What is love? (Baby don’t hurt me…no mo)

Love is something that has vexed and eluded me all of my life. When I say love I am of course referring to “romantic” love which I consider to be entirely separate from universal and unconditional love. Romantic love, while utterly illogical and irrational, has been a deep desire of mine from the day that I discovered that I had a sex drive. I still remember that day. I was young. Single digit age. I had just had my tonsils removed and was at home recovering. I don’t remember how or why I had ended up in my closet on the floor with my toys but there I was lost deep in my imagination. I remember having a whole world filled with it’s own characters and stories…much like I still have today though the characters and circumstances are now quite different. Anyways, I imagined one of the female characters in my mind…and then I imagined her shape, her hair…I imagined her without clothes.

And that’s how I got my first erection. *Crowd erupts with thunderous applause and fanfare*

I fell in “love” for the first time in 6th grade. Her name was Breanna. I first “met” her in the school cafeteria in the morning before classes had started. Our relationship started out as many others between children our age started: With one of her friends running up to me and asking me, “Do you think she is pretty?” before pointing to where Breanna was sitting at the ISS (In School Suspension) table. The girl that looked shyly back at me was indeed very pretty. Her long light red hair was pulled back but she left her bangs loose and they framed her freckled face in a way that I at least found appealing. She was wearing a faded yellow shirt with a circular logo I can’t remember on the front, baggy tripp shorts with hanging suspenders, converse and knee high rainbow socks. “Yea, she’s pretty.” I said. I’ve never had a silver tongue…fortunately Breanna’s messenger was not there to judge how suave I was. “Would you like to go to the Catfish festival with her this weekend?” She asked, her expression serious as cancer as though her whole life centered around getting her friend hooked up. .”Sure,” I replied calmly despite the fact that my stomach had butterflies in it. She handed me a note with Breanna’s phone number on it and walked off quickly disappearing into pre-class chaos. I called Breanna later that night, we talked, and I met her at the Catfish Festival that weekend. It was there that I experienced my first kiss. We shared a very timid but soft and strawberry sweet split second behind the main steps leading up to the Conroe courthouse. I was smitten. I thought about the kiss constantly. One day I went to her house and spent a few hours with her. We watched Queen of the Damned and listened to music but no repeat of the kiss. I was too shy to even try. About a week and a half later I took her to see Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. I was determined this time. I was going to get another kiss, dammit! Well, that was my attitude at first…that evening will forever go down in my memory as one of the greatest romantic blunders in my history. I tried numerous times to kiss her but faltered each time. I even went as far as wrapping my arm around her and leaning in…only to recoil. Not because she was screaming “RAPE!” and trying to push me away. Oh no…she would stare bemused at me as I froze with my nose and lips inches from her face before retracting nervously. Truth is she probably would have kissed me. WANTED to kiss me even…but I just couldn’t go through. Too much doubt and nowhere near enough confidence. A few days later she sent one of her associates to break things off with me…big surprise, right?

My next girlfriend, Megan, came into my life the next year in seventh grade. By that point I had worked up enough self confidence to make the right “moves”…at least at first. For 3 months we went to school dances, dry humped and rubbed our bodies together, and made out like the horny little teenagers we were. Eventually she drifted away though and soon I was teary eyed and wishing I’d never met the bitch. Her best friend Peggy, who had grown to be a friend of mine as well, took it upon herself to be there for me and help me through my heartbreak. She and I started hanging out and it wasn’t long before I started feeling that familiar warmth in my chest and loins when I was around her. This time was different though. Before when I was with Megan I had never thought about Peggy like that and even after Megan and I had broken up and me and Peggy started hanging out…I didn’t really start seeing her as someone I was attracted to until we had kissed one night. It didn’t take long for me to fall completely and helplessly “in love”.

We were together almost all of eighth grade and on into my freshman year of highschool. We were the couple everyone would talk about and say things like, “Oh, they’re gonna get married some day.” We were both inseparable when we were together and it was one of those relationships where both of us knew we loved each other. There was simply no question in either of our minds. Several things changed that, one of them being myself. I was beginning a very rebellious phase in my life. I was making new friends. Friends who showed me a world where you didn’t just have to be content with feeling bored or depressed. I was smoking weed and drinking on the weekends and every now and then I would get ADD pills from kids at school. I would tell Peggy that it was just an occasional thing. Something limited to when I was with friends and didn’t have anything important to do. And I was NEVER high around her. Even though I was. She would say she believed me and everything was okay but I was noticing a change in her attitude. Her friends were also quick to jump my case whenever they saw I had bloodshot eyes or was talking fast.

