Love is a Garden

Love is a seed.
It become planted, buried, dormant

As an idea, as a concept
It sleeps

It awakens!

It pushes through, pauses
defies gravity pushing towards the sky-gaining speed

It presses upward into a bold plant making even greater statements of flowers fruit
-with color that can take one’s breath away…

This notion of love, as a plant, as a garden…it simply grows.
Sometimes it blooms
Sometimes it bears fruit

Many plants in the landscape-family, friends, lovers.
The garden becomes a crowd, a chorus can overwhelm all others
A flower can distract.
What finds its way sleeping in our garden-as love.

Growth can be inevitable

Time tells all.

Boobs, Gender Snobbery, Mammary Privilege

Tits, Knockers, Bosoms, Titties, Hooters, Melons, Sweater Zepplins, Bozoombas (not sure of that spelling), Mammaries, etc.

They are one of the first validating developments in a trans girl’s journey. They seem to be the thing most easily recognized to mean “female” in terms of gender cues to the average person. You quickly learn what a pain in the ass they become in accommodating them into clothing. “Happiness is a well-fitting bra” rings true throughout it all more or less.

They seem to go through growth spurts. Up, up, up, then down, then up. If you are lucky you don’t have pain from simply “having them” there clinging to your ribcage. If you are not growing your own “boob garden” or passing the waiting stage, you can just buy them as they come in all sizes. I’m fortunate in that sense that they popped-up.

Its an unruly child, these breasts. “I need something that fits me NOW!” and that is just in bras. Finding shirts, jackets and such is another factor in which this breast owning entails.

Cover them up, or show them off?
Some breasts are big enough that they can be hard to remove attention to, or just simply clothe. Attention? Coverage?
I forgot to mention that, much like when girls hit puberty in adolescence, boys (men) will tend to notice them in a hot minute. That in itself leads to wanted, and unwanted attention. Lately with my mohawk, my boobs are “gender-fucking” the observer with contradicting gender cues.

I completely have left out what the biological purpose of breasts are for:  TO NOURISH THE YOUNG! Its true, whether you have kids or not, their intended origin is to produce milk for the young, like other mammals. That is something miraculous in itself, I think so.

Trans men (FtMs) often bind their breasts to remove that gender expression. Having them removed is often an obstacle to masculine expression.

Where was I? Oh yes, what to accessorise your breasts with? Piercings? Tattoos? I am certain that I will be doing that in the next year. Why not? Does marking them up make them anything other than MINE? No. In fact, I will do what I want to their appearance as I own them. I own them to every leering and shifty-eyed man who gets confrontational. I own them to every conversation that people have a sudden attack of conscious to address my pronouns properly. I own them to the point where a sudden awkwardness befalls the person who didn’t know that “I come bearing tits!”

This has lead to a lot of my “I really don’t fucking care, but I will rock these bare and in public” situations. 2014 Folsom Street Faire this last weekend, Hard to deny that I had breasts when they are out through the crowds. This last summer during camping trip I did wear a sheer top on the last day. 2009 when they first came along, I used to “accessorize” them with electrical tape and no top during my “industrial adolescence”.

They seem like they hit a growth spurt more noticeably in the last 4 months. It shouldn’t be cancer, but that’s another worry for ones breasts.

Social interactions do put boobs into play “Those are hardly big enough to even call breasts!” are what a few evil people exclaim within my lifetime. I’ve removed them from interacting with me at all. The first time your parents see you wearing a bra, yeah I went through that moment in my late 30′s. “Those aren’t real!” “Are your breasts real?”

Anyhow, Totally Titty Tuesday is more than one day of the week.
-L

Say What You Say I Am Listening I Am All Ears

Well, I am most certainly trying.

For the first time in this life, I can actually feel something physically click into listening mode. Perhaps I finally found something that recalibrated my programing-years of not being heard, years of lying to the world of who I wasn’t, years of not having my authentic voice…

Critical.
This stage, and all that follow, really demand this change to continue to grow.

Critical listening.

My last relationship was someone who was criticizing me for everything: how I put on my makeup, cutting my own hair, how I talked, dressed, etc.
My ears turned off to listening to her. Even before we reached the “shut the fuck up” stage, I was done.
This one time she blew up in a fit-of-rage in a restaurant…

There was some Greek writing on the menus, as Greek restaurants sometimes have. I simply said “Its really cool the similarities of Greek and Russian Cyrillic alphabets.”  “Russian and Greek are NOT the same!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “You think you know everything. You never listen to anything I say!” and she stomped out of the restaurant and started walking home. It was really odd sitting there with her parents who were about to start eating as our adorable Ellen Page look-alike waitress brought our meals out. The important thing is that I didn’t run after her. She stopped listening to me months before this, so why bother?

That period of my life didn’t necessitate critical listening to “save the relationship,” but it did indicate at that moment something would have to change for my future.

I currently am dating an amazing lady who listens to people all day long as her career demands it. She has really given me a little motivation to being able to listen, steer away from my long winded monologues, and keeping the conversation as drawing out what is inside-the most helpful thing in a relationship-and even something in knowing who your friends are FINALLY!!

Tuning your ears to another human being will tell you who should remain in your life, and will quickly tell you who needs to leave.

