A Blogging New Year

Happy New Year, one and all.

 

Well, 2008 is nearly over. Apparently though, the year is not as nearly over  as it was this time last year. Some scientist bods have decided we need an extra  second this year. Oh,why do they want to prolong the agony?

This has been my first year as a blogger. I'm always just behind the zeitgeist and paddling desperately to catch up. In syncro with my anniversary in the blogosphere I have just noticed my hit counter tripping over to 10,000. It sounds impressive, but I expect 4,000 are my own hits, 4,000 are from my brother and the rest only landed from a misspelt Google search.

What should a blogger do at the turning of a year? I suppose, indulge in the same kind of mawkish introspection that usually accompanies Big Ben's bongs. So how am I placed a year on, surely the point of life is to progress, to experience,  to learn and to improve. Well I'm not sure the rudderless pedalo that is my life, has made much progress into the blue. For December 31st 2008 see December 31st 2009. OK I am a little lighter, a tiny bit better off (ie I owe a bit less) but in all important aspects I feel the same. I am still single and see no other pedalos on the horizon. I still have about the same sometimes grudging acceptance from the world towards my new gender direction. I still get called "he" and "him" at times, and I still let it get to me. I still get those occasional pangs of panic that my radical, life swerve has been an act of ill thought folly. In my career I still have a lack of drive confidence, waiting for the required quantum of encouragement and reassurance before I take any step forward.

This is all quite pathetic and self serving and hopefully now out of my system, well at least till next new year. My blessings are many, and my life as a woman is a precious commodity to be cherished..... so enough already.

I've actually had a good Christmas, and spent some quality time with the force of nature that is my brother Billy. I saw my ex wife Caroline and was heartened to see how well, she is doing. If ever there were two people that loved each other, but needed to be apart it was the two of us. I've had some fab prezzies, in particular from Vicky, who has bought us tickets to see Anton and Erin (offa Strictly) up close. Not only that but the day after, we are to attend a dance workshop with them. I really need to step up my diet for two reasons. 1 to wear a fabulous dress for  the evening and 2 to minimise any permanent damage from a misplaced high heel. I can see the headline "TV Dancer's career ended by waltzing elephant!"

As for blogging, well its been the most positive thing I've done all year. I feel I've made blogging friends, deeper that any passing Facebook buddy. I've gained access to some of the most witty, well informed and moving writing on the net. I've discovered a love of writing, however ham fisted, and there is barely an event goes by, that I don’t think "how can I post about that?". My laptop is now filled with unpublished drafts in varying states of abandonment, mostly unreadable drivel (ok so most of the published are like that too). I also now have a pictures folder stuffed with snaps of the banal and pointless, that at some time I thought I would attach to a post. However just like being T* is in my blood, I am now firmly a blogger and can't imagine I will ever stop, even when the only readers are internet viruses.

So anyway, as the sands of time dribble through and my 10,001 hit bounces straight off my blog, what am I going to do with this extra second ?

See you next year.

Papal Hatred

I am so angry I am going to use a bigger font. I would actually like a font, big enough to dunk the pope in!

Save yourselves. Apparently I am more of a threat to mankind than global warming.

I awoke full of pre Christmas cheer, to be greeted by Radio Five Live, announcing that this Pope feels that humanity needs saving from homosexual or transsexual behaviour (BBC website phrase). I've an idea what homosexual behaviour is, I have read the pamphlets. To be honest though, I'm not exactly sure what transsexual behaviour is, maybe its excessive blogging!

As a radical agnostic / fundamental atheist, the Pope has at least given me another reason that organised religion is something to be generally ignored (not really following my own advice by writing this post at 6am!). Saying that I am listed somewhere as CoE and I do like a good church wedding or carol concert. It always seems to me that the Church of England aren't actually that fussed if you believe in god or not.

Anyway back to this odious, offensive, detestable, execrable (that's all my pocket thesaurus contained) statement.

How is this not to be seen as inciting hatred against a persons sexuality or gender identity. It's fine by me for the catholic or any other church to exclude me from their gang, but this goes so far beyond that.

