Transitioning is really about sexual orientation

I'm really excited because pride prom is tonight! I get to spend my evening hanging out and dancing with my best friends.

One thing that slightly annoys me, though, is how the letter T gets stuck on the end of the term "LGBT."

I love being a part of the LGBT community. If you haven't gathered by now, I'm not straight. No, I'm not gay, either. I don't pin a label on my sexual orientation. If I'm going to fall for someone, I'm going to fall for that person and not their anatomy. Male, female, both, neither, anything...it doesn't make a difference to me. This places me on the LGBT spectrum.

But there's that T again.

Why people insist on putting the T in there is beyond me, because transgender has nothing to do with sexual orientation.

I love my LGBT community, but I can't deny that there's a bit of bias even within said elite group. Transgender can be just as difficult for the alternately-sexually-oriented as it can be for straight people to understand, owing to the fact that TRANSGENDER HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SEXUAL ORIENTATION. I cannot say that enough.

And even a lot of alternately-sexually-oriented people question why the T is there, because THEIR sexual orientation has nothing to do with being transgender, either.

One of the most difficult things for me is finding a romantic partner. Not for lack of trying. I'm not overly picky and I don't have unrealistic expectations, but other people can get picky when it comes to me. Within the straight community, straight men tend to not want me because I identify as male, while straight women tend to not want my female anatomy.

But it's just as exclusive in the LGBT community. Gay men tend to not want my female anatomy, while lesbians tend to steer away from the male identity.

I have friends who, try as they might, just can't wrap their heads around it. For example:

Well-Dressed Gay Friend: Your chest is too flat. I want to play with your boobs.

Me: You don't even like boobs. You're into guys.

Well-Dressed Gay Friend: Gay men love boobs! We think they're God's joke on women.

Me: I'm not taking my binder off for you.

Well-Dressed Gay Friend: Then whose boobs will I play with?

Me: Your own.

Well-Dressed Gay Friend: You've still got a girl body. Let me enjoy it.

Me: Are you planning on having sex with me?

Well-Dressed Gay Man: Ewwwww! Vagina!

Me: Then enjoy somebody else's.

I love Well-Dressed Gay Friend. He's going to be at pride prom tonight, and he's saving a dance for me. He met me when I was a girl, so the transition thing is new for him.

Another example:

Flamboyant Man: Are you still a lesbian if you're transitioning?

Me: No...I'm not even exclusive to women...

Flamboyant Man: But how you dress and your haircut, you look like a lesbian.

Me: I'm going for the man look.

Making assumptions about my gender and sexual orientation is a no, folks.

Granted, being trans is much more acceptable within the LGBT community, because people within the community are usually quite aware of how it is to be less than socially acceptable. However, acceptance and understanding are two entirely different things.

Hopefully, this will be acknowledged within my lifetime. Until it happens, I'm going to kick back and watch Doctor Who. I think I have a long wait ahead of me...

Skyping with my mother means the people in Ecuador won't understand me

One of my worst fears came true yesterday. My mother now has a skype account...and she added me.

She wants me to bring my computer to Ecuador, which I'm reluctant to do because:

a) the laptop cost several hundred dollars
b) I lose EVERYTHING
c) I'm scared it might get damaged and/or stolen

My mom wanted me to skype with her while I'm on vacation in Ecuador. Oldest Little Brother is spending his vacation in Europe, and he's going to skype with my parents while he's there to keep them updated on everything and let them know he's okay and not dead.

Ecuadorian Friend and I don't have any set plans. I'm arriving in Ecuador on Saturday night and from there, we're just going to wing it. Setting up skype appointments with my mom would prove to be difficult, seeing as there's an utter lack of a schedule there.

Skype is how I've been communicating with Ecuadorian Friend lately. It turns out to be way more convenient than facebook. I realized yesterday, as Ecuadorian Friend and I were skyping in the middle of the night when I should have been resting up for my early work shift, that Ecuadorian Friend still hasn't quite wrapped his head around my transition.

Granted, he hasn't known any transpeople in his life, ever. It's a difficult thing to understand, especially when you've never even heard of it before until one of your good friends announces that he's going from female to male, and you knew him as a girl for years.

We were talking yesterday about the clothing I'd need to bring. He had mentioned that I should bring a dressier outfit, just in case we decide to go out somewhere nice. I wanted to know what kind of dress clothes, and how dressy exactly they should be.

Ecuadorian Friend: What do you usually wear when you go out?

Me: I don't go out...

Ecuadorian Friend: But IF you went out, what would you wear?

Me: I don't know. Jeans and a shirt with buttons?

Ecuadorian Friend: Like a guy's outfit?

Me: That's what I am.

Ecuadorian Friend: But people will be able to tell by your body that you're a girl.

Me: But I'm not a girl.

Ecuadorian Friend: Um...

