Purple is a Fruit

purple drinkok. it’s about time to finally get some things off my chest.  here goes.

  1. about five years ago, before everyone and their pets and their grandma’s pets had a blog, i wanted to start one- beyond my livejournal account that I’ve had since you needed invitations for livejournal.  i started writing for examiner.com and did this whole blog about bisexuality.  it was pretty awesome.  i started thinking of other topics i could write about; pop culture and whatnot, and decided that i wanted to do a zombie blog.  it was going to be written from a survivor’s point of view, or sometimes the zombie.  it was going to be tongue-in-cheek, and pretty humorous.  not having a heckuva lot of confidence in my crazy ideas, i asked someone what they thought- and they said to me- “i dunno.  no one cares about zombies.  vampires are in.  you should do a blog about vampires’.  meanwhile, a quick search brought up a zillion vampire blogs (thanks edward and bella!) and what confidence i had about a zombie blog was abandoned.  boy. am i kicking myself now.
  2. as i just mentioned, i wrote for examiner.com and had a purple4pretty great blogabout bisexuality.  it was great to be able to explain myself, along with my opinions about the subject while explaining it to others.  i thought it was successful, despite being a slow starter, until more than a handful of people basically shot me right outof the sky.  so no more bisexuality blog for me.  just the other day i saw a post about bisexuality on thegoddamn, motherfucking huffington post- and let me tell you- the article was terrible.  a toddler without grasp of english could have written a better article.  eat a dick, man.  eat a straight up dick.
  3. purple2way back in my live journal-ing days, i used to post my pithy anecdotes and hilarious musings in list format.  my live journal friends/followers complained that the lists made my posts too blocky and fragmented; they said that there was no flow and that listing made my posts less formal.  the other day as i sat reading how to blog like the pros and whatnot, they stated how LISTS ARE ALL THE RAGE…. seriously?  like, i know i didn’t invent listing stuff in a blog, but for bananas in pajamas-sake….
  4. lastly- and worst-ly- almost ten years ago i realized that my slutty brain could produce some very interesting reading material.  i started writing down fantasies and no holds barred hard core sex stories.  i was very proud of my smut-rotica.  and then.  i let other people read it.  let’s just say, i stopped writing dirty stories after their reviews.  the main complaint was that people wouldn’t be able to handle stories about sex- even if they were eloquently written.  the scenarios were too graphic and the descriptions were “too sexual” as someone pointed out.  “society is not able to deal with sex stories in an everyday way.  they want vanilla sex and even want THAT hidden behind bedroom doors”.  that was how it was put to me.  and so i stopped writing them.  and what pops up years later?  everyone’s favorite and instant sex classic- Fifty Shades of whatnot. it was what american women were waiting for.  and they couldn’t get enough.  and now- even disney mass produces mainstream sex stories. great. i give up.purple3

it all makes me want to crawl into a hole—.  it’s hard to be creative and original and i have always had performance anxiety that i’ll look like i’m copying or biting on someone else’s style (as the kids say).  i know that ‘nothing is new’ and i’m not naive enough to think that i’m going to reinvent the writin’ wheel or even that i’m gonna have a post go viral wi

th a cookie cutter subject that 9,999 people have already blogged about.  the problem is that i was dumb enough to let people talk me out of it writing what i wanted, the way i wanted.  i let my lack of confidence in my writing hold me back from putting my words out there in the way i wanted to.

purpletiniit’s driving me to drink. ok. so i drink anyways.  it’s MAKING me need a fancy frou frou girly purply cocktail. ok.  so another one.  whatever. don’t you judge me. i’m upset.

Not So Much a Hero

Today i’m supposed to talk about a hero, eh?
well, i aint got one. nope. no way, no how. not wonder woman, not spiderman, not martha stewart or even any of the horrible disney princesses. i grew up with a mad crush on Michael Jackson and slept with a giant hard plastic King Kong bank—- does that count? i didn’t think so.

so. hero… hero… um. how about someone i admire?
because that’s an easy one. i admire my boyfriend. i admire his courage and strength. i admire his ability to ignore the assholes of the world. i admire him for having the guts to come out. my boyfriend, of nine years, came out to me this spring as male. let me back up and explain.

way back when, nearly a decade ago, i got a divorce and started what i liked to call, “guerrilla dating”.
being bisexual, i was happily dating both guys and girls, and one crazy night at a favorite club, i ran into the cutest person i can recall having met up until that point. very low-key, very casual, quite gender ambiguous and yes, quite drunk. i was hooked almost instantly. some heavy flirting and a bit of a ‘whirlwind romance’ later, we were in love and together ever since. that tale, however, is very long, and for another time.

