backs just a little bit more, to really hit home that they're not good enough for them.

Elitists are so fucking ridiculous.

In the grand scheme of things, they really don't matter.

They have no feelings for anyone except themselves, so when it's your turn to be in the Pit of Doom, they'll get you as well.  It doesn't even matter if you're best friends with them!

The queen bee will instruct all their minions to do as they're told.

These chicken shits who are afraid of losing their 'cool' status will adhere to their every word.

To me, these are the losers that are not cool enough.

I dealt with them in high school.  We all have, unless you were one of them.

But even still, I remember being part of the 'cool' kids until they turned on me as well.

These Hen Peckers are the same 'mean girls' that we all had to deal with in high school.  The only difference is they never grew up.

However, something tells me that when they were in high school, they were hurt by the 'mean girls' just like us.

Then, as a chronologically aging 'mature' person, they figure the only way to be more powerful than another, is to hurt someone even more, even when they need friends the most.

I'll tell you, the more I learn about my queer community and their elitist panties they put on every morning, the more I can't wait to move the the Dominican Republic and get the fuck out out this bullshit and hang out with goats.

Unconditional love from a non-elitist.

Come on people!

Who the fuck do you think you are anyway?

Where do you think all this hatred is going to take you?

Nirvana?

When we're all in the old farts home, I'll be talking about all the lovely souls that filled me throughout my time of need.  I'll be talking about how incredible my life was and that I lived it to the fullest with honesty.

And you bitches?

What will you be talking about?

You'll still be gossiping about how the lady at the next table doesn't deserve to be sitting at yours because she's not cool enough.

Fuck you.

This year, when I'm out and about in the community, I am going to hold my head higher than I ever have, because I know the truth about these 'mean girls'.

I am going to walk with all the friends who have been maimed by their harshness, and hug them every time the 'mean girls' cast their stares down their noses at my sweet friends who deserve the love we have for each other.

I think you'd better change your underwear.  They're getting a bit skanky now.

i attract only healthy relationships

To those who hate, thank you!

I was asked to name my friends that I would call on to have a hello or a hang out.

I started blurting out names of all the hearts I adore so much.  I didn't get through them all, it took too long for me to remember names, so when my eyes started to raise to the ceiling to try to think my way out of the brain injured 'duh', he cut me off.

Only problem was, it was for the evils of law, so I was forced to divulge their names on paper.

As I wrote, I started to think about the phrase:

If you can count on one hand five good friends, then you are lucky.

 
I realized I have more people I can call friends than I have fingers on both hands.

Throughout my life, I've been a people pleaser.

What I learned by looking at this friend list, is that these are the only people I need to please.

Not necessarily so much that I need to, but these are the names of people that deserve my love.

I had to go through this list and add phone numbers and I kept it for myself so I could inform them that they've been named.

I looked at the list all day yesterday.  It was so beautiful.

It was so incredible that I could look at the people I love and know that I'm loved back.

It was comforting to hear each of their voices say, "You don't have to be sorry.  I'll fight for you in any way I can!"

It was amazing to feel that I have such a solid group of friends, that I will never have to worry about being lonely.

There was another phrase I heard today that hit home, oh so well.  It went something like this:

People who are busy pleasing everyone around them will find that they're so busy worrying about what others think of them, that they're actually the loneliest people on earth.

I get it now.

There were many years where I wasn't one of the 'cool kids'.  I felt hurt that people didn't contact me instead of me always being the person to call them to initiate a hello, or that I wasn't special enough to be invited to the outings I saw on Facebook.

I thought that if I just kept being super nice to the people that I wanted to be friends with, they'd see that I was worthy!

I was very lonely and could never find that confirmation that I was loveable.  I just wanted so badly to be loved that I spread myself very thin, leaving nothing to fill myself up.

I've stopped trying to please people.

I've realized that the only people I can please are the ones who want me to.

... bow-chicka-bow-bow hehe ...

Anyway, seeing this list in front of me, I now know where to place my energy of people pleasing.