Me: I wear men's clothes. I dress like a boy.

Ecuadorian Friend: (silence)

Me: I told you this already.

Ecuadorian Friend: Well...

Me: You'll see when I get there, I guess.

Ecuadorian Friend: Wear whatever you want.

So apparently the people in the bars and clubs in Ecuador are going to be shocked at a "girl" in guy's clothes when I walk in. But I explained to Ecuadorian Friend, I'm open and honest about my transition. Look out, Ecuador. Can you handle me?

Men's shoes exist, right?

Well, yesterday was an adventure. Not exactly a being-attacked-by-rabid-triceratops-while-on-a-jungle-expedition kind of adventure. More like an I'm-still-really-confusing-to-my-family-and-we-don't-know-how-to-handle-it-in-public kind of an adventure. I'd really prefer the former...and not just because of the dinosaur awesomeness it involves...

I'm leaving for Ecuador on Saturday (JUST FOUR MORE DAYS!), and I mentioned to my parents a while back that I need some kind of light boot or shoe that I can use for walking/exploring while in Ecuador and preferably still put to good use once I get back. Having less money than desired, I haven't been able to buy shoes for myself lately. I had asked my mother if perhaps she'd be able to lend me the money to buy me a decent shoe, with the promise to pay her back. My mother heard my modest request, but it seemed to process as: "LET'S GO SHOPPING!"

There is nothing more thrilling on this earth for my mother than shopping. Unless it's BARGAIN shopping. Then she gets about eight times as excited about it, which is an accomplishment because she gets so excited about NORMAL shopping.

What began as a "quick trip to the shoe store" soon evolved into something much larger.

I drove to my parents' house yesterday, believing my mother when she said that we'd head out together for a store in the nearby city that sold good outdoor footwear. I arrived home to find Oldest Little Brother sitting at the kitchen counter. When I entered the house, he asked, "Oh, are you coming to the mall with us?"

Despite the fact that I would rather have not spent the evening at an outlet mall with a zillion high school girls giggling about the cute kid who sits next to them in math and grumpy cashiers who would rather not be ringing up those giggly girls, I resigned myself to doing it. I didn't have any other time to get shoes, and Oldest Little Brother would be there. He is an expert at shopping, and he and I always have a good time when we go out together.

Oldest Little Brother, Mom, and I left the house to go to the mall, a farewell hymn of whining in the background because Little Sister (who goes to the mall twice a day) was not invited on this particular outing. There was a bit of nostalgia on my part, because Oldest Little Brother, Mom, and I hadn't had time for just the three of us together since my parents got custody of Little Sister and Youngest Little Brother.

The car ride was spent talking about politics, job prospects, and sex. Nothing out of the ordinary for us.

We wound up splitting up once we got to the mall, because Oldest Little Brother wanted to look at clothes but wouldn't look at any that were made in China, while I wanted to look at shoes.

The mistake I made was going to look at shoes with my mother. Granted, I had no money and she was the one who had offered to pay for the shoes. Still, it would have been a lot easier if I'd just been given money and allowed to shop on my own. But my mother likes to be part of every shopping expedition, so I went along with it as she excitedly headed for the shoe section of the department store.

What made my insides writhe in horror was when I realized that she was taking me to the women's shoe section. She knew I needed sandals, so she hauled me over to the section that contained sparkly, strappy, and/or high heeled sandals.

Me: Mom! These are WOMEN'S shoes!

Mom: You have a woman's feet.

Me: I don't wear any of these!

Mom (holding up a sparkly pair of sandals): These are cute.

Me: Those are for WOMEN.

Mom: Well, what other shoes will you wear?

Gee, Mom. I don't know. Certainly nothing from the entire section of the store devoted to men's footwear.

There was another minor incident when an employee asked us if we needed any help, and my mother replied that we were looking for hiking boots (which is NOT what I needed and I had tried to make that clear).

Employee: Women's hiking boots?

Mom: Yes.

Me: No!

Employee: Um...no...?

Mom: Nothing else will fit you.

Me: I don't want women's boots.

Mom: They're the same thing, just smaller.

After going back and forth like this for a while, it was concluded that nothing was going to get solved. We left that store and wandered around the mall, searching for shoe stores. My mother found several women's shoe stores that she wanted to examine, and I found several men's shoe stores that I wanted to explore further, but neither of us wanted to allow the other to go to their store of choice.

Finally, we settled on a shoe store that seemed fairly gender-neutral. I wound up getting two good pairs of shoes there. They are (technically) women's shoes, but they look neutral enough that I'm comfortable with them.

I did have a minor victory when it came to swimsuits, however. I realized, in the midst of our outing, that there are in fact beaches in Ecuador, and Ecuadorian Friend may very well have been serious when he talked about me + him + water + sand = yay?

