That age old question...

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

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How can a child really answer that question? When they don't know how limitless the possibilities truly are?

I thought I knew what I wanted to be at least 4 times (of course there were other things I wanted to do but these I remember). First it was a figure skater, then it was a firefighter, then it was a dancer, and then it was a Navy SEAL. I held onto that last one for the longest. I remember I was staying after swim practice to do my own workout, a workout I had found on the Navy website for SEAL training. I was probably about twelve years old. I did this for two years, staying late just about every Sunday night to train. And then I found out it was a boys-only club. No girls allowed, crayon sign outside the gate and all. Just like in kindergarten. Suffice it to say, I was crushed. And so I poured myself into soccer. And I was actually pretty good. Then my knees started to go, and I was crushed once again (not half as much as I was about the boys-only SEAL club. I still think about it almost everyday).

So then what? I go to college, get a degree in Sociology and Math. Fun, interesting, but not my top career choices. Then I go to Pastry School in Colorado. Great trip, great people, great food. Got a certificate from that, come work in NYC - and realize that I really just want to decorate cakes (if I was going to work in Pastry Arts at all). Get a new job at this Medical Device company and am seriously surprised at how much I like it, and how good I have gotten at it.

But today I found something else. Something that actually made my gut clench like nothing has in a long time. Something I want.

I want to work with a comics company.

The things that I love in this world are a handful. Sarah comes first, always. Then in no particular order there's video games, cakes, cookies, and comics.

I've always loved comics. As a kid they taught me that it was okay to be different. And they helped me escape into a world where it didn't matter what was going on, or who I was, or how different I felt - I could be an X-Man. And I loved being an X-Man. I used to sneak into my brother's room and read whatever I could find. And although I don't remember which comics I read, or what happened in them, or what year they were from, I remember how they made me feel. And to this day I still feel it. They are an escape into a world where anything can happen. Anything.

I want to be part of that for someone else. I want to help shape a world for another kid who just needs to get away from everything going on around them. I want to make a difference for them the way comics made a difference for me. And I think I can make that happen.

Well, as they say - here goes nothing.

A positive post.

MY MOTHER CALLED ME HER SON!!! IN PUBLIC!!!!

More on that after a few updates. Long story short - my parents have swapped places in their views. Like that's not confusing at all. 

Anyway!

I tried to have a conversation with my Dad about what I'm doing and how he has been addressing me and how it is NOT okay for him to group me in with "the girls" and introduce me to people as his "daughter". He was not having it. He told me that "god gave me two sons and a daughter and that's what I'll always have" He went on to talk about Mary Claire Cheney (Dick Cheney's daughter) and how even though the family does not agree with her lifestyle, they still get along. Because "she's in a relationship with another woman". I tried to explain that this is different because I'm not a woman anymore.and I'm not a lesbian, I'm transgender. He just didn't really seem to understand what I'm doing with my life. But only time will tell, he said he would try to stop saying "the girls" and start saying "Sarah and A" and therefore calling me "A" instead of 'Aileen'. We shall see where that goes. 

In other news, James got fired two Fridays ago at work. He was lying about how much work he was doing everyday and since no one had ever really checked it, he was getting away with it. Who knows for how long but Juan asked me to figure out why his numbers didn't match up and I did. 

Honestly I took it pretty hard because here was a guy that I trusted, my first new friend made as "Aidan" at my first job as "Aidan", and he accepted me no matter what. He was a really down-to-earth, and we had some real heart-to-hearts but at this point who knows what he was lying about.

Okay, onto the good stuff. 

My Mom has been actually TRYING. Like, really. It's throwing me off, honestly, and I'm liking it but I'm shocked at how she's coming along. Apparently at the quilt meeting the other night, someone was talking about all of the help that was given by family members at the quilt show. And how they should thank their families for coming out, and she looked to my Mom and said "especially your son", and my mom asked "my son?" and the woman said "yeah your son who was there the whole time" and Mom said "oh yeah, he's my son". I'M SORRY, WHAT?!

SO that happened. AND, her sister, my aunt - has been using male pronouns and calling me "Aidan". It's shocking, and AWESOME and I really really appreciate the effort that is being put forward. It's amazing to see how much progress has been made in the past months. 