I can now see that all the love I give will be returned in kind by these people.

I don't need to collect hearts anymore.  I'm filled.  I'm fortunate.

I also have the hen-peckers and rah-rah-trannies to thank.  If they hadn't shown me how much hatred they're capable of expressing, I may have never had to start collecting hearts from scratch again.

I want you to know, that you'll never please everyone.  You can't possibly do that.

Choose who you're going to spend your time and energy on.  We only have so much in us to give, so save it for someone who will give back and refill your supply.

Write down the people that you love, that you know you can count on to love you back.

If you can count them on one hand, you're doing very well.

If you can't, maybe now is the time to start changing what you think is a friend.

I've had to do it, and it's really not so bad.

I got so much more out of it than I ever knew I would.

i know that i deserve love, and i accept it now

karma.

I'm sorry if you came by yesterday to find a blog that seemed to be posted, however was not there.

Papi told me to remove it, as it may put another person in danger if the offender figures out who I was speaking about.

So.

Let's just talk about karma.

You can still say karma is a bitch, and I'm it's queen.  I feel like a bit of a sick and twisted person for enjoying this, but when karma actually comes to existence, it makes me happy for the process of life.

When we're done wrong by people, if it's bad enough that we can fall into great despair. 

I just can't tell you how many times in my life I've been attacked by cliques and their leader.

There is always a ring leader.

There are always minions.

There are always going to be people who believe the lies of the head honcho, because they want so badly to be accepted by the person they idolize.

In every case of my life, I have silently writhed in pain from these groups of people.

This re-occurring theme in my life seems to be a bit monotonous.

Yet, every time it happens, I withdraw and allow the lies to be believed.

There's not much I can do to stop the lies and gossip, so I let it be.

I sit back like a tarantula in my web, waiting for the opportunity to strike when someone else has had the same experience.

I can allow people to believe the lies about me, because it weeds out the scum mother fuckers who don't deserve my friendship.

I just found out the worst of their personality.

These people would use my 'friend'ship on Facebook to go through my pages and laugh at my misfortune.

Can you believe that they would go through my pictures and laugh at me being in a wheelchair from brain injury?

I can.

I know whom I'm dealing with.

Well, one person has come forth believing what I've gone through.

All it takes is that one person for me to feel that I'm vindicated.

I know that karma will have her day on all the many cliques who have decided that they can prey on my weakness.

Right back to high school bitches.

Only this time, I'm stronger.

This time, I'm not afraid to say fuck you.

my instincts can be trusted.

So scared.

I'm so nervous my stomach can barely handle the crackers I'm still on.

no ... i'm still not able to hold real food in my gut yet ugh ...

My Boifriend is in town and has invited Papi and I to go to a swim with him today.

It's called the 'All Bodies Swim'.

This means any person of any gender and any shape is invited to go play in the water.

My worries are twofold.

One, I still haven't uncovered my mirror.  I caught myself looking in the small bathroom mirror to try to see if my brain is still torturing me with visions that don't exist.

... or so i've been told countless times ... wish i could believe it ...

I still saw the devastation of my eating disorder.  Yup.  The horror was still there.

Well, imagine being invited to an event where I'll have to bare it all!?!?

Then there's the fact that the place will be surrounded by fucking mirrors.

I'll be distressed with every move of an eye.

Then there's the second part to this first part of my social anxiety.

This part is so fucking ridiculous that I can't even believe my brain thinks this way.

However, it is my reality.  It does.

I'm afraid that people will see what I see in the mirror.

I'm afraid they will look at me and think to themselves, "Ah, I see why you think you're fat.  Right there.  That spot you have nightmares about.  I see it too."

The part that is most ridiculous about that is that the whole premise around the All Bodies Swim, is that it's a place to go where the windows will be blackened out.  It's so that every person in that pool can feel that they're in a safe place to play in the water.

My stomach is turning.

More so than it normally would.

My hands are sweating, yet cold at the same time.

The good news is, I'm going to this swim with two people who are also needing support to be there.

My Boifriend and Papi.

