Definition of a “Keeper”

Telepath- noun- A friend whom senses your silent prayer for wine after a rough day at the office.
Keeper– noun- A friend whom always has a kind tone when making suggestions.



“Stages keep on changing, Stages rearranging love.”

(Lyric quote from ZZ Top)

Stage has been set, the actors cast.

What are you talking about now?

For my biggest part yet!

“All the world is a stage” and you’re merely a player?

I’m a Performer! and Portrayer!

Rush lyrics? So what stage is set?

The stage of my life where “potential” has been laid upon the altar.

You’re prayers were answered?

Pretty much. A prayer to The Goddess is also a prayer to the Goddess Within.

I don’t know how long any of us have, but I will say that eternity is a human concept and not a total number of years.

as you’re subscribed,


“Thou shalt not…


“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”

That isn’t far off from “God hates fags.” and commoners that feel they can enforce “god’s will” as such.

Its 2013 people. Grow up.

If your god demands such things, then your god is wrong!


(Some of us haven’t forgotten the Burning Times.)

The Ides of March is my 5 year birthday!

5 years! I am now a “5 year-old girl” for the most part.

My born date was originally around March 15th (I later made it my official one.) It was approximately 6 months after I had moved back to where my biological family lived. October 2007, I had told myself in clear understanding: “6 months from now, I will either be content being a part-time girl, banish it completely, or live life completely as the girl I have always been.”

5 years? Seems like a short time? I am 41 now. It is now 4 1/2 years past the day that bastard that tried to kill me. By bastard, I mean my biological older brother (taller and bigger if we must paint the picture properly). He attacked me and proceeded to beat and choke me back to being his brother. Fortunately, in spite of the 4 onlooking people (niece, sister-in-law, nephews) I called the police myself with one hand. I keep that beautiful red Motorola Razor to this day because it helped save my life. I fought back during the struggle as much as I could. His taunting and repeating words of “I love you.” were very disarming, even when mixed in with “You’re my brother…you’re not a guitarist, you’re a bass player….don’t cut your dick off…”

Court process was long, tiresome, and crazy. I persisted and will share my plea hearing and trial dismissal in a future blog.

In the last 5 years, I have survived:
Suicidal roommates.
Being taken advantage of financially because of desperation.
Dating both men and women who revealed to be less that respectable to my person.
Living in my 1986 Camaro (2009) and continuing to show up to work ready and on time.
Living in a homeless shelter with people coming down of hard drugs and violent fits.
Being grabbed when I first moved into San Francisco about 5 times in 6 months (2010).
Numerous allergies to medicines and foods.
Being rejected by more biological family than being openly supported by.
Being embraced by wonderful people that amaze me with their love and friendship.

“If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger!” Right? No, not exactly.

I am in fact stronger because I surpassed all the weak, malicious, crazy people. I “left the farm” for the big city and much better life. I have a bullshit filter that goes off pretty early or I simply don’t have much interaction with people so that time itself will weed the weak away from my life.

My life might be a little quiet and lacking some continuity because of my resistance to their unkindness (to say the least), but I love myself. I love the people who show up in my life every day.
I love the people who have done nothing but show love towards me.

So, happy birthday little 5 year-old inside me. You’ve earned it!


Gender Roles: Fluid or Static

Recently, my partner and I had made things “officiale” in our dating adventure, as partners and as a couple. As such, we did not make it “traditionale” nor could ever do such. Her being a genetic woman, and Me being transgender/transsexual is another aspect to the mix, each with dual roles at times.

In spite of being horribly repressed and knowing I was a girl from my earliest memories, I was still socialized as a boy, and groomed as the “second son” or “auxiliary back-up plan for carrying on the family name” upbringing. Unlike my father and older (ahem) brother, I was sympathetic, empathetic, and kind towards women. They (women) were not property, slaves, nor punching bags.

What I do know now compared to pre-boy-puberty is that:
My relationship with Grace, my 3rd grade girlfriend from Barrie Elementary School in Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin, was not about controlling the other person. Nor was it ever a heated, hormone-driven, sex-goal relationship. We climbed trees, kissed, talked, played. She had a cool short haircut too.

As the “not so important boy-child” of the house, I got to freely learn cooking and sewing skills. I got to spend more time in the garden. I learned how to raise a few chickens for eggs. But I also had been conditioned to violence of men. Not that violence was acceptable, but that it was simply present.

 My lessons of how boys act around girls were largely taught by television and anyone who wasn’t related by blood. I am kind, sincere, protective, accommodating, thoughtful…I wasn’t always the way I am now. Even while repressing my girl-self, I was initially all these to everyone that I was in a relationship with…there were a lot of “high-maintenance” women in my life to make the one inside me go away. It obviously didn’t work, but that’s another story.

Her and I flow and ebb with “guardian/warrior” and “princess/waif” constantly and continuously. She cooks amazing meals; brings flowers that make me melt; and can take charge of any situation. I bombard her with cards, cuddles, and flowers; meals fit for royalty; and I sleep lightly with a watchful eye and ear to our surroundings. I’d happily flail myself between danger and her when needed.

I am still an odd duck. My curves and my body speak of my womanity, also does my grace, charm, and candor.. Ah, but my intimate social behavior towards a partner speaks of chivalry.

So I act like a boy at times.
So sue me!


This breaks my heart. If the all-knowing school district can see that far in a child’s path, then they can kick out all the potential murderers, rapists, drug addicts, etc.
Thank you.
Please reblog!!

Make Me a Sammich

Coy Mathis


This is Coy Mathis. She’s six years old and, until recently, attended first grade at a school in the Fountain-Fort Carson School District in Colorado. In December 2012 Coy’s school contacted her parents, Kathryn and Jeremy Mathis, and told them that Coy would no longer be allowed to use the girls’ restroom, as she has done since Kindergarten.

You see, Coy Mathis was assigned “male” at birth. But she has known since she was able to know things that she is a girl.

You’re probably imagining a horrific tale of parental complaints and classroom bullying, but none of that has happened.  The school district has decided to preemptively address a problem that does not exist, but that they imagine might occur in the future.

From Kathryn and Jeremy Mathis:

They gave Coy three options for where to go to…

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