The fact that Peggy’s mom was also dealing with her own addiction to speed and crack didn’t help things. The whole time I was with Peggy I had never suspected her mom was on drugs like that. She was a very caring and protective momma to her little girl…one who had scolded me on numerous occasions but was also quick to invite me to dinner and pick me up whenever Peggy and I were going on a date. The last couple of months of me and Peggy’s relationship her mom would disappear for days and weeks at a time leaving her with her abusive stepfather. She grew distant from me but I was so busy having a good time it didn’t seem to register with me. Finally, the day came when Peggy told me she was going to move to Colorado with her aunt. I remember going to her house the day she was packing. As distant as we had become and as shitty as I had been acting we still loved each other. We sat at the food of her bed, held each other and both of us sobbed. Tears flowed from my eyes as I left her house and barricaded myself in my room. I felt totally empty.

Before she left, Peggy and I decided that we would remain together despite the fact that she was moving so far away. We would write each other, since at the time Peggy loved to read and write, and we would call each other everyday. At first this worked…we would call one another and take turns going through our day. Both of us were extremely distraught over our current circumstances but it as a comfort to know we still cared for one another. I however was starting to find comfort in other things. Weed was virtually a daily occurrence (And still is :P) and I was also growing very fond of pills. Any kind of pill was enough to peek my interest. Peggy’s friends saw this and soon grew to loath me and I was constantly getting in petty name calling arguments with two of her more ferocious friends. In the end I broke things off with Peggy. I had gone to see a movie with another girl and we ended up making out. I had officially “cheated” on the love of my life. I called her a couple of days later and told her that we couldn’t do the long distance thing anymore…I remember when she answered the phone, how happy she sounded that I had called…I have often wondered if I had not ended our relationship what would have happened…

As high school went on my addiction progressed but so did my expression. I discovered my own muse for writing and art and I even got together with some friends and for awhile lived my fantasy of being the lead guitarist in a metal band before our enthusiasm petered out. After that I joined a thrash metal band with some juniors and seniors as the drummer. This band was where I discovered crystal meth but for the sake of staying on topic I will save that story for another time. Anyways, my idea of a good time at this point was getting absolutely wasted by whatever means were available. Naturally, this mindset led me to attend a number of parties. One night I found myself at a party in the woods of Montgomery shivering around a campfire with about twenty other people. We were stoned, drunk, and lost in the midst of revelry. i met a girl named Tiffany at this party who eventually ended up getting together with one of my friends. I must say that I didn’t really like her at first. She seemed to sure of herself. To cocky. I remember I had read something about morning glory and how they were supposed to get you high and I was trying to convince my friend that there were some in his back yard. Tiffany immediately called bullshit and I was flustered. Turns out she was right.

Over the years she and I developed a special kind of friendship. One that exists to this day. I fell in love with her at some point along the way and truth be told, that love is still there. She has always been quick to put me in my place though, and in retrospect I am very grateful that she handled things the way she did. My experience with Tiffany taught me something that my other “relationships” failed to impart. Unconditional love. It is a love that transcends any physical or mental attraction. It is a love that is truly pure and devoid of any desires or intent. It is the love that kindred spirits feel for one another. Indeed, it is the love that all humanity should feel for one another but for whatever reason eludes most of us. These days I am weary of romantic “love” for I do not feel that emotion truly qualifies as “love”. Nor does it qualify as lust for there are certainly deep feelings experienced by both parties but love is far more than a feeling. It is an energy. It is the very spirit in each and every one of us. It is true that I still yearn agonizingly for someone to share my life with. For someone to lay beside me at night and hold me when depression sets in but I no longer obsess over finding that person whoever they may be. In time I will cross paths with the right person. Until then I must always remember this lesson: That love is sacred and pure. It is not something that just spontaneously appears in your life and rescues you from the cruel cold world. It has always been there, waiting for you to perceive and embrace it. The secret is to learn to love yourself. I spent so many years looking for someone to love me for me…that is not the way. Learn to love yourself and then learn to love the world around you. Love is everywhere. Love is everything. Love is infinite.

