no reality here.

Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!!

Foiled by Our Closet!

The Psycho Kitty TV show was going to come by for our pre-taping interview, until they found out that we only live in 454 sq. ft.

They said the producer couldn't come film, because it's just too small.  They filmed in a place 800 sq. ft. and it was too small for them, so 454 won't do.

My poor li'l putos won't be television stars.

Now what will we do?!?!

It was our only hope to making it big!!

OK.

I'm removing my tongue from my cheek now, but damn, I was really hoping for the kitty psychologist to come on in and help us with our kitty issues.

I guess I'll just have to keep drugging them with Rescue Remedy until we reach the great open land for them to chase bugs, instead of the real Psycho Kitty obsessively guarding the litter box so that The Bastard Prince and The Mrs. can't use it.

I did however, ask them if they'd like to do a reality show about two city slickers who are moving to a 3rd world country with not a fucking clue what we're doing.

I'm sure people would enjoy that insanity in our lives.

For now, you'll have to read about it, unless I actually figure out how the hell to make a video blog to reach people with A.D.H.D. and brain injury.

Example: people like me.

As much as I can write a blog, it sure takes me forever to read one.  Not to mention, read emails and navigate websites.  I read things without really knowing what the hell I'm reading, and wires are crossed in no time, all the time.

Anyway, I'm going to practise making our video blog of our journey, so that people can really get the gist of what a crazy adventure this will be.

I'm sooooo not technology savvy, unless it is my composing program.

Mind you, I taught myself the composing program without any classes, so perhaps I can teach myself a video editing program as well?

Speaking of adventures in reality, I didn't tell you about the word we got from My Boifriend about the adventure he had while house sitting our Fuzzy Family here.

You see, someone scaled the wall of our apartment.  My Boifriend startled him and he took off, but this is really troubling to me.

Here in Canada, if we try to defend ourselves, we'll wind up with an assault charge.

We're not allowed to take things into our own hands.  We can only call the police after the fact and wait for them to arrive long after the happening, then file a report.

Filing a report does not give me as much satisfaction as the thought of sticking a gun in someone's rancid mouth for trying to endanger my life.

But never mind a gun, if I was here and kicked the guy off causing him physical damage, it is I who would be charged for endangering someone's life.

I was getting very heated about the neighbourhood Spiderman, so I decided to distract myself from the anger, and go do my recycling.

Only, when I went down to do so, I found the thieves in the neighbourhood stole our goddam recycling bins.

Mother fuckers.

We came home from the land of smiling faces, to find out about a gay bashing in our hood, a border guard shot in the neck, a child committed suicide because of online bullying and someone scaling our apartment walls.

I know that a recycling bin is only a mere inconvenience for my paper that is overflowing, but when you put it all together with the scum of the earth we're surrounded by in this 1st world country, it makes me want to move to the DR TODAY.

Well, we're one day closer to getting the hell out.

Not to mention, today's the day I get to go do target shooting.

We really do need our own reality show.

However, it's not going to happen in Our Closet.

i strive to improve myself

Our welcome from the li'l putos.

I couldn't write for a few days, because I was sleeping.

Yup.

For a few days.

Not sure what's got me, but I never sleep on planes.

I slept on all three of them.

And in between them.

Then I came home to sleep some more.

I went to sleep at 8pm thinking, "Damn it's good to be home to my Fuzzy Family."

Until I woke up to Psycho Kitty leaving a gift of piss on the bed.

I actually woke up to it in the middle of the night, but was too busy sleeping to deal with it.

When I finally got my ass up, the only thing I wanted to do was spend a little more time with our toilet.

I gave the one in our hotel wayyyy too much attention.

I've gotta share the love.

While I was trapped on the throne, violently emptying my body of any nutrition I managed to eat while awake for short periods (ie: airport chips, Luna bars and pop), the cats decided to give me a welcome back scrap.

Nothing like being stuck on the shitter and not being able to do anything about the Tom Cat Operetta.

After meekly saying, "Papi?  You wouldn't happen to be up would you?" and not getting a reply, I decided to laugh, wait out my stomach being my worst enemy, then go make myself some coffee.

I just got my wits about me when The Bastard Prince also had to give me more welcome back love.

All over my computer desk.

Great gobs of vomit.  Good fucking morning.  Welcome back.  Fucking hell.

While cleaning it up, I never realized it was all over my sleeves as well.

That was of course until after I made myself some toast.

Nice.

I don't know how much got in my peanut butter, because of course, it was the same colour.

I missed these little jerks for what seemed like an eternity, and I suppose they missed us too, and are showing their gratitude for us being home.

In the only way they know how.

