A Curse

When the empty food storage container fell on the dirty floor I spoke to it in a measured tone above the seething sea of my rising anger: ” I hate you. I loathe you. (pause) You are an abscess on a pimple on the ass of a maggot.”

A good curse is worth documenting for reuse later.

My Grandfather Said “Arf!”

My grandfather said, “Arf!” He’d come around a corner, see you coming the other way and “Arf!” After while, this pre-kindergartener started saying it back – “Arf!” “Arf!” as a mutual greeting.

For decades I thought he was just mimicking a dog, and in fact, that interpretation of what he was doing led to a whole life of making animal sounds, weird sounds, character voices and impressions of celebrities.

But decades after he died I came across an old Popeye comic from theĀ 1930s in which Popeye exclaimed “Arf!” when he was surprised by something. In fact, Popeye said this all the time! I suddenly realized my grandfather had been quoting Popeye from his youth and not greeting me but exclaiming surprise at encountering someone charging around the corner at him.

Imagine, a whole life of making sounds based on a fortuitous but erroneous interpretation! I wonder how many of the foundational ways we feel about life and about people, upon which we build entire life-guiding narratives are actually based on misconceptions and/or misinterpretations, for better or worse?

A Look Back

Here’s the prologue to my Facebook page where I share my diary:

I transitioned in 1989 and had surgery in 1991. Folks call me a transgender pioneer because I created the first online trangender chat room, the first online transgender magazine, the first transgender support web site on the planet, as well as the first “how to” video for developing a truly female speaking voice. I also was the first to publish an online daily diary of my transition, surgery, and post-op life, ending up at more than 1200 pages.

Me – I just fell into a vacuum and filled it. The time was right and I was focused, so as a creative thinker, I pushed full speed ahead. But now, all these years later, I’ve moved on, as one might expect. In the intervening decades I’ve created (with my partner) a whole new theory of mind, a new model of narrative psychology, software that implements the model for the structuring of best-selling book and award-winning movies, and I’ve even worked for several years for government intelligence agencies, using our model to analyze the complex motivations of terrorists and to project their likely future behavior in alternative future scenarios.

And so, TG issues have faded out of my life, much less being a focus. In fact, it is usually weeks or months between moments in which they even come to mind, as if it never happened.

But every once in a while, something that happens pops up and for an instant, I recall how it was. And then, just as quickly, the notion fades away again of its own volition.

Of late, however, I’ve started organizing my archives of all my scientific and creative writings, my musical compositions, my artistic photographs, and more. And when I come across some of the materials I put forth on transgender topics, I post them here – partly to document my contributions as an artist, scientist, and philosopher, partly to share with others any value they may have, and partly to finally put them behind me for good, knowing that I no longer have to curate them, as they have a safe and useful home here.

So, browse through, copy or repost anything you like, as long as you give appropriate credit, and may your life course take you to wonderful places beyond your imagination.

Most important, no matter what you seek or what you suffer, never forget that “Dreams are the stuff reality is made of,” as I concluded most of my transgender writings, so long ago.

The Beneath Attitudes

I visited the Attitude Pages today: the CNN attitude page, the Fox attitude page, as well as NPR and the BBC. Couldn’t find the news beneath the attitudes. So, after a few minutes, I gave up and remain spectacularly uniformed, though my ignorance is completely unbiased. I’ll try again next week.

B.S. Gives You Wings

When I was 3 or 4, I reached behind my back and felt a lump on either side that I was sure were wings sprouting. “Mommy, Mommy,” I exclaimed, “I’m growing wings!”

My mother saw what I was doing and said, “No, honey. Those are just your shoulder blades. They are bones in your back and when you reach behind, they pop up a little bit.”

“NO!!!,” I shouted defiantly, and ran back and forth across the front yard trying to fly.

Years later, I have come to believe that it as always been the well-intentioned disbelief of others that has robbed me of my dreams. And I have determined I must believe even more strongly if I am to make such things real before the window of opportunity is lost and the magic has run out of my world.