Make Someone Happy

Fame if you win it, comes and goes in a minute.
Where's the real stuff in life to cling to
Love is the answer, Someone to love is the answer.
Make Somone Happy  /  Styne, Comden and Greene.

Where is the real stuff in life to cling to?  I have been hearing this tune for the past week in the cavern of my heart, where there are a surprising number of songs from my parent's generation.  I can't argue with the first line.  It's the third that is giving me some trouble.  Let me paraphrase

Love if you win it, comes and goes in a minute..  where's..... You get the point.  Love particularly the Love that was being promoted here, is conditional.  As a veteran of more than one marriage I can certainly endorse that.  It comes and it goes.  Or at my age it mostly does neither, but that is another story, and if it ain't the real stuff in life to cling to...then I guess it doesn't matter at this point.

So what is the real stuff in live to cling to?   Well if we are on the right track at all, then I think we can say Love that lasts.  And if it really lasts, and it doesn't check every few minutes whether you turned into an asshole, then I would call that love unconditional.

In this life, I have only seen this approached not by brotherly or otherly love, but by motherly love.  Even the most unsavory characters can often take comfort in the fact that their mother loves them.  But it is not really something you control, Is it?  I mean your mother loves you or she doesn't.  Then there is the transgender angle.  A number of transgender people that i have known have experienced traumatic interactions with their parents when they came out to them.  This I think is more likely with their fathers than their mothers from my limited sample, and in my own case, my mother and father never knew about my gender issues during their lifetimes.  Which points to the other issue with motherly love.  Presumably it ends when your mother dies.

I have been of course saving the obvious answer for last.  Unconditional Love... The Love of God.
But not so fast.   I have been recently mulling over my old Catholic roots,  And I can assure you that in that tradition .... well let me sing it for you....

God's Love if you win it comes and goes in a minute...  That is what the concept of mortal sin, and mortal sin's old friend damnation is all about.  Is it not.

And so I am left still with the unanswered question.
Where is the real stuff in life to cling to?
I am not getting any younger or smarter,  so there is a certain urgency to the question.  
Should I announce a prize for the best answer?

May I See Your Gender Identification II

There is a movement afoot to reject the gender binary.  One facet of this movement is an acknowledgement that the gender binary, may be flawed.  What is a male, and what is a female?  This determination is needed for traditional marriage, and traditional post gold medal investigations at the Olympics.  The athletic world where the perils of this common sense distinction have been well established, has taken to avoiding the issue where possible.  Wikipedia: Gender_verification_in_sports  The problems of answering this question in the case of marriage, are discussed in a very informative blog:  Intersex Roadshow.   Being raised catholic, I have looked at that perspective, and written in detail about it, on my new alternate blog, the one where I am pretentious and boring,  (Ok, more pretentious and boring):   The Other Side of That Life I've Been Living.
All these problems.  Why not just chuck the whole thing.   Recently a friend had an exchange with some young people on Fetlife.  My friend was interested in creating coalition and bonding across the generations for transgender people, perceiving a split between TOG and TNG.  The young people, most of whom descrribed themselves as Queer, or Gender Queer, seemed uninterested, because the older generation of transgender people in their opinion was poisoned by indoctrination in the gender binary.  A clear example would be folks who described themselves as transexuals, and went into a doctors care, establishing their "femaleness" to said doctors satisfaction as per legal requirements, and then were permitted sex re-assignment to the other side of the binary.  "Hooey" my young friends would have said if they know any such quaint phrases.  Secondly, they didn't regard being trans and being so very important that it needed to be worked on.   This was one of their identities,  woman, lesbian, queer being others.  They were not by their own descriptions hung up on the gender labels.

So relax Grandma....(Grandpa?)

My instincts finely honed on the generational conflicts of the 60's is to give these folks a virtual hug and a right on sister.  Not that I don't believe that there will continue to be a gender binary  centered around love and family etc. , but only that the ascendancy of this binary to relationships of power, dress, interests, car you drive, cigarette you smoke etc etc.. ad nauseum...is oppresive to everyone, not just those who straddle the gender fence.
That being said, I am clearly a creature of a culture for which the empire of gender was big, even as it was crumbling.   I femulate, and I masculinizie myself when that is required at work or with family.  In that framework, I fret and fret.   Am I looking weird at the mall.  Am I looking weird at the family re-union.  I seek help.  The philosophers provide guidance.   Free your mind. The rest will follow.

May I See Your Gender Identification Please?