The Golden was feeling nasty as well.  He had the trots too.  It's splendid to try to pick that stuff up when it won't stay firm.

What I can say is, I'm grateful for what a great job My Boifriend did of taking care of our li'l putos.

And he didn't relapse while we were gone!

And he didn't steal from us!

And he fed the animals with their respective foods in their dishes instead of tossing their food all over the ground allowing them to fend for themselves!

We did come home to the cats being a little more hefty than they were before, but now that I'm back, they'll be on the 'No Fat Cats' diet.

Sorry mongrels.

The Temptation Treat Days are over.

We don't need diabetic cats.  We have enough to do.

Anyway, we are so happy that we finally made a good choice in our Fuzzy Family keeper.

We sent him home with Dominican coffee and hugs.

Thank you my dear, so so much.

I'm glad you only had to clean shit off the walls once.

i am a kind, caring and decent person

Paradise.

We are officially on our way.  We know this because we just shut off all our data roaming on our cells.

Papi gets so cranky when he's stressed.

I get so clueless.

Not a good combo.

However, now that Papi has his soda fix and I have my store bought coffee, which could never amount to my coffee I make at home, we are doing well.

Papi would like to make sure you know that the reason he's cranky is because he hasn't had his morning coke.

You know?

Papi's soda addiction?

It's better than that other addiction he frequented this year.

Anyway, my love is getting ready to hunker down on airport pancakes and I'm just trying to get my head wrapped around the fact that we're going to paradise.

The woman who checked us in gave us a great discounted rate for our 5 pieces being checked, which included: 2 MASSIVE UGLY bags, 2 overweight bags and my flight case with performing bass.

She doesn't realize how much of a gift she gave us and what it really means so us.

My Boifriend slept through all the cat meows.  They were honestly thinking that just because we got out of bed it was time to eat.

I don't know how anyone could sleep through that din!

Seriously.

And wow.

The nice people who are sending us off blow me away.

Maybe it's just our happiness attracting the beautiful vibes, but something really seems like it's a new start energetically.

There's a dude sitting behind us singing away like nobody is here, because he has his headphones on and is in another dimension.

It's a lot to take in.  I get really disoriented in all of this.

I feel like a little girl just looking around with wide eyes and curiousity.

Not to mention just wanting to talk to anyone who looks friendly because they are in a happy place too.

When I was a little girl, my mother bought me black patent shoes and I was so proud of them, I walked down the aisle on our public bus showing them to everyone, "I got new shoes!  Look at my new shoes!!"

This was a story my mother told me I was like.

I haven't really changed much.

Just learned how to control these emotions that have been within me.

And now dude behind us has broken out into a more percussion grunting melody, "Da, da.  Da.  Da, da, da. Da."

Not to mention the people frantic to get on their flight to elsewhere in the U.S.  Their energy is panicked, "Lemme on!!!  Fuck's sakes, lemme on!!!"

It's very chaotic right now.

I'm like a child.

Distracted at the simplest of shiny things.

Like how the sun shimmers on the ocean.

Paradise.

i have only positive mental pictures

monkey.

We've got everything packed for our 2 weeks, plus things that will be staying in the home we buy.

My boifriend came by to go over the Hector-Brown Pet PDF, and it seems he is now trained.

We'll be sending him into battle as of Sunday evening.

Poor soul.  I'm sorry.  Wear lots of leather.

Hopefully there won't be a repeat of the newest Psycho Kitty problem, pooing on the chihuahua's pee pad, then spreading it on the walls like a mental monkey.

Oh good god.

I'd love to talk more about the feces festival, however, that just may be too much info for ya.

The way we found the poo pile was because he was pushing around Sir Bark-A-Lot's pee pad, as if it was for him and he was cleaning it up.

We just laughed and thought it was a new silly antic.

It seemed like he was now an O.C.D. kitty who needs to have the place cleaner than clean. 

I was thinking that I was going to be living with a four legged crazy cleaner, after growing up with my mother who was nuts about cleaning and was cleaner than clean.

Maybe that's why I'm such a slob?

I'm still rebelling against my mother's cleaning habits.

Anyway, all morning, there was this odor we couldn't find.

We looked in the poo box and nothing was there.

Of course, we just blamed it on the dog. 

Old Mr. Farty, The Golden.

But then I went in to the washroom to clean out my coffee Bodum for today's cup of joy and blammo!

There it was.

Shit on the walls.

Oh sorry, I told you I wasn't going to talk about it.

How about I talk about the fact that Papi has thrown away my cleaning buckets!

Hey, why not!  He never uses them, so they're not really important, right?

