Bella (Pt. 2)

Winter princess 1501314

 

Bella awoke to find her window frost covered, hard white light poured through the lace curtains telling her it had snowed during the night. Not as if she needed such a sign, she could almost feel the crystalline kisses of dancing snow flakes on her skin. With a smile, she slipped out of bed, dressed, then went downstairs.

Her desire to be outside was almost a physical force driving her toward the door, but she made herself detour into the kitchen for breakfast. She almost laughed at herself then, remembering the times her mother had to drag her back into the house on a snowy December morning, trying not to laugh at her daughters protests as she was herded to the table for hot oatmeal, toast, and juice.

“Every young lady must eat a good breakfast,” Mother would say, “even snow princesses.”

Every time she would sit and pout while she ate, never willing to admit she was indeed hungry or the fact she loved oatmeal on a cold morning.
She stopped at the front door, being careful to put on her coat, hat, and gloves. She didn’t really need them but others seemed to get upset when they saw her outside without them, telling her such things as;

“You’ll catch your death out here,” as Mrs. Periwinkle would call to her from the house next door.

Or, “You’ll get pneumonia, being out here like that,” would snarl Mr. Witherspoon, who lived on their street but was also the post man, though most people agreed he only did it so he could see Miss. Norma in her sleeping gown each morning.

Now it was “Dear, what would your Mother say?” 

Bella would smile and call herself forgetful or a silly ninny, but she knew exactly what her Mother would have said;

“Sweetheart, your going to set the neighbors to talking again.” 

A Little More

It isn’t much, but I have been so busy today I didn’t get the chance to write a proper post, so here is a little more from “Bella”

Oh, and below is an idea for the cover. Unfortunately, it’s too big to use in my novel information for NaNoWriMo.

 

Bella Cover

 

Bella sat at the kitchen table, her breakfast ignored as she watched the first soft, white flakes drift past the window. She smiled and a soft gasp escaped her lips. She wanted to run outside, to feel each flake on her finger tips, her cheeks and nose. To let them create an lacy veil of crystal upon her hair. She wanted to dance and sing to the wonder of the new Winter. To greet the biting winds with open arms.Such was not to be she knew. Today would be spent inside a classroom even though her heart would be out there, swirling in glittering patterns.
Stepping out the door she breathed deeply of the crisp air. Snowflakes swirled about her as if joyous ballet and she couldn’t help but laugh.  She moved in slow circles, arms outstretched, letting them dace across her hands. Her head fell back, they landed with cold butterfly kisses to tickle her cheeks. For a moment she was able to forget the world and just dance.

“Your going to miss your bus if you keep fooling around, girl!” 

Her Mother’s voice cut across the silence and brought her back to reality with jarring clarity. Yes, the bus. She couldn’t afford to miss it. Letting a mask of indifference settle across her features, she turned and made her way to her stop but not before a whispered, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She thought she heard gentle laughter on the wind in answer.
 

NaNoWriMo 2013: Work In Progress

So, what do you do when your muse decides to take a siesta? You fire up the word processor and just start jabbering away until something clicks.

Here is my current jabbering. I don’t know if this is the beginning of something or if it will end up gathering dust on my head drive. Either way, I am writing. Getting words down on the page as it were, and it’s better than sitting here looking at an empty screen.

 

It is already the sixth day of November. The sixth day of the National Novel Writing Month challenge and as of this writing I have just over two dozen words written, (which you are currently reading), when I should have nearly twelve thousand words sitting in a file on my computer hard drive.

The problem has been on of focus, of having a clear vision of the story, characters, and plot lines running through a narrative which is interesting and  engaging. Instead I find myself constantly distracted by issues in the real world. Not just my various responsibilities as a partner and parent but also as a person.

I suppose if I were what society considers “normal”, I wouldn’t have much to write about. As it happens I do not fit the mold of what is desired as an unremarkable member of my community. You see, the way I understand myself, the way I see things in the mirror, things in regards to how others see me and seek in interact with me are at odds with one another. It is a condition known as “Gender Dysphoria”. In the simplest of terms it means the way I view myself internally does not match with my physical presentation. 

This is a condition I have struggled against for most of my life, even in those times when I managed to bury my thoughts and feelings deep enough they became ‘out of sight, out of mind’. As I have found over the past few years, simply explaining or wishing these things to go away, trying to rationalize what seemed to be an irrational feeling, does not make them go away. In truth, all I did was to create a mental caldera which, when it finally erupted nearly destroyed me. When I finally reached a point where I could no longer function as I was, hiding behind a mental and physical mask, I was forced to begin trying to understand not just who I really was, but what as well.

So all of this begs the question, “what is normal and if I am not, then what am I?”

In Western society ‘normal’ is considered to be a heterosexual male or female who, in all ways, sees themselves in a way which assures all of the accepted traits which define one as male or female are present and taken as expected. In other words, you were born and declared “male” by the doctor. You present as a typical male and have a male reproductive system. More, you see and think of yourself as male, preferably one who is sexually attracted to females. 