I had this realization coincidentally right next to the women's swimsuits.

Me: Oh! I forgot! I don't have a swimsuit and we're supposed to go to the beach!

Mom: There's some.

Me: Those are for women...

Mom: And...?

Me: Well, I'm not a girl...

Mom: Then what will you wear?

Me: Swim trunks and a t-shirt.

Mom: Why?

Me: (give up)

In the end, my mother wound up liking a pair of blue swim trunks, and suggesting that we get them for me. I didn't ask her to buy them. I had, in fact, resigned myself to taking myself shopping in the next available time gap and get a pair of discount swim trunks on my own. But my mom examined a suit, suddenly decided that I could not spend the rest of my life without them, and paid for them despite my protests that it was okay and she didn't have to.

So now I have shoes and a swim suit for Ecuador.

I did enjoy spending time with my mother and Oldest Little Brother. I'm not sure shopping is the best thing we can do to occupy our time, but it was nice to get to spend an evening with them.

I fail at dating

This may be a shock for you all, but I am not the world's leading expert on dating and/or relationships. I know, everyone out there is really surprised! You're all like, "What?! How can this be?! I thought Petey was totally the most informed person when it comes to romance!"

I'm very sorry to disappoint you all.

My college is having an annual pride prom this Thursday, and I'm a little bit nervous, as I don't yet have an actual date. I would love to have a date, but as I can sometimes be a little bit awkward, I'm not entirely sure that this is going to happen.

I can imagine a lot of scenarios in which I'm an extreme stud and win my potential date over in a matter of seconds, sweeping him/her/zir off their feet on a wave of charm, romance, and handsomeness. Unfortunately, my interactions with persons of interest usually play out something like this:

Me: Hey.

Romantic interest: Hey. What's up?

Me: Not much. How about you?

Romantic interest: Same.

Me: So...um...

Romantic interest: (silence)

Me (inside head): Just ask! DO IT, YOU COWARD!
Me (out loud): Um...well...I gotta go to class...bye.

That is the level of my skills.

My natural tendency to make a disaster out of any situation, my complete social awkwardness, and my social standing as the King of All Nerds combine against me in situations involving dates and/or romance.

Granted, I've hit it off with a few people who thought my nerdiness was cute or that I was mildly entertaining.

I'm considering finding someone to pose as a date, but this seems a little too Pretty Woman-ish, and I also think it might serve to lower my self-confidence if I have to get someone to pretend to like me for an evening. And I'm poor, so I probably couldn't afford to put this plan into action, anyway. And who would I be pretending for, anyway? I know my school's entire LGBT community and they all know I'm a weird single tranny. Most of them know me intimately enough to realize that if I show up at pride prom with a random person, I'm just pretending.

Conclusion: find the nearest gay man and dance!

Censorship as a means of escaping what you find unpleasant

You know what's awkward? Trying to explain your transition to little kids. Not just your little brother and sister, but people around their age. Like their friends.

Little Sister and Youngest Little Brother tend to introduce me to people as, "(Girl name), my big sister." When this happens I have two options:

a) Ignore it

b) Correct them

Option b usually leads to responses from the friend such as:

a) "Huh?"

b) "I don't get it."

c) "Why?"

d) (blank stare)

This usually results in reprimands from my parental units for:

a) talking about something that "should be kept private"

b) "confusing the kids"

c) it's embarrassing for them when the kids' parents learn of my transition

I tend to be of the opinion that there is no such thing as too young. I am 100% opposed to censorship in any way, shape, or form. And not a hypocritical kind of opposed, like people who are anti-censorship until you say something that offends THEM and they go off on you. No, I think that everyone has a right to an opinion. EVERYONE. Where we run into problems is when people go around insisting that they're right and other people are wrong and bothering everybody else who has a right to an opinion.

People make such a big deal of what kids should and shouldn't know. They throw temper tantrums and ban books from schools and insist that certain kids aren't old enough for certain information about LGBT people and Harry Potter and The Hobbit.

People get so up in arms about kids "not being old enough" to know that their older sibling or friend's older sibling is gay or lesbian or transitioning or pagan or sexually active, but these people will freely give their kids information about the war with Iraq and slavery and living conditions in third world countries. And then they try and impose their agenda on the rest of the country. Are any of these situations really better or worse than another?

People go off and say that being LGBT is:

a) a choice, and/or

b) a moral issue

Yet you'll tell your kids all about how soldiers bravely murder each other to solve conflict (oxymoron much?) and how a woman who was raped has no right to abort the wonderful permanent reminder her rapist has given her of her traumatic experience or refuse to tell them that Uncle Joe's "friend" is really the person he's madly in love with and wants to spend the rest of his life with and also get some action on the side.

