Monthly Archives: July 2007

Connecting with the trans community

It’s kind of bizarre knowing now I am moving into a phase of my life where I’m learning to accept becoming part of a minority that is hated and feared and bashed on and so on and so forth. On the other hand, that’s been the case with most of my identity issues.

Today I went for lunch with a contact person to get in touch with the FTM community here. It was a nice lunch, and anyway I found out the good news which is that I might be able to get on hormones sooner rather than later, depending on what my doctor thinks. This week I have an appointment to see my psychiatrist and then my mental health nurse, so I’ll talk to them more about it. There is supposed to be ANOTHER psychiatrist in town I will have to see for consultations and then a doctor who’s going to monitor my hormones and see how that goes. I dunno. It’s all pretty complicated, the medical aspect of it, when the very simple basics are just me jabbing my butt every two weeks with a needle and getting my boobs reduced. I think it’s the mental aspects of it that are intense, learning to live like a man and so on and so forth.

Learning to be a NICE man especially, I’ve seen way too many guys try on the brute aspect of it and that doesn’t suit me. Even if I was born genetically male, I STILL wouldn’t be too enamoured of the shovey angry punch other guys kind of guy model.

Hormones!!!! I’ll let you know as soon as I get a prescription.

Making chest compressors

I’m having a Coming Out Party with a bunch of my friends, hopefully, and anyway, SO FAR after the terrible spring the coming out as a boy seems to be ging well. People just seem to want me happy and that is good. I am slowly recovering mental health wise as well, I’m kind of lazy these days, but that’s a medication side effect. I’m living with an old lady with schizophrenia who took my medication one night AND yells at the television. Well, shakes her finger at it anyway. I seem to be wearing my packer when I am out of the house. It’s pretty weird.

I hear my weiner dog barking, I should go. I had a nice time on the computer today though, I found out some interesting stuff about chest compressors. I think I am going to try and make one.

USB Gender Changers and E Cup Dudes.

Gmail suggests sites for people to look at based on what you write about. So imagine my surprise when it suggested I look at USB Gender Changers.

In fact, when I went crazy I tried to ressurect an ipod with a dead hard drive. None of my IT Priest skills came in handy, not even wrapping a rosary around a USB cable. I guess this means I’m back to my Pagan roots. I even recycled it because I’m trying to be kind to the environment. And throwing an ipod into the garbage just seemed sacreligious.

It’s true I love Mac IT work. I applied to minacs once to do tech support but they never got back to me. Have you ever seen a dead mac icon? Oh, it sends chills down your spine! At least my computer is happy with me.

I’ve decided to apply to Canada Council to do a documentary this next year about tracing my genomes AND doing a gender transition. I am going to learn about borders and crossing the borders while doing it. I doubt I will do any filming in airports, but I will say how border crossings went. I’m hoping to get to a tribe in Asia with my uncle, but we’ll see. I was hoping to get on a Camel while the song My Humps plays!

It’s such a goofy song! My lovely lady bumps. Check em out!

Oh yeah, and here’s a dude complaining about those leftover lady bumps. I know the feeling being a freakin’ E CUP DUDE!

Little People

I recently heard from my Auntie that little people will chase you and some times they beat up men! Oh no! Something else to worry about after transitioning!

Little people are known the world over, but in Cree culture we try to live with them and their antics. Apparently they are really really ugly, and about 2 feet tall and move quick, faster than you can believe. They like shiny things and sugar, and people sometimes put out bundles of sugar for them.

In my family they have been seen by at least two cousins and my mother. But I’m sure more people have seen them. We just call them little people, and they are more of a supernatural type of being. I’ve also heard they like to live around waterways.

One thing you should never do is make fun of them or otherwise provoke them if you spot one, and try not to get angry when they start throwing peas at you or whatever. Some people even just live with them and build tiny furniture for them. I’ve heard of at least two wearing cowboy hats. They are very much a real phenomenon, and I for one always respectfully leave out sugar if I hear there have been little people wandering around some place I am living.

The Little People, a Cree exercise in supernatural tolerance and acceptance. Just try not to get the fuck beat out of you by dating a woman they are keen on.

Feeling woozy

I really shouldn’t read about chest reconstruction after supper.

The one good thing about going manic AND coming out as male is that I got to say I identified as male before doing all my stupid shit and vacillating and being a general creep and then be all “Oh yeah, I’m still a guy. A STUPID GUY! OH MAN SO STUPID!” But I still think there was something interesting in all of this . . .

