goodbye

All good things must come to an end.

I believe that time has come for this blog.

It started out I needed it.

I needed 'you', the reader I didn't know.

I needed support from those who have walked the same path as I.

I needed to see my counter go up, up, up, every day from readers I don't know from here to Russia, in hopes that they would show me how to love myself and be proud of who I am.

I needed so much love.

I believe I've found that love, for myself.

I've fought through the tears of those in an entire 'community' who intentionally hurt me.

I've fought through the tears of losing my butch.

I've fought the good fight with anorexia and depression, and I still continue to give my chemical imbalance a work out, only now it's with a machete instead of boxing gloves.

Still, none of that changes the fact that I've needed a life change to change me.

Oh, how I got it.

It's time to move forward.

It's time to finish writing those novels I started.

Maybe on the balcony with my morning coffee as I look out at the white noise.

It's time to get up in the morning and turn on my programs to compose music just like I did before the motorcycle accident.

Which is really why we are here.

To have a life beyond the suffering I was dealt from my bitch of a back.

I'm almost at the 5 year mark of healing from that disaster.

My Living Day Anniversary.

It can't heal my brain injury and subsequent memory fail and loss of balance, but I can strive for the life I once led.

As a different person.

I have changed.

We all change.

We all grow, if we try.

I grew.

It's time to put that growth to music now that I have the ability, with the help of loving tropical heat, to sit to do so.

I'm not saying I won't return.

Of course I need my soapbox every once in a while.

My opinions are strong and I lead them with conviction, regardless of how many people try to silence me.

Perhaps it's time to start a wave here?

Power to women?

Power to those with cancer and chronic pain who are denied the simple, ethical relief from that hell I know so well.

To not give local anesthesia to a child who needs stitches in his head is barbaric.

I've suffered 4 months of pain of a torn ankle ligament without meds.

Perhaps I need to make some pain relief in the form of cookies to help those who need it.

There's a lot in this country that could use a voice.

I may keep my voice for here.

Or, I may just knowingly live with the 'rules', then break them.

I don't know.

What I do know, is it's time to step away from my morning ritual of blogging.

I'm not saying goodbye to 'you'.

I'm just saying it' time to start that New Life List.

i am the only 'sign' i need

in my element

That was the most fun I've had since we got here.

I went to Dream Project to watch the music class and get a feel for it.

Getting there was entertaining enough.

Our damn jalopy over heated.

I wanted to get there early, so I left an hour early.  They said to be there at 9, but being the eager beaver I am, I wanted to be there at 8.

Damn am I grateful that people start work so early here.

When the car overheated, I basically coasted for half an hour, then pulled into a garage that was open to get more water to add to our coolant.

That did the trick and I was off again.

I got there 20 minutes early.

I still looked like I was rarin' to go.

Then when I was there, the teacher saw me and was so happy, because not only did it mean that I could possibly drive down the road to get him a keyboard at a local bar, but it also meant I could help him teach.

There is one teacher for 5 guitars, a bass, 2 drummers and 2 keyboard players.

He was so happy that I could take over for the keyboards and teach them while he went and taught the rest.

I was so happy, because it was the first sheet music I've played in a year.

A year!

A year ago, we started into the mania of the gramma dramma and there was no time for me to make music.

Then it was all about prepping the house, selling it and moving into Our Closet.

There was no sheet music.

No piano.

So, today my brain had to work overtime to get back into the swing.

And swing it was.

These kids were learning jazz for crying out loud!

I was so incredibly impressed at their talent and ability to just copy what I played them.

My heart pounded with the excitement of a challenge, and the joy of seeing how I could help those wee, short people.

Then I looked around and realized, I was in my element.

I was back to me.

Of course, being a keener, I also have low self-esteem and didn't know if I did a good enough job.

Afterward, the teacher asked me how I like it and I told him I love it, then said I wanted to know if I did a good enough job.

I asked him, "I don't know how much you wanted from me, but was it good enough?"