There I was, with one of our FOOD BOWLS filling it full of vinegar and lemon juice, combining that with the organic, earth friendly spray cleaner to get the job started.

Well, as I was frantically looking for things to use for cleaning, Papi actually did the deed himself.

Phew!

Well, that was that.

Done.

The good news is, I'm feeling less stressed, but now it's Papi's turn.  We really do take turns.

You see, now I'm excited!

We are ready to get the last minute pre-trip organizing done, and then away we go for 2 weeks!

To the warm, health and energy.

Paradise in 2 more days.

i have a solid sense of self identity

The Happy Papi Dance

Last night, while I was writing the Pet PDF for My Boifriend to come tend to the Fuzzy Family, it occurred to me, we leave Monday.

We go to find our long-term home together.

We're bringing a lot of stuff with us on this trek, then leaving it in storage if we can't put it into the home we choose to spend a great portion of our life together in.

One of my sweet friends told me that her dad had a saying, "My dad calls it 'throwing your hat over' (as in, before you climb the fence to get to the other side you toss your hat over so you can't not do it or else you've lost your hat)."

Makes sense!  If you're going to get cold feet, leave some stuff there so you must return to claim it!  I loved that! 

My point is, as I was prepping, the thought developed that we're actually going.

It's happening.

Is it real?

It is!

It's not a dream, but sometimes, it seems that way.

People don't just up and change their lives all that often.

For the longest time, I've felt we weren't really going until we had that plane ticket booked.

About 10 minutes after I had these manic thoughts, I flipped on to Facebook and damn if mi esposo hadn't just posted the same damn thing.

He wrote, "Is this actually happening? Or am I dreaming? Happy Dance again :-) T- 6 days :->"

The thought of my love doing The Happy Papi Dance filled me with so much joy.

We're still bickering about absolutely inane, idiotic instances.

I'm still being passive aggressive to get my point across in those ridiculous fucking snits we get into, but something changed when I saw that Facebook status.

All my fears went away the moment I envisioned him doing The Happy Papi Dance.

He heals me just by being his silly self, and he doesn't even do it intentionally. 

That was the moment my apology to myself for acting like such a buffoon was accepted, and I pulled up my socks and got happy and excited.

This is the roller coaster.

I'm being told left, right and center that it's normal.

One friend explained, that as a child, her family was moving to another country and her parents were extremely stressed.

For a child to remember this, it must have made a big impact, which means this really is a big deal and it's normal for me to be such a fucking lunatic.

I just hate that it has brought out the worst in me.  The worst that Papi has never experienced.  He said, "You're acting really weird."

Understatement.

Yesterday, my behaviour had me thinking that maybe my doses of anti-depressants were off and I needed to go up a few milligrams.

The logical side of my brain presented itself, and I gave myself the option of going to paradise for two weeks and seeing how I felt and make a decision about dosage then.

Something tells me I won't be an orangutan once my skin breathes in the heat as I step off that plane.

Something tells me the moment my injured muscles allow the ocean to hold their struggling weight, my fears will be washed away with every wave, taken to the vast sea, where I won't have access to them anymore.

Something tells me that the joy of Papi and I starting our lives together by looking for homes will be the change I need to send Hurricane Andréa packing, not to return with our gargantuan, ugly suitcases.

Monday, this journey takes the next step.

This is not a test.  This is the real thing.

i dissolve all obstacles to having complete self-confidence

red flag

If you weren't pissed off enough from the G'ma predator post, this will make your blood boil for sure.

Upon speaking to one of her friends, we found out that he had done the same thing to her.

He intimidated this other lady by forcing her to sit with him at functions they both attend, he constantly came on to her, and when she refused his proposal of sex, he got angry at her, because she wouldn't let him come up to her apartment.

Red flag much?

That was enough for me to get the police involved.  They said that given her age and the fact that she has Alzheimer's, that they'd definitely set up a file for her.

Normally, the victim would have to be the one to report, but in this case, we could do the deed in her place.

We've set up the file and the other ol' fart is going to use the file case to make her complaint as well.

They now know where he lives, what he drives ...

... while he's drunk ...

... and what he's up to.

Turns out, they already have him on the radar.  They didn't specify as to what it was for, so we're assuming that it's for D.U.I.s.

I asked if he had a record of being a sexual predator, but he doesn't have a record for that.

Yet.

If he makes one more move, he WILL have a record as an offender.

We have no proof that he's done anything to our G'ma, but at least he's banned from the home and is on the radar of the police.

We're allllll watching you asshole.

I dare ya.  Make a step and test me.

After all the gramma drama of the police, and G'ma not really understanding why they were there, Papi and I had a much better evening.

