Showing posts with label unique. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unique. Show all posts

Monday, August 18, 2014

Is It A Purple Kinda Day?

Is it A Purple Kinda Day?

Last week, a friend asked why I was wearing my plain denim shorts, instead of the Purple Booty Shorts I love so much. The simple answer: Safety.

Of course, there is not really such a simple answer. I also told her “The Bus is a different world.”
These of course are both true.

But there is so much more than safety, or the bus.
Fear.

Well, I Proudly, and Happily AM Wearing My Purple Booty Shorts Today on the bus! Fear Be Damned! (~Meemp~) I Hope I am as fearless As I think as I march out the door with no place, or no option to hide. (Picture me shriveled-up, hoping my invisibility cloak is working today…)
Fear plays a bigger part in what we choose to do daily than any other factor. Fear of what? You may ask. Good question. That is what we each need to look deeper at.  It is easy to just not be what we need to be, blend-in, and not stand-out. When I make big changes in my life, I tend to retreat a bit (A LOT!, ~Sigh~) from where I was before the changes. I tend to go more into a “Don’t look at me” mode. Which of course is only in my mind. I am different than anyone anywhere all the time. I cannot and do not blend-in, nor do I even for one second seem invisible to any who look my way. As much as I would love to sometimes, nothing about me says “”Blends-in”.



What changes have I made? And Why would I want to Be Invisible for a short-time?

Well, Last week I did something I have never before done. I chose to go live in one of those “Weekly” rental apartments. Technically it is a motel, with long-stay tenants. Yep, One of THOSE places. This decision did not come easy, but it did come easier than the decision to move from where I was. After months of searching, trying to find where I needed to be to find the life again that I had let get pushed aside, it finally hit me. I had left living Downtown Las Vegas one year ago. I realized Downtown was where my heart is, the culture, life, and community are. At least for me. I know Downtown is not for everyone. Once I decided I needed to be Downtown again, the deciding to move was easy. The hard part was while in the bad situation I was still living-in, I could not focus properly on finding where my next new home should be. The place I was leaving was extremely unhealthy, unclean, and a very unsafe environment. So I set a Move-out date, and knew it would be final… Whether I had found a home or not.

~GASP!~ I Really was about to commit to being Homeless again!! Oh MY, What have I just Done??
No worries, I told myself. I’ve been homeless before. Except this time, I was without a vehicle. So I put it in God’s hands. (I occasionally forget, and try to place things in my own control… silly Me!) But I totally gave it all up to Him, and went on Faith. Pure faith. Yup. Got the Uhaul truck, loaded up, and only once I was free from the old place did I begin looking for my next new temporary home.  I knew Vegas has thousands of those weekly rentals. No problem, right? …  

… Well, Long Story Short, This week has been faced will all sorts of new challenges, new  ways of living, and adjustments.
The story of how I actually ended-up in this particular weekly, plus all that happened leading to it is a story in itself, and I will write it another time.

But back to my Purple Shorts.

As I got dressed today, I noticed I HAD indeed re-found my confidence, safety, and began living exactly as I am, without fear. Heck, I even put on a Pink Bikini with Flamingos on it, went outside and took pictures! (Yes, there totally is a story, and blog to come about that!) I had even gone outside nekkid (yes on Fremont and 13th!) and not had a bit of fear. I finally got enough taken care-of , including what I think is my next new home lined-up. For the first time in months, I felt I could relax for a bit. Saturday afternoon, my only day off this week, I decided to relax. While I did my laundry, I also decided to go enjoy the pool. I even allowed myself to sunbathe in a place I never would have before. (Yes the sunbathing is a complete story all in itself also.)

Yup, I was ready to be myself, including wearing my Purple Booty Shorts …To work!
Now, there are “Strict” rules about how an employee is supposed to look upon entering The Airport. 
I, being a responsible employee, of course follow ALL The Rules! ~Cough! ~Ahem!

So, as I exited the bus, and entered The Airport, I proudly put on my badge, and marched right on in. Most of this morning crew had not previously seen me arrive in my Purple Booty Shorts. They were about to. I was ready. Boy is it always funny to watch peoples’ reactions. They should know better by now that there is nothing I will not do if it makes me smile and feel good.  But I always manage to shock a few. They will learn (maybe). The guys are always the funniest. They just do not know what to do with a guy who does not follow “Guy-Code”.

My Morning went great! Kinda funny, though. The entire rest of the day was a blur. Even as I changed back out of my uniform into my Purple for the trek home, I noticed somewhere the day disappeared in a blur. The magic of the Purple was missing. But it did not really hit me until I got a Snapchat from a friend as I drifted to sleep saying she hoped My “Purple Day” was great. Umm… I wish I could say it was great. The morning was. And That is what I will cherish. I also had a few good interactions with some of my favorite coworkers, and I will cherish those. I will continue to find the Magic of The Purple, even if it is in tiny doses.

I hope, no matter what is happening in your world, you remember to always find something to bring even the tiniest doses of Magic. Cherish those moments. 

Saturday, August 24, 2013

My Unique Resume'

                           My Resume'


Often, after I am hired, the hiring manager tells me what stood out about my application. It is usually my resume'.
I do not claim in any way to be an expert, or for that matter even have a clue about writing a resume'.
What I do claim to know is Who I am, and What I can offer my next employer. I have never truly understood the purpose of a resume, and to this day am baffled that this is the key piece of paper most hiring managers look at before arranging an interview. Knowing I have a one-in-a-thousand chance of having my resume' actually get the attention of a hiring manager, I know I need to do something that stands out. 

I have heard all my life about the supposed format(s) that are acceptable, and what you are supposed to make your resume' look like. Those do not fit me. I have found my own unique style is what works for me. Admittedly, I am aware that many will not even look at this because it is not fitting their standard, brainwashed notion of what they are supposed to look for when choosing applicants. 
Also, I am aware, that if my resume' is not what they like, then I will not want to work for that company. Simple as that. I do what works for me, and this is what gets me the jobs I have had.

I do not suggest this is what anybody else should do, but I do suggest others try to create a resume' that matches their personality. 
Be Bold. Be Fun. Be Creative. Be Positive. Take a chance.
Below is an exact replica of my most recent resume' 
(I have blocked-out the phone number and email, simply because I don't want all that totally public on this blog)
Each time I have needed a new resume, Of course it is a bit different, depending upon what my goal at that time is. But typically, this is the format, style, and creative approach that works for me.
Everything below this line is exactly what my latest one looked like:

*************************************************
You Are Looking for a Hard-Working, Friendly, Dependable, Self-Motivated, Thorough, Fun, and Reliable Person.

My Name is Jon, and I am the Employee You Are Looking For!
Jon A Miller
 (702) 600-17**     e-mail: halfaniceday@hotmail.com

What You Need To know:
            I am Self-motivated, friendly, hard-working, detail-oriented, thorough, reliable, fun, and dependable. There is not a job I cannot do. I come to you ready to put to use a lifetime of skills and work-ethic to get the job done to your satisfaction. If there is a job I do not know, I will quickly learn it. I take work seriously, yet know how to be fun, positive, and enthusiastic.
                      I have sought and learned new skills in each and every opportunity that arises. Each day, and each new experience is an opportunity to learn and grow. 

I am currently seeking employment in a business that thrives on liveliness, culture, community enrichment, and positive love of happiness.

I have worked and volunteered since I was a child, and have more experience than can be listed on a simple resume’. I thrive on customer service, making people happy, and helping others to find what they need for success. If there is an experience, or job I have not done, I am willing to tackle it. While the following list of recent employment is in no way able to paint a picture of my full abilities, it is the most-recent picture I can give you.

          I have a wide-variety of skills in Customer Service, Food-Service, Retail, Construction, Manufacturing, Performing-Arts, Warehousing, Delivery, and much more.  

Recent Work Experience:
Stratosphere Hotel and Casino: Las Vegas, NV. (March 2011, to July 2013)
Hired as Part-time Food and Beverage Cashier, Promoted to Full-time Cook
Responsibilities included proper food handling, prep and cooking of all food to be served for the day, assisting customers at counter, and making sure each customer was satisfied in a timely manner. Accuracy, speed, customer-service, integrity, timing, and attention-to many details all at the same time is a must.