Side note: Phil at work told me that when he started working at the company in October and he met me, he had no idea about me. And when he heard from someone he thought that they were playing a trick on him. And that if he ever heard anyone making fun of me or giving me crap that he would kick the shit out of them. That was a HUGE ego boost. Overall it's been a good week. 

ALSO, I will be starting my volunteering with a pre-enlist ARMY program on Friday with a someone who I consider a really good friend. We haven't seen each other in years but I feel like we're just going to pick up where we left off. It's gonna be fun - I'm nervous excited. 

I'm sure there will be more updates in a week or so. 

PS- April 18th will be a year on hormones. Maybe I'll do another post about that separately soon.

Through the eyes of a child...

Yesterday was moving day for two of our friends, and it was a long day but completely worth it. We got all of their stuff out and into the other house, thankfully we had a lot of hands - it made things a lot easier. I don't have many friends, and even those I do have there are an even smaller few that I would help ALL day to move and clean their new house. I love these people, not only because of how funny, and caring, and honest they are. But also because they support me hands down no matter what, and get as mad as I do when someone say the wrong name or the wrong pronoun. It's refreshing to have people that care about me like that, and will go out of their way to correct someone without me even having to say anything.

It took me a little while to get used to it, the true support and open trust. But it's nice now - it's comfortable. I wouldn't give it up for anything now that I have it. And I would do anything for them, just like I know they would for me.

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Today Dad and I went bowling with a family friend and her two kids. It was fun - but honestly lately I'm never sure how these things are going to turn out with my parents around. And the kids are amazing, I love them, and it's nice to see them getting so big. At one point, our friend asked how Sarah was, and I said good. Her daughter asked who Sarah was and when I said she was my girlfriend, I got a confused look and she asked, "your girlfriend?! Are you a boy?" I said yes, and she didn't believe me. So they both ran over to my father and asked if I was a boy or a girl, and when they came back - "Mr. K said you're a girl." And that was that.

So we finished the game, headed home, and I texted our friend saying that if she wanted me to talk to them at another time, I could. She said it was fine and she was talking to them about it - they seemed pretty unphased by it. Her son, the younger of the two, apparently asked: "Why does she wanna be a boy? So she can breakdance?"

The world is so different when we're children. Everything is so fluid, and although the world can be black and white, sometimes that can be an easy way to explain something. "She was born a girl, and now she's a boy." Done. Easy. And it seems like as long as you don't lie to a kid, they'll trust you. And the world for them is how we make it. If someone wants to be a boy, or a girl, it's okay if you tell them it is. And as long as you don't make a big deal out of it. they won't.

So now it's about the next time I see them, and what they say.

We'll just have to find out.

Effort matters, people. It doesn't take much.

So I know this is a bit late but I should probably talk about it now because it still makes me happy.


On Valentines Day Sarah and I stopped by my parent's house to say hello and because my dad said that he had something for us. So we get there and before my dad can give us what he has for us he tells us to look at this book that Stephanie had made for my brother, we "have to read it go read it, its really good", he says. It was cute, it was full of pictures of them and how they met and where they went and things that they did. And then at the end it talked about my parents and myself, a brother named "Aidan".

Now, keep in mind that this is the first person living in that household that has called me Aidan. I was glad that it was just me and Sarah left by the end of the book because I could not stop smiling like an idiot. Then he gave us the candy he bought for us and a card for me that said 'Aileen' on the envelope. To my surprise, however, the inside of the card said 'Dear A,' and went on to say that I am a great child and friend and did not use any pronouns or use the word daughter. Needless to say, I was pretty happy about that.




Then, the other night, Sharon came over after they had a quilt meeting and gave me my birthday present I hadn't gotten from her yet. It was a card, and the front of the envelope said Aidan. It was a Marvel superheroes card, which goes to show that she knows me and what I like. =D So that also felt pretty great. Then, Sarah and I are talking the next day and she says that Sharon was calling me 'Aidan' the other day and used male pronouns.

So, things are looking up. my mother is trying, which doesn't go unnoticed, but it's still kind of feels like too little too late. But I left a book and a pamphlet for them to read about transgender kids, parents, friends, etc. So hopefully my parents have been going over it.