Like the fact that fuck it, when I have manic psychosis, for some reason Nina Hagen and The Doors make sense.

Trying not to be a bad manlady.

I had the worst spring EVER this year, and I think most of it was around coming out as male. I kind of ran through all the worst characteristics a guy could have in manic record time and then felt like a dickhead. Ugh. I so don’t want to have to go through this coming out process again. There are two books about transmen at the library and then that is it. Maybe I should find some tranny site for new books to read. I know Little Sisters has some transsexual erotica, that would be nice to have.

Being in a “ladies” care home is kind of bizarre too, because obviously I’m closeted there, but At Least it is only until September. Then I’m in a place of my own again.

I’m still so embarrassed I was a bad manlady this spring, so fucking terrible!!!! I don’t want to be a bad manlady ever again!!!

Name Change and Nipples

The name change was a no-brainer but scary as hell. Sarain is the name I would have had if I was born biologically male. He was also a man who wrote some inspirational stuff in Indian Country and basically lead a legendary life. What we know of him is that he was the son of an aboriginal man stationed in Italy, Sarain was actually his last name. He came over to the Americas and started a wave of intensely influential aboriginal artists while teaching art at a tiny Aboriginal college here in Saskatchewan. He drowned in 1975 in the gulf of Mexico while swimming. He was about 30 years old. Now here I am at 29 becoming a man, becoming Sarain, and some of the parallels with our lives shake me up a bit. I started an international video career the same year my dad was in Venice with a show about Sarain Stump, The Man. The Legend. The one who freaks me out because he painted a Kundalini awakening with Quetzalcoatl. I mean, there are other things I can’t tell you because they are too intense.

I think seeing those lights out at Cranberry Flats is tied into this fear I have around becoming Sarain, because I recently found out through an old high school friend that someone who goes to the nude beach has seen them out there too. I’m starting to think that maybe they were spirits or deities of some sort. And the fact that I’m two-spirited and that there were two of them makes me think it was about the impending fight in my own body between staying female or becoming male.

I am now virtually gender changing on Facebook and here on Blogger. To Sarain Cuthand. I already gathered 115 friends under my old name and I hope the name change on facebook, and the gender, is enough of a huge announcement to everyone about who I am now. Of course whether I am the reincarnation of the late Sarain Stump is an unanswerable question unless I start remembering things about that life. I did have a brief fascination with Venice once, but I think it was more like memory. And I have some memories of Mexico too, even though I have never been there.

You might laugh to find out that my biggest concern about transitioning is my nipples, but I’ve been cruising around Transster, a site for surgery photos for transmen, and I have to say, owie-ya!!!! I want the least amount of damage done to my chest as possible. I was hoping for the liposuction option, but apparently I have too large a chest to be able to do it. I’m getting excited about having a male chest, but the things they would have to do in order to reshape it concern me. I have seen some photos where they don’t have to do nipple grafts, but other than that they just cut them off and slap them on somewhere else, and the sensation is pretty minimal from what I hear. I don’t want to lose nipple sensation. Unfortunately a lot of people do, as with many trans surgeries for mtf’s in the bottom department.

I doubt I will get bottom surgery though, because I like the idea of all my bits just, ya know, growing on their own. I know some of my FTM friends turn into secret dicklet size queens. Maybe I’ll be one too!

Still, it’s the nipples that worry me. I’m excited about how my new body will feel, but just worried about my chest. I like my nipples, if not so much my breasts.

Fuck it, I’m trans

It’s weird to think that at 29 I am finally getting ready to transition after countless trannies starting with the Infamous David Harrison have been nudging at me since adolescence. I guess I wanted to be sure. I remember at 19 looking at my body in the full length mirror of my apartment and just going “Oh that is SO NOT ME!”

It’s a general understatement that often trannies have some awkward mental health crisis stage we go through just before going Fuck it, I’m trans. Never mind Ellen’s “Yep, I’m Gay” cover of the Advocate, I think “Fuck it, I’m trans” is a much better I statement to make. Especially if you already know you have a history of straightish girls falling for me. I mean bisexuals with a preference for dudely dudes.

My mom used to never understand why I continually dated bisexual girls, but really it was because I needed to be with someone who would stick around after I went through hormone treatments. Which is such an obvious “This person is clearly trans” statement to make.