*Stash Tea Company: Tigard, Or. (Nov. ’08 to Jan. ’11)
Hired as a temp-packager in production, Promoted to Warehouse Shipper.
Job included packaging and shipping tea product according to customer specific needs. Duties involved fast, detail work with exacting standards, and various packaging machinery. This job included all aspects and equipment of warehousing, and shipping detail. Speed and accuracy in filling large orders, properly boxing for safe delivery, using the proper shipping method, and coordinating orders through the sales department to assure customers received product in a timely manner.

*International Paper (Weyerhaueser) Bag Plant: Beaverton, Or. (Jan. ’08 to Oct. ’08)
Hired as a Baler, Promoted to Bag-making Machine Operator/Tender.
As a Baler, Job details involved off-stacking finished bales of paper bags onto pallets, according to customer specified stacking patterns. This involved working swiftly to keep all operating machines clear of finished bales to prevent back-ups, picking up trash, sweeping and keeping a tidy work place.
Machine Operator/Tender duties included knowledge, safety, and understanding of all aspects of bag-making machinery. The job included maneuvering, loading and threading large rolls of paper into machines, applying ink, glue, and proper tuning of equipment to manufacture a perfect finished product to meet customer needs, and company production standards.


I appreciate your time, and look forward to working with you very soon! Thank you, Jon A Miller.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

I Wear Fun Pants!

Jimmi Hendricks, Me,n Just Ducky! by JOn's ~=:-) view
One of my first public outings in Portland...
How appropriate! I met Jimmi Hendricks!

FunPants!

Life is too short to wear boring pants. But I did not learn to embrace fun pants until I was 37. Oh, just to think of all the time I wasted! No worries, I know how to make up for lost fun-pants-adventures!

In 2005, I learned to let go of so many of the things that had kept me from truly enjoying all you can in life. That was when I realized I needed to stop always trying to please everyone else, and learn to find some joy for myself. And, Ya know? I learned I could do both! I found that I could do what I truly enjoyed, and at the same time, most people would embrace, and some would often join in my activities! I found that I could find joy, and those that were really my friends would also enjoy what I did. I learned I could be truly who I am, and stop worrying about “What others might think”.

sellwood 133One of those joys I discovered was the wearing of what I call “Fun Pants”. To me, fun Pants are any pants that are not boring, ordinary, or what you find everyone else wearing. They are comfortable, practical, colorful, and match my personality. Sometimes they are shorts, and sometimes they are long-pants. They often have really fun designs, or wild colors. Occasionally, I even wear some that are just one solid color. Sometimes, they can even be just a pair of jeans, or jean-shorts that are not boring anymore… due to either wear and tear, or modifications by scissors. (Grin!)

For Many years, I had been wearing underwear that qualified as fun, but that was when I was totally into hiding who I was, so nobody ever saw me in my underwear. Don’t worry… when I say I was wearing fun underwear, it was nothing like ladies underwear, of even fetish-stuff. Remember, while I Do have funny quirks, I still like comfort, and am not into any of that sexual stuff. My underwear is simply fun and colorful, and sold in the menswear department… straight off the shelf… Nothing terribly exciting, just not boring. Sorry to disappoint you…ha! Perhaps one day, I shall write about that… Ha! I just thought of something really funny… Ya know, in all my life, there has not ever been a photo of me in my underwear!(actually, there was one time... But I put on red underwear over blue tights and posed as superman... but that photo is no longer anywhere to be found) This strikes me as funny, cuz I do not hide it, nor am I ashamed to be seen in it. But for some reason, it has just never happened. Hmmmm…. Oh well, enough about my underwear. Back to Fun Pants!

first day of spring, jantzen beach 070Often fun pants fall into the category of tights, leggings, spandex, lycra, etc. I fully understood before ever wearing some myself that most people only accept this type of clothing for sporting, or athletic-type clothing. For some reason people fully accept these pants, or shorts, if it is seen during an athletic event, but seem shocked when one is wearing them in every-day life. I also know that for some reason most people accept these on women, but are shocked to see them on men. I think all of this is nonsense. If someone wants to wear comfortable clothing, they should! I have always enjoyed others I’d seen wearing these, but for all too many reasons, I always was afraid to do the same. Much of this is due to my own wanting to hide, and never have anybody see who I was. I also understood how many who wear these wear them for reasons of showing off, or to attract attention. I do not fit any of the above stereotypes. I am hardly an athlete. I hardly want anybody to ever look at my body, and most certainly never want the attention that comes from those looking at my body, or parts of my body. My body just happens to be the shell I was born with that happens to contain my character, personality, and who I am. What I am, and who I am has nothing to do with what my body is. When I finally discovered that my body is not anything to be ashamed of, or to be hidden, I also learned that even when someone sees my body, in all its imperfectness, they are seeing a creation made by God, and they can accept it, or not look my way. This understanding, and acceptance in my own mind helped me to grow, and thrive in life where I had previously hidden, and wished to remain invisible.

I discovered the joy of fun pants in Virginia. The ones I found that opened my mind to the possibilities was a Zebra-striped pattern I found in a thrift-store. When I put them on, I knew I had found the best pants ever! They were soo comfortable, and the print made me smile. I would cautiously wear these new pants in semi-public places just to see how I was treated. Often, around my apartment complex, or out hiking were very safe places. The funny thing about this, was I had already learned to be nekkid fully in public, and never hid while nekkid, but the testing of wearing these pants was like being seen nekkid for the very first time! I found that not one single person ever seemed to care that the pants were snug, and fit my body very well. I also found that those who reacted at all to the pants were very positive, and often asked where they could get some! The positive reaction to these pants helped boost my own outlook on how others viewed me as a whole person. I Knew they would be acceptable, and welcomed the moment I decided to not put on other pants over them when I stopped at the grocery store after a day of hiking. The store I stopped at was one I shopped at regularly, and I was hardly anonymous. I even went through the checkout line of one of the girls who also worked with me at the Dominos. I was testing my own ability to allow myself to be seen publicly. She acted as if I was not wearing anything different than when I was in my regular pants.

I soon found many wonderful fun pants. It was still winter, so I could wear these all the time, and stay comfortably warm. I found these to be far more practical than long johns. I always wore fun pants under my work pants. The feel, and comfort always made me smile, and kept me warm, too! I found it hard to believe that so many people had not already discovered how practical these were. I scoured the thrift stores, and found many wonderful types. I was getting a collection of electric blues, zebra, and other fun-stripes, and even just some plain-colors. But they all had the same fun. You could not help but smile when ya put these on!

Fun on "Secret" abandoned Wharf :)

While I would occasionally wear them publicly around town, I found I was still not quite ready to be always seen in them. I was still learning to accept this for myself, and not fully ready to be completely visible to the entire world. Often, I would wear them under torn, or holey jeans. Occasionally I would wear shorts over them. (Which I found to be totally hilarious, since I hated that look, and thought it to be totally ridiculous…) but I was doing exactly that. I finally figured out why… Even though I was never ashamed to be seen nekkid anymore, the thought of wearing “revealing” clothing that seemed to totally “show” every dimple, wrinkle, line, and curve of my body seemed to be something I was not quite ready for. Also, I realized that If I was not ready, the people I was around would not be ready.

Sunshine, Colorful Shorts, and The Desert

As spring, and summer came, I found I was gathering quite a collection of shorts in the same fabric. When it got too warm to wear the long pants-style under my regular pants, I always wore the fun-pants-shorts! It was soo much fun! The comfort, and feel were far more exciting than any underwear could ever be, and just knowing I was wearing them made me smile all day long! When I went out hiking, I always wore the fun-pants shorts. (Well, when I was not nekkid!) I often stopped in town for shopping, or food after hiking, and never covered-up the snug shorts. But for some odd reason, I seldom wore just the long-pants style publicly. The more I thought about this, I realized I was still trying to please other people, based on what they thought, instead of doing what I needed to do. I understood this, but I was still not quite ready to be the one to shatter their image of what a person should or should not wear publicly was. I was still trying to not create any waves. I still had some growing to do…

I always wore the fun pants under my regular pants. From October through March, I would wear the long ones. From April through September, I would wear the short-ones. When around my apartment complex, or especially out hiking, I never covered them up. People in those setting were very open, and relaxed. Often I found quite positive feedback from those I was around in those settings. Other people tended to “sexualize” these type of pants, and that made me uncomfortable. I was harldy interested in attracting any kind of attention in a sexual nature. So I would “Hide”. This “hiding” continued well into the year 2009.