He was happy with what I did and more than pleased for me being there to help him make his job easier.

We thanked each other about 20 times back and forth.

I guess I did good.

I go back on Wednesday to work for free, but fill my heart with glee.

Then when I arrived home, some of the sweet children in the village stopped me to give me a flower, a mango and a frozen treat that I'll give Papi.  It looks too deliciously sugared for my body.

However, it was then that it occurred to me that I said I would teach music to them in July.

We're getting awfully close to July and I haven't started to prepare for the kidlets!

So, I asked one of the older girls if she would help me.

As soon as I'm finished with this blog and finished my salad, off I go to count heads, and spread the word that on Saturday, we start our choir.

I also realized, that damn, I'm going to have to spend money on a keyboard that I can practise on.

I didn't anticipate this opportunity at Dream Project, so the keyboard I bought was strictly for programming music on my computer.

Wow.

This was my kinda day.

It reminded me of who I was before the motorcycle accident.

The vibrant girl who is eager and ready for the joy and challenge of music.

when i believe in myself, so do others

Here's your Sunday morning bitch.

Getting a new computer is time consuming.

Not only do you have to make sure you've successfully transferred everything from your last computer, but you also have to play around to find all the new bells and whistles!

I've been sucked into the vortex of the new computer netherworld!

Yet, it's not all fun and games, and I'm sure you'd know I have something to complain about or I just wouldn't be me, now would I?

So, here's a few beefs I have about my new Mac computer.

Why the fuck doesn't Apple have a 'Word Document' option?

They won't even let me use my old 'Word' application from my last computer, because it's too out of date.

What do they care?

Why make it useless if you're not even going to give us another one?  Everyone who uses Mac uses Microsoft Word anyway!

Oh.  They'll give us the good for nothing 'GarageBand'.

Ok.

I guess it's not meaningless for people who can't play an instrument or compose.  It's good for them to be able to use the generic sounds that the rest of the world who doesn't know how to make music uses.

But, to me, it's a waste because I don't want to sound like the rest of the world.

Not to mention 'Photo Booth'.

Have we become so fucking lazy and narcissistic that we can't even take the time to use a proper camera while we take pictures of ourselves?  And do we REALLY need a picture of ourselves sitting at the computer?!?!

Who the fuck needs this?!?!?

When I'm sitting at the computer, I don't want anyone to see me!

My hair looks like a brillo pad atop my head, I've got my coffee stained t-shirt on and no pretty femme make-up on!

No thank you.

No, you don't get to see me while I write my blog.

Still, they give you 'Notes'.  Another impractical item.

You can't send them to anyone.  I might as well use the one in my phone.

Which I don't, because it's of no use!!!!!!

I've now put all my documents into 'Google Docs'.

I will gladly share them with you, if you need them, but only if you also have a Gmail account.

Fuck Apple and their lack of documentation ability.

I don't mind the 'Face Time' option.  It's going to come in handy when we're abroad.  However, not everyone has a Mac computer.

It's kinda futile unless I know someone with a Mac.

Really, the only reason I needed a new computer was so that I could get to work on editing my documentary about our move to Casa Paraíso.

The iMovie app is working out just fine.

People who know how to use the fancy professional apps like Final Cut Pro would probably feel the same about iMovie as I do about GarageBand, but I'm not a pro movie maker.

Yet!

... enter evil 'i'm going to take over the world' laugh here ...

I just wanna get the silliness of choosing to uproot our lives out to the world.

Anyway, to make MY life simpler here's what I want the world to do.

Everyone run out and get a Mac computer so that I can talk to them on 'Face Time', and I want everyone get a Gmail account so that I can share my docs with you.

This will please me.

We all know you don't wanna piss me off.

I'm a cranky li'l bugger.

i love being cheerful and i love smiling

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

lucky bitch?

Do we ever stop looking to the other side of the fence, wanting more?

It's a strange phenomenon.  No matter where we get to in life, there's always more we wish for, or maybe it's just me?