-Lexikat

Why I Was Terrible At Being A Dad

If you don’t know, I *was a parent. At one point I made fertilization of eggs part of those things you can end up doing or such. *Yes I think fate can take that card away and create the status “was”.

My oldest child was born June 2, 1994 at about 4:30 pm. That day, as they were stitching up my wife’s episiotomy, immediately after my daughter’s first breath of life, my new baby and I stared eye to eye for what seems an eternity. As I feel now, and back then-there was something I saw of depth, distance, and life going outward in her eyes. They also said to me: “I’ll need you in my own journey.”

As our new family unit went along, my wife quickly raised issue that I was “supposed to be bolder and protective of your daughter”. I don’t think I am supposed to act like a “knuckle-dragging-ape” and really resented her. My daughter developed into my little buddy, my shadow. That ended at the separation when she was just a year and a half old.

So my divorce made twins from the most willing girl at my workplace. Fate would have us split, but the children were removed from her custody and I “retained” custody until a relationship and “instant family” with too many people involved caused legal problems and I had my rights terminated. During that “run” of being a dad, there were a lot of “Oh dad, why can’t you get it right” type characters on television and movies. I had my then lover’s mother telling me how to do this and how to do that.
After the children we’re removed and placed with Department of Human Services, I had the oldest-values-about-to-retire woman give me a list of requirements and such before they would consider reunification.
Needless to say….

But the common and central thing, as I did not transition until later, was this imaginary ideal of what you are actually doing as a dad. Every moment of your life, was everyone’s business to tell you how “fathers are supposed to act and be doing.” I loved my children, loved them deeply. As the world full of opinions around me finally collapsed, it took that whole role of simply being a parent away.

I started my transition within a year of being free of parenting obligations. The largest influencing factor of being “authentic me”, was shutting off of everyone who made it their business to tell me how to conduct myself.

So regardless of whether I hurt inside by not being me, I was even less me and was a terrible father because of nothing but people telling me what to do. As in any case, they should have invested more in themselves.

-Lexikat

I Guess I Am Attractive

So I have been seeing a really awesome lady. We get a long great. Have great communication and chemistry.
Fortunately, she accepted the terms that my appearance will age-but will not conform to her whims on the First date.
And its never been a question.

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So this thing I mention being attractive, I figure I am attractive to her. I sometimes have more polish and edge to my looks, I sometimes downplay it all for sake of being ruggedly organic, aka butch.

But since she sees me before I have cleansed my skin of that stuff my previous life tries to grow on my face-looking raw and disheveled, she still comments on how beautiful I am.

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I really don’t want too much stock or attention to be paid to aesthetics because those come and go like the tide. She makes certain in a very clear manner that its not fleeting nor something that changes.

I believe she is pretty damn awesome, and I love her much. As with anything, time will tell the rest of our story together.

-Lexikat

March of Support & Show of Pride

Happy Pride!

So that time of year has come and gone in San Francisco once again. I’ll admit that this was the first Trans March I had walked in since moving here 4 years ago. It also was the first time someone has put themselves out in the public “officially” showing support of me.
(I’ve not had the fortune to have had a family member do such a thing, as I was pretty much shunned by blood and attacked, sometimes verbally, by the other.)

She, my girlfriend, stood (or rather sat in a wheelchair) with an intricately detailed sign. It was something that really showed the love and outpouring of support she has been willing to put into me.

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When she first showed it to me, it took a few moments for barriers to crumble down to the point of happy tears.
“Why has anyone ever taken this much investment into me?” was really apparent. Her outpouring and support does show in her pride in me, being who that I am, is something that doesn’t change.

Making the news was kind of cool. There were many people taking photos because of how “cute” or how “amazing” of a pairing/supportive couple we were. Photo link from SFGate.org The Chronicle. Photo by Craig Hudson.

The Trans March is a protest  march; it is for the open visibility of gender variant people, as well as a time to voice change, acceptance, support, and pride within this fraction of the queer community. There were a lot of people displaying support for Chelsea Manning among the march. Hand in hand were a few people displaying “proud parent of a trangendered child” signs and shirts. It was a really beautiful thing.

As we had planned to also do the Dyke March on the following day, exhaustion on both our behalves kept us from attending. (2+ mile parade route plus to and from the subway stations as well)

As for the “pride” of Pride, it hit me on a more personal level than I could have imagined before.

Happy Pride!

Lexikat

Butternut Squash Chocolate Soufflé

lexikatscan:

Amazing Chocolate Souffle Recipe.
Gluten free too.

Originally posted on The Leafy Pantry:

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This dessert sounds so fancy, yet is so easy. Whenever you say the word “soufflé”, people get scared. Soufflés are an intimidating dessert to make because it is typically such an art to get the right consistency, the right cooking time and the right flavor. The beauty of this crowd-pleasing recipe is that not only does it contain very little fat and sugar, but it is virtually impossible to get it wrong. Your guests will never guess that you are also providing them with a full serving of vegetables through the hidden butternut squash. Save the secret ingredient reveal for the end!

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Ingredients:

1 cup pureed cooked butternut squash

2 eggs yolks

2 tablespoons cornstarch

a pinch of salt

1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 tablespoon coconut sugar

a pinch of stevia (optional)

1 cup dark chocolate, melted

4 egg whites

Directions:

Preheat oven to 425°. In a medium mixing bowl…

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