We relaxed.  Everything is done, and now we just wait for the house to sell.

That was when I felt I could take a phone call from My Boifriend.

Sometimes, I just can't have a conversation, because I can't focus on anything other than the stress I'm freaked out by, but last night I did.

I'm so excited!  My Boifriend knows how to start the process of finding my big brother!

I feel the need to find him before we take off.  We have a bit of time.  The house has to sell and I have to finish up with my legal stuff in December.

So, we have a few months to find him!

I can't wait!

I really feel like this could happen.  The power of energy is important to remember.

Getting the energy out there that I'm looking for him may allow that beautiful positive energy to help me find him.

I believe I can.

I wonder if he's looking for us as well?  I wonder if he looks like me?  I wonder if he got the same Honky 'Fro that I got from our father?  I wonder if he has the same horrible crooked teeth? 

Oh, I guess I can't say that about myself anymore.  They're lookin' pretty straight and pretty now!

My Brace Face has really come a long way.

Anyway, as I sit here and write, I watch all the people walking past me and wonder, brother, where art thou?

It could be that man I just saw walk past. 

It really could be anyone.

i am stress free

normal? really?!?

So, Papi told me it's normal to get depressed after surgery.

Having that information is good, because I can tell myself that it's going to end, and that it's not coming from any other reasons.

I suppose all the sugar in my diet didn't help matters.

Like I told you, sugar is very problematic for my system, emotionally and physically.

Anyway, I feel like my body is one big sack of rotting potatoes, molding and morphing into another organic substance.

I'm so exhausted, that to just lift my arms isn't worth the effort.

So I won't even bother reaching for a drink of water.

My Boifriend called and I was so grateful he had more to talk about with himself, so I could just listen.

It was fun to mumble on the phone the other day to The Yank as well, but I can't feel my lips so it's hard to move them around.  They might fall off.

Oh, I'm obviously too tired to stay on topic.

Depressed.

Normal?

Horrible.

Every muscle in my body sinks into the couch.  If I got a little warmer, maybe I'd just melt into the leather.

Sir Bark-a-lot would probably just lick me up.  Actually, I'm pretty sure the whole Fuzzy Family would join in.

Part of what got me into this state was that yesterday, I decided today I would work on some music, but I just didn't have the will.  I just didn't have the strength.

The other part is the G'ma.  I was invited out to a games night/St. Patrick's Day sleep over with My Person, and originally I had said yes, however, Papi brought up a good point: we'd both be out of the house while G'ma was sleeping, because my love has to work another graveyard. 

That's not going to work.  We can't just leave the 96 year old Alzheimer's patient alone throughout the night.

I just saw all my freedom simmer away, like those little bubbles of water in a frying pan.  They just fizzle and burn, until eventually all they are is a tiny 'poof' of steam.

I just was told to stop driving, which isolates me in the furthest depths of my city.  Then the option to actually get out of the house to escape the dungeon was crushed because someone has to babysit the old fart and my love is working.

Yup.  Wallowing.

My bottom lip is swollen from the surgery, and a little bit more from the pouting.

After I succumbed to the acceptance of not going out, I realized, I'm too fucking tired to do anything anyway, so I started to keep a tally.

Every time that crazy old fart yells down the stairs, "Is the cat down there?" and then rolls her walker throughout the house bellowing for Psycho Kitty, I mark it down on a tally.

She was at 10 before she started drinking her sherry.  After the sherry she calmed down.

... hmmm ... i think i see a plan forming here ...

At least it was something to giggle at, instead of curse her, every time she screams down to my space reminding me that this is not really my home.

It's hers.

I thought about eating again, but eating means I have to actually remove myself from this spot.  Not to mention, I would have to clean up my mess of a mouth afterward.  That's a big commitment to make.

I just need to sit here and wallow until I get out of the Pit of Doom.

What's good however, is that I'm still doing my gratitude list every day with My Gratitude Buddy and now, also with my MC Guru.  I get a double helping of gratitude every day!

I thought that I wouldn't have anything to be grateful for, because I just lied here all day, but I was wrong.

There's always something.

I'm grateful that this depression is normal and will end.

it's not about getting a chance, it's about taking a chance

Boifriend Cuddles

What's good for the goose isn't necessarily good for the gander.

You know my lovely Valentine's Hearts that have filled our ceiling space?

So far, I've had My Gratitude Buddy and My Boifriend over and neither of them found them to be very sweet.

They didn't like the fact that they have creative pieces of file folders tapping them in the head as they walked through our tiny space of a dungeon suite.

"Doesn't this drive you crazy?!?!"

No.

Actually, Papi and I both love them.  We both want them to stay up for a little while longer.

