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Showing posts from August, 2011

The Difference Between Men's and Women's Brain's Explained.

What is it that makes men and women's brains so different? I've been pondering this question for some time in reading and in research. Although it is likely obvious to even the most casual of observers that there are variances between the genders, it is one which most of us have come to slough off for one reason or another, with a simple joke. We often hear the term that "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus" to identify, in a jocular manner, the differences. Often, one will hear someone simply state some gender slur bluntly, such as "Women Drivers" or "Typical guy... never listens to what I say". I wanted to understand why women tend to be more emotional, cry more and emote more than men. I needed to understand the "why" behind the differences. I was not satisfied with simply joking about it. Being transgender provided special significance to understanding my own self in retrospect. Being born sexed as male but feeling mo

Stepping Over the Invisible Boundary

Another ephemeral and non-tangible boundary crossed and another vantage whose perspective is now more clear obtained. Last Thursday marked a significant although, at the time, seemingly innocuous change. Yet, what I have found, in time and time again, is that these seemingly minor changes are having incrementally profound impacts in my perception and in my realizations of what is coming to be. It was a minor procedure, a facial peel designed to target hyper-pigmentation. Over the course of an hour, it would take me another step into that realm of the feminine which I could not imagine, at the time, that it would. I began to realize the reality of the changes a few days later, on Saturday, as I prepared to get ready to go out. No longer was I finding the need to apply the camouflage of concealers needed prior to cover what appeared to be a mustache but which was only discoloration that appeared as such. My skin and pores were finer now and more porcelain. But the day was just b

Clouds in my Coffee.... Clouds In The Life Transgender

In the semi-conscious lucidity that one resides in just after awakening, I stared into the clouds of my morning coffee as I read a story that struck a chord in me... in a way that has me wondering how much of a civilized world we really live in. http://transmeditations.wordpress.com/2011/08/04/from-cradle-to-grave-trans-people-are-disrespected-repudiated-and-scorned/ Stories such as this really give me pause to wonder what type of world we live in that a person whose death as victim of a hate crime, can be simply sloughed off as being expected for being who they are.  I suppose it doesn't matter if you are intelligent, compassionate, witty or a compassionate, empathetic or loving human being.  I suppose what it seems that matters is more the package that the world sees visually. From my own personal experience, and from what I have seen first hand, is that we are at the least, silently laughed at or mocked and at worst, victims of hate crimes.  Fear and ignorance play a large

Perspectives and Reflections

It is week two of having my spouse's nephew up staying with us during his summer vacation.  He is having the time of his life as we do all the things with him that his parents never extend the effort to do.  We've taken him on ever more challenging bikerides of 20+ miles and hikes up and into the alpine tundra zones of the high peaks in the Presidential Range in New Hampshire.  He's shared time and an ability to speak and communicate with us as his peer and as his mentor when need and opportunity present.  He's enjoyed us as friends and as family.  He's enjoyed spending time with me as his uncle and... his aunt. It speaks volumes when he is able to clearly evoke in his own words that it doesn't matter if I am presenting as a male, wearing hiking pants and covered in mud on a trail in the forest or donning a pretty blouse, skirt and heels and made up to the nines.  To him, I am the same person and the same persona.  He has told us countless times how his mom a