Playful:)

From 2005, until 2009, those who were close to me would often see me in my fun pants. I occasionally would be seen, and even photographed wearing these. I would continue to hike in them, and be seen around my home in them. But I was always cautious about when and where I wore them publicly. In winter, I loved that I could wear them for warmth. Once ya discover tights, leggings, or other pants that actually fit, you will never wear long-johns again. These are so comfortable, practical, and are designed to actually fit the body. Long-Johns are designed to be bulky, bunch-up, are not designed to fit the body, and are never comfortable. When long-johns get wet, they are terribly uncomfortable, get heavy, saggy, and cold. When Fun Pants get wet, they stay warm, you do not feel the wet, they do not sag, they do not bunch, they stay warm and snug. Fun Pants behave just like your skin… just more colorful!

Me n Tabitha on the Edge:)
Tabitha was one of the brave friends who was out with
me when I first srtripped-off the pants covering the
Fun pants! She was never embarrassed to be seen with me!
In 2009, I finally got to the level of comfort with my own body that I was willing to be seen daily around town in my fun pants. I embraced the fact that I was born with parts that would designate me as male, and that these pants made those parts almost impossible to hide. Women proudly show off the parts they were given, and it is even expected. So, why is it considered wrong that a man does the same? I was finally at a place where I did not worry about the preconceived notions most people had about these pants. I knew that they totally accepted them, and even embraced them when it was an “athlete”, and they would just have to accept me in them as well. For some reason, if a guy wears these in plain colors as an athlete, they are totally acceptable, but because I wear them in fun patterns, and colors, and in normal, everyday life, people look at them differently. Too bad. I also noticed that if they were plain, and had the logo of “UnderArmor” they would be totally acceptable. Why is it that the stuff usually designed, and considered acceptable for men is only in blue, black, grey, or white? Are men color-blind? Are men not allowed to have any fun, or any personality? Do the women want their men to look boring, dull, and drab? Do the women want their men to be dressed in square, block-shaped clothing? Are people really that afraid to acknowledge they have a personality? It is not my fault that most men are afraid to dress in anything fun, colorful, or with sense of personality. That is their loss. I know that loss all too well. I allowed myself to be trapped in that mentality for far too long. I got tired of dressing to please others. I wanna have fun in life! I wanna wear comfortable, fun, and practical clothes!

Ducky poses with Me, my Mom, and My Nephew
Yup! Even in VERY Public places...
And with My Mom, and Nephew, too! :)
In 2009, I finally allowed myself to be completely worry-free about who, where, and when I would be seen in my fun pants. I was not at all afraid of who I would see, or even if I would be photographed. I went freely all over the place, and was quite surprised at the level of acceptance. I find the irony in this quite funny. At a time when most men are doing all they can to cover every nuance of even having a body, and going to such extremes as wearing extreme baggy, square clothes to give the appearance of being no more than a block-shape with feet, hands, and head. Men have gone to such an extreme, that even when they wear “shorts”, they will only wear something that goes well-below the knees. They have somehow gone to the idea that their pants should not show any sign that they have a shape, legs, or even a butt. They wanna look like a block. When they wear “swimwear” it is baggy, saggy, droopy, long pants. Men have gone to the extreme that they wish to be completely uncomfortable. Women, on the other hand, have gone to the opposite. Women have decided to dress in very fun, and comfortable outfits. It always cracks me up when I see a photo of a man and woman together at the beach, or in a water-environment... Or anywhere in summertime, where shorts, or swimwear are worn. The woman embraces who she is, and wears attire fitting her personality. The men… well, I guess their clothing fits their personality, too! Haha. Women embrace that they have curves, and shape to their body. Women wear colorful, fun, patterned clothes. Men… wanna look plain. Hmmm…. Could it be? Perhaps I really am a woman… stuck in a man’s body?? Haha! Oh how this makes me laugh! If this is the case, then it really is true… I must be a lesbian! ~Grin~

What most people call “short-shorts” on men is anything that is at, or above the knee. When I was at Dominos in Virginia, the first time it was warm enough to wear shorts, everyone freaked-out at what I wore. Dominos has fairly strict dress-codes, and I totally adhered to them. The rule about shorts was that they must be the tan/ khaki-color, and not too revealing. No problem… I found some that were the right color, had pleated front, and had a nine-inch inseam. They were the same that would be appropriate in any business-dress situation. But for some reason, everyone there called them “booty-shorts”. This baffled me, because normal shorts had a six-inch inseam, and I specifically went long, because I knew how they already viewed anything that revealed the knees. They were so worked-up over these, that the manager immediately ordered some of the “official” Dominos ones… complete with logo, and said they would provide shorts for me, instead of having me provide my own. I was worried that their official ones would be baggy, and below the knees making me look like a slob. But when they arrived, I totally laughed, because they only had a six-inch inseam. The manager wanted to see me in them before she approved them… so I changed into them. She said they were just right! I took them off again, laid them on top of the ones I already had, and showed her that they were three-inches shorter than the ones I bought. She argued, and said the Dominos ones were longer… even though she could plainly see the length difference. I was actually thrilled! I got official Dominos shorts… and they were actually Shorts! They were also a bit more snug, than the ones I had bought, and I liked the fit. What was really funny, was the fact that they were so short, my fun-pants-shorts were longer than the actual shorts! But everyone accepted them, so I got three more pairs so I could always have clean shorts for work. I often wondered if she did this for me, knowing how I liked my shorts, and could use this as an excuse to get me “official” logo shorts, and also allow me to wear what I liked. She was wonderful in so many ways, and it would not at all be unlike her to do such a thing. Anyone else she ordered official Dominos shorts for were really long, so it always made me wonder if she did this just for me. I also think that when people there saw my legs for the first time, it kinda shocked them. Just the fact that my legs are longer than most people’s and really skinny does not do well to put people at ease when they first see them bare. Also, they are bare… totally shaved… so that also adds to the shock, I am sure. Then when they really get a look at my bare legs, they notice my legs are not just long, but come up to most people’s chests…. All that on the first time of seeing them can be a shock. Once I had on the official Dominos shorts, they were used to them, and also used to the idea of really long, bare legs. Most people learned they liked them, and stated so regularly.

It was not an instant decision to start wearing the fun pants, or fun shorts openly, when I finally decided to come out of hiding. It was a slow, painful process. It probably would have been easier if I had just done it suddenly. (I find it interesting how coming out of the naked closet was easier than coming out of this closet.) It took cautious, slow, and careful testing to be sure I was ready. I had started a little in Virginia, and got some great encouragement while I was there. Once I was back in Oregon, I was accepted with all the changes that had occurred from when I left, and until I returned. Those I was around regularly were very supportive, and encouraging. Then it took a little going outside my safety-zone… A little at a time. Going someplace with a friend while wearing the fun pants under my jeans, then deciding to remove the jeans, and testing their reaction the first time they saw me in them. It took just being in the middle of the city, and removing my jeans in full-view of anyone who wished to notice…. And waiting for any reactions, or freak-outs. I was always delightfully relieved when nobody even gave a second-glance! Then I would go about the rest of the day without the cover of jeans, and waiting, watching to see if I could handle the reactions. It took boarding a bus, and watching to see if the driver would freak-out, or if I would be allowed to sit next to another person, without them freaking out.

Smile! in Fun Pants.
The very first time I allowed my photo in Fun Pants to be public 
I remember the very first time I took a photo, and then published it on Facebook. (That was my Famous Cookies Album.) But even then, knowing that everyone on my Facebook was safe, and had already accepted me, I still was worried about reactions… and more so, because I had taken a possibly incriminating photo… and posted it! It all turned out great. Not one bad thing! I learned I can truly be who I am, and those who truly are my friends will still accept me. As I ventured further in my journey through life, I learned that those who were not my friends previously would become my friends, and those who wished to mean would never have been a friend in the first place. I finally became free, and did not hide my fun pants at all in the fall of 2009.