I didn't know that my love was feeling abashed about his scars.

He feels that they stand out like headlights on a car.

But they're such a small portion of that lovely body, that it's really not a big deal to an outside viewer.

I barely even see them anymore.

I just see my love, a little lighter on top.

It surprised me though.  I didn't know he was feeling this way.  I thought he was in bliss and couldn't wait to be topless in this world.

"No, I wanted to wait to unveil them in the summer, because maybe they'd look better by then."

Those of us who are going tonight are all folks who are uncomfortable showing something about our body.

I'm not alone.

They made this swim for a reason.

However, the other half of my angst?

I'll have to endure the dirty looks from the people who feel that I'm transphobic, or worse, a horrible human being for having feelings about my love's male transformation.

I figure I just won't wear my contact lens or glasses, then I won't be able to see very far and I can ignore they're jeers.

That'll work.

I'll let you know how green my hair gets.

it is often hard to tell just how close you are to success

Ahhhh ... just breathe ...

Just a few more hours and we have renewed hope, and a new beginning.

I usually feel this way in the fall, probably because I've been wired to think that September is when a new year starts, with a new grade in school.

School was not my strong point.

I would rather skip out from school and go home to play my piano.

I did it a lot.  Sorry mum.  It's probably why I didn't graduate.

no shit sherlock ...

I was one of the worst teens to have around a school.  I was a teen alcoholic and addict, I acted out, seeking attention because I didn't have a father, and felt ignored and abandoned.

So, my piano was my salvage, and it still is.

I remember one of those years as a terrible teen, I had a dance exam and received 99%.  I was pirouetteing with joy and en pointe proud.  I couldn't wait to get home and show my mum that I had proof that I really was 'good enough'.

even though i had to wonder, why not 100%, did i pick my nose during one of the calmer moments?

The bus home from my exam was so slow!  I wanted to take over the wheel to get home faster so I could show my mum what I had accomplished!

I finally got off that stinky, 50 foot, public Cadillac and chassed up our backdoor stairs.

I only stopped for a moment to look and see if my stalker was in the bushes again.

yeah ... that's another blob/blab ...

Anyway, as I quickly went to open the door, I was halted when my mom was already standing there with papers in one hand, the other hand clenched in a fist and a face that spelled, "Look out baby, she's on a rampage!!!"

I tried to break through my mum's bad mood and give her something to be happy about.

"Mum!!!  I made 99% on my dance exam!!"

I could feel my mother's wrath when she replied, "WHAT are THESE?!?"

As my mum passed the papers to me, I realized I'd been busted for all my skipping out.

You see, I didn't know the school would really have the information about me not having a father.  I really didn't think they even cared what I did with my life.

So, my survivor instinct said, "Hey!  Why don't you write sick notes from your 'father' to the school, and you can skip out and play your piano any time you want!!"

Well, I suppose the school officials knew me too well.

was it all the trips to the office that did it?!?!

There they were.

All my notes from my 'father', telling the school that I had 'this' appointment or 'that' appointment for my fucked up knees, or that I was just plain 'sick' on that day.

My stomach turned, my head almost exploded, and my pride ran straight out the back door I had strolled in.

Caught.

I never did get a pat on the back for that 99%.

Anyway, my whole point of reflecting is, even though my mum could really only see the bad in our lives, there was a spark of the Andréa I am today.

I'm proud of myself, no matter if anyone else is.

I fuck up like every other human, but I still have joy from my accomplishments.

Even though this has been a challenging 5 years of my life, ...

the last one being utterly exhausting ...

... I'm present, and still searching for my positivity in everything that comes my way.

Here is my last entry of gratitude for the year 2011.

We're almost there.

I'm grateful that I skipped out of school and practised my piano, because my 'bad bahaviour' has made me into the musician I am today.

I'm grateful for that 99% on my high school dance exam.  I may never dance again, but I do know that if I could, I'd still be great.

I'm grateful to be able to afford a new cat tree for our monsters.  The Bastard Prince has not been this happy in a long time, and thus, it makes me happy.