Since we've bought our dream home, we constantly hear, "You're so lucky!"  We are, and we're also lucky enough to be very grateful, which is to our benefit of knowing joy.

There's something that people have to understand, though.  If I hadn't have been hit on my motorcycle and had to rewire my brain for walking, memory and function, I wouldn't have had this 'luck' of having a beach front house in paradise.

We'd have a home, but not the beauty we have right now, with the opportunity to rest our bones.  We would have to work more than full time.

Still, there's something that I long for, that I can no longer have.

Months before the accident, I was in the process of finishing my latest HECTOR CD, was an intern studying the process of being a studio engineer/producer and was working my way up the ladder in the music industry.

During this time, I had a conversation with Chad Kroeger about my music.  True to the boys club of the music industry, he was going on about 'what sells', and without even hearing my music was telling me I wasn't good enough.

Indignantly, I declared, "You know what, I KNOW you'd like my music, so I really don't GIVE a fuck."

I stormed away, but felt a tap on the shoulder.  When I turned around, it was Chad with a look on his face seemed to say, 'you'll never work in this town again', but instead he verbalized, "You know what?  That was really fucking cocky.  Now I wanna hear your music."

Just a few months later, I was in the throws of feeling like I was walking on a canoe and having 5 minute memory, never mind having the cognitive know how to turn on my computer, or how to work my recording programs.

Forget about holding my bass guitar!

So, 'luck'?

I still have such execrable distress for everything that has been stolen from me by losing those 4 years to recovering from that motorcycle accident.

Last night's torment was no less loathsome.

I needed to take some of Papi's clonazepam, because the angst I was feeling made me want to shrink into inadvertence.

Once that accident happened, my life changed.  In 4 years of the music industry, you become nobody once more, and you need to start from the very beginning again.  Everything I worked for was erased in those 4 years.

Oh, and the hard work of getting my life back to liveable has worn on my face, leaving me with a few more wrinkles and grey hair.  I'm no spring chicken and I certainly don't have fake tits.

My love had to remind me, that at one point I was short-listed by Courtney Love herself, for Hole, and that I should be proud of what I accomplished prior to that fateful day.

I allowed myself pride, then almost cried that my performing career has been stripped from me in a second's worth of time by a woman who made an error in judgement, when her illegal U-Turn changed my life.

So, when people sometimes get a little bit green with envy, or those who really don't like me wonder, "How the hell does someone like her deserve that?!" I have to remind myself and others, that they're just looking at my life from the wrong angle.

When someone says, "I want your life," I wish I could say, "You really don't know what you're saying."

What if I never got hit and inherited that big record deal?  What if I landed that big gig as the bass goddess of rock?

Would I have this life with mi esposo?  Would I be have been so fortunate to be as happy as I am now?

My life changed, and I can't say for better or for worse, it just changed.  Life will change for all of us, sometimes the way we want, sometimes not.

One thing I can say is, I have learned what it means to go with the flow of it, even when it brings tears of loss.

My life has been quite the ride.

Sometimes, the changes and loss really hurt, but someway, somehow, I have to believe there is still a magical life of music out there for me to continue with.

Every cloud has a silver lining, and currently, mine has an ocean view.

i am successful

Thank you to all my dearest readers.

Stage one of The Great DR Purge is complete.

I was thinking yesterday about how comfortable it is to not have so much 'stuff'.

Had I have known all those years that all that crap I dragged around with me would be going, I would have chucked it before.

Being a musician, we tend to be hoarders, as we can't part with items we have musical history with.  I learned that one the hard way, when I was so hard up for cash, I sold my first keyboard.

I tried to ask the guy I sold it to if I could buy it back, as he didn't perform or make music anymore, but no dice.  I was so heartbroken that my keyboard was just sitting there collecting dust.

With all the sounds I have on my composing programs, I no longer need it.

Anyway, there are only a few items left and it's amazing how clear the air feels.

My kitchen is actually clean!  It's kinda like the third phase of learning how to be a minimalist. 