Only time will tell, and I'm trying not to get my hopes up.

Two tickets to paradise.

Sorry it's been so long - I've been in shock about this whole thing.

We live together. We are living together. After so long waiting and working for this, it's finally happened. I think I've waited so long to post about this because I was afraid it was a dream, or maybe something was going to fall through and I would have to move back home again. But here we are - buying groceries, watching TV, cuddling up on the couch, falling asleep in each other's arms and fuck if it is not the best thing that has ever happened to me (besides her accepting to be with me in the first place) then I don't know what is.

I don't think I could ever describe in words how happy I am, how happy it makes me to be living together. It's not something that can just be described, it's something that's felt. It's been a little over 2 months now and I don't think there has been a single day that I haven't woken up smiling knowing that she'd be there right next to me. I can't wait to go home after work everyday and see her, have dinner with her, watch TV with her.

I don't care if it sounds stupid, or mushy, or any of that crap - because I have never been this happy.

Who needs a house out in Hackensack?

So I see that the last time I posted was about an apartment.

This post is about an apartment too, but not a two bedroom to be shared with a mutual friend.

We were supposed to get a 2 bedroom apartment. One bedroom for a mutual friend, and one bedroom for me a Sarah. Well it turns out that our mutual friend was not ready to leave home. So despite the entire process of the application, background and credit checks, money to hold the apartment, it turns out that we didn't take the apartment......so we started all over again, this time just us two.

I almost cannot believe we'll be moving in next weekend. It's crazy to think that in a week we will be moving into our very own place, just the two of us. It's exciting, and I have the feeling she is a bit nervous. But a good kind of nervous, like a little kid about to jump into a pool even though they can see Daddy is right there to catch them - you know you'll be fine, but you still have to make the jump.

It's in a very Orthodox neighborhood, which is going to be interesting but we're used to driving out on the weekends anyway, and at least it's quiet. The building looks like shit from the outside, really it does, but the whole inside has been gutted and redone, repainted with moldings everywhere and it's actually really nice.

We've both already started packing this past week so there really isn't that much left. This is going to be amazing.

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Thanksgiving was two days ago, and almost all of my family refuses to accept the fact of what I'm doing. Or they just go stoic about it and sweep it under the rug. Except for a few people, and definitely some more than the others. My uncle John has been calling me "A" as best he can, which is his way of trying, and has told me that whatever floats any one's boat is fine with him as long as you're a decent and nice person you're good with him. Aunt Laura and Chuck love me to death no matter what and have been the only ones really communicating with me about all of this, asking questions, making fun of my voice dropping and then hugging the shit out of me and I'm not sure she'll ever stop pinching my cheeks. And then there's cousin Mikey. Who at Nana's was deliberately saying "Aidan" out loud at almost everything, and then smiling wide. We were outside together for a minute away from everyone and he asked why he was the only one doing it, and seemed surprised that even my parents weren't following suit. I told him he was the only one who was actually calling me "Aidan" in the family and again he was surprised. It's nice to know that he really has my back, completely. He's not half-assing it like the rest of my family, he is in this. 

Believe me I know I have it better than most at this point with family tolerance, and I'm thankful that at least I'm still in my house and accepted by my family at all, but it's interesting to see who will conform and who will sweep it under the rug. I have hope for my generation. That us as well as our children will be more tolerant, and accepting - that we won't look at someone and judge them for what they look like, or if they have trouble hiding their tits but they're growing a beard, or a deep voice and shaved legs and arms, or even just floating in the middle ground of androgyny - which is pretty hot, to be honest. =P

Anyway, the point is, everything is going to be okay....eventually. 

I'm hoping time will heal most wounds, and all of us can get the hell on with our lives as a family like we're supposed to. I'm also hoping that this apartment and some space away from my immediate family will help us all move forward in this process without feeling smothered by one another. 

But, one can only hope, right?

This is the sound of settling...

We might have an apartment.

I'm trying really hard not to get my hopes up. Because something might not work out - credit check, whatever it may be - these things happen. But it's cozy, and in a good neighborhood, and fucking cute as shit. Can I say that? Does it make it more manly if I say "fucking" and add "as shit" on the end?