People are People

I continue my exploration of the feminine aspects of myself and the world around me with an excitement and wonder I have not felt since I was a young child. Since I have embraced this side of myself I have experienced a renewed energy and appreciation for my life. I have learned to accept myself as is and treat myself with the respect and dignity I deserve.

I find myself overwhelmed at times. Each day I delve deeper and deeper into this once suppressed pool of my psyche. The terms “man” and “woman” are losing their meaning to me. Of course I still recognize the separation between masculine and feminine archetypes in the world but I’m finding that it has very little to do with gender. Lately I am of the mind that gender, like beauty, is only skin deep. At least the way we chose to perceive and define it. Over the course of our history most human culture have assigned men and women very strict “gender roles” through means of culture, religion, government, etc. Here are a few examples of what I mean when I say “gender roles”: The idea that women are more emotional than men, or that men who cry a “girlie” or weak. This kind of thinking in itself is very misguided in my opinion. Let’s say a father witnesses his son crying and like so many before him, he tells his son to “man up” and stop crying. Why? Because the man obviously feels that crying is a sign of weakness and he is trying to teach his son to be strong. An admirable enough intention but consider the fact that this father is now either consciously or subconsciously telling his child that by showing emotion he is weak and that by “manning up” he will become superior. Superior to what? Well in the subconscious mind, superior to females.

This kind of thinking goes both way. Case in point: “Men are stupid.”, “Men are dogs”, “Men cheat.”.

All of these statement imply impulsive attitudes that spare little thought when it comes to problem solving and decision making.

Why is it that we seem innately conditioned to believe that only women can be emotional, cry, have a flamboyant fashion sense, etc, and only men can be touch, vulgar, thick headed, and impulsive? I have met some extremely stubborn and impulsive females and girls that farted louder than any male I’ve ever heard. I have met males (myself included) who prefer to wear makeup and cute, colorful undies and who cry when the hero dies in a movie (Or in my case at the end of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi.)

Does the fact that I am “in touch with my feminine side” and virtually a full time crossdresser change the fact that I am a biological male? Of course not. No amount of makeup, nail polish, skirts and frilly underwear will ever change that nor will having bad table manners remove the “feminine” from a biological woman.

I do not wish to see one sex put on a pedestal and considered superior over the other. The sexes are both equally important and uniquely beautiful in a myriad of ways. I have chosen to walk with The Goddess because this is where I have found comfort and happiness. The love and acceptance that I feel has washed away much of the guilt of my past life. It is my sincerest hope that all my fellow human beings can find the same release whether it be walking with The Goddess, The God, by yourself or whatever you choose. It is so very important to be true to yourself. NEVER be ashamed of who you are. If you are living life and not impeding the lives of others then you are living decent and should feel no shame. Never let anyone tell you that you shouldn’t be who you are…that you are broken or wrong. Who are they to lump their definition of what is “right” or “wrong” on your shoulders. “Right” and “wrong” are matters of perspective. We all know deep down how we feel about “good” and “evil”. Deep down we all know…it’s just a matter of who chooses to listen and who chooses to ignore.

If you are reading this and you have something about yourself that you are hiding because you feel your family or friends will not understand, if you cry yourself to sleep sometimes not knowing if you’re normal or a freak, if you spend your nights alone because you feel society has disowned you, if you feel persecuted for nothing more than just existing as you are, I want you to know that you are not alone. I have hidden from the same judgmental eyes, I have cried the same tears, I have endured the same cold nights, I have felt that persecution. You are not alone. YOU are beautiful and unique and deserving of the most you can get out of life. I think it is so important for me to make people aware of that fact…so many people are barely hanging on. They feel drugs or suicide will be the only solution. I know all to well and I wish so badly I could be there with you, to take you in my arms and let you sob until you had no more tears left. I know that not very many people read this blog but for those of you that do and any of you who this particular piece might apply to, please, if you ever feel compelled to make a rash decision or feel that you need to run away or just need someone to talk to, send me an email. You will not receive any judgment or criticism. Only love and understanding.

twitchy1333@gmail.com

One of the hardest lessons I have been confronted with in life was learning to love myself. It seems so narcissistic and egotistical at first but trust me, it’s one of the best decisions you will ever make. I wish all of you all the love in the world.