"I'm not dumb but I can't understand why she walked like a woman, but talked like a man"
Ray Davies

In the last post, I spoke about my wish to walk the walk.  And so in my flats, long skirted, modestly made up, pretty blouse, girly scarf,  I have indeed twice recently walked the walk in the Malls.  And there I have found that I can roam the stores without incident. (Or almost.  A young couple saw me walking by the booth that they were selling something or other from, and asked me to pose with them for pictures. Does this mean I am eligible for my own reality show?)   But generally, I can browse comfortably, and with family friendly restrooms,  one of the great impediments to my peripatetic adventures is mitigated, (See Ordinary Life)   And so I can have a most pleasant outing en-femme, all by myself whenever I wish.

But these adventures, have highlighted some issues that I otherwise, have avoided.  The old Belinda (the one from last month!) generally never really confronted the issue of passing or getting read with any seriousness.  My social circle, of course know me.  I don't sit with my legs spread and my panties showing, so I don't get corrected very often,  And a number of good friends, don't even consider trying to pass, even though they crossdress, so they are usually without criticism or advice.

I however am different, or at least I think so.  I would pass if I could, so I am confronted with my number one give away,  my voice.   In the mall, this translates into a reticence about talking.  Cruel irony, because as a male no one wants to talk to me, but as a femulator, I am more approachable, and anyway, store clerks talk to you, and i feel self-conscious talking back.  Bummer as we used to say in the bad old days.  To a lesser extent my walk and gestures could certainly be improved, but I have worked on them.

"How do you feel?

I feel real phoney when my name is Phil

or was that Bill."

The Red Telephone,   Arthur Lee,  Love.

Or in my case perhaps Belinda.   So the issue in a nutshell is  "How can you occupy one skin with two genders, and remain sane... (or perhaps a more modest goal... remain uninstitutionalized).  I have been reading a little of the writings from TNG... Trekkies note, I am not talking about Data, but rather youth.
My impression is that they approach the whole thing differently,  but I will leave that for my next post.
.

Extra ordinary Life

      Trans Toons by Bethanyangelstar.deviantart.com.

"If I were young again I'd pay attention to that little known dimension, a taste of endless time."
Chris Smither,


It was only a couple of months ago that I described my desire to experience more of the ordinary life of those most extraordinary creatures, women.  That was not followed up by weekly outings, but now i hope to do so in the new year.  I find myself in retirement, more and more dressed femme or androgynous.  But like an alcoholic who has been maintaining for a while with a steady diet of wine spritzers,  I am feeling a powerful thirst, and dare I say need to slap on a skirt, and head to the mall and shop!  Like a deranged participant observer I need to be among them in their natural habitat,  the dress shops, salons and tea rooms.  In the Xmas season, I did just that, and even tried on some outfits for New Year's Eve.  As expected, the malls were a welcoming world of friendliness, with family friendly restrooms, and transgender friendly fitting rooms.  And when made, as my unfeminine voice guaranteed everytime I opened my mouth, there was always a smile, and the occasional stare of some other shopper, whether cold or warm, was a matter of indifference to me now that i know that the ground will not come up to swallow me whole, and consign me to some tranny hell where the drag is ill fitting and the fabrics of the coarsest wool.
As I am more and more out, I increasingly confront my bi-gendered existence, wondering if such an existence represents a dissociation in my personality.  Like Eve (the all about one, not the one with a taste for  apples), do I represent two personalities, each barely on speaking terms.  My first impression was perhaps, but I need to think more on it.  I don't for instance fully represent my masculine side, the one with children and even gasp grandchildren, and ex-wives, and co-workers.  I speak here as Belinda, who is mostly unattached, and rather narcissistic at times.  But the few who know both sides of me, don't see much difference (Haha)  And perhaps they are right.
So another year evaporates and despite the usual apocalyptic nonsense, another stands poised to begin.  There won't be an infinite supply of them, i increasingly realize, and so they never have been more precious.  I hope only for a few extraordinary adventures this year.  And to become fully comfortable with my own skin, (and to moisturize it daily!)  My wishes are the same for you, unless you are a boy in which case you should have the adventures, but moisturizing is optional.

Superstorm

"Oh, love me tonight, for I may never see you again"  
  Bruce Springsteen  4th of July Asbury Park