Simple solution: don't impose your agenda on the rest of the world

Your opinion is your opinion, folks. You are going to do what you will, regardless of how much I bitch and moan about it on this blog. And to be honest, I'm not going to stop you because it's your decision and I'd be a damn hypocrite if I tried.

If you think YOUR kid is too young to know that gays exist or read Harry Potter or whatever, then by all means, feel free to take whatever action you feel is necessary to prevent your kid from being exposed to whatever it is you don't want them exposed to.

But please. Don't take steps to prevent EVERYONE'S kids from being exposed to whatever it is you have a problem with.

I will be that parent whose kids know everything about everything you don't want your kids to know about. And I will have explained to my children why I believe certain things are okay or not okay. My reasoning for this is that I want my kids to know how the world is, both good and bad. Like it or not, gay people and pagans and sushi exist. I hate sushi with a passion bordering on violence. But you know what? When I have kids, I'm going to expose them to sushi. You know why? Because sushi exists and at some point in their lives, against my wishes or not, they will encounter sushi. Trying to prevent them from being exposed to things will only serve to confuse them when they're finally exposed to it.

I've seen kids who have been sheltered their entire lives, and who are thoroughly incapable of handling certain types of people or situations because the adults in their lives prevented them from exposure to such things.

My point is, stuff in the world exists. As much as we try and deny it, it does. From gays to trannies to pagans to sex to sushi.

I may sound a little bit judgmental, and I'll admit that I'm a bit biased on this point. But as I said before, I do believe that everyone is allowed their own opinion and I won't stop anyone from doing what they will based on their own judgment calls.

It is my own personal opinion, however, that it would be better for people to tell their kids why they believe certain things are right or wrong, and live as an example of their beliefs (whatever those beliefs may be) than making a big fuss and trying to keep kids from being exposed to things that, when you get down to it, ARE JUST PART OF LIFE.

Which is why I usually don't ignore it when I get introduced as a girl.

Death trip

I got my vaccines for going to Ecuador today! I managed to drive myself to the travel clinic, although my brain was an illness-induced muddled fog. I'm getting better, but it probably wasn't the best idea to present myself in public just yet.

I've never been vaccinated for travel purposes, although I've left the country on several occasions. And Canada doesn't count. When you live in my region, you don't exist if you haven't been to Canada. No, I've been to Puerto Rico and Costa Rica. But for some reason, neither of those trips involved vaccines.

So I spent a long time talking with the doctor at the travel clinic, and the gist of the endless barrage of information she gave me amounted to: DO NOT GO ANYWHERE, EAT ANYTHING, DRINK ANYTHING, BREATHE, OR PERFORM ANY BASIC BODILY FUNCTIONS OR ELSE YOU WILL DIE!

I was looking forward to this trip. Now I'm fairly certain that I'll be transported home in a body bag. People don't seem to wrap their heads around the fact that I have anxiety, I am a paranoid person, and I am internally a small child. You know that scene in Scrubs where Carla's like, "It wasn't until recently that I told Turk that the real reason I don't touch the seat when I pee isn't because of germs but because I'm afraid of toilet snakes," and Eliot is like, "And now so am I..."

That is me, folks. All you have to do is make a reference to a monster/creature/serial killer/scary character in a movie/vaguely creepy anything and I will be scared of it FOREVER. So now, instead of being super excited about my vacation, I'm huddled on my couch, worrying that the tetanus, hepatitis A, typhoid, and yellow fever vaccines won't work; that the malaria pills I've been prescribed won't stop death malaria from killing me; that I'll leave my friend's house and immediately be eaten by killer mosquitos; that I'll die of altitude sickness; that I'll be poisoned by any food or water that enters my system; that I'll forget the portable pharmacy that I'm supposed to take along with me and thus die of anything else I haven't been vaccinated/medicated for; that Ecuadorian Friend and I will get lost in the city and be mugged (there's a vaccine for that, right?! Where can I get one?!); that Ecuadorian Friend and/or I will fall into the nearby volcano and be lavadated to death; that Ecuadorian Friend and I will get lost/stranded in the jungle and be eaten by wild jungle beasts; that I'll be eaten by sharks if/when we go to the beach (is there a vaccine for that one, too?); that I'll be separated from Ecuadorian Friend at some point on the trip and die of not being able to find him again...it goes on and on and on.

This f*cking sucks because if I must die on my vacation to Ecuador, it MUST be due to velociraptors! That is the only acceptable death! Everything else my brain comes up with is lame. I want a death that will make headlines, dammit.

Death plague

Being laid up in bed for two days straight with the death plague can really make one re-evaluate their life.

When you're that sick, you have no dignity. When you send your professor a tearful e-mail panicking because you're going to miss a test and your health has been poor, resulting in you missing more classes than you'd like; when all you can do is lay in bed and cry because it feels like your body is being ripped apart; when you're in and out of consciousness, interspersed with hallucinations and wondering if the voices you're hearing are really your roommates or if it's all in your head, there is no such thing as dignity.

