who whutta thunk it?

After I entered the previous post I hopped over to Cat's litter box and took this quiz. How fitting the answer...

"what key signature are you?"

C major - the simplest key. You are content with where you are now, you have what you need. Some people are happy in C major, but it is up to you to decide to push yourself further if you want more from your life.

A cold heart attacks.

I must in the end forsake those around me for the greater goals of my life. Allowing concern for others is becoming my crutch for failure. The only way to find my way, is to realize that everyone is on a private journey. Some people are doomed to find a dead end from the start. Others take the "road-less traveled". Fewer plow their way, making their own road and very few have it made for them. I fear I see a yellow diamond warning sign ahead and I am in desperate need of a detour. There is a harshness within me that I have always felt guilty about possessing. It's a cruel black amorphous thing, that frightens friends and family when I have rarely used it. I call it the "light switch". Every one I meet has a light switch on them. If a relationship becomes abusive, I am taken advantage or I am hurt in a serious way, I flip that switch to the off position. That person will cease to exist in my life. No hate, no remorse and no second thoughts. Gone. I have only flipped the switch a few times in my life, and only after all options have been exhausted. Most of all I despise being used, it's often a passive aggressive form of abuse. I am nearing the exhaustion point and I feel hell in my heart.

The Emerald City

I'm on vacation! Yah me! I'm goin' up to Seattle and spend some quality time with friends. When I'm up there I plan on spending some time alone too. I have some creative writing to get out of my system. The gray clouds that most people find oppressive during Fall are liberating to me. No shadows for the monsters to hide in. ( -;

Fright Night

I remember it was early September, I was 12 when it happened. My mom was away on a mission of mercy. My mom's step-father was dying of cancer of the liver and she was helping him die comfortably. My brothers John and Jason were on a two week long camping trip with other family. That left me with the step-dad and I avoided him as much as possible. He took this opportunity of having 75% freedom and partied it up and he was coming home late and drunk. He had recently turned thirty and was quite bitter about where his life was at. I desperately tried to stay out of sight, the last thing I wanted was the monster loose with no inhibitions. The first three nights I was okay, I just hid when he came home. The fourth night however, my luck ran out. You see, I had been sleeping outside in the backyard. My excuse was that it was too hot in the house. It was a viable excuse and it might have worked on him when he was sober. But he didn't buy my line of bullshit this time. He made me come in the house so we could have a "talk". My heart sank, he's drunk and wants to "talk" at me. Oh god no, anything but the "you are so lucky I married your mom" speech. He started rambling right into it. How "lucky" I was that I wasn't on welfare anymore. How "lucky" I was to have a roof over my head. How "lucky" I was that he came along when he did in my life. I was so angry that the following words spilled from my lips and I didn't even know I said them until it was too late. "I would rather be poor and starving than be with you." I didn't even see it coming. He had kicked the kitchen chair out from under me so fast I couldn't react in time. The chair went one way and I went the opposite. I cut my lip on the corner of the kitchen table and hit my head on a table leg as I fell. I was kinda dazed for a second too long. The next thing I knew he grabbed me by the back of the shirt and yanked me up. He had the back of my shirt twisted so tight in his left hand I couldn't escape. He wouldn't let go of me as we walked 10 feet to the broom closet. I knew why we were going there and even though I was dazed I desperately tried to escape. He was so much bigger and stronger than me, it was impossible for me to get loose. I couldn't turn around to bite, scratch or hit him either. I heard the creak of the closet and the opening of his locked tool box from where he grabbed his weapon of choice. That god damned leather horse strap. I had been beaten with that thing so many times and it hurt like hell. At this point he spun me around and slammed me into the wall and told me to assume the position. It was a ludicrous request since he had forced me into the position already. The position was the "perp" position that cops use. Hands spread out on the wall. Legs spread out leaning into the wall. That was the usual position. But tonight was a drunken free for all. He grabbed my neck and pushed the right side of my face into the wall and held me there. Then to my horror he ripped the T shirt off my back and yanked my shorts off. I tried to break free but he grabbed me by the back of the head and slammed me face first into the wall. Blood from my lip gushed even more. I could see my blood on the wall and I wondered if he was gonna kill me. He held me there and started beating me with that damn strap. After about 10 hard hits he let go of my neck and told me he was done. He told me he was "teaching me some respect." I turned my head around and looked him in the eyes. I buried the pain and tears and said "Is that all ya got?" He hit me across the back so hard I almost blacked out. He beat me harder and harder until I fell down. By this time, he was sweating so bad I thought he was gonna pass out. I grabbed the corner of the wall and pulled myself up and assumed the position. I could feel the sweat on my back, legs and ass stinging horribly, I knew I was bleeding back there. I refused to show the pain. My legs were mush and shaking like jello. I had to hold onto to the corner of the wall to stay upright. I looked at him and said with a quavering voice "You hate me more than that don't ya?" He ended up beating me until he passed out from the alcohol, heat and work out. When he was done I collapsed and pulled myself across the carpet, down the hall and to my bedroom using my arms only. I couldn't feel my legs or my back. I crawled under my bed and stayed there for four days. However the first morning, he found me and just looked at me like a beat dog. He told me if I called the cops on him he would kill my little brother Jason. Even though he knew where I was, I would stay under there and wait until he went to work. I only came out for water, I couldn't eat for days. It was a month before I could sit down or lay on my back. I have some slight back problems from the experience. I have a couple of spots of scar tissue that has knotted up some of the muscles in my back permanently.

If I would have kept my mouth shut and not goaded him it wouldn't have been as bad. So I am partly to blame.

P.S. This is sorta the reason the phrase "your so lucky" ticks me off.

Grin Reminder

I was just watching the Simpsons intro for the Halloween Episode. Homer was playing beat the lumps with the kids. He rolled them up in the carpet and was "trying to beat the lumps" with a baseball bat. I know of a similar game a friend plays with their cats...but in a fun and loving way of course.

Keith & I

Keith and I talked about my transitioning on a basic level today. I didn't want to overwhelm him with too much so I kept the conversation tight. He is okay with the process so far, but we will see as things manifest themselves into the real world. So far so good...

...and then we started talking about other stuff on a personal level from my past that he didn't experience. He had recently found out from my brother Jason about a severe beating I received at age 12 from my step father.
*Ugh* I could have gone without Keith finding out about that one. Since the subject has been breached I am going to write about it in another entry. I actually switched the subject back to transitioning because it was more comfortable to talk about.