My love came up with the reason.

It's our celebration of love.

Our loving hearts fill our home and they're for us, and no one else.

I will allow every little love filled piece of paper to gently rub across my forehead as I walk through the room.

Not to mention, we've both found secret little pathways to get around them when we don't want to be tickled by their presence.

I do have to say, the other day I accidentally slept in and only had 5 minutes to get ready and 15 minutes to get to my destination.

That was when they weren't very much fun.

A couple of them got knocked down from flailing of arms as I put on a shirt and walked at the same time.

But none-the-less, our hearts are still very present.

They're for us.

This is why they're still there.

Not all of us are made for one another.

I have a friend who just had a horrible breakup, and she blames herself.

From what I heard about the story, they just weren't a good match.

We can try all we want when we have a difficult relationship, but if we're not made for one another, we really need to take a step back and ask ourselves if this is the right path.

There is nothing wrong with loving the person who isn't right for us.

As a matter of fact, one of the hardest things to do is love someone we can't live with.

I do know that if Papi and I weren't the 'match' we needed, we never would have made it through the first year of this male transformation.

Let me tell you how much I loved my cuddles yesterday.

I had some snuggles during the day when Papi had gone out for a chat with a friend, and I stayed home being consoled by My Boifriend.

I'm still not better from the medication withdrawal.  I'm still on crackers and running to the washroom when there's the slightest trouble in tummy land.

I rested my head against his lap, curled beside him like a puppy, and it was so wonderful just to lie and have someone sit near me.

Later, I had my spooning from Papi and it finished off my day beautifully.

I had all the love I needed throughout this week from my amazingly wonderful friends.

Still, it comes back to, I need my love to hold me for all of my life.

loving myself heals my life.  i nourish my mind, body and soul

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

no surprises!! ever!!

Papi and I had an epic fail yesterday.

I finally got some income and decided to get a few snacks for the visitors we'll be seeing this weekend.  A couple of our closest friends will be coming by here on this eve of Xmas, and my baby sister and family will be coming by on Xmas day.

I thought I could at least get my love some cashews as a token gift, considering we haven't had a penny to spend on each other, and it's something I could grab fast just to give my love a treat to open.

However, I'll have to go with Plan B.

I announced, "I'm going up to the store to grab some snacks and comfort food to get us through the next few days.  What would you like me to get you?"

My love got ready to come along, so I reassured Papi, "You don't have to come if you don't want to.  Maybe you just need to rest?"

Papi replied, "No, I'm good to go."

"No really sweety, I think you should rest."

Mi esposo looked at me sideways and said, "Were you going to surprise me with something?"

AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!

There are no surprises for Papi ever!  I try so hard, and as soon as my love asked this, my face gave it away.

Papi knew, because I'm no good at lying!

So damn, I thought we'd go together and get my love anything he wants, because I on this day I can.

We got some treats that we like and some snacks for our friends.  Not too much.  We only need to cover a few days.

We toddled up to the local grocery store, Stong's Market.

This is the kinda store where the local rich folks shop at without consciousness of how much they're spending.  I'm an avid bargain hunter, so this stroked my fur the wrong way, but there was not much open at 9:30 p.m. when my cheque finally came through last night.

We went to the till with our goodies and when the total came up, we both looked at each other like we'd been robbed at gunpoint.

$110 for 'a few' snacks.

We live in the wrong neighbourhood for our current financial means, where one person finally got Long Term Disability, and the other is still waiting for the medical EI from the surgery 2 months ago.

But we paid up and left feeling assaulted.

My love didn't get his Xmas cashews, but he got his Xmas Mario's Gelati Hedgehog ice cream.

I got my Coconut Bliss Chocolate Hazelnut Fudge 'ice cream'.

And now, the time has come to sit around and eat really fattening food for 2 days.

Not to mention the zits that will come with this truck load of yummies.

But it's ok.

Because I'm happy today.

Are you still keeping up with your gratitude?  One more week of positive thinking and this 'special time' will all be over.

I'm grateful for feeling happy.

I'm grateful to have received income so I can eat comfort food.

I'm grateful for the sweet stranger in the gym locker room yesterday, who is on the same venture of thinking positively during this 'special time'.

I'm grateful for this computer that I can use as a vessel for my creativity.

I'm grateful for my beautiful, antique, Heintzman piano that I'll be playing for a few days while there's nothing but Xmas carols bombarding every air wave that exists.

I'm grateful for my awesome aunts who are so full of love and make me feel supported.

I'm grateful that My Boifriend is here this weekend, even if he's too busy to see me.