Okay, so I had a bad bout of the flu. Nothing to panic over. At least, nothing for a normal person to panic over.

I have extreme anxiety issues, and when I get too stressed, my immune system goes bye-bye. This phenomenon was exacerbated recently because I'm now forbidden to get an annual flu shot, due to the fact that the last time I did, I wound up in the hospital with the muscles in my legs and arms shutting down. So now, it's either death plague or hospital. I can't decide which one is more thrilling.

The moral of the story: I've spent the last two days in a haze of terror that I was going to die. I HAVEN'T spent the last few days thinking about my transition in any way, shape, or form. Yeah. I have real people issues, too.

Boys can play with dolls, too

Guess what? Sleep is something that, like it or not, most people cannot do without. I have gone about discovering this the hard way, yet again.

Today is Valentine's Day (VD...hee hee!) but I won't write mushy post about romance and love because that just depresses me to write about what everybody but me seems to have. So instead of going on about someone who is the love of my life, etc., I am going to tell you about someTHING that is the love of my life! Yay for stronger attachment to material possessions than real humans!

I went back to my parents' house the other day with one of my best friends, because my parents have a working TV and we were worn out from an evening of hard shopping. Best Friend and I got kicked out of the living room, mostly because Youngest Little Brother was going to sleep and his room adjoins the living room, which meant the TV would keep him up. I also think we got kicked out partially because I have a tendency to increase my vocal volume from pretty loud to even louder when I watch TV and want to discuss what I've been watching. This also happens when I've been drinking, which is what Best Friend and I were doing in addition to watching Criminal Minds.

Partial deafness + TV + alcohol = bad. I've learned this before. And yet I still insist on doing it...

So Best Friend and I went down to my basement, where there is another TV and also lots of space between me and people, so I could be as loud as necessary and not bother anyone. Best Friend and I were going to turn on the TV when we were distracted by an item. This item, although I hadn't actually used it in years, had been sitting on top of the entertainment center since I was in middle school and my mother insisted that I was too old to continue to keep it in my room and play with it.

The item was a doll house.

Not just any doll house. It was the doll house I'd received as a Christmas present when I was six years old and had steadfastly played with from the day I got it until well into my teen years. My parents had eventually removed it from my bedroom and put it in the basement when they decided that I was too old for it (despite my protests). I hadn't played with it at all since I moved out of the house when I was 19, but ever since it came to light that I'm moving back in with my parents in April, I've been dreaming about this doll house.

Yes, that is the level of attachment I have to this particular childhood toy. Not only did I devote time on a daily basis to spend time with this magnificent specimen, but I was crushed when my parents decided for me that I needed to stop playing with it, and now I'm actually DREAMING about it.

Best Friend and I spent at least an hour playing with the doll house. Never mind that we're both full grown adults (at least, physically...). We had a blast!

My mother came downstairs to see what Best Friend and I were doing (I think she got concerned when you couldn't hear my voice from every point in the house), and she just shook her head when she saw what we were up to.

I didn't even need to ask what was on her mind. It was all over her face: If you insist on transitioning to male, why must you go back to playing with that doll house?

Answer: I am a child.

She's known me for 22 years. It should be apparent enough by now that my dinosaur fixation, love of cartoons, absolute conviction that there is a monster under my bed, stuffed animal collection, and doll house obsession that this is not just a phase.

Okay, so I can suck it up and be mature when it's necessary. For example, I read Shakespeare, Tolstoy, and Dumas for fun. I'm going to get my master's degree. I have an apartment of my own, pets that I take care of, bills that I pay. Yes, there is a part of me that is a (semi) functional adult.

But I've always been a firm believer in the idea that getting old is inevitable, while growing up is a choice.

My absolute love of that doll house, even when I was standing up to pee and playing rugby and wishing so much to be a boy, has nothing to do with my gender identity. It has everything to do with the fact that I blatantly refuse to grow up.

I feel like I'd get along very well with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys.

I will definitely get eaten by velociraptors in an Ecuadorian jungle

Today has been horrible so far. I fell asleep watching Criminal Minds last night, which was a very bad idea in retrospect, because I had horrible nightmares of a ghost girl who cried at me until I went and looked for her body, which turned out to be buried under a piece of plywood that was also covering up about a thousand skulls because a serial killer took and buried the heads of all his victims. And murderous sharks that were stalking me. And snakes that were chasing me. And a tree lady who had a grudge against me for some reason and kept trying to pull me into the ground. And cannibalism. Which has EVERYTHING to do with Criminal Minds.

So after I woke up from nightmares, I prepared myself for my day. It was AFTER I got out of the shower that I remembered that I forgot to put my clothes in the dryer last night, so I dried them for as long as I could (about 11 minutes) and then headed off to work in 7 degree cold with soaking clothes because I had no dry ones AT ALL.