Hatred is Hatred is Hatred.

Think I will spend the morning watching Father Ted DVDs, while keeping an eye out for albino monk assassins

By the way, is there a prize for the first trans blogger to post about this? I expect there will be a flourish

 

Cake or Death....or Salad

I passed a milestone in my battle to shift enough weight to have that  certain particular operation, without flirting with premature death.

The milestone passed, is the six stone mark so I am now over 80lbs less fat than when I began a year and a bit ago, and its just about my half way mark. I would have made a good deal more had I stuck with my diet club after last Christmas instead of arrogantly thinking I could go it alone, armed only with a vague plan to cut out Carbs and a moderately priced et of bathroom scales.

The sum result of solo dieting was that in 8 months of going solo I managed to put on 4 lbs. Well now I’m back on my slimming club wagon and I’m now losing steadily. I'm not sure what it is that works for me, but I guess its the discipline of being weighed in front of a bunch of strangers.

The club I attend is Slimming World, and our session is run by a lovely, enthusiastic and supportive lady, about as far from Marorie Dawes as you could get. It has a diet based on choosing a Red Day or Green Day. On Red Days eat proteins and minimise carbohydrates. The Green Day is about eating loads of pasta, rice and beans, while listening to a sub punk  American rock band. As a good solid Trade Unionist, "This week I shall be mostly eating Red Days."

My Seven Step Guide to diet clubbing.

1. Pre joining routine. Bulk up before your first visit. These extra gained pounds are effectively free and just mean you can lose more on your second visit. Good foods for this are cake, cheese, cheesecake and cakecheese!
2. First weigh in. Maximise your initial start weight (see above). Heavy jeans, layered knitted tops and heavy chunky bling jewellery is a must. Vital extra mass can be gained by filling your pockets with change and perhaps standing out in a rainstorm for that heavy wet clothes bonus.
3. Second week weigh in. You obviously want to get off to the best start possible so you are looking to reverse step one. Good food for first week weight loss is Toothpaste, and celery (not together)> Apparently celery uses up more calories in chewing than is gained from consuming.
4. Following weeks. After your hopefully initial good start you are bound to suffer the odd difficult, cake filled week. Therefore it is important to do the opposite of stage 2. Light clothing is a must so even in the depths of winter, flimsy short skirts and strappy tops work well. Under no circumstances bother with tights. Depending how liberal your community is consider partial nudity. Removing nail varnish also loses vital micrograms.
5. Getting tougher. If you find stage 4 unfruitful move on to Defcon 5. Consider every aspect of your body for excess baggage. A good short hair cut, full body wax, clean under nails and remove all belly button fluff or earwax. Teeth removal may be a little excessive but it will help curb that appetite.
6. Desperation. Stage 6 is very complicated, largely impossible and involves a learning a form of levitation and manipulating Newton's  2nd law of motion while weighing yourself in a moving elevator
7. Doomed  If you are still not losing weight I have heard of people who claim to live on sunlight. It does need noting, that these people are usually completely mad or completely dead.

Fatter Friends & Shiny Things

Stoke and the North Staffs area is officially and academically the friendliest place in the UK. According to the University of Sheffield research, just 22.4 per cent of the city's 240,000 population feel uninvolved in their community – compared with 33.1 per cent in Edinburgh, the loneliest place. The study, called Changing Britain, also took into account the number of non-married adults in an area and the  of one-person households. This is despite the invidious and divisive presence of the BNP

BBC video clip   Local newspaper article

Hey, its glad that we have come top in something. The last time Stoked topped was not something we would put on the posters.

BBC Article

Being the fattest and friendliest city, must make Stoke the best place to have girl pals. Every girl knows its good to have a friend fatter than yourself to boost your own relative image and to stand next to in photographs. As Stoke's officially chunkiest Transwoman (though I'm shrinking by the week) I am struggling to find someone to fill this role. All my friends are irritatingly more svelte than myself. Failing my plan A of actually losing the weight myself, I plan to secretly fatten them up by spiking their food with lard, and by leaving strategically place cakes around their homes.