I'm grateful that Papi and I both have the same desires in our lives together.

I'm grateful for My Person having come over a year ago today, and consequently helped me start my new trek for happiness.

I'm so fucking grateful to 'you', my imaginary friend, my Blogger Friends who were the first people I spoke to about Papi's male transformation, my ever increasing Trust List, my family and my chosen family for their love.

I'm even grateful to the Hen Peckers & Rah-Rah-Tranny people.  If it wasn't for them, I would have never found the strength in my voice to roar.

tomorrow ...

When the rain sets in for the winter, those voluptuous drops of water are like little shards of glass pelting my body.

Every one of them wreak havoc on my injuries, and people say, "You're limping!  Are you ok?!"

I just want to get to the Dominican Republic and stop the ouch.

Even though we can't leave until all my legal crud is cleared up and the G'ma goes to her new home in the sky, I'm feeling like I'm really going to be there 'tomorrow'!

It was pointed out to me last night, that Papi not only has to pass as a guy for his safety, but for my safety too.

That part didn't really occur to me.

I'm such a romantic idealist, that I just think we're going to move there and people will love us automatically, because we're loveable dammit!

I forget that they are a country where the people could homicidally judge us, if there's any evidence of my love having been a woman in the past.

When we were last there, we became friends with a sweet, young, single father, who was the official photographer of the resort we stayed in.

He showed us a video on his camera of the after effect of a fight.

It involved a machete and a head.

The head was in the gutter, and the machete was nowhere to be seen.

This was a fight over a girl.

They fought to the death for her, and only one head rolled.

So, if they're really going to behead someone who wanted the same girl, imagine how easy it would be for them to dismiss us from the planet.

i have even worse fears that go on in my mind, but i don't want this to get over the top serious with my mind's eye ...

My friend that reminded me that I, too, could possibly suffer at the hands of religious, homophobic people that have been brain washed.  "I'll give you 4 years," I was told, with an added, "you'll miss your queer community too much."

Yes, I will miss my 'rough around the edges friends', my Trust List and my biological and chosen family.

In terms of the Hen Peckers, I can't wait to get away from them and their Rah-Rah-Tranny cohorts.

Good fucking riddance.

I'd rather hang out with goats.

Anyway, I'm not going to get on to the 'ick' that are in our community, but rather get back on track about our haven.

Papi and I are city slickers, born and raised in Vancouver.

Some way, some how, we have to learn what it's like to be country bumpkins.

We will be building our own house, and will probably have to live in a tin roofed home for the first while.

That or a Winnebago.

At the same time, we have to learn how to live off the land.  I can see that my first 2 years are going to be an ample distraction from the fact that I'm nowhere near another queer person, other than Papi.

And the goats.

Goats are queer enough for me to talk to.

Not to mention, I've also been told, by some of my lovely Blogger Friends, that goats do make good listeners.

In my mind, I'm leaving the rain, snow, cold and Hen Peckers behind for good.

I know it's 20 months to 2 years away, but like I said, to me it feels like 'tomorrow'.

At this point, I'm not thinking about how much I'm going to miss my friends, because my romantic idealist brain keeps saying, "No worries! They'll all be coming by to visit you in those beautiful, luscious, healing, rolling hills of beauty."

... tomorrow ...

 

Good Hair Day.

"Do you want me to cut your hair?"

This has to be the most ridiculous question Papi has ever asked me.

Seriously.

My love was actually being sincere.

I don't pay over a hundred bucks to get my hair cut just because I like to spend money.

My honky 'fro definitely needs some professional attention right now, but after I've seen my love's D.I.Y. projects go a wee bit awry, I had to wonder if Papi had perhaps been nipping at my Crack Butter.

cut this hair?!?!?!  not a hope in hell you're getting near my honky 'fro with scissors

The only reason I know he hasn't, is because after my love tried the Crack Butter just once, in hopes that his anxiety would be relieved, he is almost ready to bid adieu to butter all together.