And now I'm bored. I have a paper due today, but I already finished it, so I'm just bored at work because nobody comes to the library on a Wednesday morning when it's 7 degrees outside.

When your day starts out like this, there's no denying it. The rest of your day is going to be an endless barrage of things going wrong. I can hope that this won't happen...but I'll probably be disappointed. Sorry for the pessimism. I'm rather grumpy today.

I do, however, have two things to look forward to in the near future:

1) the college I attend has an annual Pride Prom, which is being held two weeks from tomorrow! Seeing as most of my friends are very involved in this school's LGBT community, I can look forward to a fun night of hanging out with totally awesome people!

2) In two and a half weeks, I'm leaving for a 10 day vacation in Ecuador!

I've never been to Ecuador, but the idea of going nearly makes me faint with anticipation. I love to travel. I don't get the opportunity to travel very often, being a poor college student. But one of my very good friends, who was an exchange student to my school when we were both seniors in high school, lives in Ecuador. I had no plans for a fun vacation this winter break. The property that my family owns in Florida is currently being rented FOREVER, so that option was out. Plus, I probably would have got about ten feet out the door to Florida and then had to turn around because I have very little money, even if I had been able to go. So I was very crabby and planning on staying home for my break, AGAIN, because this has happened every winter break since I moved out of my parents' house and suddenly realized that they're quite well off and I (on my own) am not very well-endowed in the financial department.

Anyway, I was talking to Ecuadorian Friend on facebook (because international phone calls and texting would serve to eat away the last of my saved funds), and I made a joke that I should go and visit him. He took my joke seriously. He was like, "YEAH! DO IT! COME VISIT ME! NO ONE FROM THE U.S. EVER COMES TO VISIT!" because he's been back to visit the friends he made here several times, but apparently no one has made the commute to go visit him. I patiently explained to him that I am, in fact, very low on money and the moment and I could never afford an international flight, let alone the expenses of living in another country for multiple days. But I had already put the hope in him; two minutes later, he was telling me that he had run it by his parents and they were fine with me staying with them for the duration of my (then fictional) vacation.

I ran the idea by my parents. I told them that if I spent absolutely no money whatsoever on anything besides groceries and gas for my car, I could probably save enough for the $900 plane ticket (the cheapest I could find) to Ecuador. I didn't mention that after arriving in Ecuador, I would probably be utterly devoid of money entirely and have to beg Ecuadorian Friend to feed me during the trip.

My parents considered my plans for about 1/1,000th of a second before saying, "You're graduating in April, right?"

Me: Yeah. Why?

Parents: We'll pay for the ticket.

Me: Why?! You guys pay for enough of my stuff already! I want to be financially independent!

Parents (knowing the impossibility of my financial independence): Consider it a graduation present.

Me: Are you sure?

Parents: Stop protesting and accept the present.

So that's how I went from no vacation to SUPER AWESOME EXCITING KICKASS vacation!

The only thing that worries me slightly is that Ecuadorian Friend says that everyone in Ecuador is Catholic and they really don't have transpeople there. He also tells me that he hasn't yet informed his parents of my transition, although I will be living in the same house with them for ten whole days. The impression I got when he told me this was that he was going to spring the news on his parents at the last minute and then immediately dash out the door to pick me up from the airport, leaving them no time to refuse to let me into the house.

Ecuadorian Friend says he doesn't know how his parents will react, but hopefully they won't care. I honestly don't know how I'm going to react, either. The idea I get is that most people I meet in Ecuador will be confused by my request to be called Pete despite my obvious feminine appearance, that they will probably be slightly confused by my decision to transition when this is explained to them, but that they will probably be open-minded about it. I've met people like this on an individual basis, but not in mass numbers. We'll see what happens and how it all works out. Ecuadorian Friend says I have nothing to worry about, so I have high hopes for the trip.

My only other concern is that I'll be eaten by velociraptors hidden in the jungle, but I keep getting repeatedly told that this is unlikely to happen. I intend to keep an eye out for anything nearby that could be used as a weapon in a dinosaur attack.

British TV solves everything

I mentioned several posts ago that I will be moving back into my parents' house in April when the current lease on my apartment is up. Moving back into their house absolutely terrifies me. This has nothing to do with my parents. It has everything to do with my two youngest siblings.

I am the oldest of four. Oldest Little Brother is 19 years old, and he and I are very close. Little Sister is going to be 14 years old in two weeks, and Youngest Little Brother is now 11.

Oldest Little Brother, being very active in the LGBT community (alongside me), completely understands my transition and is very respectful and supportive of me. However, Little Sister and Youngest Little Brother have yet to fully wrap their heads around it. I don't blame them. They're young, they haven't been exposed to much LGBT stuff, and they've known me as a girl for their entire lives up until about two months ago.