As I have gone through life’s adventures, I was often photographed, and never once shied-away from the camera. Often, complete strangers ask if they can have their photo taken with me. Most of the time people would capture me as a candid… and while I noticed their camera aimed at me, I never acted like I was aware of it… Then I would search to find where they posted that photo, and see what they had to say about it. This became quite a good way to boost my own esteem, and confidence. Here are two of the candids I found: The first one is my absolute favorite! I even got a chance to meet the fellow who captured it. If you click on it, you can see all the fun, positive comments from others who do not know me, yet found the picture to be a wonderful capture of who I am. (Each of these is another person’s photo-stream in Flickr… but they are safe, or I would not suggest you visit them.)

Resting Stick
The First candid I found...
And My Very Favorite!
(Thanks Kurt, Ya captured me well!)

Duckman
Thanks for the capture, Daniel!


It is difficult to find real shorts anywhere now. Most shorts manufactured are made with long inseams, and are made baggy. I find it extremely frustrating that I cannot buy real shorts. I occasionally find some at thrift-stores… but even those have a nine-inch inseam as the shortest ones you can find. I occasionally will make my own cut-offs, but more often, I will just wear the “long” shorts that I can find. I do not care for the scraggy look of the cutoffs when I am around town. I DO love the look of them for out hiking, or even just around home, though. I often go out in my fun pants shorts… What I wear as shorts is less than what most men wear as underwear. I find it hilarious how many men have gone to wearing extremely huge shorts and calling them underwear. How can wearing bunchy, baggy, non-fitting clothes under your pants be at all comfortable, practical, or functional? I believe underwear, and pants, or shorts should be practical, fitting, comfortable, and fun, too!

Watchin' Train go Over bridge
When I want to enjoy as much sun as I can...
...when I cannot be nekkid....
I will pull the legs up, and the waist down.
(these actually are quite modest compared to many)
When I am not wearing boring, normal denim shorts, I love to wear the fun pants shorts. I have many wonderful pairs of these in all kinds of fun patterns, and styles. Often, if I am not in a place where nekkid would be acceptible, for some odd reason, I can wear a pair of these, and even tuck the legs up, and the waistline down, so that they are smaller than underwear would be, and these are acceptable. I can wear these in places where I am enjoying the sun, and want as much nekkidness as possible, without actually being nekkid. People are funny like that… if they were underwear, the people would freak-out, but because they are shorts, just minimized, they are completely acceptable… go figure! I have met many wonderful people who actually inquire about these, and also say the same thing… that because they are actual shorts, designed for active-wear, they are acceptable, even though they are more revealing than underwear would be. Women tend to love these, and often stop to chat about them. The funniest part is that only women are happy about these… Men are freaked-out by them… yet if I were riding a bicycle, or wrestling, they would be totally acceptable by men. Sadly, there are men interested… but those men are not interested in the actual pants, or even interested in who I am, but wish to get inside my pants. I find it hilarious that the only time I do not offend men by how I dress is when those men are somehow hoping I would be gay. Likewise, usually the only time any male is interested in me, is when they are gay, and hoping I would be, too. Which always makes me wonder… these men are gay, yet they have terrible gaydar… how is this possible!? (Gaydar, for those who do not know is the abilitly to tell whether or not someone is gay. It is the combining of the words “gay”, and “radar”… meaning the person has the radar capabilities to tell if another person is gay, or not. I am the furthest thing from gay, yet I have excellent gaydar. I have never been wrong…. Because I pay attention to how people behave, and act. I watch how a person looks at another, and how they interact. But the men who find interest in me assume I am gay, and would be interested in them somehow. They have horrible gaydar. They always are surprised, and embarrassed that they thought I was interested in them. Why would they assume I am gay just because I wear pants that are comfortable?? Yes, I already know the answer to that… they see those parts that I was born with, and cannot think, or see anything else about me. They suddenly think that because I do not hide my penis, I must want them to touch it. Too bad they never learned to look into someone’s eyes to understand life, huh?) This, too, was a huge barrier for me to overcome. Just knowing that by wearing fun pants, I would automatically attract gay men, and have to tell them to get a clue was not an easy step to accept. I really wish I could understand the way most people want to make everything sexual. Can they not see how much they are missing in life?? There is so much more to find joy in with the actual human beneath the skin. But they immediately see the exterior, and they are no longer able to think straight.

For some reason, people are not familiar with fun pants, and those who stop to inquire, really wanna know about them... to the point that sometimes it is a bit awkward. But they approach it in a manner that is not creepy, so it is not a bad thing. Even for me, having someone wish to inspect you, or your clothing up close can be slightly weird… but in a good, almost fun, way. There is bad weird and there is good weird. I am all for the good weird… in fact I embrace good weird. Just because it is weird, does not mean I won’t like it, but it is just a new thing to figure out. As long as they are genuinely interested in the clothing, and not just trying to grope me, that is totally acceptable. I have always been open to learning, and allowing others to learn, as long as it is done with genuine motives. I have always been encouraged, and welcomed to do so with others, and I would not treat anybody else any differently. When people approach other people with true intentions, and not deceit, it is amazing how far one can go, and it is still acceptable. Learning, understanding, and knowledge can be a wonderful thing when done in the right spirit, respect, and proper approach. Mutual respect, understanding, and acceptance are the most important things any time somebody wishes to learn about any given subject. This happens regularly with both my shorts, and pants when they are the fun-pants-style. With the pants, it is not as weird, because there is much more area for them to inspect, feel, and admire the fabric, or material, but the shorts make it a bit more… umm, personal. But I have never had anyone do it to attempt to feel what was under the clothing. (HA! …except those few who have never felt or seen a completely shaved person…. While wearing the shorts, it is very obvious that I do not have a stitch of hair anywhere on my body, and often that in itself leads to a completely different level of interest… I find it amazing how many this is a new thing for…But that is a completely different subject, and a post all in itself!) Their interest in the clothing was genuine, and I could tell, or would not have ever let them get close. Perhaps these people will discover a new way to wear clothing because they met me, and I was not ashamed of what I wear.

I usually wear fun pants from October through March. The weather is much warmer in Vegas, so I have not had much opportunity to wear them until this week. Finally, the weather got cold enough that I could wear them! Until this past week, I only found an occasional day when I could wear them. It was still too warm. This week, I finally got to start wearing them daily!

Yup! These are the fun ones I pulled out to wear
when the weather got cold this week!
And it is fun to know I am wearing these
under my mandatory work costume. :)


Oh how wonderful it feels to wear them again! When I first got here last February, I was able to wear them daily for about a month. Then it warmed up, and I could only wear them occasionally. Even though I cannot wear them visibly at work, I can still enjoy the fact that I can wear them under my work costume. While others complain about the cold, drafty work areas, I am content, happy, and snug in my fun pants. When I hear others complain they are cold, I mention leggings, and they look at me like I am crazy. (Well, that is no secret… I AM!) But they look like it is a completely crazy idea to wear warm, and even fun pants under their work pants. Fine, stay cold. That is their choice. I am comfortable, happy, warm, and snug. Even in the changing room, I often hear people complaining about how cold they are. Yet, when they see me changing, they look totally freaked-out that I am wearing these… Yet I am warm. What is it about most humans that makes them afraid to dress for their own comfort? And Why do they look at me like I am the freak, when I seem to be the only one who has got it figured out? They are the ones checking out other guys, and looking, then act all freaked out when they see what they are looking at. It is pretty simple… if ya don’t wanna see what others are wearing, don’t make it a point of checking them out while they are changing~Duh!

It bothers me that I am forced to change in a room with people that behave like 13-year old boys in junior high. But that is part of my job. I do not have a choice in the matter. I could choose to dress according to what pleases them, but I still gotta be me! If I always dressed to please them, I would not be living my life. I would be giving up all the growth and understanding I have achieved in life. It’s just too bad, they have never been taught respect for others, and wish to attempt to make others as unhappy as they are in life.

I have found that most who criticize these pants have never worn them, or even know a thing about them. I always ask why they criticize something that is practical, comfortable, fun, functional, and completely useful, even logical? I suggest they try some, before they continue to criticize…. And you would think I suggested they go and jump off a bridge, and attempt to fly! My question is why wouldn’t ya wanna wear something fun, and comfortable?

I will continue to wear my fun pants!

Sooo Happy! Playing In The Rain!

