Observing

My apologies, amazingly awesome readers, for the serious lack of posts. As this blog is about my relationship with Natasha, a post-operative transsexual woman, we've hit something of a lull in having much to report that might be helpful to you.

I'm in something of an observation mode right now because much of my life is still in limbo but is also moving forward at an incredibly swift pace. They say that time seems to move more quickly the longer we are alive because a year to a child takes up a much larger segment of life than it does when we're adults. You know, if you look at a pie and a year represents a slice, a year is 1/5 of the pie to a 5 year old but 1/40 of the pie to a 40 year old. I'm not talking about that, though. My loyal readers know that we moved back to Los Angeles a year ago. While progress in the writing career department is like molasses, lots of things are happening.

I need to make an observation that will hopefully become relevant before I complete this post. As I sit here in my dining room, the middle floor of a split-level townhouse that we shouldn't be able to afford, I listen to my children playing some kind of Mario video game with at least two other people. In my house is my spouse, a transsexual woman, president of a small yet ambitious theatre in what we hope to soon be known as the Valley Village Arts District, and high school thratre and film teacher; a transsexual woman artist who is performing her autobiographical one-woman show about... being trans; a 19 year-old African American Italian Latino former student of Natasha's who has come out here to contemplate his future in film and television and theatre; my two kids, both highly gifted - my nearly 8 year-old daughter is in a death phase and my son is getting on with life after completely losing vision in his left eye on January 3rd; and a 20 year-old amazingly talented artist and recently admitted lesbian or possible transsexual. Plus there are the two dogs and five cats and me. We are barely scraping by, since I'm still looking for employment and hanging on for dear life to my last job that offers no stability.

It's a full house. No one can possibly accuse me of being normal or having a normal life.

Natasha and I had a conversation the other evening about relationships. Neither of us have our sights on anyone, mainly because we're both not feeling at our best, but I got her to agree that if she did meet another soul mate, she would be honest in her desire to pursue it instead of shoving the potentiality of it aside because we are married. She agreed to do so if I agreed to do so, which I did. In a way, this brief talk marked another phase in our relationship that made me a little bit happier (always a good thing). Like Tasha, I don't realistically believe that I will find another soul mate who would also want to be with me. I'm not ordinary, even without the extraneous factors listed above. I think it's just nice to know that should some kind of cosmic miracle occur, we are both at a place where we would actually be glad for the other person. Dare I say, we might actually be... happy... for the other. We only want the best for each other. We love each other so very much. But our marriage, as I've said before, is incomplete for both of us. Since neither of us are in favor of an open marriage, there would be one clear choice should either of us find that other soul mate who fits the mold.

Ah, I think I figured out how that paragraph up there fits into this post. It's about me. I've said to friends that I don't see myself finding another male soul mate who is ready or able to be with me in an intimate relationship. My friends tell me I'm being silly and that I'm amazing and pretty and lots of complimentary things and that I should stop thinking those things. But I know what I look like. I know what kind of person I am. I feel that I am a very realistic, sensible person. So, when I say things about myself, I'm not looking down at me. I think that I need to be realistic about what's possibly out there. It's why I have David Tennant (Doctor Who) as my standard. A, he's married. B, he's... David Tennant. It's not realistic to consider him as anyone else other than an amazing actor whom I find attractive and potentially someone I will work with as a writer some day (hint hint Universe!!). He's a safe standard to have. Heck, he could be totally jerky, although that's not what I read about him. Nevertheless, as I feel the way I do about my prospects, no harm.

I know that I'm a good person. I'm smart and loyal and protective. I'm also strong with a strong will and I don't hide my feelings. Psychically speaking, I tend to radiate my feelings, which can be either good or bad. I've been known to intimidate people just by being in the room for the same reason that my best friend says that if she had to go into a dark alley, I'm the only person she knows who would make her feel safe. Sure, I deserve to have a good man in my life. I just don't see it happening. There's too much about me that isn't easy or simple or normal. I'm not holding my breath. Instead, I'm enjoying my life with Natasha and our kids and our menagerie of peeps going in and out of the house.

I do still wish that I didn't think about the mythical "someone else" out there. I wish my marriage were still what I need. But it isn't, and I'm okay with that. Natasha has me always to support her and I will always have her. The details might change, but some things, in spite of all of the immensely dramatic changes, remain the same. And that's pretty darned incredible.

Until next time...