Finally finished my Christmas shopping yesterday. I went into Hanley, which confusingly is the city centre of Stoke. The pic on the left is of the spikey mascot that is above what was once Lewis's Department Store. It was surprising how quiet the shops were just two Saturdays before Christmas, and it was noticeable how many shops had closed down.

Earlier in the week I payed a visit to the doomed Woolworth's, closing down sale, . People were queuing for bargains but it felt more like asset stripping. There was a melancholic air and no joy was to be had, as I think everyone realised the significance of such a high street stalwart's possible demise. This said, I had stopped any serious shopping in Woolies some time ago and some of our local branches appear not to have been refurbished since the mid 70s. It will be smaller towns that are most affected if it does close down. Whenever I'm in some small backwater rural town, there will be a branch on the high street where other national chains are absent. Even in our cities, where else will we be able to impulse buy Pick-and-Mix, fabric dye or kitchen gadgetry, among all the shiny, glossy, branded, designer boutiques that dominate our shopping centres.

I managed to complete my Christmas shopping despite myself. My first assault a couple of weeks ago resulted in the only item bought being an ipod Touch for my self. Like a childlike magpie I am so easily distracted by shiny things. Once I had started obsessing about buying one the compulsion was all encompassing and the only relief would be to dig deep and buy one. In some ways this compulsive behaviour mimics my dressing habits of a closeted youth. The instant gratification of shopping works really well. Perhaps it would be cheaper if I developed a Crack habit instead. I have totally fallen in love with my sleek glistening new toy, and most evening find me trawling iTunes to feed it. Actually its more like nesting than feeding. I am filling it with all manner of different music, video and applications. In addition to the normal ipod collection of far more music than I will ever listen to, I have a couple of Wallace and Grommet videos and a number of albums of stand up from lefty socialist Comedians and an unnecessarily large number of downloaded applications. amongst the eclectic collection I have amassed so far are :  The Complete Works of Shakespeare, Simulated Koi Carp pond, The Adventures of Sherlock  Holmes, a Dictionary,  Drum Kit and Piano emulators, a simulated pint of lager! (I don't even drink) and a strange Brian Eno designed musak/graphic effect thingy. Oh and of course a few variations on a Tetris theme.

During my last iTunes browsing session, my eye was taken (the left eye for accuracy) by a Star Trek Tricorder emulater (I really am that tragically geeky). The disclaimer on the web site finally proves Darwin to be wrong, in that as a species we are clearly de evolving at some rate.

DISCLAIMER

TR- 580 is a software that mimics a fictional device.

There is no real functionality behind this software.

Do not attempt to operate the software while driving or operating heavy machinery. 

Do not attempt to use your iphone or itouch as a medical device.

...and I had really hoped to use it as an emergency defibrilator! There may come a time that we will need to be told to breathe in and breathe out.... I decided not to buy the App

Happenstancing

This week has been noticeable for 2 coincidences.

First up was Wednesday afternoon. I received a text from Caz saying that the divorce papers were ready to be signed. A bitter sweet piece of news. It would be good to finally get it sorted as its been hanging around for nearly a year, but it triggered off the old feelings of sadness and regret. While musing over my impending divorcee status I had a call from Vicky. The Meakins Cricket Club quiz was off tonight due to some illness or something to this weeks setter. Vicky then came up with an alternative, "Should we go to the Master Potter quiz instead". I was unsure, due to lethargy and my divorce influenced mood. However the more I thought about it, the more it felt just right. We haven't been to the Potter quiz for 13 years or so, and the suggestion had been out of the blue. The point being was that this was the place and time that I was first connected with Caz. All those years ago Vicky had set me up with Caz, after they had both been to the quiz, and she thought we would get on well, which we obviously did. So through the Potter quiz I met my future wife and on the same day as my return to the scene my divorce finally felt complete. If you like I will call it The Circle Of Wife.