Phase one was training I received from The Bastard Prince.  If I leave ANYTHING on the counters, he hunts it, kills it and devours it.

He'll never stop being feral, so I changed my cleaning habits and promptly put things away when I decided to leave the kitchen.  He trained me good.

Phase two was the sewage flood.  I learned to live with only 'needs'.

Now, not having much left to speak of, there's less clutter and less cleaning up to do.

Less mess to look at and ask my bitch of a back, "Do you think you could last another 30 minutes so I could clean that shit up?"

She usually says, "Fuck off."

I don't argue with her anymore.  She always wins.

Papi is also a good motivator.

If I don't go through things on my own, he may consider it junk and pitch it.

... one person's crap is another person's gold ...

We've butted heads a few times on items, like for instance, my gazillion journals from life as a teen onward.

I did a poll on Facebook, as well as with my Blogger Friends on G+, to see how many people say I should keep them.  The poll was unanimously for keeping them.

I won!

... i knew i would, i just needed proof hehehe ...

Really, my journals died off after my motorcycle accident, but I have this new fancy dancy journal called Blogger that I actually get to share with people.

Some folks would be horrified by sharing too much information here on a blog.

I spoke to one person yesterday who confirmed this and outted herself as one of my secret readers.

She told me she reads all the time and appreciates the raw feelings I emote with every tippity-tap of my fingers on this laptop keyboard.

She also told me something that I know to be true of most readers, as I get an average of 120 reads a day; she doesn't leave a comment, because she's too shy.

I may come across as crass when I vent on here like a madwoman, but in reality, I'm really a nice person!  Don't be afraid to say hello!!!!

Even putting a smiley face in a comment would please me greatly.

I know you're all out there, and I'd love to hear from you, even if it's in a private email.

I appreciate you all so much, and you've made me so proud to see you've all allowed my blog to reach the landmark of 50,000 reads.

You, and my imaginary friend, are the reason I still keep going.

I adore you, as well as the people who read who don't agree with me on various topics.

Yes, I appreciate your comments as well, even if I may get a bit pissy with you when I don't agree with you either.

Thank you for being here, and thank you for joining me as I march toward my next landmark.

i love and accept all my thoughts and feelings

You get what you need.

There has been so much stress around The Great DR Purge, but at the same time, there have been amazing moments of looking at the past, and where I've come.

Good.

Bad.

Sad.

Realllllllly ugly.

It doesn't really matter, it's all my past and it's mine.

I found 4 pages containing, "If I Could Be, Do and Have Everything I Wanted" that I was instructed to write out when I first got clean 'n sober in '99.

We all know life doesn't always give us what we want, but damn!  I got a few things on that list.

Work/Career:  Ok, I'm not a famous rock star, but I'm at least able to compose.

Income:  Nope.  Not making that $6,000 a month from performing and royalties, but I'm financially well enough to eat and have a home.

Lifestyle/Possessions:  I got that motorcycle I wanted, only it almost killed me.  Unfortunately, there was no side car, because my Dearly Departed Gypsy left the planet before I could get her a side car with a fancy helmet that fits dogs.

Relationship:  OK!!!!  I got one of them!!  Well, sorta.  I wanted to be with a sober woman who has all the qualities I ever wanted and we would dote upon each other with love and honesty. 

Got it!  Umm ... however, it's in the form of an F-M.  That one cracks me up.  I guess I've come a long way if I can say that cracked me up, no?

Creative Self-Expression:  Well, it's sorta true.  I do work with many musicians, and I do have a cult following, albeit not as big as I aimed for in my wishes.

Leisure Activities:   Nada.  I had to give up boxing a long time ago.  Yes, I boxed.  Quit laughing.

Personal Growth:  Ok, kinda.  I do still go to counseling, but nope.  I've still not learned how to meditate.

Education:  This one is awesome.  I thought I'd be a personal student to Deepak Chopra.  I suppose anything can still happen in this life.  Maybe I need to give him a call.