Every time I've had to ask my Crack Butter to dull my nerves' pain, mi esposo goes into a dramatic monologue that sorta goes like this:

"Oh, God!"

**gags**

"That is SO disgusting."

**dry heave**

"I don't know how you can eat that!"

**hacks**

Well, my love, it's a bit akin to how I hate bananas so much that I truly gag every time I eat them, yet I've eaten them when I've had insomnia.

bananas have tryptophan just fyi ...

Anyway, back to my hair, because it's really all about my hair.

I made my hair pretty, because we were supposed to go to a party last night for my sweet friend's housewarming celebration, but Papi had healing issues and had to stay home and rest.

Personally, I was afraid that haters could potentially be going to the party, or I'd have gone solo.

Today is not one of those times I feel safe to go it alone.

I guess I have been affected by the Hen Peckers without realizing it.

Yeah, I may be fine with their mean words on the internet, but actively seeing their dirty looks and jeers?

I have had to do it recently, and it just wasn't my idea of fun.

So, nah.

I can't play that game at this moment.

The saddest part is twofold: a) I let my fear win and didn't get the see one of the sweetest friends I have, and b) my good hair day went to waste.

Damn good thing I didn't get all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Instead, I got to pass by the mirror every half our to enjoy my good hair seeing as how Papi just let me know in a round about way that it's time for a cut.

Sure.

Just as soon I have regular grocery money coming in, a hair cut could happen.

However, there was also some drama time with Psycho Kitty.

Yes, it's that time of year again, ...

... it's been a relaxing 2 days without the g'ma ...

... where we leave the door open between floors, and the kitteh heads roll.

Well, it's really my kitties that get the beatdown.  So far, nobody's fur has been pulled from the root and strewn down the hall.

But tomorrow is a new day.

There may be feline drama tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week, but be assured, fuzzy heads will roll.

Just as long as it isn't The Mrs.

This Game is Boring Now.

The Galloping Gazelle is plotting his revenge.

... as opposed to what i'm doing ... i'm venting ...

I thought I'd talk about the Fuzzy Family instead of the person that upset Papi.

because apparently, i share too much information ...

You see, right now The Galloping Gazelle is sitting on the La-Z-Boy growling.

... seriously ... someone wrote an email to papi saying how horribly transphobic i am ...

There was a bit of drama on the upstairs G'ma floor, and The Galloping Gazelle got nicked in the back of the leg for cornering Psycho Kitty.  You don't mess with Psycho Kitty.

... i mean really, how rude is it that someone would vent to papi about their wife?!?!  who does that?!?  that's what you have team Rah-Rah-Tranny and the Hen Peckers for!!  go talk shit about me there, fool!

So, there was much squealing and now The Bastard Prince has regained his place in the world.  You see, at the beginning of The Galloping Gazelle's visit, this is where The Bastard Prince lived:

... i suppose i'm used to people flapping their gums, and now that i'm through with being weak, i'm not taking it anymore ... funny part is, i find people's distaste in my honesty rather entertaining ...

Well, The Bastard Prince has regained his strength and is sitting on his favourite pedestal, staring down this poor, humiliated, four-legged soul.  "Fuck with us, eh? {yeah he's a canadian cat} You think so?  My homeboy has my ass up there.  You think he's taken a round out of you?  Wait for my turn."

... it sucks, because papi thought he had a friend ...

So, the balance is shifting in this dog vs. cat phase.  I keep trying to remind The Galloping Gazelle that this one is just as scary as the one upstairs.  Cats are bitches man!!!

... well, not anymore.  apparently, my feelings about losing my butch are not as important as his feelings about my article ... oh! and if i want support, they have a group that meets once a year at Gender Odyssey. yeah. you read that right ... once a year ...

Every once in a while, The Galloping Gazelle will come down off the La-Z-Boy and bark, but he quickly retreats when he sees this:

... all i know is, the reaction that this person had, and the insensitive manner in which he expressed these feelings are the exact thing i was afraid of ... but not anymore ... every time i'm pushed to be silenced, i'll work harder to find another person who needs my support ...