through the nine years, i was labeled as ‘in a lesbian relationship’, and by default lumped into the ‘lesbian’ category, despite being bisexual and explaining constantly that one’s sexual identity or preference is NOT defined by their partner or relationship status. i held fast and true to my blatant bisexuality, all the while dispelling the myth that bisexuals are ‘greedy’, ‘confused’ and ‘cannot be monogamous’. i never cared about the gender of my partner. i just knew that i loved that person.

years and years after we met and fell in love, combined lives and built a home together, he bravely came out to me that he finally realized that he was a transgendered male, i.e., born with a female body, but inherently male. he risked me not accepting him, of me breaking up with him, of me not understanding or wanting to continue our life together; none of which happened, because i do accept him and want to continue our life together no matter what. and although i may not understand SPECIFICALLY what he is going through, i will support him every step of the way. so, since he came out to me and started his transition, things have been the same as ever; for me anyways. for him, unfortunately, coming out to me was just the beginning. next he had to tell our friends, which, although seemed easy, wasn’t. he still had to overcome the fear of being questioned, or not being taken seriously. everyone was supportive, however, and for them, as with me, it was all very easy-peasy. for my boyfriend, however, who hates any sort of attention, things weren’t as simple. he was having trouble fielding all of the questions and even responding to the overwhelming support, when he was still just feeling his way around this new step of his life. he had to learn to respond to his newly chosen name, and even remember to use the masculine pronoun when referring to himself. thirty-six years is a long time to just change something simple like your own name, especially when dealing with having to use your ‘birth name’ at work. there was so much stress from trying to decide how to come out at work, or even if he should, or even if he COULD and risk getting fired. it was so hard watching him struggle and be afraid of getting outed. he had to explain the situation to HR repeatedly, and unfortunately his company didn’t even know how to deal with the situation, which didn’t help ease his troubles. at every turn, there was a new scenario, a new situation to have to consider whether or not coming out as a trans-male was the best thing to do. he was under a microscope so often that i saw him crack occasionally, and those cracks lead to more stress. but he always managed to get his chin up and at least fake his way through it. he was so very brave then.

hardest of all, he had to eventually face his family and struggled with the whole situation for a long time. it is sadly a step in his journey that he will constantly have to revisit many more times to come, but at least, the initial conversations are over. i have always known my partner to be brave, but these things took the most courage of all. but even still, with what seemed the hardest part behind him, there were more steps, each more complicated, each another chance for exposure. he cannot hide, no matter how much he wants to. his whole life, he has always drawn attention, despite being quiet and withdrawn. every day he has to move forward, and every day is an introvert’s nightmare; stares and sideways glances; whispers of “is that a BOY or a GIRL?”, constant questions about whose credit card or license he has, and a never-ending stream of screwed up pronouns. waitresses usually seem to address him as ‘sir’ whereas blue collar workers call him ‘a lady’, and when people realize their mistake, it’s more exposure as they try to correct themselves, apologetically. and now, he has the added fear of the BATHROOM DILEMMA. he’s too boyish to use the ladies room, and men’s rooms aren’t usually fully equipped for his current ‘equipment’ and there’s always a fear of being called out, or openly questioned and embarrassed; not to mention the scariness of backwards people who don’t understand the world; people who can’t accept that how we are born isn’t always black, and white or male and female as the case may be.

even more, there’s always an underlying fear of what happened to Brandon Teena who was portrayed in the movie based on his true story in Boys Don’t Cry. i am admittedly nervous for my partner at times, a lot of times actually. there’s always the underlying fear of hate crimes. always. no matter how much i pretend, the fear still lingers, even if just in the cobwebbiest of corners. i want to protect him from everything- the stares, the snickers, the pronoun game, and hate crimes; mostly, i want him to be able to transition quickly, both with legality of paperwork and also physically with surgery. but the reality is, i am not always with him, i can’t always be there to be a buffer when he needs to use the bathroom at work, or when he needs to use his old driver’s license or credit card. i can’t always be there. and at these times, when i can’t be there for him, he has to put his bravest “i don’t give a fuck”- attitude forward, just to do things that we all take for granted. and he is brave. i love him for that. he may not be my ‘hero’, but i admire his courage to just be who he really is.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/10/daily-prompt-hero/