Lets Talk About Food: Oat-covered Chicken and Fried Rice.

I've been cooking.  The real thing too, with basic ingredients from scratch and everything.  Ask anyone who's known me for a while; this is a strange occurrence.  Still, if you think about it, me starting to cook now makes a lot of sense.  It really comes down to three things:

One, hunger.  I'm on T and among other things, it makes me hungry.  Very hungry.  Food-is-the-best-thing-in-the-world hungry.

Two, cost.  I'm on the prowl for a job, but in the meantime money is tight.  I could spend over $60 for frozen, ready-to-heat meals, or I could spend $45 on twice as much chicken, some eggs, and everything I need to make Borscht a couple of times over.

Three, something one of my teachers said.  It was an analogy about learning skills versus learning specific projects by rote.  He said, and I paraphrase here, that say you know how to make scrambled eggs, and only scrambled eggs, that's all you're going to make.  However, if you understand that heat + eggs = cooked eggs, you can come up with a variety of ways to cook eggs.  I pretty much took this analogy and sent it back to the concept of cooking: food + heat + spices = cooking.  From there, I can experiment.

So, here's what I did today.  I took a piece of boneless, skinless chicken breast, an egg, some breakfast-type oatmeal, and various spices.  I beat the egg in one bowl and put some oatmeal and spices in another.  I took the chicken, dipped it in the egg, then rolled it in the oats etc. until covered.  Then I put it on a baking sheet in the oven at 400 Fahrenheit.  I think I let it cook for about 15min, though I'm not 100% sure.  Meanwhile, I made some rice and cleaned up a bit.  The chicken was ready before I needed it, so I ended up keeping it in the oven with the heat off and the door open a bit while I worked on the rest.  When the rice was ready, I added the egg I'd used for the chicken into the same pot I cooked the rice in.  I also messed with the burner heat some and added soy sauce and frozen peas.

The fried rice, pretty much perfect, at least by my standards.  The chicken... well, it ended up a little bland and a little dry.  I think next time I'll get the rice started before hand, and maybe use more spices, and putting them in the egg as well, rather than just the oats.  Either way, it was more than edible, and I didn't have anything half-cooked to give me food poisoning.  I'll call that a success.

The Aesthetics of Technobabble

I have a confession to make: I love technobabble.  It doesn't much matter what the subject is, I find technical jargon fascinating.  Though I don't really need to understand in order to enjoy it, I can usually follow the gist of what's being talked about.  Sometimes I can even relate it back to other subjects, and by sheer repetition and unconscious cross-referencing, learn something.  Basically, it's fun.

This, naturally, accounts for my taste for science fiction.  In fact, I've been making a point of reading some vintage scifi, partly for fun and partly to gain a sense of the history of the genre.  In particular, and in all honesty the inspiration for this post, I've been reading 'The Complete Venus Equilateral' by George O. Smith.

Due to its publication history, it's not laid out like most novels I've read.  Essentially, it's a compilation of stories, most of which were originally published in the periodical 'Astounding Science Fiction' and each followed their own story arcs.  So each 'chapter', if you will, is a short story which just happens to tie directly into the one before.  What does this have to do with technobabble?  Well, these stories are full of it.  Oh, granted it's laughably out of date by now, seeing as these stories were written mainly in the early 40's and centred around radio tubes, but the whole premise leans heavily on the technical.  The whole thing is really about a bunch of electrical engineers in space.

However, even with my love of technobabble, I'd still probably find the whole thing terribly dry if it weren't for the way Smith wrote the characters.  Just reading the way these fellows interact makes me believe they're real.  Curious, jocular, and continually teasing each other; I could easily imagine myself with these guys, trying to find the next new advancement in technology.

Out of date as it is, and as much as it tests the limits of my suspension of disbelief (for example, the idea of anyone living on Venus), I'm really quite enjoying 'Venus Equilateral'.

Musings Regarding Self-Preservation and Survival of the Species

I was having an interesting discussion with my sister today.  She's in nursing, mostly long-term care facilities thus far.  Of note, when she mentioned her crack patients and wanting to tell them to 'switch to weed for a week because they're too damn skinny right now.'  My response was that it must be a matter of trying to find the most likely solution in a bad situation, and she said that's pretty much what nursing is.  This, among other things led to musing about a general lack of self-preservation in humans to which she said, 'in this world, is that really surprising?'

I have to admit, she's got a point.  When you think about it, a sense of self-preservation is an extension of a sense of survival of the species, something that, based on daily life experiences, is hardly something we as humans need to worry about.  I mean, look around!  We are horribly over-populated, we cover every corner of the globe where human life is even vaguely tenable, and it really doesn't look like we're going to stop any time soon.  It's impossible to feel that the species is on the verge of dying out when crammed over-capacity on a subway train, when walking shoulder to shoulder with strangers in the street, when waiting hours in line to get into a party or trying to find good seats at a movie theatre.  When faced with this in daily life, I think the average person can be forgiven for thinking that, as a species, we're pretty well on top and there's nothing really to worry about.  So what if I die young as a result of drugs/alcohol/pervasive chemicals/cellphone radiation/etc.?  There will always be someone else to take my place.  As far as humans go, plenty more where I came from.