Relapse

I had been to three different hotels along highway 35 in Austin, Texas. I finally settled at a Motel 6 just outside of downtown about 30 minutes from my job. My dad had been a dick earlier in the evening…at least he was a dick from my perspective. In retrospect his anger was probably well justified but that’s another story entirely. I pulled into the motel parking lot feeling betrayed…my dad had been absent most of my life. He had taken me into his home with open arms some months after I had gotten out of a rehab in Houston for heroin and oxycontin addiction but that apparently wasn’t enough for me at the time…the argument we had gotten into an hour earlier was still fresh in my mind nagging at me. I sat there in the car for what seemed like hours fumbling with my little grey flip phone.

About a week prior I was with a friend of mine that I had known from my childhood visits to Austin. Like myself, he had developed a liking for drugs in his young adult life and that night we had decided to both eat a handful of Valium and Vicodan (Never claimed to be a role model.) and drive down the street to H.E.B. and rent a movie from the redbox. I decided to go into the actual store once we got there and get something to munch on and drink for the evening. By the time we had checked out and walked out into the evening twilight I was starting to feel sideways. I started acting out and talking real loud outside as my friend browsed the selection of DVD’s at the redbox. My shenanigans attracted the attention of a jugalo couple who thought I was funny. How flattered I was…we talked for a few minutes, I slipped them a couple of valiums, and we exchanged numbers.

Sitting in the parking lot of the motel 6 in the same twilight as before I finally flipped open my phone and found the juggalos number in my contacts. The first couple of rings I wasn’t sure what I was going to ask him…maybe see if they wanted to come to my room and chill? Maybe get some coke? Or painkillers…by the third ring my mind was made up but the phone continued to ring until finally I got his voicemail. Fuck it. Like anyone checks their messages anymore anyways. I closed the phone and pocketed it. Fuck it…

As I was handing my credit card to the check in lady my phone rang. I smiled at the lady and made a series of awkward gestures indicating I was going to answer my phone. She nodded understandingly and proceeded to do whatever it is check in people do with your credit card to get money off of it. I answered the phone. It was the juggalo.

“Hello?” I answered, already feeling that all familiar tightness in my chest.

“Hey, did somebody call me from this number?” He answered.

Yea, it’s Josh…I met you at H.E.B. the other night and you told me to call you if I ever needed anything..”

“Oh hey. What’s up?”

“Well I was wondering if maybe you could help me find something kinda strong tonight.”

“Sure, if I can. What are you looking for?”

I paused for a second to ponder the outcome of what I was about to do…but only for a second.

“Heroin.” I finally said.

“Oh…yea, I think I know someone who can help you. Let me call you back in a few minutes.”

As I was settling into my room my acquaintance called me back. He gave me a number I was supposed to call. Wouldn’t you know it? The guy I was supposed to ask for was named Josh. I called the number and Josh had me meet him and a friend at a McDonalds downtown. We drove across town to an apartment complex and Josh’s friend, a homeless girl with a skateboard, went into one of the apartments at the complex. Josh and I waited for about ten minutes and got to know each other. When the girl returned she handed Josh and me our own little balloon. We fixed up right there in the parking lot.

It felt amazing as always. Nothing mattered anymore. Not the argument with my dad, not the fact that I had probably just rebooted my habit, not the fact that I had a car full of junkies, syringes, and heroin caked bottle caps. Nothing.

I dropped Josh and his friend off at the McDonalds I had picked them up at and drove back to the motel. There are few things more blissful than cruising steadily down the highway tip-toeing along the edge of smack induced unconsciousness. Probably not the safest way to relieve stress…but effective all the same. When I got to my room I locked the door, pulled my gear out of my pockets, and sat it on my bedside table. I turned on the television and flipped through the channels arbitrarily until I inevitably settled on Adult Swim. By this point junk was coursing strongly through my blood. I laid there slipping in and out of consciousness through episodes of Robot Chicken and Family Guy. At one point I woke up and decided fuck it, and cooked up the remaining dark brown residue in my bottle cap which turned out to be decent shot on it’s own, and blasted off one last time for the night.

I don’t remember too much after that. I laid back down in the bed and promptly blacked out.