Still, trying to explain my transition to them is kind of like trying to explain to a four-year-old that there is no monster under their bed; you can say it until you're blue in the face, but the kid will still wake you up in the middle of the night by screaming bloody murder that they heard growling coming from under their bed.

I constantly have to remind my youngest siblings about the change. They'll call me my legal name, and I will politely remind them that I go by a different name. Two minutes later, they'll do it again. I will remind them again. Two minutes later, same thing. I'll remind them again. And guess what happens two minutes later? By this point, it is extremely difficult not to lose my temper. I know that snapping or yelling or making a big deal of it in any way is wrong, because they're not doing it to intentionally irritate me. They just forget and they fall back on what they're used to. Still, it's one of those small things that seems insignificant to the outside world, but actually has an effect on the transperson who is the target of said "insignificant" interaction.

I've had several conversations with both of my youngest siblings that all go roughly the same way:

Sibling: (question or reference to me being a girl)

Me: Well, that doesn't really apply to me, because I'm not a girl.

Sibling: Yes you are.

Me: No. I'm really not.

Sibling: Yes, you are!

Me: We've talked about my transition 18 thousand times.

Sibling: But you're still a girl for now.

Me. No. I. Am. Not.

Sibling: Are so!

Me: Whatever.

I know that they're young and I know that they don't understand. But that doesn't make it any easier. A lot of times, people who don't understand can be (unintentionally) just as hurtful as people who blatantly refuse to accept your transition.

My solution: locking myself in a room with a TV and watching British TV shows forever!

Sometimes avoiding your problems IS the best solution

Once upon a time, there was a stupid kid who let a friend of his crash at his apartment for two weeks, because said "friend" had been kicked out of his own home. This "friend" was an ungrateful prick who seized every opportunity to demean and belittle the stupid kid, did nothing but sit on the kid's couch and drink whiskey and watch TV and complain when the kid wanted to watch his favorite British TV shows, and added to the level of extreme stress the kid was already under. Finally, one day the "friend" and the kid got into a big fight because the "friend" accused the kid of treating him badly, when in reality the kid had gotten so sick of the "friend's" attitude that he had lost his temper momentarily. The kid grew a pair, kicked the "friend" out, and hasn't spoken to him since.

Guess what? The kid is me.

I think one of the biggest mistakes I've made is letting this person into my house for those two weeks. And real friends of mine, I can already see your eyes rolling. I know you're thinking, "I told you not to do it!" Yes. You did tell me not to. And I did it anyway. You have every right to say "I told you so!" and use this against me in the future.

I do this thing where I convince myself that a situation that's bound to end horribly really won't end horribly, and I go into it anyway. And then things really do end horribly and I feel even worse than I would have because I know I could have avoided it.

I knew perfectly well that Ungrateful Prick was not okay with my transition.

Seriously, I would have been able to handle anything else he threw at me. I mean, he was annoying as all f*ck but I felt bad enough for him that my giant, smushy heart would have won out and I'd have let him stay. But the fact that he continually insisted that I am in fact a girl did nothing but ensure that, when I finally snapped, he'd be out for good.

The moral of the story: stick with friends who won't walk all over you and insist that you are your biological gender and will never be your preferred gender

*Note: There will NOT be an encore of this performance.

There is little worse for a transperson than having all of your self-confidence and self-motivation stomped on like it's the least significant thing in the world. There is NOTHING worse for a transperson than having all of your self-confidence and self-motivation forcibly taken away and to be abused because someone doesn't approve of your transition.

I'm the kind of person who has to learn everything the hard way. I really wish I could tell you that my story is made up, or that my advice is merely being passed on by word of mouth. Unfortunately, I can't say that. But hopefully there are people out there who don't have to learn the hard way. Avoid those situations before you can get into them. Please. It will break my heart to hear that someone else went through what I did.

I can make light of my own situation, and take a humorous tangent with it, but this is one of the most serious sides of transitioning. The reality of it is that there ARE people out there who won't approve and never will, and your best bet is to avoid them entirely.

On a slightly cheerier note, I just found out you can watch dinosaur documentaries online! Most of my week has just been booked solid.

Louisa May Alcott is progressive

It's annoying me too much to continue to avoid going ahead with it. As a book junkie, I cannot fail to notice a distinct absence of trans literature.

You can find some if you go to the LGBT section of Borders or whatever mainstream bookstore happens to be nearest to you, but what I've found is that the few books they do have that touch on the subject of transitioning are mostly post-testosterone memoirs. While I give credit to people for putting their stories out there, these books don't help me specifically. I won't be on testosterone for a while, so how would reading a man's account of life after T do me good? What I'd love to see is a book that goes over the stuff outside of T, like the emotional aspects of transitioning, presenting as your preferred gender, how to handle the loss of friendships as a result of your transition, etc.