I also thought I'd be living in 2 homes.  One here and one in Hollywood.

Ok.  The home I wanted here was in Point Grey.  Can you believe that's where I'm living?

There's nothing on there about moving to paradise in the Dominican Republic.

I guess my point of all this, is I strongly encourage you to write out your dreams and passions.

Put them on paper!  Then put them away for a long, long time.

Later on, bring them out and take a peek.

It's amazing.

It was truly sad sometimes, reading about all the goals I had that I'll never attain now that I have a different mind and body, but what I can say, is my life is amazing.

It's beautiful.

I could never have envisioned my life changing experience of nearly dying to bring me all I ever needed.

I didn't know what I needed.

Oh, but I knew what I wanted.

Sometimes, we need to look back and see that our lives have become a completely different scenario than we expected, but expectations are ridiculous.

Expectations are meant to be screwed up.

That's the rule of life.

The secret to life, is wanting what you have.

When I read my '99 hopes and dreams, and look at where I am now, I can honestly say, I have found happiness in my life that I never imagined.

Happiness amongst life's terms.

'you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need' ~ The Rolling Stones

Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land

So here I sit, waiting for pain killers to set in, and letting brain settle from 2 days of catch up on the most current film score.

I wanted to chat about what I forgot ...

... who me? forget? ...

... to do: I failed to take a picture of my straightened hair.

Some people got confused, and thought that perhaps I'd accepted my role in this transgender relationship by letting go of my butch loving title.

Nope.  I'm not straight.

My hair was.

Emphasis on was.

My hair didn't take too long beat the heat of straightening.

It started to curl without permission of the chemicals, and from there it became a free-for-all of which of my locks could be the fuzziest on my head.

Anyway, I'll be heading back to my cousin's salon to get it done again, and I'll take pictures for sure.  I just didn't realize how quickly my hair would shoot back to Honky 'Fro status.

But as I sit trying to write about my hair, I am bombarded with notifications on Facebook.

Every last one of them has been for the Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land.

Yes.

It gets an excessive title, as it seems to be the most important happening in Papi's world.

next to me of course ...

Mi esposo loves Sims so much, that he has 2 personalities' games he plays.

One of them is from my Facebook account.

People who are in my friends list may think that it's me playing.  I mean really!  I could be playing Sims the whole time I just gorged on film score composing.

It could happen!

I could have so little to do in my life that I've built a house in the Sims world.

But, no.

It's Papi.

I feel like I need to set this record straight.

Unlike my hair.

yes ... i will take any opportunity to talk about my hair ...

Anyway, the whole point of this was to talk about that little red notifications alert that comes on our Facebook pages.

So.

Here I sit, watching notification after notification come for Papi, under the guise of me.

sigh ...

If only I was as popular as my 'wack job' character that Papi has developed for me.

No really.

My love asked me what the name of this Sims person should be, and it happened to be on a day when I was having giggle attacks about being called a 'whack job' here on my blob/blab.

So, if you're out there in Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land and you're telling 'wack job' that her mama is a llama, well, it's not me.

I will now return to my brain drain relax, where the only thing my noodle can handle, is to watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

Papi's birthday blog.

It's Papi's birthday, so I must do his bidding.

My love said, "You've been slacking on your blog these days."  My love decided that my punishment should be to double up on blogs to make 'you', my imaginary friend, happy.

I've been working on the latest film score for David C. Jones and I'm enjoying myself!

However, my brain doesn't work so well after I've been composing.

So.

I've got nothing to say.

I've got nothing to talk about.

I didn't see the light of day for one moment today.  It's crazy that I even got out of my pajamas.

Who was I trying to impress?!?

Certainly not Psycho Kitty.

he's slowly becoming a better friend ... but that's another blog ...

Anyway, all day I sat in sweats.

that's in between stretching, dropping pain meds and doing the 'let's move around' thing after every hour ...

Hey.