Depression

Depression. When I get like this I feel like my only salvation, the only thing that will make me happy, is to scrape together 100 bucks, find a ride to Houston, buy some of the stickiest, gooiest, black tar I can find, stuff as much as I possibly can into an insulin syringe and inject it directly into the bend of my arm…

10…9…8…7…6…5… I don’t usually need to count back much further than that until the effects start to overcome me and I slip into the most beautiful of self induced comas….but I’m not that person anymore.

No, these days when I feel that overpowering darkness closing in on me and I feel as though the whole world is conspiring to utterly and ruthlessly fuck me over, when I feel like there is no hope what-so-ever for the future of mankind or this world, when I feel as though my life is to end uneventfully and without leaving any sort of positive impression into the world, when I feel as though the goddess, the father, and all the Universe are out to rend me, I breath. I breath and I retreat to my inner sanctum. Not to run but to regroup and rediscover myself.

I’m finding that life is made up of cycles of ego death and rediscovery of the self. Every time I start getting comfortable and apathetic it’s like the soul that commands this body decides it’s time to push a reboot button and I find myself in this emotional tar pit that I currently am wallowing in. It’s not so bad anymore…used to I would slip into this mode of thinking and I could barely handle it. I would feel as if the whole of the universe was ending and my very soul along with it. Not so much anymore. I realize that this shitty emotional state will end in a matter of days and I will once again be sailing the seas of mania for however many weeks or months I choose. I realize that it is all part of a process.

Doesn’t change the fact feeling like this fucking sucks.

Extremism is a poison

I fancy myself an activist even if I haven’t been very successful as an organizer or community organizer. I tried to organize a rally in my hometown on November 5th last year…it was a complete failure. I’m also helping organize a clothing drive which is more or less staying afloat…we get donations occasionally and were even able to get a load to the Womens Shelter downtown. Regardless, my mentality, especially in the last year or so, has been one of great concern and care for the world around me. I hate knowing that people suffer. I hate that the government in our country is so money and power hungry and so callous when it comes to the needs of it’s people. I want to help the world but I do not know how. I feel at times that I am completely powerless but I do not lose hope…no, I can’t lose hope. To lose hope is to give up and when I give up I turn into a monster.

In my quest to do my part to better the world I have had unique opportunities to meet many different interesting and diverse individuals, each their own unique set of beliefs, quirks, and pet peeves. I have sat around campfires at folk festivals smoking pot with some of the dirtiest, smelliest but NICEST most beautiful people you could ever hope to meet. I have shared a jail block with thieves, crack addicts, drunks and thugs and witnessed naked vulnerability and weakness. I’ve shot meth with skinhead rednecks and discussed the end times and bible prophecies.

This world is one of duality. Every one of us is constantly walking a razors edge teetering either towards “good” or “evil”. Now how do we define what is “good” and what is “evil”? I have always felt that MOST people have a decent idea what is “good” and what is not…deep down we all have that force that says either “That’s okay.” or “that’s fucked up, brah.” Now you may be one of those people who wont believe ANYTHING unless it’s totally factual and you can verify it with a quick google search but think about it. When you make a decision, when you here a story on the news, is there not a voice or a feeling that you get that tells you (In the most primordial way) something…I guess it depends on who perceives their consciousness and who does not..

I have noticed something in the world of activism. To illustrate a point, let’s examine gay rights activism. If you’ve been following my blog or if you’ve looked at my gravatar then you probably know I’m a crossdresser and bisexual. I hear about crimes committed against members of the LGBT community around the world and it fills me with sadness. I hope to see a day when ignorance is no longer accepted around the world and people are not tortured and murdered for being different. I also feel that if a gay couple loves one another and they wish to marry then they should have a right to do so although I don’t really agree with marriage in of itself. What I do not wish to see however are laws that begin to restrict the lives and lively hood of straight people. I do not wish to see one extreme (homophobia in this instance) overshadowed by another (What some would call”the gay agenda”).

Here’s another example: Feminism. I am very much in touch with the feminine aspect of my humanity. I recognize that females throughout history have been subjugated and abused through religion and cultural tendencies and even in modern times there is a degree of sexism but it goes both ways. I understand the need for certain groups and elements of society to stand up for themselves and “push back” so to speak but extremism does no good. Females should not be persecuted or punished just for being females but neither should females hate ALL males just because they are males.