Or you were born and declared “female” by the doctor. You present as a typical female and have a female reproductive system. More, you see and think of yourself as female, preferably one who is sexually attracted to males.

This is known as “the Gender Binary”. This is an accepted version of reality which states humans are either one sex or the other based upon your physical presentation, secondary sexual characteristics, and DNA.

 Unfortunately  humans and society are never so simple.

Many who may read this are most likely to see things as straight forward in as far as sex, gender, and gender identity are concerned. I suppose this is understandable if you have never had to question such assumptions based on your own personal experience. However, there are those like myself who find it impossible to not delve deeper into the truth behind these assumptions, to in a sense, look behind the curtain and stare to wizard in the eye because the reality we live in is one of shades of grey and nothing is ever as simple as it first appears.

For myself, I have been actively looking into these truths for nearly two years, about as long as I have had my blog, Kira Moore’s Closet up and running. This is a good thing because while those first chaotic weeks have been largely lost to time, I do have a written record of the majority of the roads I have travelled to reach the point where I am now.

For this writing, I feel it is not only useful, but informative to go back to the beginning and look at and talk about how I have evolved personally and in my thoughts and feeling since those first confusing days and posts.

January 20th, 2012

Seeing this date seems sort of surreal. It does truly seems as though more time has passed than this.

So what did I have to say for my first ever post? Well, before I share, understand I was still trying to understand where I fit into the world as I was beginning to understand myself. My mind was running a thousand miles an hour and I had begun to search the internet for information. The first place which seemed logical to stop was with Cross-dressing. Superficially at least this seemed to match with what I was feeling and so I posted this,

“Kira’s Closet is a site about the thoughts, fears, and triumphs of a cross-dresser. I hope to give encouragement to others, to let them know that they are not alone. Please check back regularly for new posts, I will do my best to make regular updates.

Thank you”.

What is important to understand is, the more I learned the quicker I found I was more than what being a Cross-dresser entailed. Let me explain.

First a definition:

“from Wiktionary, Creative Commons Attribution/Share-Alike Licensen.

A person who wears clothing his/her society considers only appropriate for a member of the opposite sex.

from the GNU version of the Collaborative International Dictionary of English

n. someone who adopts the dress or manner or sexual role of the opposite sex.

from WordNet 3.0 Copyright 2006 by Princeton University. All rights reserved.

n. someone who adopts the dress or manner or sexual role of the opposite sex”

At first blush this seemed like the proper place to start my search for understanding… until one looks a little deeper.

The biggest difference and one which jumps out almost immediately is the way someone who is a Cross-dresser sees themselves as opposed to a Transsexual.

For one thing, cross-dressers in general think of themselves as male. Meaning their gender identity is male which matches with their assigned birth sex. A Transsexual sees themselves as the opposite sex from what they were assigned at birth. Someone born male has a gender identity of female and vise versa. I knew one some level I really never thought of myself as a male. I found the assigned gender roles, mannerisms, and assumptions given to males left me feeling confused and more than a little dirty. It’s still difficult to really explain these feelings in a way which would make sense to someone who has never had them. Much like trying to explain classical music to someone who is deaf or the awe felt looking at the Grand Canyon to someone who is blind.

It may be possible to share some of the depth of feelings and understandings, but it can never be fully understood on the same level as personal experience.

There were other aspects of cross-dressing which didn’t align with my own feelings and sense of self. Yes, there were some similarities, but there were too many differences to ignore. 

So if I wasn’t a cross-dresser, then what was I?

 

Total word count: 1249

Starting Over

I lost the flow on writing “Broken” and had to start all over with nothing more than my original plot. I went back and looked at a large collection of art and music to gain some inspiration and I think I am ready to start again. This does put me behind in my word count but I believe I’m going to have a better story for having done this.

 

Here is a watercolor by shastinahell-n I would love to have for my cover.

(Just scroll through the images)

43 Watercolor Painting by shastinahell n

 

 

Also, here is the new music playlist I have put together:

1) The Dawning – David Hollandsworth

2) Part 2 – June (Melancholia) – Richard P John

3) A Friend Like You – David Hollandsworth

4) Little Princess Waltz – David Hollandsworth

5) Someday – David Hollandsworth

6) Who You Are – Richard P John

7) Simply You – David Hollandsworth

8) Little Blue Eyes – David Hollandsworth

9) Every Friend You Know – Young Collective

10) Solitude – David Hollandsworth

11) Who You Are (II) – Richard P John

12) Thanksgiving – David Hollandsworth

13) Goodbye November – David Hollandsworth

14) Little Flower (Kohana’s Theme) – David Hollandsworth

15) Snowflake Waltz – David Hollandsworth

16) Louder Than Air – Young Collective

Broken – Prologe

It wasn’t suppose to end like this.
She smiled bitterly. Standing in the subdued half light filtering through steel gray November skies, the day seemed created for this moment. A movie scene so perfect it was almost unreal. A freezing mist carried on the fretful wind sought any exposed skin, countless needles striking numbed flesh.