I have never really talked much about my married years on her. All I can say is that they were some of the happiest days of my life (the weeks were miserable though. Boom boom). These were times I felt like I had a purpose, a place in the scheme of things. I never relished being a man, but I loved being a married man, if that makes sense. Although I now realise that I would feel more complete in a relationship with the right man, I cherished the companionship I had with Caz. I was completely signed up to my vows with her and the responsibilities that went along with them. It is these aspects that made me so melancholic  last Wednesday afternoon, at the thought of my impending decree absolute. 

If it wasn't for this quiz then my life would have taken who knows what path? It set of chain of my last decade or so that has ended up here, perched on my bed, blogging about being Jen. Difficult as it is to admit, if I hadn't met and married Caz I would probably not now be living as Jen. It was only when the marriage was disintegrating that I started to find solace in my inner woman. It was her that outed me to my parents by accident, where I may never have found the courage. It was Caz that gave me the confidence to step out in the daylight and accompanied me on my first tentative steps, when I was scared beyond belief. Without her I am fairly sure that I would have kept my real persona buried deep. I am and always will be grateful to her.

Now for the other second chance event. On Thurs we had a meeting at Port Vale FC with one of our local MPs, Joan Walley. Joan is a solid Labour MP and a good supporter of the Trades Unions. She arranged this meeting of local Trade Unionists so she could listen to our various concerns. Apart from Joan and her aide there were ten of us seated in a circle as if in some Socialists Anonymous support group. Apart from the branch sec of the Stoke Unison branch I didn't know anyone else, or so I thought. One man seated 2 down from us announced himself as from a teaching union. The name rang a school bell. The face then seemed familiar. I dawned on me that this was my uncle who I hadn't seen for probably 15 or 20 years. For the rest of my meeting I kept glancing at him for signs that he knew who I was, but got no clues. The meeting over I had to say something to him. I wish there was some appropriate etiquette for introducing yourself to a long lost relative who has not met you since you changed gender. All I could think to say was "Good to meet you again, I guess I've changed a bit since last time". My opening was met with blank bemusement. I followed up by asking after my auntie by her first name. If ever the phrase "The Penny Dropped" needs demonstrating, then this was perfect example. We exchanged a few minutes worth of awkward pleasantries before making our separate ways. My abiding memory of my uncle is, once round at their house, he gave my dad a bottle of CND wine which subsequently and with great irony exploded.

Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action" - Auric Goldfinger. I had better watch out. I prefer "Once, Twice, Three times a lady"

My Top five family based Coincidences

5 Titling my blog Crossing the Floor without recalling that my Dad's cousin was deputy speaker of the House of Commons

4 My childhood best friend Andrew turning out to be my 2nd cousin once removed

3 Learning recently that one of my cousins is also transgendered.

2 Every single sitcom containing the word family turning out to be rubbish

1 "Luke, I am your father"

post Oxford Blues

Home from my weekend leadership training course at Ruskin College 

If I gained nothing I can now claim with absolute conviction that I have studied at Oxford. Well I need to pad my C V which consists of a couple of poor A levels, my cycling proficiency certificate, oh and I do have a Bsc (bronze swimming certificate).
Joking aside (about time too) I thoroughly enjoyed my course, and met some outstanding and passionate people, students and tutors. I guess the Trade Union movement has a bright future with such people fighting the cause. I found the subject of leadership fascinating. I had never thought of myself as a leader before, but I guess I am at times. I also identified my shortcomings, and perhaps how to diminish them. The only thing missing from the weekend was more time to explore Oxford, as it seemed to be such an idiosyncratic city. The weather was consistently dank all weekend. There was a hanging mist that felt like you were in the constant spray from a big wet shaking dog. This meant that bloggography (relatively dull photography for the sole purpose of blogging) was unfruitful.

After a long middle study Saturday we had a Sunday morning session before setting off home. . I thought the falcon guesthouse  was charming, the only slight quibble was the shower. A rough guess was that it measured about 2 foot by 2 , the problem is that I am pretty much 2 foot wide by 1 foot 10 inches deep (oh and 6 foot 2 tall, but for once height wasn't an issue) on top of this the entrance to the cubicle was even narrower. The result was that even once I had squeezed in, the resulting small expansion in my body through a thorough drenching meant that I filled the cubicle as if it was a mould I had been poured into. Still I was at least a clean sardine.