We went to Ikea on Sunday and looked at couches, and bed frames, and bookcases, and kitchens that we can't have but I'm not too upset because the kitchen really is a nice size... and we're going to need new sheets. I love new sheets.

I find myself literally daydreaming like a 14 year old with a new crush. Sitting at work thinking about what to put on the walls, and what stuff am I going to keep and what should I give away? Realistically my room is not going anywhere. My 8'x10' cell-sized space that I've called a bedroom my whole life will not be disappearing as soon as I leave. I can move stuff slowly, over time... right? I don't want to get rid of everything. I like my stupid stuff. My water canteen that I've never even really used, my pictures on my walls, my toy Shelby's up on my shelf and the pink fuzzy dice that I don't have a car to put in anymore... I love my stuff.

Some stuff can go, but it's going to be weird to leave home. As much as I've wanted to leave, now it's strange to realize that it's really going to happen...

Wish me luck.

"Too late two choices to stay or to leave..."

I know it has been almost a month, but between work and Disney and Renaissance Faires, I haven't been on my computer too often. So here I am, to say that I'm proud of myself.

Before I even start I want to make perfectly clear that not all men are like this. I, in fact, have not met every single man and cannot speak for anyone but myself. I hate generalizing, and I would never do it. But some men - some men that I have come in contact with - are EXACTLY like this. So please do not take offense if you are a man who is not like this, because I clearly am not talking about you. You're great, and funny, and outgoing and understanding. But not all men are like you. Some of them, are like this....

This weekend we went to visit a friend's childhood home in MA, where her family is still living. We drove up Friday night and went to King Richard's Faire on Saturday. It was a nice site, a lot more 'rustic' than the NY Faire, which was fun. What was not so fun, was knowing that no matter how hard I try, I'm not passing as much as I hope to. 

BUT! There is hope. I used the men's room like a champ. They're all just whipping 'em out and takin' a piss, and I stroll in, duck into a stall, do my thing, step out and wash my hands quick before walking out the wrong door and stumbling my way through the guys outside waiting for their chance to probably pee all over the seat. Like they do. But I kept my head low, and didn't get the shit kicked out of me. Which is always, and I mean always, a win.

It's not just that men's rooms are intimidating, it's that the men inside the men's rooms are intimidating. I can go pee in an empty men's room. That's fine. It's when you watch a group of drunk guys go in that you think to yourself, how drunk are they and how obnoxious/violent/loud are they going to be? So now you have to worry about being able to pee standing up, with other guys in there (talk about pee jitters), and you also have to worry about what will be the reaction they'll have if your shirt is hanging the wrong way and you don't pass  as a dude as well as you hoped you would. 

It's scary to think that just the way your shirt hangs, or the design on it, can make or break you in the men's room. Out in public is different. People can stare all they want in public. Fuck 'em. Who cares? But the men's room, as I have confirmed in my travels what I knew to be true all along, is a sacred place. A place where a man can literally whip out his dick and piss next to a complete stranger without even batting an eye. A place where a man can be a man! And talk about the blow job he got last night, or that chick on the end of the bar definitely wants him (even though she's just looking for a free drink), or how he and a bunch of the guys are going off-roading next weekend with a 30 rack for each of them and man they are 'going to be sooo hammered'.... not a place for females. 

Not a place for anyone but men. And when they catch you it can be humiliating, or awkward, and uncomfortable. And some men will just ignore you. They'll probably go and tell everyone they know about it, or maybe you'll walk out to a while bunch of people watching you and waiting for you to see what you look like and yep that's definitely a chick - but they won't call you out in the act.

However some men will harass you, like call you 'freak' or ask 'what the fuck are you doing in here?' and then when you go into the stall they'll turn the lights off and leave, so you wait for an extra two minutes to let your eyes adjust to keep from walking into the sink and then do it anyway....like a fucking idiot. Which is always fun. 

So now, every time I go into a men's room and succeed, I'm proud. Even if it's at work, and no one else is in there for the entire time that I am, I'm proud of myself.

Pride seems to be coming to me more often than it used to. 

And it's getting much easier to accept it.

It's about damn time. 

"She’s called Gillian Lynne, have you heard of her? Some have."