I'm grateful for the confidence I had to write to one of my favourite film makers and tell him I want to make music for his films, because our lives are too short to let our fear of rejection get the better of us.

i yam what i yam

The funniest part about me asking Papi if he is gay, is that he's now backtracking everything he says in terms of the topic.

"I'm just saying I find them attractive, but it's not that I'm gay."

That is just one of the examples.

My love doesn't understand how much I trust him.

If he tells me he's not gay, then I believe him.

However, methinks thou dost protest a tad too much.

hmmmm ... maybe my love needs another panicked wake up to me hovering over him in bed, after accidentally taking too much medicinal cannabis crack butter, and bark out ridiculous questions ... that would be fun ...

But you see, I'm not even asking Papi anything about it.

He'll be speaking sweetly about someone who he admires and out will blurt, "But I'm not gay!"

It's a bit like a game now.

Last night, we were discussing My Boifriend.

He claims to be gay, but is now in full throws of love with a woman.

That doesn't make any sense with the statement that he's gay.

When it comes to being transsexual, it's really only a one sided sexual preference term anyway.

Seriously.

If Papi is now in the 'man zone', and he loves me, outsiders would consider him straight.

But I'm not straight, and I don't consider myself so.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'm always going to be who I am, and nothing that Papi has done to his body and chemistry has made me change into someone I don't want to be.

I am a butch loving lesbian.

I have been so since I was a teen.  I've been so since that time that I couldn't really understand the feelings that I was having about the girls on sports teams.

Hott!!

I'd watch them be masculine in their own way.  They didn't know the feelings I had about them being butchy with their basketballs and soccer balls.

good god ... that was wayyyyy too many balls in one sentence ...

The ones I thought were sexy turned out to be straight anyway.  It was only the idea of them being butch that I was attracted to, but I honestly didn't even know what I was feeling back then!

I'd see bull dykes on the bus and wonder why I was getting so hot and bothered.

I thought these emotions were because I wanted to be like them, but this femme could never be butch.

As much as I'm more like a tomboy in every day life, I like playing dress up too much.

I like to sashay my way through a crowd of dykes, in my best ass outfits, in hopes that the butchiest of the butches will notice my overly round booty and appreciate it.

Yes.

I'm a true femme.

And just because I still love mi esposo despite the changes that are taking place does not make me any different than I was when I fell in love with the world's most perfect butch.

Well, I do have to admit, I think a bit differently since the bomb was dropped last year.  I'm growing, learning and accepting so much more about this male transformation.

I guess I'm the lucky one.

I got the last tidbits of the world's most perfect butch.

'She's' all mine.

I see her light in the twinkle of love in mi esposo's eyes.

Nobody will ever take that away from me.

Introducing, The Hector-Browns

I suppose we're famous now.

The other day, a friend was with some acquaintances, who brought along another friend.

does that make sense? damn i hope so ... the friend that was brought along didn't know that my friend knew us ... god i think i've made it even more confusing ...

Well, my friend had this little gathering somehow get on to the topic of Papi and I.

It was at that point that someone who has no idea who we really are said, "Oh, you mean 'The Hector-Browns'?" with a forked tongue and a little bit of venom spewing.

I know people say when you're married that you become one, and damn.  We really are.

We are no longer independent human species.

We are one:  The Hector-Browns.

But the point is, we're fucking hated by people who have no idea about what is between the lines of our relationship and feelings toward one another.

I'm ok with this grand title.

You see, I've had pods of lesbians hating me for ridiculous rumours all over the city from the moment I came out of the closet.

It hurt at first, but I soon learned that if you want to have your creativity out in the world, people will love you and people will hate you.

It's polarity.

I actually dealt with cliques from a young age, so I'm used to it.  It doesn't mean anything to me.

Papi, however, has not.

Mind you, my love, had a stint with being hated while being an active drunk.  There was a while where my love really enjoyed getting a rise out of the uber-politically correct.

None-the-less, I really think it's pretty awesome that we are known as The Hector-Browns.

I love giving people titles.  It's easier than remembering names sometimes.

And I'm not talking about pronouns and sexual orientation.

For example: My Person, My boifriend, and now the most recent inductee: The Chef Extraordinaire.

I haven't really mentioned him yet, but damn.  Papi and I were given an amazing 5 course meal by The Chef Extraordinaire.

This was for My Boifriend's last Vancouver meal.

He's gone back to his island.

goddam off topic ... again ... where was i? o ya right ...

Anyway, what I was going to get at was that only a year ago, I was afraid of being hated by the Rah-Rah-Trannies.  This left me comatose, but I'm good now, and I'm ready for the people who may fart in our general direction as Papi and I walk down the street.