I am not saying that all gay rights activists are trying to restrict or infringe on the lives of straight people nor am I saying that all feminists hate men. I am simply trying to illustrate that principals and ideals are one thing but extremism is a totally different monster. Humanity, now more than ever, needs to unite. We can no longer focus on what separates us. If we are to continue as a species, if we are to thrive then we must unite. We must recognize one another as human beings, each unique and beautiful with our own strengths and weaknesses. There is no need to try and prove superiority over one another. You who are reading this. I love you! 🙂

Happy New Year

I know it’s been awhile since I posted anything…my bad brah. Sometimes a nigga get’s writers block. Anyways, it is officially 2014. If you’re a marijuana enthusiast such as myself then you are probably aware that Colorado welcomed the new year by allowing the states first RECREATIONAL marijuana sales and stoners around the country enjoy a blissful moment of victory.

Meanwhile, in Texas…

I wake up and smoke a bowl, illegally, as I do every morning. I’ve been feeling depressed for a few days so I go through the motions of the day slowly and without much enthusiasm. My friend and his mom were going to take me to see the latest release of The Hobbit so after I smoked I proceeded back into the house, brushed my teeth, put on my purple nylon panties with black polka dots, squeezed into my black skinny jeans and put on my Beavis and Butthead t-shirt. My friend and I hopped in his moms van and off we were.

Along the way we stopped at a gas station and my friend and I went inside to get some drinks and snacks to sneak into the theater (Because movie snack prices are fucking ridiculous.) There was a short old man standing inside talking to the lady at the counter. As I grabbed my sprite and arbitrarily looked through the assortment of chips and candy bars without much interest I started to become aware of what the old man was saying. At first I couldn’t really put everything together but it became apparent that he was talking about marijuana.

Naturally, this alerted me.

As my ears focused on what this man was saying I heard, “I’ve always thought the best thing they could do was legalize pot, have the government take over, and then every now and then just poison a few batches and send it out.”

Obviously appalled at this statement, the lady at the register exclaimed, “Oh, come on! It’s a cure for cancer for gods sake!”

“Oh, bullshit!” The old little fucker replied.

Now, I’m a very timid person. I’m inconveniently empathetic and I absolutely LOATH conflict or drama. When others describe me they tend to use the word “sensitive”…anyways, I was totally content with keeping my head down and trying to get out of there as quickly as possible. My friend, who had by this time made it to the register, turned around and looked the man straight in the eyes.

“You’re an asshole.” He stated simply and then turned to leave the store.

The little old man chuckled and said, “Go smoke another one you piece of shit.” and proceeded to follow my friend out of the store where he feebly kicked at him and then threatened to “cut him”. As I handed the lady at the register my money with trembling hands (I really am a pussy…no wonder I’m a fairy boy.) she said in an exasperated tone of voice, “That old man is gonna drive me crazy.” To which I replied, “Maybe you should ask him to leave the property.” and then I smiled at her and told her to have a nice day.

By the time I walked out of the store my friend was already back in the van and the old man was walking back in. He looked at me like I was scum as we passed each other…

The whole incident only lasted two minutes at best and yet it fucked up my entire day. I was hurt and angry…angry at the little old man for so ignorantly wishing death on an entire CULTURE of people, angry at my friend for making a scene, angry at myself for not saying anything. Like I said earlier, I am very sensitive. When people are sad and crying I feel it and more often than not I will start crying to. When I hear of people suffering it breaks my heart. I want to help people. I try to make it point in my life to be polite and courteous and give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I know I am not perfect and there are things about me that are taboo…I wish not to change anyone or threaten their way of life and only want to live my life in my own way without hurting anyone. A man who has never even met me before basically expressed his wish that I be poisoned for no other reason than the fact that I smoke pot…I expect if he knew I was bisexual and a crossdresser he probably would have tried to kill me himself right there..

Oh well…it’s his right to feel that way I guess…as long as he doesn’t start handing out cyanide laced doobies to people and selling battery acid rocks to crackheads. Happy new year everyone! I hope it is filled with happiness and prosperity! And if that LITTLE OLD MAN happens to be reading this I want you to know something: I love you even though you wish I was dead. You are a fellow human and I wish nothing but the best for you, fucker. 😉

XOXOXOX