cuttin' it close with your hostess, lady schick! :: girl, it's trouble.
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About Me....

um... who me? uh i guess i'm the lounge's resident tranny. old school bustie formerly known as butta.

my new {wo([manifest]o)}

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Dj lady Schick

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entry Apr 18 2008, 06:18 AM
my has it been a while....

ok, so this is weird: one of my co-workers asked me how many days after i miss my period do i start to freak out?


really, this wood working thing is so super new to me. i really don't know how do this. i swear i thought my head was going to explode. huh? it's not like i don't understand the question, it's that i don't know how i got here. i simply cannot fathom it.

when i started my transition i was sure that i'd never pass so i took the punkrawkish position that i didn't want to, that i wasn't going to try. i was going to live in the middle, out, open and honest. i would respond to either he or she, pronouns were irrelivant. i would strive for androgeny. i tried on different gender identities, gender labels, i was a androgyne, a inbetween, a all-in-one, a chick with a dick, a boy with tits, a gender bender, a gender blender, a gender fucker, an either/or, and and or an all-terrain vehicle, a t-girl, a trans woman, a male born female, a trans dyke, i made some up, fusing other identities, like i was trying on clothes. fuck yeah, n fuck you! torn jeans and skateboards, makeup and street burns. the rule was defy the rules. i relished the question, so, are you a boy or a girl, or what are you? honestly i didn't then, nor do i now think it's anyone's business what is between my legs, but the reaction, and watching people try not to offend me was the height of hilarity. i suppose it helps to have one of those faces that is pretty for a boy, and/or handsome for a woman. and the hormones certainly helped that. changing the shape of my face in subtle ways...i was right there... in the middle. i'd giggle to myself when people would, on meeting my say, oh, you're that skateboarding tranny my friend saw. they said you were badass....fueled by feminism i yearn not to be some frail damsel, but the tuff girl. the scratches, scabs and scars on my knees and palms are my accessories. tres chic, non? they show me how to survive. to grow hard.

for at least my first four years living fulltime i kept my boy name. i remember working my dj gig and some guy or other in a suit would come up to the dj booth and start hitting on me. sooner or later he'd ask my name, i would smile, slyly, and reply, hand extended to shake theirs, making sure that they were standing on the large "X" on the floor before i drop the anvil...

"what? i'm sorry? the music is loud..."

and then... the anvil would reach it's target. acme products have got a bad wrap. they work like a charm. they'd get this dazed wile e. coyote look on their face. then turn pale. so delicious. really. there is no price for something like that. such a change from the times you get rejected as soon as their friend clues them in, or they, in the act of heavy petting, stop suddenly when they feel the bulge in your panties, passion evaporated like a vapor. the people talking shit behind your back. no, these times, you savor them.

some how the need to blend in creeps in. slow as molass, the pointing and whispering take its toll like water carving out the grand canyon. there is no defense. like trying to stay away during a boring sermon, fighting it just makes it stronger. sooner or later, you will be dragged under, you will lose the strength to resist.

i had umpteen jobs where i was out. but that's me, i have umpteen jobs anyways. so being "the transexual" means little if the job is transitory, temporary. i will just be "the tranny that used to work here" or there. a ghost, a footnote. after all, the first five letters tell you all you need to know, "t-r-a-n-s". meaning to cross, from one side to another. my body, my heart, my life are all in flux. not that i mind, that little punkrocker in me loves change, but there is that undertow, the one that comes with growing up: the one that wants stability. the trappings of punk are gradually shed, i stop riding my skateboard as much and start riding a bike, or driving my car.

and i search for something i want to do for a while, a career, but of course i can't play it straight. i've still got that rebelious spirit, and the picture of rosie the riviter in my head.
and what i want most is this; to be one of the girls, to be seen as a woman, nothing else, but i wonder how different that was than where i started, because at the end of the day it all boils down the the need to be accepted as you are, be that punk androdyne or lady welder.

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sk8 boarding with a long board,
skateboard drifting
street art/stickers/graff/stencils
thriftin' and liftin'
asian cinema- particularlly korean films, movies from the 60's + 70's, screwball comedies of the 30s-40's, german expresionist film, horror and film noir, neo-noir, sci-fi particularly dystopias, self-reflexive film. film theory.
almost any genre of musics, particularly soul, r&b, jazz, blues, old, new and true school hip-hop, jump blues, jazz vocals, "incredibly strange music", "golden throats", odd covers, asian underground, cock rock, hair metal, j and k pop and hop, the "countrypolian" sound, rockabilly, surf, soundtracks and theme songs, swing, big band, lounge, tradional ez listening, bossa-nova, international pop.
subcultural histories. asian subcultures, american subcultures, historical tangents, politics,
gender theory, queer theory,
feminism, feminist theory, feminist film theory,
transgendered issues.

and welding! yay for OAW!!!!

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