As the years have gone by, I find I have gotten more and more comfortable about who I am. I openly share, and welcome others to get to know me. I stopped worrying about the fact that I was born with parts that hung awkwardly in front of me. People either accept me for who, and what I am, or they do not. That is entirely their choice. I accept others as they are, whether they accept me or not. I absolutely love when people are willing to wear what they want to wear, instead of what everyone else is wearing, or hiding under. I absolutely love when people are comfortable enough to wear the clothes that best fit their own personality. I know that person understands what real courage is. I know that person has been through hell just to be allowed to wear what best suits their life.

Perhaps you will entertain the thought of wearing something fun... Yup, It can be considered a daring step, But you will not regret it!

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Do You See What I See? Do You Hear What I Hear?


11-11-11 Eye See You by JOn's ~=:-) view
Do You See
What I See?

Do You Hear
What I Hear?

Sometimes I wish others could hear the things I hear, see the things I see, and feel the things I feel. But then I realize that I was created unique for way too many reasons, and others were not created like I was, because it is something that was meant for only me. Most humans are created with the same basic senses: Sight, touch, hearing, taste, and smell. Some have less. Not only do I have all of these, but I was created with levels of these which are supposedly un-attainable to most humans. I also was created with other senses which are not categorized by any of these five. Some call these “gifts” or say I am “gifted”. There are times I would agree, but more often than not, they are actually hindrances than gifts.
All my life, I have baffled doctors. The stuff they were taught does not apply to me. None of the text-books, studies, or research can be used to identify anything about me. My mind processes things in a much different manner than most people’s brains do. I hear, feel, see, and experience things differently than most do.

The best way I can describe the way I experience the world around me is this:
Imagine you are in a theater with a live orchestra, choir, and band consisting of a thousand individuals. Most people hear the sounds produced as a whole unit. You can pick out the various sounds produced by the various groups. For example, you hear the sound the different singers make as a whole group. (you hear sopranos, you hear baritones, you hear falsettos,) But you hear the sounds as a group. I hear each and every single person, in each of those groups. To me, no two match the other’s tone, pitch, or volume. I hear hundreds simultaneously, and I can pick out which person is making which sounds by following where that sound is created from. The same is true for the musical instruments. You hear the sound of violins, the sound of trumpets, the sound of clarinets. But you hear the sound each makes as a group. I hear every single one of those as a completely different sound, and can pick out each and every one by following where the sound comes from. In a 1000-person performance, I hear 1000 different performances.

If one person is not playing, but pretending to play, it throws me off, because my mind is listening for 1000 different sounds, but there are only 999.

Imagine that theater has the most spectacular lighting system. Imagine that lighting system consists of 1000 lights. Most of the lights work as a group to create a desired effect. Many are grouped to create varying colors, levels of brightness, or even special-focus to draw attention to certain areas of the performance at the right time. Most people see a wonderfully lit performance. If they look for the different lighting effects, they can spot where different colors, different levels of brightness, or some of the different effects are visible. Occasionally, most might identify where a few of those beams come from. I see each light as its own individual beam. I see 1000 different colors, 1000 different levels of brightness, 1000 different angles, 1000 different beams of lights. I see the places where those beams intersect, cross, blend, and reflect. I see all the different shades of lights that are supposedly all the same color. I see the colors in mid-air where two or more light-paths cross each other, because no two lights emit the same color, and where they cross, it creates an oddity in that otherwise straight beam of a single color.

Add to the fact that I see 1000 different beams of light, and countless combinations of where those lights shine with the others, and it quickly becomes many-thousands of beams I see all at the same time.
Lighting fixtures also create sound. This is the sound of the combined needed electricity, and the output of the energy created when the fixture emits the light. There is also the sound created when those fixtures heat, and cool at different times of their use. The energy, heat, and electricity also create individual smells from each fixture.

The sense of smell is even more intense. Not only am I smelling the scent from each and every lighting fixture, but imagine all the thousands of scents surrounding me. I can pick out the scent of the materials in the flooring, the stage curtains, the fabric on the chairs, the paint on the walls, and even the glue in the wallpaper. Add to that, every single person naturally has their own scent. Every person also adds to that scent with their own personal hygiene desires. I can smell each different type of shampoo, body-soap, deodorant, perfume, and the laundry-soap they washed their clothes in. If they use breath-mints, I can smell all those various flavors. I can smell the scent of their pets on them. If they were near a smoker, or smoked themselves, I smell that. I can tell if it was cigarette, cigar, pipe, or other substances.
How much of these I smell at any given time depend on air-movement, air-temperature, humidity, or even barometric pressure. The mixtures and combinations are endless. As various scents combine, clash, or happen to cross paths, they create new smells, and they are constantly changing.

Steve Jobs of Apple Fame recently died. In the early stages of creating the Apple Computer, he was excited about the possibility of being able to see all 10,000 shades of beige that were supposedly available. He was mocked for this, but that did not deter him. His enthusiasm to pursue the possibility to actually see all 10,000 shades of beige was what made him successful, and it helped to excite others along the way.

I can relate to that enthusiasm. All my life, I have been disappointed by the limits of man-made devices. No device ever created by a human can duplicate what I see, and hear in real-life.
The best photography does not come close:
Photography is wonderful. I Love capturing, and sharing some of what I see in my journey through life. I say “some”, because I have yet to see anything that accurately captures, and shows the world as it is viewed through my eyes. A picture, whether digital, or as a print can only show what the inventor determined it should show, not what I can see. I can take a picture, and look at the picture right next to the actual real-life item, and the picture only captures about 1/100th of what I actually see. Some of the newest features on the digital cameras are just barely beginning to capture a portion of the colors that I can see. One of my favorite features is what is called “Vivid Color”. This feature brings out many more hues of any given color, and it is wonderful! (It is designed to only capture a very small-range of colors and make them more vivid.) But still, it is only a fraction of the vividness, color-depth, and does not even come close to the “10,000 shades of beige”. In my view, every color that most categorize contains at least 10,000-shades of that same color.
Sound Systems are limited:
Sound-systems are wonderful, but there is not a single one that actually captures all the sounds I hear. The very moment any created sound is sent into a machine of any kind, it loses much of its original qualities. I have always enjoyed running sound-boards, but find them frustrating, and quite limited. Most people who have heard what I do with sound boards like what they hear, and want me to teach them the same thing. I attempt to explain that I only try to duplicate what I hear within the machine’s capabilities. They are always baffled, because to them, They had already done exactly that. Most sound-boards, much like any visual-duplication machine, are created only based on what the inventor can hear for himself. They are limited by what the inventor will allow it to do. I can tweak them a little, but not even close to what I hear in real-life. But that tweaking I do allows others to hear a tiny bit more than they could hear themselves in the natural state. But they cannot duplicate the same results, because they can only duplicate what they are able to hear.
Most sound-capturing, and duplicating devices are limited to only a few ranges of each possible sound. If there was ever a device created that took the real sounds, and duplicated those same sounds, instead of eliminating them, I believe most people would be blown away at what they were missing in everyday life.

Hearing Tests:
There have been many times in life when I was given hearing tests. You put on the headphones, then simply push the button on your left if you hear the sound on the left, and the one on the right if you hear the sound on your right. It is always fun to watch the reactions of the person administering the tests, because I know I can hear far more sounds than they expect me to be able to hear. There have been times that they make a sound come through the headphones, and I yank the headphones off because the sound is so loud, and uncomfortable. They always say the same thing: “That sound is not supposed to be audible to human hearing!” Then they ask more questions about what I heard, and why I yanked the headphones off. I patiently explain to them how much I hear, and how much it hurt. I am not about to allow something like that to damage my hearing.

Time to get my brain exchanged with a chicken!
When I ended up in Virginia in 2005, I ended up in a mental-hospital because I had attempted to kill myself. So, that joke I often refer to: “I did not escape, they gave me a day-pass” has more validity than most realize.
The director of this area of the mental hospital took an interest in me right away. It turned out that he and I had been down very similar paths, and he understood how to connect with me, where most do not. He is The Very first doctor I have EVER felt comfortable around.

