Treasures Unearthed

My dad died four years ago and to be honest if I spend more than a moment or two thinking about how much I feel that loss I will be in tears, so I will try not to go into much detail. When I was a kid my dad read a lot. It made him who he was, he was quick of wit, and full of information and imagination. He wasn't the most physically active man, but if you ask me his mind ran circles around others. As he got older he read a lot less, and this was because his eyes were not as good as they used to be. He bought reading glasses for work, but as a lawyer he read a lot, and so when he got home his eyes just didn't have it in them to do any recreational reading. It was just shortly before he died he got an actual prescription for glasses, and for the first time in years I got to see him with not one, or two, but with three brand new books on his end table. It was something that made me happy. Not only did seeing him reading remind me of being a kid, but it felt like part of dad had been reborn. It was good to see, but it didn't last long. I don't think he was able to finish even one of them before he died. Of all he left behind, one of the hardest things to see was one of his books laying open and upside-down on the end table, waiting for him to pick up where he left off. Dad really did enjoy reading stories, especially science fiction - more than the average person for sure. So last night when I found a box in my closet what made it possibly the best discovery ever was that in it was two stories written by my dad. One of them it typed out, and the other is in his own handwriting. I can't bring myself to read them though. Obviously when a person dies then it is over and all you have is memories. I miss what is gone so much and it is terrible. I almost die myself for want of something to regain even a little bit of what once was. Now here I am with two stories that came from my dad sitting in a box in my closet and it is like I have this chance to once again experience his influence on me first hand. I can sit there and let him entertain me one final time but that will only last an hour and then what? If I read them I will have nothing left but memories again. I think instead I am going to save them for another few years. Last night I found a box of treasures, but I would rather have the promise of future riches, so that box is getting buried again, and someday when I really need my dad he will be there.

In my life I have played a lot of online games, and what I have noticed is that people will say whatever they want without fear of a reprisal. It is completely anonymous right? So people would just say their worst and likely snicker over their brilliant and completely original use of the f word. (I am, of course being sarcastic - in my opinion if you want to hurt someone's feelings then come up with something specific, don't resort to variations of a word learned in elementary school).

By now I have been an online girl for longer than the internet was around, starting way back on bbs message boards, but I either presented myself as just your average girl, or *if*I revealed I was transgendered it would only be in an area that accepts transgendered people. As a result I didn't have much fear of the people I talked to being rude to me, but recently with a couple friends I have signed up on a couple internet dating sites - and I clearly stated I was transgendered on them. As a result I was worried that I'd get some reactions that would make me feel bad about myself. It turns out that people are nicer than I had imagined.

I guess it is probably people from all over that are nicer than I had imagined, but specifically I have been quite impressed with Saskatoon people I must say. I realize most of the searches I will turn up on come from the Saskatoon area, so hopefully it extends further than our little city, but I am just so very surprised at the amount of messages I have received from well-wishers. People who are not interested in me in 'that way' but still take a moment to say hi and wish me luck.

Warning! Scary Pictures!

So I took some pictures last night. I was actually just getting ready for bed and took off my shirt and wow! I was cute!
So I took some pictures....

L is for lopsided, that's good enough for me.

About two hours ago I rolled over in bed and something caught my attention. It was my nipple. While it is true that nipples typically do catch my attention, usually my own nipples don't do a thing for me. This time though I became quite fixated on it. See, when I rolled over I put a little pressure on my nippular area and it hurt. Not too much mind you, but certainly enough to be called pain, definitely not just what you would feel from just being pressed against a mattress. It hurts more now though, but I think that is because in my state of fascination I have been pushing on my nipple every couple of seconds for the last two hours. I am pretty sure it is because of the hormones. I was reading that some people see some changes in two months, so I imagine that it is possible that in perhaps one month a person may start feeling the beginnings of those changes. I think that, as of tonight, I am officially starting to grow a boob. I am hoping that eventually I will even out and get one on the other side too, but for now this is enough.

Goth Night

So on Saturday I went to a place called The Underground. It is a bi-weekly goth night at a place called Walker's downtown. I was pretty nervous heading in, but then I am nervous going into most new places. I was nervous though not so much because I was dressed as a woman in a new place, but more because I was dressed in a nice bright blue shirt, tan sandals and a denim skirt in a goth place. I didn't quite fit in with the clothes Megan and Jen where wearing or with what I imagined the people inside would be wearing. Well we went inside and I couldn't really figure out what was happening. There was a dance floor with a bunch of chairs and tables nearby. Beyond this was an area fenced off with black painted 2x4's and chicken wire. The dance floor was vacant, but the wired off area was packed. At first, before I saw the doorway between the two sections, it looked like everyone was imprisoned in a giant chicken coop.
We walked inside and I was eager to order a drink - here is the only bad part of the night. I asked for a vodka special and the woman turned around for about a minute and returned with a tiny little plastic cup with a mostly clear but slightly cloudy-white liquid. It turned out that at The Underground a vodka special is made with warm vodka, warm and flat 'Spritz Up' and in place of lime juice was some unknown ingredient that gave it that cloudy-white look. I honestly didn't know what to do. I didn't want to look like I was criticizing the place, but that drink was not only room temperature and didn't taste right, but it didn't taste good either! I was quite consumed with what strange ingredient might be inside that glass and so I decided I had to just get rid of it. I asked Megan if she knew what bottled drinks, other than beer, they served and she told me that they had Smirnoff Ice. I like those so I went up to order one. I was pretty happy when I saw it on the menu because it was under the title of "Girl Drinks". I was actually buying it because I knew it wouldn't be full of random ingredients, but part of me was pretty proud to be walking back with a girl drink.

Well so there I was with a 3/4 full drink and Megan and Jen were ready to go on the dance floor. Megan explained why there were two sections. The dance floor was open to minors, so the wired off area was to separate alcohol from the kids. So while the two of them went to dance I had to nurse my drink alone in the chicken coop. In order to watch them I moved to a different area, but there were no empty tables, so I just sat at one nearby. There was a guy at that table who amused me a little. He was sort of singing the praises of the goth culture. He was telling me that goth lets a person be free of the limitations that real life places. He mentioned my bright blue shirt and implied that while it looked nice it was too conventional. He said goth allows a person dress how they want, act how they want, do what they want etc because they no longer have to worry about how others think they should dress, act or do. He was trying to convince me that by wearing conventional clothes I was missing out on the freeing aspect that goth gives a person when they shed societal constraints. I listened politely, but I really wanted to say that if he thought wearing black clothes and black lipstick was pressing the limits of society then he should really try putting on a skirt and pink lipstick.

At the end of the night we did not take a cab home, instead we just walked to Jen's house. It was actually a really fun walk. We stopped for a bite to eat, a couple drunk-out-of-their-mind strangers came over and entertained us for a while, a carload of black guys offered to give us a ride, I tripped over a planter, an evergreen, and a crack in the sidewalk, we crossed railroad tracks and fields, we stopped to pee in the bushes, and finally we made it back to Jen's place where my energy slowly faded into a swirly sort of headache.