I feel like we're changing dogs one at a time to live in harmony with cats.  By the time The World's Loudest Snorer went home, the cats were a non-issue, with an occasional 'to be wary of' moment.

... i'd love to bitch more about this, but i have music to compose ...

One thing I can ask is, if cats 'n dogs can live together in harmony, why can't we?  It's an old story that rears it's ugly head every time one person thinks differently than the next.

... thanx for listening to my rant ... i'm off to go fill my life with love now ... one harmonic note at a time ...

I hope you spend your day focusing on the good in your world, because that's my only mission today.

Thank you.

Well, it looks like Papi isn't the only one poking sticks in the hornets' nest.

My article got some opinions flowing.

Some were supportive, and some were loathing my very existence. 

It's good, because it also helps me to see more of how my actions and words may affect people.

Lord knows I've learned a lot through this process, and some of the ways I felt in the beginning are not the same as how I feel now.

I've had to make a few enemies during my lessons, but the flip side is, my real friends have gracefully pointed me in the correct direction with only a few loving words.

There's always going to be someone who doesn't agree with us, because that's the law of nature.

If someone were to just jump right into my sea of words without starting from the beginning, it would be like jumping into a stream that's making it's way toward a vast body of water.

Turbulent.

Rocky.

I'm pretty sure it would ruffle anyone's feathers.

None-the-less, there was one comment that I really had to listen to and think about.

One person spoke about how using 'Tranny' is demeaning, as if I was using it the way people use, "That's so gay," as a way to make something sound distasteful.

Well, I can see why someone who is only jumping in mid-stream would find this offensive.

While I do have feelings for anyone I've irked ...

not my intention, but knew it would happen ...

... these folks really don't know that calling my love a Tranny Terrorist or referring to the overly zealous folks who are more than supportive of their fellow trans people is not coming from a derogatory place.

Papi and I talked about it and we both realize that the Rah-Rah people don't get me and I could never get them.

We have different opinions.  We will never make good bedfellows that's for sure.

However, our opinions are both merited.

My spouse is a transgender person.  It's not degrading, it's the truth.

When my fellow fags, dykes, or queers speak about each other using these 'descriptives', they use the word in an identifying way.

A way that is no where near the use of "That's so gay!" that is used in a demeaning manner.

It's a shortened version of the word transgender, and it doesn't apply to only to one gender or another as someone pointed out in their comment.

My spouse is a tranny.  I'm pretty sure that because I'm married to a transgender person, I can shorten the word can't I?

However, I do see how the 'Rah-Rah Tranny' label would offend.

As much as I've seen an opinion in favour of this by a trans man, I will now be dropping the Tranny word.

Oh don't worry!  I will still be using 'Rah-Rah', because I still see people on the sidelines waving their pom-poms without one hair turning grey from the stress of it all.

But as for the good ol' tranny word on it's own?  I can't see myself lengthening 'transgender' every time I refer to mi esposo.

So, I say thank you for your opinions.  Every one of them had something to learn from.

Death Sentence.

My brain is swimming here and there.

I just received the phone call to get on the waiting list for therapy via VISAC.

I realized through talking that I'm really ok, but damn, I got stuff to deal with.

When I think too much, that's when my brain flails.

It's because the woman on the phone had a list of questions to ask before I could be put on this list.

It occurred to me that I had just given a verbal résumé of my mental health.

We went from childhood trauma, to anorexia, to suicide and that's when I realized that my life is so damn good.  Nothing can take away the work that I've done to get as strong and happy as I am now.

One of the questions was about past counseling and I was able to confidently say, "I am in a good place.  I had issues to deal with that I thought were over, but having been in counseling since I was young, I have tools to work with.  I just know that I've been triggered and I need more attention on this topic than I thought."

We spoke about what triggered it, and it was too damn clear.  I let her know that by having a spouse go through male transformation, I'm forced with having a male being in the house.

Even right now, my gentle heart pounds.

But it is ok.

I am safe.