The doctors that worked with me actually did a fairly decent job of attempting to understand the uniqueness of how my wiring works. We had discussed the way some lighting, and some sounds send me into seizures. We also discussed how my senses are more finely tuned, and even some of the things I sense that are not through the normal five-senses. After many long discussions, they had some ideas, and asked if they could run some tests. They assured me it would be safe, and by doing these tests, they could further learn about the brain-activity involved in my wiring, along with confirming what I said was actually the case. Because the Doctor I had connected with was the one suggesting it, I agreed.
These tests were scheduled for 10 am the next morning, and would be conducted at the other hospital across town. The Doctor explained the procedure for transporting those patients in a lock-up mental facility. This meant that I would be escorted like a prisoner into a locked transport cage inside a van, then once we arrived at the other hospital, I would be escorted like a prisoner into a locked chamber, where the staff at that hospital would then take custody of me, and transport me to another locked area. It was necessary to explain this in front of a witness, and have me sign papers stating I understood this. But as The Doctor explained this, I could see the hidden smile in his eyes, and could tell he had more planned than his official speech was saying out loud. I looked at the witness, and she did not have any glimmer of even paying attention, she was just going through the motions. I looked back at The Doctor, and He winked.

At 9:30 the next morning, the process of being transported like a prisoner began. All of what I was told happened exactly like I was told it would. Once I was in the locked chamber at the testing hospital, the escort guards left. The test administrator came in and The Doctor introduced us. She smiled, winked at me and said, “It appears there was a scheduling conflict. Your test will not begin until noon.” As she said this, both her, and The Doctor grinned. She left, and left the door open behind her. The Doctor asked if I wanted to get some fresh air. Together, we walked out of the hospital, then he led me to a small park nearby, where we sat on a bench and talked. That was the best thing that could have happened to me at that moment. He understood my need to be outdoors, and also understood I was not needing to be treated like a prisoner. What we talked about will be a post all by itself, because that was more powerful than anything else I went through. At 11:30, we walked to a hotdog stand, and he bought us each a hotdog and a bottle of water. Then we walked up the railroad tracks, watched some trains, and got back to the hospital just before noon.
The Doctor, and the test-administrator were very careful to answer my concerns. They explained that I would be lying flat on a bed with wires glued to my skull, a mask over my eyes, and sound-proof headphones over my ears. I would literally be blind and deaf in that room for two full hours. They explained that they would attempt to induce a seizure based on the information I had given them, and assured me it would be done in a safe-manner, and they could control how much, and how long it lasted.

The official running of the tests would take a full two-hours, and could not be interrupted once they started. The preliminaries would be a full two-hours also. These tests involved gluing about 200 electronic sensors with wires attached to all parts of my skull. These wires went into a machine which both transmitted, and received the data.  After having all these wires strategically placed, and testing them, I was carefully laid flat on a bed. I was actually joking about the Bugs Bunny Cartoon where the mad-scientist switched the brains of a chicken with Bugs Bunny.
The Mask:
Then they placed a mask over my eyes. This mask blocked-out all outside light, and also had wires, and lighting features built-in. They demonstrated a few of the techniques so I would be familiar with how it worked, and not alarmed. They also tested my abilities to sense light without being able to actually see it. They tried with the room lights off, dimmed, bright, and various lighting from random angles. I could tell them every single time where the lighting was on, or off, bright, dim, or from any angle. This confirmed for them that I actually could sense lighting without actually seeing it.
The Headphones:
Then they explained that the headphones I was going to be wearing were sound-proof, so I could not hear any of the normal noises in and around this room, but would only hear the sounds they deliberately put into the headphones. They explained that for verifying how my senses worked, they wanted me to tell them each time I felt one of them move, and point to where they were once they moved. They also wanted to me say if there was light, and where it came from. Then we did some tests using the headphones and the mask to be sure I could not hear or see anything in the room.

Even without the sound, or vision, I could tell them where each of them was every time one, or both moved. They would cross paths, and double-back to see if I lost track, but I could tell each time. Sometimes they would stand behind one-another to see if I could tell. I could. The Doctor left the room, and I said so. A Different person came in the room. I said it was someone I did not know who entered the room. That person stood in the far corner, and the test administrator opened, then closed the door. I said nobody left. Then the door opened and the stranger left as the Doctor entered. I said exactly that.  I could tell if the lights were on, or off, and what angle they came from. I could tell if it was a moving light, or fixed. The administrator then spoke into her microphone which was transmitted to my headphones. She explained that portion was done. I took off my mask, and headphones. We talked quite a lot about my senses, and they were completely baffled that I could know what was going-on, and who was or was not in the room without being able to see, or hear anything. They unplugged my wiring from the machine so I could stretch, use the restroom, and take a break.
The Goons Arrive:
Once the testing began, I was kinda in a mesmerized, half-conscious state most of the time. They played soothing music, and calming lights through the headphones, and mask. Occasionally the test-administrator’s voice would speak through the headphones. I recall some of the sounds, lights, and other minor details, and a few very minor seizures. The administrator would taper them off, and never let them get to full-blown seizures. She would calmly talk to me and tell me it was alright, and they would end. But the time was seemingly mostly like a nap. Then as I was seemingly asleep, I remembered feeling an intense change almost suddenly, but it was probably only building slowly, and at that point, my mind registered all alarms. Because I had already had several small seizures, I was easily susceptible to large ones now. Just as My mind registered they were inducing a seizure, I felt four large men enter the room. They moved very fast, and Just as I yelled outloud, “Who are these men, and why are they here?!” I felt the seizure take full-effect. At the same exact moment, I felt the four large men grab, and attempt to hold me to the bed. My alarms were fully going off, and I was in fight-survival mode!  Then I was completely blacked-out.  
Wake-up sleeping beauty!
When I woke up, the mask was off, the headphones were off, and the wires and electrodes were removed from my skull. I was sore from head to toe, and looked around cautiously. The Doctor smiled, and said “You Really DO know how to fight!” Then he opened the door, and the four goons came back in along with the administrator.  They stood waay back from me, and just looked at me. The doctor laughed, and said “They want a rematch.” I laughed and said,“No way!” Then each of them introduced himself, then left. I was kinda baffled. The test administrator explained how she worked through all the steps, and she knew once she induced the final seizure, I needed to be held to the bed, but it would not be good to have me strapped to the bed, cuz I would not have relaxed. She explained that there is a light outside signaling the “goons” when to come. Their job is to gently hold a person to the bed. I imagine that one could usually hold most patients down. Usually they just need to hold a patient from doing harm to themselves, but there is never any force involved. She and The Doctor explained how I reacted different than any other they had known. I was up and fighting before they could hold me down. They managed to keep me mostly in one place, but I was easily throwing them aside. Since the seizure was already taking place, she turned the intensity up full to knock me out, rather than let me continue to fight. She was surprised by how much I fight when something is wrong. She explained that most simply just withdraw and basically wait for whatever the threat is to pass. She explained how the results of the testing confirm exactly what I had explained, and was completely amazed at my ability to “see” when blind, and “hear” when deaf. She told me the technical names of these things, but I was not able to remember them.  She also said the technical name for the part that causes the seizures, but I also did not recall that. My mind was racing because of all that it had been through. They gave me something to ease the pain, and keep me from feeling the “fight” too much. My head was throbbing.