But honestly, to be given our reigning title was a huge compliment to me.

If my love and I were boring, nobody would even care.

Being disliked so strongly means we're interesting.

So, there ya go.

I'm pretty sure we're famous now.

We are The Hector-Browns.

We are one unit.

Now I will go tend to chores, in our Hector-Brown house and our Hector-Brown Fuzzy Family.

We got a whole lotta love over here.

Sperm.

They really shouldn't allow 2 brain injured people who get confused to lead each other around, or they will simply go in circles like a dog chasing it's tail.

Like yesterday.

I drove downtown to meet My Boifriend, who happens to be gay, but has now found a femme love interest, which I suppose would now make him bi-curious?

Anyway, like the classy lady I am, I pulled up to the curb and had him throw his house, or rather stuffed duffel bag, and even more stuffed computer case into the backseat of our vehicle.  The entertaining part was when he bellowed, "You're making me hold up a bus!" with a panicked bark.

of course my dear, that's the way i roll... i like pissing people off ...

After we laughed about the lack of comfort we just encountered, we decided to find somewhere to have our hang out.

Well, here's where it got fun.

We spoke about where we should go before he had to meet up with the next friend.  I'm sure it will be like that for him the entire weekend.  You know how it is.  Too many people who love him and too little time to spread it around.

We decided on coffee and I started driving to my favourite, ethical coffee joint, JJ Bean.  I then realized I'm a little hungry and perhaps he was too, as it was dinner time.  So we aborted the coffee trek and headed to find something wheat and dairy free for my finicky body.

Sounds pretty normal, right?

Well, with 2 brain injured people trying to make choices, we wound up exactly where we started from.

Yup.

One big 360 degree circle of driving.

Next was the decision of which million dollar parking lot to park in.  In downtown Vancouver, a buck will get you a cool 10 minutes.

Anyway, I had decided on a falafel plate for my sinful meal, but when we parked I changed my mind.

such is the life of a brain injured person ... please don't give me options ...

This was fine with My Boifriend.  He's pretty easy.  Well, when it comes to food that is.  I wouldn't know about anything else, considering he's my platonic boifriend.

Mind you, I did have a dream that Papi and him were making out.  Is that weird or what?

Usually I dream about Papi having sex with me, but somehow my mind said it was ok for them to have a go.

Good thing it was a dream.  Wouldn't know how I'd feel about my monogamous soul mate sleeping with my gay, and/or bi-curious-ish, FTM boifriend.

Oh, there I go off topic.  Again.

Topic: food.

We ...

or rather i ...

... did manage to make a decision on Mexican.  We went to Mucho Burrito, where My Boifriend treated me to an evil meal of wheat and dairy free, sodium exaggerated junk food.  It was deliciously bad for me.

The sad part is, this restaurant is on the outer edge of the Davie Village, so the gays, trannies, dykes, and all the other people who will be going to hell with us, tend not to make it into this restaurant.

too bad for you guys! cross the burrard boundary and give it a go! i recommend it!

We had a little extra time before his next social gathering, so we went for a walk in the cool autumn, verging on winter, air.

it was about at this time that i was truly grateful that i had indeed taken 'too much' crack butter.

We went somewhere that I haven't seen yet.  The Vancouver Convention Center at the Burrard Inlet.

And here's what we found:

A big blue sperm.

I'm pretty sure that if Papi and I used this bugger ...

... we would have gotten pregnant and stayed that way!

Anyway, I guess we didn't do too badly for two brain injured people.

We ate, got to where we were going on time, and then I got to come home to Papi, who said more than one word!  It was almost like normal!

It's an improvement.

heal papi heal ... i miss your silliness ...

Now who's the old fart?

So, I'm feeling a lot less homicidal.

I was trying to limit my pain killers to see where my pain level was at, and I realize it's not time to do that yet.

When I'm in pain I'm a fucking hag.

The day I went down to The Yank's birthday, a few people had said, "It's so nice to see Andréa smiling again."

I felt horrible that people saw me as miserable.  I hate being miserable.

The point is though, while in the neighbouring country, I was smiling because I had pain relief.

So, yesterday I decided not to suffer just to see where my pain level is and took the pain killers.

I was much nicer to the G'ma after that point.

I spoke with one of my sweet Blogger Friends yesterday, when I realized that I was suffering for no reason.

I was telling her not to suffer and yet, there I was suffering.  So I changed that situation.

Then I realized taking care of Papi is not so hard.  He's been sleeping 99.9% of the time since we've returned from the hospital.

Not too much 'caretaking' to do there, eh?

Not to mention, when Papi is actually awake, there are no words coming out of his mouth.  Well, other than, "Can you get me some soup?"