Kids know what they want, when they want it. Some things might seem a bit outlandish - candy, anything they can get their hands on at the checkout counter (even if they don't know what it is), and that toy that spins while you drip paint into it and creates exactly what you figured, a piece of paper covered with swirled paint (but if you do too much it's just a lot of colored paint on paper without much design at all) - but overall, they know.

A friend of mine asked for this link today, and mentioned that her "...son is 4, yes very young, but he only likes girl things. Plays dress up in princess dresses, plays with dolls and will get very upset if people try to get him to play with boy toys. Granted he is young, it doesn't bother me in the least bit! When you're little though, I think people feel 'tomboys' are more acceptable, and not the other way around. My husband and I will love and accept him regardless!"

This brought to mind a story I heard through Sir Ken Robinson in his TED Talk from 2006. It truly is one of my two favorite TED videos, the other being Clifford Stoll on everything. (links will follow) The story is about Gillian Lynne, the choreographer of Cats and Phantom of the Opera. As a child in the 1930's, she was doing terribly in school. She was fidgety, couldn't concentrate, and her parents were convinced that she had a learning disorder. Today she's probably be diagnosed with ADHD. Well they went to a specialist, and after awhile hearing about the problems that Gillian was having in school, he and her mother left the room - but as the doctor walked, he turned on the radio and then closed the door, and as soon as the door closed Gillian was up and dancing around the room. He turned to her mother and said, “Mrs. Lynne, Gillian isn’t sick; she’s a dancer. Take her to a dance school.” And as the saying goes, the rest is history. 

Now, I know this isn't the same exact situation - but kids know what they want. 

If your four year old son wants to play with (what are labeled as) girl's toys, and play dress up, and dance around the house in a tutu saying he's a ballerina and just wants a sensible pair of heels, let him. If he turns out to be transgendered, or super fabulous and gayer than Richard Simmons singing a duet with Elton John in a bath house, or just a straight man who knows his way around Nordstrom, it's going to be okay. 

Kids may not remember exactly what happened in every situation, but they will never forget how something made them feel. And if a parent makes their kid feel unwelcome, or unloved, or like there's something wrong with them, kids will not forget that. They will always remember how they felt when their parents told them to go make some friends that are girls, or be more 'ladylike' - when the kid was just doing what felt natural and right. 

Let them be a kid. 

But more importantly - let them be themselves. Whoever that may be. 

TED Talks

Sir Ken Robinson - (click here to watch) 

Clifford Stoll - (COMPLETELY UNRELATED but click here to watch that one)

Seeing is believing

So there's a new guy at work named John, and I'm training him. Apparently everyone in our department feels like it's time to move onto bigger and better things, and they're leaving. So they brought in John.

He's a smart guy. IT degree, trained and served with the ARMY, picking up things quickly, etc. So could I really fool him? Could I really be passing?

We're talking about working out, and I mention that I want to bulk up and get more muscle. He says it's really not too hard with the right diet, exercise, and attitude to keep with it. Then he mentions that he did steroids for a time, and that really helped him out. "I bet it did" - I reply, and keep working. Without even missing a beat he comes out with, "well you're still young, you got plenty of that natural testosterone still. When you hit like 35, that shit starts to tank. Be ready for that."

I almost died right then and there. I tried to ignore the fact that I could feel the heat crawling up my chest, over my ears, and onto my face. It was a good thing he was behind me and I could just keep staring at my computer screen and nod as if to say, "oh yes I will keep that in mind, thank you good sir please do not notice how my face is for some reason turning the color of a sun-burnt Irishman".

I turn and shoot a look to James that may have looked something like, 'DID HE JUST FUCKING SAY THAT?! I WIN. WE HAVE TO TALK LATER" and yet not a sound came from my mouth. Luckily he just nodded back to me, fully understanding, and trying not to let his body shake too much from laughing silently.

There are two possibilities.

One - He has no fucking idea that I have DD's under this binder shirt and my dick is ordered off of the internet. I'm passing and he has no idea.

Two (much more likely) - He knows exactly what is going on, and is being the nicest and most understanding person I have met so far that is not one of my closest friends. He knows what I'm doing, more than likely has known a few trans-men, and knows how to make us feel better than we've felt for a long time (or ever for that matter).



Either way, it's fucking awesome. Sláinte, John. I won't tell if you won't.