Now the thing is, I have a certain difficulty seriously believing this to be a problem.  I'll admit that probably has more to do with my personal cynicism about most things, and very likely has something to do with the pervasive attitude I just described.  The gods know I don't have a very strong sense of self-preservation myself.  If it seems like more fun than playing it safe, chances are I'll go for it.  Hell, my dearest friendship is based on mutually assured destruction, and really, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Who's Your Doctor?

It might seem blasphemous to say this, especially so early in the season and so soon after David Tennant... but I think Matt Smith may be my Doctor.

I'll admit that I was a wee bit sceptical when I first saw the publicity shots of the new Doctor.  He was alright from certain angles, in the right light... but mostly he looked odd.  How could this guy compare to out beloved David Tennant?  Then I saw him move.

By that, I mean I saw a preview clip, not just just some still photos.  I was hooked.  There was something very real, very alive about this new Doctor.  And so, without even having seen a full episode, I must confess he stole my heart.  As I continue to watch the series, this feeling that he is The One, my Doctor, only grows.  There's something very immediate about his performance; I love the way that even he is surprised and delighted when one of his plans works out.

Of course, lets not forget the new companion, Amy.  I'm sorry Donna fans (you too, Sarah) but I think Amy is the strongest companion yet.  She's sharp, she's clever, and she can often figure things out for herself.  (The fact that I've always had a soft spot for redheads doesn't hurt...)

Identifying Identity

A while ago, I was at a pub with an acquaintance and we were talking about life, the universe and everything; our little corner of it anyway.  One of the things she said was, "when you decide to transition, it becomes everything that you are."  


At that time, I hadn't actively decided to transition.  I was still testing the waters so to speak, though now I'm sure I was past the point of no return already.  Now I look at her words form the perspective of having decided, and I can tell you that for me, she wasn't entirely right.


In a some ways, I was more trans before starting my transition.  I was obsessive about the concept, particularly about it in regards to me.  Every day was am I?  Aren't I?  Checking in the mirror to see if I could tell just by looking; which bits are masculine?  Which bits are feminine?  Every time I met someone new, what name was I supposed to use?  Sometimes I introduced myself using both names, and left it up to the other person to choose what to call me. In short, I could not stop thinking about being trans.


Around the same time I started my physical transition and sought out hormones, I also came to realize that the identities that meant more to me throughout more of my life had more to do with what I did than who I was.  Artist.  Performer.  Writer.  These were things about me that had no real bearing on my gender or my sex, and were things that were important to me before I ever even heard the term 'trans'.  Of course, being trans has and will always have a profound influence on these aspects of myself, how could it not?  But being trans is only a facet of who I am.  It is not the entirety of my identity.

Opinions and Consequences

This is just a short post to expand upon a thought that occured to me today: Everyone is entitled to their own opinions. They're also entitled to the consequences of voicing them.  


What prompted this was reading the comments here in which someone pointed out, very politly I might add, the author's transphobic/cis privilaged language.  While it's true that she used this language out of sheer ignorance, instead of apologizing and learning when being called on it, she got defensive and essentially refused to be held accountable.


This seems to me to be symptomatic of a pervasive attitude in our society, particularily on the internet.  Starting from the idea that everyone is entitled to their own opinions most people seem to go on to assume this means and therefore you can't tell me I'm wrong.  I however posit that not all opinions are well informed, and that there are consequences to voicing uninformed opinions.  The best thing any of us can do when being called on an uninformed or poorly thought out opinion is to learn, to take other points of view into account, and apologize when necessary.

Too Tired to Party, But Not Apparently Too Tired to Blog

So it's St. Pat's and instead of drinking the night away, I'm sitting in bed with my computer on my lap.

Part of the reason I started this blog was to address the hypersensitivity I've seen on so many other trans blogs and discussion groups.  I couldn't really understand why they were so ready to jump down people's throats any time someone uttered anything that could be even remotely construed as being offensive.  I could guess at the roots of this anger, but mostly I felt sorry for them that they'd gone through something bad enough to make them so bitter.  That wasn't going to happen to me, right?  After all, I'm stronger than that, and transitionning under better circumstances, right?  Well, as I get further along in my own transition, I'm beginning to realize that while they may still be somewhat hypersensitive, it's not without cause.

My first inkling that perhaps not all was right with my world was reading my letter of recommendation to
start hormone therapy.  While I could understand that much of it was lifted from the Standards of Care which is currently about 9 years out of date, I was still surprised and not a little irritated to find it riddled with 'she's and 'her's in reference to me.  I have a certain amount of patience for friends and family who might not understand, after all it takes time to educate.  But to have someone who works with trans people on a regular basis commit such blatant disrespect?  That I could not fathom.  If it got me what I needed, however, I could grin and bear it.  Irritated but undeterred, I shrugged it off.

What really drove it home for me though, was listenning to this same psychologist explain to my mom how trans man and women aren't real man and women; they're trans.  They are and will always be in between.  I sat there listenning to him talk about how he'd felt 'uncomfortable' at a house party full of trans men and how you could always tell that there was something 'off' about a trans person... It dawned on me then that he didn't take this, or me, seriously.  Worse, he was being transphobic.  Here was someone who was supposed to be on my side, and all the while it seems that he's just playing along and humouring this poor, gender-confused little girl.  Because over the course of the session, he as good as said 'I don't see you as male.'

Between this and other social opposition I've encountered, it's becoming more and more clear to me that in the eyes of most of the rest of the world, I'm either a fraud, or else not a person.  And coming from the privilaged possition of being white and middle-class, I'll admit it's more of a shock than I expected.