I walked the beach last week, the north end of Brigantine Island, a beach that I love literally or is that litorally.  My first time since Sandy and a place to fully realize her power.   The storm itself passed right over my home. But being a distance from the ocean, well nestled near the back bay,   I didn't see Sandy in her full fury.  But this beach (and many places north of here) is where She made vacuum of our cherished illusions of permanence.  The beach has changed.  Twice as large at low tide , and I imagine twice as small at high tide.  The line between the thick underbrush of dune grass, cockles, goldenrod, thorny vines and the beach erased, The marshes are sand covered, and the beaches are denuded.   And with that, things once hidden are revealed.  There is a familiar piece of the beach with some pilings which are obviously the ruins of a dock.  Now as the picture above shows,  other more elaborate structures long sleeping under the sand are revealed.  And of course one island further north, long beach island.  Structures that once stood in daylight, are shorn, and what remains buried beneath sand.
In a night, what was is no more, and what was no more is.   And we are surprised, aghast at the gentle billows turned savage, and so much of what we called ours, swept away by an indifferent hand.  What once moved is stilled, and all is movement that we thought stillness.   Still we makes our plans, and build our castles, forgetting that they will be toppled, and we will be stilled,.  Everything we do, everyplace we go, everyone we love, everything we are will disappear.  And so those forgotten ruins, provide a kind of solace, the forgotten will return.  Either that or embrace the oblivion.
Officially, I do the latter, well read in the Upanishads.  And yet as it approaches, I furiously exercise body and mind, assembling bucket lists, and arranging play dates.  There is little to be gained by denying what is evident from the first blink in the morning to the final blink at night.  I work assiduously on the castle.  Here is the room where I study sanskrit, and here is the room where I struggle to understand algebra and physics... (Has that sand just become too dry to bolster those walls?)  And of course the top floor is completely given over to walk in closets, and make up tables, and perhaps a few too many mirrors.  Gotta get that castle done!  So I can get a nice look from a high tower at approaching seas.

One of the Boyz II

It turned out that i was the only tranny who participated in the CFNM party.  There was another tranny who showed up, but they were in a funk about the whole thing, showing up in a thong and finally just moping semi-clothed in another room.  Sweety  i feel your pain, but if you dread being naked,  dont turn up at the CFNM party.  Thus i was the  only other transgendered participant, and I showed up in full makeup with scads of jewelry and with a special cod piece,( hair accessories carefully placed to create a panorama of butterfly sipping at flower.)  it might be argued that thismwas cheating, but this was definitely technically within the rules and got some nice compliments from the ladies, though one did remark that i didnt  make a very good naked male Since i Looked like a girl.   If you prick us do we not bleed?
So we had 5 women 5 men and me.  The women really enjoyed the event it seemed, having the naked men do various things ( foot massage, serving, forced bi) or doing things to them.  ( clothes pins, rope bondage, paddling). A couple of,the men really enjoyed the event as well, at least if we gauge them by how tall their little soldiers stood.  But certainly the women were jolly and chatty while the men were quiet and embarrassed.
Me?   I found the public humiliation of forced bi a bit,of a turn-on, being instructed to do this and that and i didnt even know my partner who was certainly turned on.  
I had gone to this party expecting self discovery, being forced to acknowledge my own maleness.   It turned out not to be so revealing, though i did put dating a boy on my bucket list.   When i do, i think i will take him to a CFNM party,  only this time i will have the good sense to wear a dress.

One of the Boyz

Heaven loves ya
The clouds part for ya
Nothing stands in your way
When you're a boy

David Bowie   "Boys Keep Swinging"


I have been fortunate to find some females who I can call friend, and socialize with in girl mode.  These Ladies are generally of the dominant persuasion,  and I have learned a great deal about real dominant females as opposed the the Pussy with a Whip fantasy dommes, that inhabit the dark recesses of so many male minds.  Some of the activities in this circle of friends is what folks in the D/S scene call play, and which the rest of the world might be prone to call foreplay.   So someone has cooked up the idea to have a CFNM party.   If you don't know what that is, you probably need to broaden your social circle.   This is a clothed female / naked male party.  I have found that this party concept has a fair appeal to some number of females in the D/S world, (and perhaps beyond!)   It is not however my idea of a fun party, or at least it wasn't when I first heard of it.
I shall now describe the transvestite's relationship to nudity.
 A beautiful girl starts tearing off her own clothes and whispers huskily.   "Let's get naked"   You look deeply into her eyes and say..  "What!  No Way!  I spent two hours getting dressed.  Are you crazy bitch!"

or something to that effect.   Trannies love clothes, and the fashion options are very limited when you are naked.  The other consideration is that you wore all those pretty clothes to hide something that is quite apparent when you are naked..  You are a man!

So my first inclination was to beg off this particular party, but these Ladies are my friends, and if they want a bunch of naked men to play with, then by golly, I am going to do my part!
By now having imagined what might transpire a bit,  I am actually a little excited by the whole prospect.  I am certainly not going to butch myself up, actually quite the contrary.  Make-up and Jewelry are allowed, and that includes genital jewelry.  I plan to adorn that part of me that screams  MAN  with some very cute jewelry.   That and a pair of breasts that are rather obvious when I am naked should highlight a certain gender ambiguity on my part.  I only hope that I don't get shown the door for failure to meet the standard of naked male.  This party is tomorrow.  I will file a report in a few days when I return, unless the women find me so irresistable that they keep me in a gilded cage.  If they do, I hope they permit me a few frocks, it is getting a little chilly around here.