I'm sure there's stuff out there. I probably just haven't found it yet.

When it comes to the emotional aspect of transitioning, the book that I've found touches on this most is Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. I know, it sounds strange. When I first read the book, my initial reaction was, "What the f*ck?! How sexist can you get?! I am never reading this again!"

But if you haven't read the book, read it. And if you have read it, read it again. Read it and specifically pay attention to the character Jo. She says multiple times throughout the story that she wishes she had been born a boy. She wears men's clothes and has "manly" mannerisms. Her sisters are constantly telling her to act like a lady and not like a boy, and all she cares about is playing in the mud with her best friend.

Okay, so the end of the story was a bit of a letdown. No testosterone or mastectomies for Jo. But this is forgivable, seeing as the story was written over 150 years ago. Little Women is about the closest you can find for trans lit for that time period.

And of course, trans lit published 150 years ago is so applicable right now...

For those of us who are interested in something currently useful, I recommend S. Bear Bergman. Ze is the only author I've found who writes specifically for transpeople. And ze doesn't limit zir writing to just male-to-female or female-to-male transpeople. A lot of zir writing is specifically about androgyny.

Aside from Louisa May Alcott and S. Bear Bergman, I have been unable to locate an author who meets my specific desires for trans lit. This is distressing to me. As an unstoppable book addict, I like to believe that literature holds solutions for everything and if I just read enough, eventually I will learn all there is to know about life, the universe, and everything. I'm not giving up on my system, either; I refuse to believe that the literature isn't out there. I am convinced that it's there and just eluding me.

When I'm really super old

I don't really know what to post today. I had a totally epic idea to bitch and moan about the lack of good trans literature, but I got about a sentence into that and lost steam. And then I had another idea, but then I forgot. There may be a few more forgotten ideas that I've forgotten that I've forgotten in there, as well.

I've eventually settled on answering a question that my coworker asked me: How do you picture yourself when you're really super old?

Answer: I have no clue.

Reason for choosing this subject: ...velociraptor?

I can only assume that by the time I'm really super old, I'll either be in a government containment facility having a variety of tests run on me, back on my home planet, or dead because someone got fed up and put a hit out on me.

If my coworker wondered whether or not I see myself as male when I'm really super old, the answer is yes. Circumstances allowing, I would much rather sit on a porch in a rocking chair playing with my dentures and knitting with the assurance in my mind that I am, in fact, a man. I just can't see myself doing that in a dress. Well...okay, I could knit in drag, but it would be strictly DRAG and not me identifying as female.

If that made any sense.

In all seriousness, I would love to live to be an old man. My primary motivator for this, oddly enough, is the prospect of grandchildren. I'm one of those weird guys who wants to get married and have a bunch of kids. Granted, I have about eight thousand places I want to travel to, preferably without the guilt of having left my child(ren) behind in the care of a relative or babysitter. But travel aside, the prospect of having a permanent partner and children and grandchildren is a huge motivator for me.

I think people take my desire for a family as another "girly" thing about me. Because only women want families? Yeah, that makes sense...

I come from a HUGE family. My 19-year-old brother and I are both adopted. We have different sets of biological parents, but we've known our biological families since we were born. Our birth families are both considered part of our ginormous family.

Our father is also one of seven children, so on his side of the family, we can't have a holiday gathering in a residence that will actually comfortably contain all of us.

My desire for a big family doesn't stem from some deep internal part of me that has its maternal instincts kicking in. Rather, it comes from the fact that I was raised in the midst of a giant crowd of people, and that's what I'm used to.

My 19-year-old brother commented a few days ago that our parents' house is one of those that's always full, even when actual relatives are scarce. In retrospect, this is true. I don't live at my parents' house and I still spend half my waking time there, and I spend the night at least once a week (so I might as well move back in anyway, right?). Every time I go back home, there's somebody there. If not parents and/or siblings, it's an uncle who stopped by to borrow one of my dad's tools, a girl who lives down the road who wants company, a friend who came over to share a glass of wine, fellow actors who have taken over the pole barn for set building, a customer of my dad's who has been welcomed to help him/her/zirself to the vegetables in our garden, cousins come to enjoy our swimming pool, or family friends who have stopped by just because they were in the neighborhood.

Words can't express the joy I've felt, growing up surrounded by so many wonderful people. I love having such a variety of friends and family who like to spend time with me and mine, so much so that our house is NEVER EMPTY. We are at the point that we don't bother to lock our doors, because we're too lazy to make that many spare keys and nobody's going to break in when there's always people there, anyway. I think that that's mightily impressive.

So, like I said, this isn't maternal instinct kicking in. This isn't me being girly or effeminate. It's me loving the way I was raised and intending to keep it that way, even when I'm an old man knitting on his porch in a dress.