I didn't say I got dressed for the Academy Awards!  I just got out of my pajamas.

I really got out of them because these specimens are my clown pajama pants.

They really look like I should be wearing a foam red nose and shoes ten times bigger than my size.

Well, I had the slippers that could emulate big clown feet.

I call them my lobster slippers.

Then there's my classy t-shirt I don when in pajamas.

It's a sweet sentiment from my friends from my bridal shower.

Anyway, there's nothing really to talk about other than the fact that this attire doesn't paint a picture of a composer.

That is of course not for this score.

This film has some chuckles, but it's not really the 'clown' kinda film that would go with the outfit.

So, here I sat in sweats.

Because that's just so much sexier.

Happy birthday Papi.

Say Uncle!!

Sometimes I like to harass my Tranny Terrorist in return for his antics.

Things have been very quiet on the Tranny Terrorist front lately.  It's hard to get in any kind of trouble from your La-Z-Boy while healing from a hysterectomy.

"Here try it!" I said.  I wanted my love to try my sugar-free coconut water, because I thought it would taste like a Pina Colada.  "I put it in my protein shake and it tastes awesome!"

I'll try anything to get my love to eat properly and find treats in healthy foods.

Well, Papi tried my shake, and for a moment I thought it was a hit.  However, aftertaste kicked in and the face of "OMG that's awful!!" was fully animated and I had my very own giggle-fest.

Papi asked me, "Did you do that on purpose because of the piano thing I did to you?" 

i would never do something like that Papi ... hehehe ...

Honestly though, it was a little bit of payback for the trick my Tranny Terrorist tried to play on me.

You see, my love almost put his protein shake on my piano.

Well, you don't put anything moist on my piano and live to tell the story.

ask the guy i once slammed against the wall who pissed himself in fear ...

I jumped at mi esposo bearing fangs and claws sharper than a cheetah, "Fuck no!!!!!!"  I growled.

That's when I saw the twinkle in Papi's eyes, followed by, "I knew I'd get a reaction, but I didn't think it would be so fast!"

Yes Papi, you got me, but I got you to swallow healthy food.

I think I win.

Eh?

Papi is starting to feel better and is getting his Tranny Terrorist mojo back, and I appreciate it, because I am going to need my distraction from that dastardly time we call x-mas.

I didn't think we'd be doing anything, but we will be going to my baby sister's house for brunch, then dinner with Papi's aunts.  Our day will be full of family.

When I spoke to my baby sister about the x-mas plans, she had such a sweet story to tell me.  She had told my niece about mi esposo and the male transformation.

The reaction from my niece was probably the most amazing comeback I could ever imagine.

"Really?"  She asked excitedly, "That's soooo cool!!!  Now I get to have an uncle!"

Yes, I suppose you do.

Then there was the talk about my love's caterpillar moustache and my sis had this to say:  "Oh that's perfect!  Because your nephew has the same thing, so they can go through puberty together."

While my love and I waded through the frenzied shoppers trying to get their deals, we spoke about how lucky we are that we have family members who love and accept us for who we are, who we love, and allow us to be who we wish to be.

It was a beautiful day.

Music, love and a movie with my 'rough around the edges friends' called, 'Tomboy', that I really recommend you see if you can find it.

Oh, and a wheat free power cookie.

That was the topper.

Ignorance is Bliss.

So, it came to my attention when I wrote my last blog.

I'm not talking about this one that I wrote after my composing panic attack.

I'm talking about the actual blog that I wrote here.

You see, I have this little 'matter' with my brain.

It got scrambled in the motorcycle accident, and occasionally, entire happenings merely go missing from my brain files.

It's kinda like what arose the other day when Papi attempted to use my composing tower to print out the needed papers for his medical EI.

Bad Papi!  He lost all my current composing files.

and has now been banished from my composing tower ... he may only play his 'sims' game on my laptop where lesser important items are kept ...