We now have the Galloping Gazelle come to stay for the weekend.  I'm sure I'll be more than busy now.  The object of the game is to stop the Galloping Gazelle from jumping on Papi's stomach.

Which is hard.

The Galloping Gazelle is quite the jumper.  Fortunately, Sir Bark-A-Lot is usually guarding Papi from the footrest of the laid out La-Z-Boy.

Most people who have spoken to me about my lack of understanding my 'feelings' lately have had a unanimous vote.

I'm healing.  I'm feeling better about Papi and the male transformation.

I suppose they're right.

It feels a lot better than trying to pull out 'bad' feelings, if I'm having them.

I guess in some ways I am having them, considering Papi keeps asking me, "Are you sure you're alright?"

I'm very agitated lately, and I have to imagine, it's my way of working out whatever it is I have to work out.

Apparently, now that my love has no female bits, the transformation will start to really kick in.

I can say, the one thing I'm happy about is that Papi will be going through menopause before me.

My love is constantly teasing me about being the older woman, ...

... hmpf ... i look younger than anyone my age so piss off ...

... but now that Papi is going to have hot flashes before me, I have ammunition.

The next time my love chooses to tease me about being the older one in the relationship, I can easily say, "Yeah?  Well, who just went through hot flashes baby?!  Who's the older one now?!?!"

One thing I did realize today after briefly speaking to My Boifriend who happens to also have brain injury, ...

... and who i get to have a hangout with today yay! ...

... is that rushing anything with brain injury is not going to work for us.  He proved that theory by trying to pack his cat in the suitcase for his venture to the big city.

I realized that part of my homicidal tendencies this week are because I have too much on my plate for one brain injured person.

When I feel stressed, I just can't deal.  I can't even figure out how to log out of a page on this here computer.

I need to go slo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-w.

Anyway, point is, Papi is now the older man, regardless of the number.

Feeling sweaty yet my dear tranny?

Mwahahahaha ...

The day has come ...

The videoshoot was awesome.

I was told to stand in one place and, "Don't move." 

there's some orders i like to take ...

I can do that well, as long as my feet are grounded I won't wobble.

The best part of the day was when I was told there was too much boob in the shot.  Never has that happened in my life.

Anyway, they were so amazingly sensitive to my bitch of a back's needs, that I didn't wake up unable to get out of bed.

I woke up to a mewing of desperate cats, a cacophony of small dog barks, coffee in hand and a beautiful day to share with you the amazing phone call I received two days ago.

It's given me new ambition for what I'm doing here.

A friend, who has very quickly risen to Trust List stardom, called Papi and I the other night.

Papi calls him My Boifriend.  He's one of my favourite people right now, that's for sure.

He showed my article to some friends, who happen to have partners who have gone through the transformation with their loves.

The partners of the transitioning folks in these relationships cried when they read my article, saying, "This was exactly how I felt, but I couldn't say it."

They were afraid to speak.

Oh, how I understand.  And oh, how I want so badly to hold them and take away their fears, but I can't.  I can only support them, doing it on their own.

When My Person came over on the eve of a new year, she had no idea how much she would change my life from chronic, catatonic, La-Z-Boy dweller to the roaring lioness I feel I have become.

There have been a few opinions spewed onto my blob/blab, that I'm appreciative of having.

One of my ex's said it perfectly.  I was shocked that people would allow horrid homophobic words to be published.  This wise ex said, "It's important for everyone to know what's out there.  We need to know what we're up against."

And this is how I feel about the name calling that I've been subject to since the article.  I know what I'm up against.

I'd rather have people excreting the hate to my face, than behind my back.

For some reason, I like to hear the flip side.

And at the same time, I also flourish when those around me who love me fight back in my defense.

sticks and stones bitches ... sticks 'n stones ...

It's important for myself, and others who are like minded, that we hear what people are arming themselves with.

my favourite was 'crude' ... is it so wrong that i like it?!

One comment from the article asked, where on earth I heard such silencing words.  Where were these people who label us transphobic and hate us for our honest feelings?

Check the comments out, that's all I have to say.

They're there in black and white.

These were the people who kept me silenced for 6 weeks straight.

Well, for those who need someone else's voice to say it for them, I want to tell you, I'm here roaring louder with every day I get stronger.

You can speak about your grief, We will never see it as fear.

We'll see it as healthy growth, and will watch you remove each fear one by one, as you see your love change into the person that you didn't know was inside that previous confinement.

We are the luckiest people to have the experience of watching our soul mates be released to freedom, which in turn helps us grow into someone we never knew we could be.

I'm out the other side now.

I'm ready to be Your Person.