She turned her eyes to the small group before her. So few, huddled in their coats and scarves, looking more annoyed than sorrowful. Men and women who had better places to be, more important things to do. Sadly it was the same attitude she had seen so often, The silent disapproval. The disgust which filled the space between them and her almost as visible as their breath from downturned lips and upturned noses.

Even from where she kept herself, at the edge of the ceremony, she could see the grave. A stark, open would in the frozen earth. Above it, held like a demented cradle in black straps, sat the casket. Dark wood and steel dully gleaming. A bright highlight so out of place. 

Broken – The SemiOfficial Book Soundtrack

Sorrow

 

I am sharing what I feel would be the soundtrack I want for people to listen to when reading my story… it would also work if someone wanted to make it into a movie 😉

BROKEN 

Line – Rachael Yamagata

Deliver Me – Sarah Brightman

Laura (Oh Girl) – Phox

Praelusio – Harrison Mead (NoiseTrade)

What Happens Now – Lex Land

The Storm – Dharmakasa (Amazon)

Wound Down – Elu

 

I know there are only seven songs, but together they capture the mood I want to set for this story.

Preparing For NaNoWriMo 2013

It’s less than a month until NaNoWriMo 2013…

I must be a glutton for punishment because I have entered again this year. 

I have a working title “Broken”, an opening scene, and some ideas on others, I also have an vague picture of the ending. 

My concern now is managing the emotional stress I know I am creating for myself. An important part of writing for me is having an emotional connection to the story and then pouring all it into writing. It makes each word immediate, every scene charged. I have a personal stake in each character and the plot speaks to me, becoming a living breathing thing which can consume every waking moment. 

This takes such a toll on me, but I can’t do this any other way. I know I am going to be exhausted when the month is over, but I hope to have completed not only the 50,000 word challenge, but to have a story I feel proud to share.

We’ll see.

IdentityLeak… Some Progress

File0001608482449

 

I have been struggling to work on IdentyLeak for awhile now. One thing has been in understanding my potential audience. It was suggested I write it to my children as a way to explain who I am, but this approach never felt right. I thought of speaking to a room full of strangers and how I would give a speech about my life, yet this didn’t feel right either. At last I decided to do it as a full blown coming out to a long time friend of mine. Someone I have known since Junior High, actually longer, but we were close friend for many of our school years. We haven’t spoken in a number of years now, not since my mother died. The thing is, I know there are things I have told him about myself or that I have done over the years which he simply could never bring himself to accept as the truth, so I’m pretty sure he would be shocked if I were to sit him down and have an honest conversation. That he would refuse to believe me, even if I were to fully transition first, is a given. He’s just that kind of person… sure of himself and arrogant enough to believe what he thinks he knows to be the only truth regardless of the evidence standing right in front of him.

Don’t get me wrong here, I don’t think ill of him, though he has tried my patience more than once. It is simply I know what sort of person he is. I know what he has done in the past and has never shown any desire to change, so I think it safe to assume I can predict his reactions now. If by chance he ever happens across this blog or any of my writing, then he can prove me wrong.

Of course he knew me by another name, and as it happens he even unfriended me of Facebook without realizing what he was doing, but if he took the time to read any of what I have spoken of regarding my past, I know he could put the pieces together.

All in all, I now have a starting point and a person to speak to as I write. The result is I have written just shy of 3500 words in a single day and I already have my thoughts turned toward what I want to write tomorrow.

Therapy, Thoughts and Goals

Therapy

 

I had a good therapy session today, though it did take some unexpected turns. Started out talking about my oldest and his bike wreck earlier this week. (He’s doing fine, thankfully, but now refuses to ride without a helmet). We then spoke about how I feel as if I’ve reached a quiet time, how I’m not feeling driven to pursue any thing physical in my transition and how I am instead using the time to rekindle my interests and hobbies which I had let slide because of all the energy I was spending on understanding myself. I really want to get back into those things which I enjoyed such as reading. This lead to talking about working on my autobiography, which then lead to how I have started reading Ellen DeGeneres and her book. 

At some point the conversation came back around to the difference between Transgender and Transsexual, how Transsexual pertains to those seeking medical transition, as compared to those who do not. This brought us to talking about what surgery involves, what is done and why, what the results are, both internal and external. From there it took an interesting turn when I brought the idea of doctors one day being able to create and transplant a working reproductive system… something which might one day be possible using stem cells. Then it turned to cloning, not just organs but a full human. I could write a weeks worth of posts about the difference between Sci-Fi clones and what might be possible, but I figure it would get really boring really quickly to most people… 

This lead to her final observation which came when she asked how long I had been studying Gender surgery and related subjects. (Which has been a little less than two years now.) She was surprised it has been such a short amour of time.

However, as I told her,  I started reading about genetics and related subjects all the back in elementary school simply because I became interested in it… so I had some understanding of what was involved before I really had a reason to dig in such things.

She asked what I was going to be doing toward my transition over the next week and into the near future. I explained that because the more physical problems had subsided somewhat, I really wanted to work on the mental side of things, to reestablish my life outside of trans only issues. As I said before, I am not one dimensional, There is so much more of me and I deserve to be everything I can be.