One of my BFFs, who is also my BlueLight partner and boss from Boomsmack Records, told me that's not possible.

oh! and btw ... if you'd like to help me do my job, take a moment and 'like' each of these here links on facebook. it will make my boss happy hehehe

Oh, but yes it is possible, because in my world, the strangest things will happen, and happen it did.  No files.  Nothing.  Fuck all.  Gone.

Anyway, I digress yet again.  That has nothing to do with my brain injury.  That's just my personality.  I'm all over the map.

So, I wrote this blog the other day with absolutely no recollection that I had already written about it here.

Now, the difference between the two, is that one is telling you about the marriage certificate that we already had changed to 'male & female', and the other blog is telling you that if Papi asked to have the marriage certificate changed from 'female & female' into 'male & female' that I'd put my wobbly foot down and say, "Hell fucking no!!"

However, it has already been done.

This example of insanity was brought to you by the letters and punctuation of: WTF?!

But you know what?

Sometimes my brain injury does me justice.  I get to pretend that things are in my brain they way I like them.

That is of course, until Papi bursts my bubble.

Yes.

It already happened.

Yes.

I still have my marriage certificate in my office where I get to see it along side of my sweet Papi pre-male transformation.

It's a hot 'n sexy pic of the most perfect butch ever, with breasts peeking ever so naughty between my love's opened leather vest.

Well, I was volunteering yesterday at the Queer Arts Festival office and there were scrumptious picture of butches all over the walls, complete with a few butch breasts proudly displayed for my perusal.

It made me so sad to know that I'll never get to touch my love's breasts ever again because of The Great Breast Disappearance.

I almost cried, but fortunately for me, I forgot they were even there when I got obsessed with organizing papers for filing.

You see?

Brain injury is not so bad.

It's good in an, 'i'm not really here', sorta way.

Ahhhh.

Ignorance is truly bliss.

Introducing, The Galloping Gazelle!

This is The Galloping Gazelle.

He's visiting us for a week.  We're on day one.

He's new to the cat world.

No, I know he's not a cat, nor is he a gazelle.

But he thinks like both.

Well, he decided to take on The Mrs.

The Mrs. is not afraid of dogs, and she will teach him how to behave around a lady.

Unfortunately, like those before him, The Galloping Gazelle just may have to learn the hard way.

However, he thought he'd push his luck and bounded ...

he bounds ... he doesn't run ... imagine a bunny and gazelle mixed in one ...

... toward The Mrs.

What happened next is the part that made me realize he had an unscrupulous ulterior motive when he broke all hell loose and chased cats.

I ran ...

... hehe ran ... you know what i mean ...

... in to break up the kitchen drama.

He listens well, and knowing that he did a 'bad', he bounded back to the couch to my blogging seat.

At this point, I decided to look under the kitchen island to see if The Mrs. was OK about the whole situation.

right ... dream on ...

She was pissed and definitely didn't want my consoling.

"YOU did this to me mom!"

That's when I realized what The Galloping Gazelle's real target was.

My breakfast.

Now, I thought The Bastard Prince was trouble around my food, but The Galloping Gazelle makes The Bastard Prince's  actions seem like child's play!

He's crafty.

And cuddly.

And he makes me laugh.

But back off my breakfast bitch!

I don't share!!!

However, I then realized what I saw in my blogging breakfast.

I found out he's an artist!

He was making an old man's face out of fried eggs!

He wasn't just getting into my food!

His momma taught him to be creative!

of course she did ... momma's a hot li'l leather dyke!

Now I can't stay mad, because he's given me a gift.

Well, I also can't stay mad because I've already shut that bitch of a back up with some Crack Butter, and I'm ready to start my day of composing with a little bit of help from my new BFF: Nyquil.

I'm working on a film score for a cool short.  It's by an up and coming director, James McPhee.

I'm behind a day, because yesterday I slept off the virus.

... i was so sick i didn't even have my coffee!!!!!

 I really have so much to tell you right now, but I'll have to get it out day by day.

With you, my imaginary friend, there will be a new chapter beginning soon ...