Set Something Free...
Once the testing was complete, The Doctor and I walked out of the hospital together. He asked If I remembered where the lock-up mental facility was, I said I did. He said he had other errands to take care of, and I could walk myself back there, or I could be transported again in the prisoner-like manner. I chose to walk. He smiled, gave me a bottle of water, and went the other way. By now, this town was getting familiar to me. It was only about a fifteen minute walk. The walk would do me some good. When I got to the other facility, and went to the main desk, the clerk smiled and said, “Wow! You walk fast!” I asked how she knew who I was, and she said “Honey, We ALL Know who YOU Are! It is not often we get someone like you in our facility.” I was not sure exactly what that meant. Then The Doctor came out of a back-room. He was still smiling. I asked about the errands he had to run, and he laughed. Then he explained that he ”Was following a feeling he had about me, and he proved he was right.” He then picked-up a phone, and made “reservations” for me at The Salvation Army Shelter. I would go live there in the morning.  He then walked me back upstairs to the lock-up facility. Along the way, he explained about how he tested me to see if I would come straight back here, or if I would attempt something stupid along the way. He Knew I would come back, and had already arranged for me to go to The Shelter If I did exactly that. I knew none of this, until after he tested me. He knew if I did what I said I would do, I did not need to be in a lock-up facility. The first thing I did once I was upstairs was request to take a shower. I really needed the hot water on all my sore muscles, and to clear my head, and to wash the glue off my skull. Part of the rules about being in a lock-up facility require that you are watched in almost everything you do, to assure nobody can do any harm to themselves. Even though I was already cleared to walk the next morning, I was still in the facility for the night, and the rules needed to be followed.  The nurse who was assigned to watch me noticed all the bruises. She looked like she wanted to ask, but was not supposed to, so she was kinda uncomfortable about seeing them, and not being able to avoid looking. I asked if that was what she was wondering. She nodded, but did not say anything. She was trying her hardest to not look, but they were really obvious, and were not there when I showered that morning. I explained a bit of what happened, and then laughed and said, “I guess it is true about listening to the wrong kind of sounds in your headphones can be bad for you!” That got her to relax finally. After I showered, I ate dinner, then went to bed. I slept solid that night. The nurses had to wake me up so I could have breakfast, and then be checked-out and start my new life! Surprisingly, they let me shower alone that morning.  
The reason I ask youto turn your music down:
Sadly, many artists in the hip-hop field have started mixing and layering sounds that they can only hear a tiny fraction of, but I hear all the layers, overlaps,frequencies, rythms, beats, and combined electronically created sounds that are a result of them tweaking things so that they can hear the tiniest fraction of the same sound. This type of music has a rhythm and beat that easily sends me into a seizure. These creations somehow manage to affect my wiring much more rapidly than any other form of sound. (The only ones that are more rapid at bringing-on a seizure are those electronic beeping alarms, like on large, moving machinery, or the fire-alarms in most buildings). I get so tired of people assuming that the reason I ask them to not play it, or at least turn it down is because I am somehow against Hip-Hop Artists. They do not understand the medical implications the music has on my well-being. They cannot hear all I hear, so they won’t even attempt to understand this. I am not against the music, I am simply trying to stay alive, or not end up in a blacked-out state and pummeling someone for triggering the fight-to-survive mechanism in my wiring. 
Hard of Hearing?
Many assume I am hard of hearing. They come to this assumption because I speak loudly, but do not realize that I do. Some guess I am hard of hearing because I do not hear what they say in an environment where there are other sounds. It is actually the exact opposite. I hear sounds that most cannot hear. I hear more things happening all around me with so much infinite detail, I must tune most of it out, or it will completely overwhelm me to take it all in. When someone speaks in an environment where there are other sounds, I often do not hear them, and have to ask them to repeat what they said. This is because I am working so hard to NOT hear all the millions of other sounds, that when I am not expecting them to speak, I am not tuned-into them.
Am I Tone-Deaf?
The same is true for singing, or music. Many assume I am either tone-deaf, or cannot hear a beat. It is the exact opposite. The problem is that I hear more than they do, and they cannot explain to me exactly which one they want me to focus on. I have had music-teachers get frustrated because when they tell me something is a certain note, but they cannot duplicate that same sound twice, I will ask Which one of those last ten notes they considered the one they wish me to duplicate. They look baffled, and claim that they were ALL Exactly the same, when they were not. They cannot hear the variations, so they assume I should not either. In music, people try to explain the beat, or rhythm by counting 1-2-3-4 on which they hear only those four counts. In those I hear seven different counts. I have had people demonstrate using a Metronome, and I get the same result. In the time it goes tick, tick, I count five different beats. I have never heard one that actually matched what they said it did. Because I hear more, and see more, I cannot figure out which parts I am supposed to ignore. The ones teaching these do not understand that there is way more than they hear.  I have had some really wonderful musicians, and singers in my life. Many of these are incredible teachers of their craft. But they can only teach those who hear the same things they are being taught. I hear many more things, but those wishing to teach say that is not possible.

A Safety Concern:
I hear, and feel sounds differently than others do. Why is it so hard for people to be willing to understand the reasons I ask them to turn their music down? Why do they assume I am somehow against their choice of music? Why will they not even try to understand that it is a safety concern. Most Emergency-Service workers understand how strobe-lights can affect people such as myself.  I have had some police officers who refused to turn off their strobe lights until I told them they better have an ambulance on the way. Then they suddenly cooperate. I have talked with the police-chiefs of the departments where this has occurred, and the Chiefs always insist they DO train their officers about how strobes can affect people adversely.
A Wish:
Sometimes I wish that some of these people would be able to hear what I hear, see what I see, and feel what I feel. Sometimes I think that if they could experience it, they might be more understanding, caring, and possibly just a tiny-bit kinder to their fellow-human. But then I realize there is a reason I was given these “Gifts”, and they were not. I was given these because my creator knows I would use them to help others as much as possible. My creator knows the reasons I was given these, and has a life ahead for me that utilizes these in the most unusual circumstances that will arise. These are just a few of the things that make me who I am. These are just a few of the things that make me the most unique human ever created. I learned early on how my senses were different than any other, and learned early on that I would never be like another human on this Earth. I learned that I am different, and there is no way to even partially explain to another what makes me who I am. I know that most people would have a complete break-down if they suddenly heard all the extra sounds they have never had to filter-out. I know they would go insane if they suddenly saw 100-times more detail in every single thing they are used to seeing at only about 1/100th of the same detail. Most people complain about any light that shines when they are attempting to sleep. I imagine if they saw how bright I see every detail when they claim it is pitch-black, they would not be too pleased.The processes involved in suddenly having to sort, and sift all these extra details would overwhelm them.
No Such Thing as Boredom:
But at the same time, anyone who has walked through life with me knows I claim “that it is impossible to ever be bored.” This is true. With so many things always to see, hear, feel, sort, sift, and process, boredom is Never a factor.
So, as I continue my journey through life, I will keep looking for ways to express myself, and try to capture what I see, hear and feel for others to possibly also enjoy. If you find yourself "Bored" May you discover there is more to discover than you thought possible. May you find detail where it never before existed. May you hear, feel, and see without using your ears, fingers, or eyes. ~=:-)

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Of Course I have Purple Toes!




Yup! I have Happy Purple Toenails!

Fun!~ Sailboat Framed by Legs n Feet by JOn's ~=:-) view

Normally, My toes are colored purple, and there is no hair to be found anywhere on my body.
I say normally, because today, that was not the case. I seem to be neglecting a few of the important things lately.

Today, I realized how far out of balance things are for me right now.
If My Legs have Hair, that is not good.
If my toenails are not colored purple, that is even worse!
I just got out of the shower, and once again, The Only hair that exists is on my head. And My Toenails are once again Purple. Ahhhh, Much Better! :)
For many, this would be a surprise to find a hairless man with purple toenails. But for those who know me, these are considered normal parts of who I am. For a good portion of my teenage, and adult life, I did keep these mostly a secret. But since 2005, I have never hidden it, nor been ashamed of it. Oddly enough, I started not hiding this part of who I am at the same time as I came Out of the Naked Closet. Most people would categorize painted toenails, or a shaved body into some sort of sexuality-based thing. That would be their lack of understanding, and their own desire to make it something it is not. I fail to see the connection. There is absolutely nothing sexual about my toes, or my lack of body hair, yet for whatever strange reason, most people wish to make them sexual. Most people feel they need to fit everything someone does into a certain category for their own comfort about it. Silly people… there are no categories of any kind that fit me, and likewise there are no categories I could be fit into. If one must categorize anything I do to make themselves more comfortable, then there is only one category that could possibly be applied: That would be the Jon-Category.

It really is that simple. I was created unlike any other human on this Earth. That means plain and simple, there is not anything someone could attempt to compare, or group me with. Most of what I do is about what fits my character, personality, and makes me feel good about myself.


Oddly enough, most people would attempt to somehow link my naked lifestyle with the shaved body, and the purple toenails. This always baffles me. Why would they want them to somehow be connected? Each of these is a completely separate thing, and there really is no way to interconnect them. I guess if you really wanted to stretch it, you could go with the fact that I shave while I am naked (because it would be almost impossible to do while clothed!) I also color my toenails before I put my socks and shoes on (because it would be almost impossible to do once the socks and shoes were covering them!) So I guess, that would be the only way to connect naked to each of the other items.