I am strong.

And now I have to wait 6 months before anyone can see me.

This program is only for adult survivors.  Here in Vancouver, there are that many adults that have been abused, that we have to wait that long.

Never mind the poor little souls who are being abused right now and must be given counseling at a young age, or, later when they finally realize they're strong enough to deal with it.

It's sickening to think that there are this many victims and this many assailants.

What the fuck is the matter with people!?!?!

I know this is going to spark a massive blast from the Hen Peckers, but I'm all for pedophiles and rapists being put down.

We put down dogs, raccoons, bears, tigers etc. when they attack us.  Our system thinks it's safer for us because these 'animals' will attack again.

Well, what about the walking abscess that we call sexual offenders?!

These muther fuckers go into jail for a few years, then bide their time until they can get out and re-offend.

They run to the hills ignoring their probation, and find the nearest person that tickles their fancy.

Then we have to hear about it in the news.  Then we have to be warned that another is being let out and we must keep an eye out for the predator, because they are at 'high risk to re-offend.

WTF?!?!?!?!?

These people are rabid and could NEVER be rehabilitated, unless they get a fucking lobotomy.

whoa.  if my heart wasn't pounding before, it surely is now ...

Get rid of them.

When people stop acting 'civil', why the fuck should they ever be granted 'civil rights'?

I'm all for the vigilante who has a vendetta and gets rid of these bastards for us.

Lord knows it's the only way these pussballs of mucus could ever be stopped.

And now, I must go calm myself down, and wait 6 months.

6 muther fucking months to deal with this fucking issue that I have already spent years of my life dealing with.

All because of the offender.

Fuck you, and if I ever figure out which one of you did this to me, you should be wary of your own safety.

end rant.

Detachable Penises.

My friends are people who will tell me to my face if there's something on their mind, and I love them for that.

One person has caught up to my life and feels very defensive for me.  She still loves Papi, but she is thinking the same way I used to when the transgender bomb was dropped.

Every word that came out of her mouth were the exact words I felt in the beginning.  It is strictly one sided thinking that I can now recognize, by looking back at where I was 9 months ago.

She helped me realize how far I've come.  I have changed those thoughts and would like for her to see another side as well.

It actually blew me away when I saw my mirror image and didn't like what was in front of me.  Her defensiveness for me made me defensive of my love.

I remember thinking, all those tumultuous months ago, that I would need to defend Papi at some point down the road.  However, I knew I couldn't do that until I had enough strength to defend myself first.

Looks like I found that place.

In that same day, another friend made me really realize another side of a story.

It was about how protective I was of my love when the Hen Peckers went on to a forum and discussed what mi esposo should do in his life.

Not really any of their business, but none-the-less, I was hopping mad that they could discuss how they think someone should live a life that doesn't belong to them.

She said she just wanted to play devil's advocate.

What she did was open my mind a little more to where some other people may be coming from.

Her perspective was; if they grandfather in Papi to allow a trans-man to work there, then it must open the door to others, not just one person.

If they open the door to trans-men, then they can't close the door on bio-men.

If they open the door to bio-men, this 'safe house' may not feel safe for the women who have suffered from the violent hand of a male predator.

I thought about this in terms of my own survival.

Papi says he's never met someone who is such a man hater as myself.

In my defense, I'm not a 'man hater'.  I'm a 'creep hater', and not all men fall into this category, just as there's women who do.

In the same way an offender can smell a victim, I can smell an offender, and my instincts are usually right.

In this way, I trust my senses, and I follow their feelings.  No different than a dog that can smell someone with ill will and their hackles will stand on end.

Oh, trust me.  Mine do as well.

I have many male friends that are so much sweeter than any woman could ever be.  There are beautiful bio-male people out there.

Which brings me to the third opinion that opened my eyes again yesterday.

My love and I were taking care of a friend who was a little ill yesterday, and we stayed with her until the partner came home.

Papi asked her, "Do you think I should leave my job?" from a place of true curiosity from someone whom we admire for their honesty.