Follow The Leaders

We had all decided to drive to the college from the guesthouse to enable a quick getaway. I had not google-mapped the route and our previous walking through the heavily pedestrianised city centre had been no training so I followed a fellow student Kath who had a sat nav. Kath was also troubled with an intermittent stalling engine so I thought my following would help if she broke down. The combination of the above factors resulted in the third most frightening experience of my life. Oxford is clearly a sat nav's nemesis. And Kath had to drive with the abandon of a getaway driver in order not to let an idling engine stall. On top of this Kath took the wrong turn and soon we were hurtling though narrow Oxford back streets in the hands of some South Asian computer coder, who probably only knew Oxford from badly dubbed episodes of Morse. Despite technology we did manage to make it to our destination unscathed.

I was a bit sad once the half day was over. I clearly get a bit of a high during events like this, and the thought of returning to an  cold empty house saddened me a little. We took a few pictures of the group for those Bloggers among us, and after some mutual farewells, with pledges to email each other, we made our separate ways. Its amazing how quickly a group of disparate strangers can bond so quickly and strongly. We will meet again as this was the first event of a year long programme, and I for one hopes this happens soon.

I Can See Bleary Now

So I made my way though Oxford to the motorways north 42, 40, 6 and home. On the way I called Vicky and we got into a conversation about cats, or kittens to be more precise. Vicky is still pestering me to take one of her last 4 kittens as company for Gammo Speng. I was weakening, and said that my worry was that I would need another girl cat. I was then entertained to a live kitten sexing session over the phone which passed by a few motorway junctions.
The journey home was going fine until the M6 toll road. Half way along you come to the grandly titled toll plaza. Its a slightly unsettling experience. You are whizzing along at 80 mph, sorry 70, and suddenly the carriageway fans out into an expansive apron of tarmac, with the 8 toll booths ahead, to choose from. Its really off funding you have no lanes to keep to and judging your braking is a little tricky as I found myself slowing to a crawl with the booth some way off. I wound down my window and chucked my £4.50 into the chute and the barrier went up. Like greyhounds out of traps we all jumped on the gas as 8 abreast we manoeuvred to get position as the apron funnelled back into a 3 lane motorway. It is really quite liberating, accelerating as hard as you like in so much open space. It was just as the M6 toll became the plain old M6 that I hit trouble. When I had opened my window at the toll I had let a huge chunk of cold and damp air into the car. As we sped along and this air warmed up it deposited a slap of thick condensation on every window. In just a moment I could see nothing but a grey opaque windscreen, and my blower was not up to the task. I found myself doing 70 along a by now busy road with almost no vision out of the car. This was now my third most terrifying experience rudely pushing that mornings Oxford dash down to no. 4 (see bottom). I managed to find a glove and, used it to temporarily smear a small clear patch on my screen, as I tried to reduce my speed without careering into those other fortunately fully sighted drivers. It wasn't possible to slow much as I had joined the M^ in the middle lane and was surrounded by the intimidating momentum of a phalanx of lorries.  Through luck more than judgement I managed to keep the balancing act of navigating by my mirrors, while frantically glove rubbing with one hand the other gripping my steering wheel for my life's worth (this has been calculated to approximately £630).  I managed to keep in a straight line for just long enough for my inadequate blowers to have effect, and I regained the gift of vision. The rest of the journey was thankfully uneventful and dull.

By the time I got home it was pitch black, and I entered my cold, cold house with a heavy heart. I was warmed up just a bit by Gammo, who had obviously missed me and was on her finest nuzzling form. I didn't feel so much like a leader that evening.

Top 5 scariest episodes so far

5 First time walking downstairs in heels with boobs obscuring my feet.

4 Recreating Ronin through the early morning streets of Oxford.

3 Blind faith motorway driving.

2 First Time out as Jenny in the daylight.

1 Tooms (for X files fans!)