Ha! After writing this, I realized they do in fact have one thing in common: They each are a great way to determine if my life is where it needs to be, or if it is somehow out of balance. If my life is in balance, I am getting plenty of quality naked time, My toenails will be purple, and I won’t have a stitch of hair anywhere on my body. If any one of these is out of sorts, then it is likely all three will also be. But those would serve only as visible means to measure the balance. Internally, there is a greater battle going on which I most likely have been fighting, and trying to sort out long before I realize I have forgotten to color my nails, or to shave.
So, that brings us to: Why do I do It?

I’ll start with the Purple toenails, since I was coloring them long before I would ever grow any body hair.
Fun!~ Sailboat beyond Happy Purple Toes :)

To me, toenails are a perfect item to be colored. They are just so plain, and often look like they are screaming for something to be done with them. My question is: Why would you not paint your toenails? Have you ever looked at them? You cannot do a whole lot with toes, and other than balance, they really are there for decorative purposes only. So, ya have ten little piggies sticking out looking for some way to feel important. We often cover them in socks, and shoes, and they are hidden. Then when we finally do uncover them, they do absolutely nothing to make you smile, or appreciate them. They are just there. Boring, plain, sometimes kinda ugly looking. When ya remove your shoes, do your toes give you something to smile about? Do they give you a feeling of happiness, or brighten up your world in any way? Do they look just like everyone else’s all around you? Plain, and kinda just there, without anything to feel good about? Imagine you were a toe, and you were neglected and left plain, boring and could never make someone smile? If you were that toe, you might start to develop some way to get noticed. Often toes looking for attention turn funny shapes, or colors. Now You have a toe that gets noticed, but it hardly makes ya smile. In fact you will likely hide your toes if this was happening. But imagine if you colored your toenails in a color (or many colors) that actually made you smile when you saw it. You would happily remove your shoes and socks at the end of a long day, and without even trying, you would see the colored piggy, and it would make you smile! If there were other people around, it would make them smile, too!

When did I start coloring my toes? Good question! I do not recall exactly when I started doing it, but I do recall every girl I ever knew always wanted to paint my toes while she was painting her own. Often the sisters of my friends were excited when I would come to their house, because their brothers would not allow their nails to be painted. This started as far back as I can remember when I was a little kid. I Always let them do it, too! I could never understand why most boys would run away from these girls. Are you kidding me? A Girl wants to hold your foot, and paint on your toes? Of Course the answer is yes! The foot is filled with more nerve-points, and reflex-points than anywhere else in the entire body. The foot is the gateway to almost every single organ, and part of your body. (Have you ever seen a reflexology chart?) To have someone willingly want to touch, hold, and do something that felt so wonderful, of course the answer was always yes. Then afterwards, you got the added bonus of having toes that made you smile! It did not take long before I was painting their toes, and they were painting mine. Both you, and the girl always had a good time, and went away with happy soles (pun intended). That is what friends do for one another. The part I could not understand was when other boys would see the colored toes, and attempt to make fun of me. I learned early on that boys did not appreciate girls, and they were very mean to other boys. I had a few friends who were boys, but not many. The way they acted, I was not interested in hanging out with anyone who treated others that way.

I also learned that I needed to remove the polish soon after they were painted because once they started to chip, they looked really bad. So often, my toes would be colored for only a couple days then plain for many days. When they were plain, I always looked at them as sad, lonely, plain toes. I learned early in life that color made life better. But I had not mastered the skill of doing my own toenails, so I always had to wait until someone else wanted to paint them. I always asked everyone why they did not paint their toes, and most people would come up with answers like “That’s only for little girls.” Or “It is too much trouble.” Only the friends who were girls would paint my toes. I could not get any adult to do it. I could not understand why people would limit themselves in such a way. I would say “If it makes you smile, isn’t it worth it?” But most people did not appreciate that.

A Lot changed suddenly in my life when we moved to Oregon when I was twelve. Along with everything else that was difficult, I seldom got my toenails painted. Occasionally I would, but not very often for many years. Once I moved to Medford, I started painting my own, and often other girls would paint them for me. But mostly, by this time in my life I totally hid all creative expression from most people. There were a few people who I let get to know the real me, and they appreciated the colored toenails, but it was hardly publicly visible. I always used a variety of colors, of my own choosing. Each girl had her own favorite color, and would often have a favorite color she used only on my toes. So, those who knew me well, could tell which girl had painted my toes based on the color. I always found it odd all my life that most boys were actually afraid to have their toes colored. They always claimed that they liked girls, but they would not want a girl to touch them, or even see their feet. Weird.

Once I was an adult, I often had colored toes. I did not work to hide them, but I also did not work to make them public, because of how I was treated when I was younger. Often, because I always have friends with children, most people would just assume they were colored because a child wanted to color them. I did not work hard to tell them otherwise. If that was what they needed to tell themselves to make it acceptable, ok fine. Every time I would get a new female friend, they would be pleasantly surprised to find out I knew how to paint their toes. The funniest ones were the guys whose wives I also was friends with. Most of these women (half-jokingly) called me their “Other Husband”. Their husband was always ok with this, often being the one who started the “rumor”. I had the joy of calling many wonderful women my “half-wife”, without actually having any real interaction of that sort. The guys always loved that their wife had found someone other than them who would allow their toes to be painted. I got the pleasure of having my toes done by wonderful women, and also got to tease their husband about how much they missed out on from their own wives! But since it was often the husband who initiated this set-up, it was a total win for everyone. (Well, I venture to say the husband is the one who actually lost-out… Again, I could not understand why so many men would not want a woman, especially the woman they married to touch them, but would rather watch as their own wife gave me the joy! Men are strange.) These same men would flat-out deny to anyone else that this had happened, even when their wife was right there saying it had. I always wondered what was wrong with these men, and why they were so afraid of happy toes.


Happy Purple Toes on Broadway
By the time I left Oregon in 2005, I was fully allowing my colored toes to be visible to any and all. At some point, I switched from paint to sharpie marker. I discovered how fast and easy the Sharpie was. You could color your toenails, and two minutes later be in the sand and water. If you happened to scuff a toenail, you could just pull the sharpie out of your pack, and touch it up.

A few years ago, I tried Purple, and ya know what they say about Purple: “Once You go Purple, You Don’t Go back!”
Happy Feet in a Perfect Sky! :)

So, for many years, My toes have been happily Purple… with an occasionally multi-color, or special-occasion color. I have proudly let my Purple toenails be visible to any and all, and Not a single person has the ability to made me feel anything but happy about who I am.

It always makes me chuckle when someone who has been in my life for a long time suddenly realizes I have colored toenails. For some odd reason, no matter how many times they saw your feet, or no matter how many photos I have posted, occasionally someone discovers the toes for the very first time. I posted this one last month, and a friend from high school, and also a former roommate noticed the coloring. What really struck me as funny was that she and her nieces had painted my toenails when we were roommates. Perhaps she had thought this was just a temporary thing, or thought I only submitted to let them have a fun time. But the funniest part, was she, and another friend both seemed surprised that they were not multi-colored.


when it Rains in Vegas 005

Perhaps the reason the toenails were noticed this time was because of the setting. Normally the pictures seem fitting for bare-feet activity, and the toenails do not stand-out as much.
This photo was showing how I had to traverse the deep puddles that accumulate in Vegas when it rains. Since I was wearing rolled-up jeans, and a rain jacket, the sandals and Purple toes tend to stand-out.

I Love having Happy Purple toes, and when I neglect to keep them properly colored, that is a prime indicator of something is not quite right in my life-balance. I am working through some struggles right now. There are many things I am attempting to find peace with going on in my world.

I Knew I needed to make some fast changes for a more positive approach when I found that I had hairy legs, And Did Not have Purple Toenails. I have remedied both of these, and will seek ways to find a better balance while sorting through the troubles that seem to mire me in the muck of a not-so-positive way of life.

I have only touched briefly on the body-hair issue, and it would not be fair to leave it unexplained. There is far more to write, than I could fit into a few brief lines, so I will make the hair post a completely separate posting. (Hopefully soon....)

Meanwhile, I would love to hear about your own colorful, happy toenail adventures!
I Hope you have a wonderful, positive, and colorful day! ~=:-)