Her opinion was that Papi's boss really thinks it's for the better of the women that my love stay at the house, because they don't see my love as any one gender.  They see Papi.  They see a good person who is there to brighten the day of a world where there is so much darkness.

Then she went a little further.

We discussed how there are some amazingly beautiful men out there who would be a good person to have in such houses, as it would be a great place for them to really learn that not all men are offenders out to break their spirit.

Earlier, she thought of a way for me to heal from my ghosts.  She suggested that I come by and make penises.

yup. you read that right.

Her and her partner make silicone penises for trans people, and for those female bodies who feel it's hot to pack.  She recommended that I get to know them while they're not attached to a person.

If I make one from a place that won't bring me fear, I could possibly see that they're not attached to an offender.

So.

Looks like I'm going to be making some detachable penises.

What a world I live in.

Back off bitches!

The Hen Peckers are at it again.  Only this time, they're attacking Papi.

don't you fuck with my baby, bitches!! i don't care if your a he, a she, both or none of the above, your behaviour grants the title 'bitches'!!

The Trans Clique is spewing their defamation about my love on forums.

They have no idea about mi esposo's situation, but they feel that Papi should be following their orders.

like tiny little soldiers we all fall in line ...

Papi's job is a difficult subject that my love and I have spoken about numerous times, and mi esposo doesn't take this job for granted.  Papi is very aware of the transition being discussed amongst management at this company, and is waiting for them to figure out this issue on their own.

You see, my love started working at a transition safe house for abused, mentally ill women a few years ago.  Only 'women' can work there, and only 'women' can be housed there.  However, there has been an M-F who was taken in.

The women were uncomfortable with this transgender person at first, because she still had a penis and walked around with a short house coat.

Yet, over time, they became used to the soul inside and accepted her as one of their own.

Stress the words; over ... time ...

The women there adore my love.  Rightfully so!  Papi has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known.  Mi esposo is perfect for the job, because of this.

Abused, mentally ill people need to have this love in their lives, just as much as they need consistency.

I know that these souls would be heartbroken if my love were fired from this job, or even if Papi left by choice.

My love has been slowly telling these broken souls in a sweet way, that they have to be prepared for the day when mi esposo must say, "Farewell."

Slowly ... over ... time ...

It's giving them a chance to mentally prepare for the day when they have to let go of Papi, when it's my love's own time to depart.

Papi knows that time is ticking and that there will come a day when mi esposo must say goodbye, but just like in a romantic relationship, right now is not the 'right time' to break up.

Well, when my love was written about in the newspaper, the trans mafia read it, and are now spitting words of venom over the fact that mi esposo is still working in a facility that employs only 'women'.

What ever happened to free thinking, not being labeled by society, and supporting one another by understanding each other's own journey is just that; their own?

Nope.

The clan is saying that my love is double dipping and being a woman when it's convenient, and being a male when it's advantageous.

One of the biggest ring leaders is adamant that nobody label them as male or female, so how dare they label my love as only a male?

Papi shed a few tears from the hens pecking at my love's beautiful skin.

Cliques.

They are just insecure, scared beings who can't be alone from the clan.  They don't allow free thinking.  They demand you be just like them so they will accept you.

Papi and I are both one in the same kind, who allow each other to think how we feel.  We correct each other when we're too far away from PC thinking that may hurt another.  We love each other and the friends we have, because they, and we, accept each other for who we are.

We don't fit in to these mobs.

We and our friends don't fit in together.

So, in an essence, we are doing our very best to weed out the cliques one by one, find the real friends that we deserve, and feel the pain when the Hen Peckers break our skin.

My love is not hurting anyone by being at work.  Quite the contrary.  Papi's presence would be terribly missed.

If Papi triggered anyone into feeling that my love is an intimidating male, mi esposo would ask to be moved to a different facility in the company.

It's not the pack's choice.

Go on then.  Live your own life.

We'll be living ours with the people who show us love.

Looks like Papi will be making his own Trust List.

and yes.  it was difficult for me to type 'his', so shoot me.