#so i had to drive back to my county office 25 minutes away; update the registration; then drive back before taking the test

[throughtheglassdarkly]

Missing Pieces, part 6

Welcome back. When last you were here, Day got all schmoopy. Onward.

So, Denny’s happened. Later, we agreed that eating at Denny’s at 8:00 p.m. was somehow less respectable than eating at Denny’s at midnight. But it was a long day and we all could stand to have some greasy comfort food. We all decided to head home, get an early night’s sleep, and then head out to Schenectady in the morning to check out the beer hall. Bella decided to stay over at Pam’s place, letting Duke Lamington know where she was, and everybody else went back to their places. I spent a solid 25 minutes giving Adrian index card updates via Paisley.

As I was about getting ready to go to bed, I noticed a quick flash from across the street. Upstairs, Yova noticed it, too, and we both looked out the window to see a jalopy. Yova quickly got dressed and dashed downstairs, while I was able to see a pretty big guy – not big in the Day or Nash sense, but a heavyweight human man – jump into a car and drive away. It was a beat-up old sedan that looked about as functional as Yova’s crappy pickup. Around this time, I heard banging at the door. When I checked to see who it was, Yova was on the other side. We quickly confirmed with each other that we’d seen what we saw and we quickly decided to get the others and have them bunk in our building for the night. She drove off to get Pam and Bella.

Around this time, Pam heard the banging of a jalopy coming down the street. She went to take a look and saw a figure hop out of the driver’s side of the car. She opened her window and called out, asking him if he needed any help. He was pretty taken aback and stammered out some explanation. “Well, you know, you should get your muffler examined, because there are noise regulations around here,” Pam said. Facing the full fury of the Parent-Teacher Association, the dude took a solid minute to come up with something else to say, but before he could, there was the sound of another car coming. The guy hopped back in and peeled out, but not before Yova was able to snap a picture of his license plate. She got out, hurried up to Pam’s door and explained what we saw. Pam and Bella each packed an overnight bag to come stay with us. On the way back, they picked up Day, who was disgruntled and unhappy and even less talkative than usual.

Yova and I each gave up our beds for the evening so our guests could have them. In Yova’s case, it was because her couch was long enough for her to sleep on comfortably and Pam and Bella were small enough to share her bed. In mine, it was because I felt my bed was more structurally sound than my couch as far as supporting Day. Before we went to bed, Day said that we should try to make a visit to the DMV in the morning to try and track the license plate down.

We all hunkered down for the night and four of the five of us got some sleep. I’d like to say that I was one of them, but the chainsaw noises coming from my room couldn’t be drowned out, no matter how many pillows I pressed against my ears. The next morning, Day was bright-eyed and bushy tailed, coming out of my room and asking what was for breakfast. I pushed myself up to a sitting position and said, “You know, the first eight times or so, I thought that it was just head-on collisions between tractor-trailers on the street outside. How much freaking coke did you snort to fuck up your septum that badly?” “It wasn’t coke, it’s sleep apnea! And I had a rough day, I needed some me time!” he retorted. After a few moments of dead silence, I managed to get out, “That lotion is for my feet. Not. Nefarious. Purposes.” “And yet, it smells like lilacs,” Day said. I got off the couch, stomped over to the fridge and slapped a box of Eggos on the counter. “All right! You got peanut butter and jelly, too?” he asked. I pointed to the pantry and fridge and went off to take a shower.

Upstairs, Yova was about to go out and start her morning workout routine, only to discover that Pam was up early and had already made breakfast for her, some Russian dish involving almost-stale bread. Yova told me later that it was something her mom used to make, which stopped her dead in her tracks from going to the gym. Day went upstairs for second breakfast and Pam whipped up some eggs and bacon for him and some blueberry pancakes for Bella. I spent a solid twenty minutes cleaning up the mess in my kitchen before I met the rest of them downstairs.

We hightailed it over to the Albany County DMV. Thankfully, we got there early enough to where there wasn’t too long of a wait. A Mrs. Pepperpot type person called Day up to her window. They bantered for a minute with Day first trying to be friendly (it worked about as well as you think it did), and then leaned on her with the bad-cop routine. She rolled her eyes and finally agreed to enter the license number, at which point her eyebrow raised. She leaned on her elbows and told Day, “I really don’t have time to deal with some guy’s bullshit today. The queue isn’t going to get any shorter and my lunch break is four hours off. I’ll throw you a bone, just get out of here and let me do my job. Now, I could tell you who owns the vehicle, but it’s not going to do you much good, because this vehicle was reported stolen two weeks ago.” He asked her where it was stolen from and she told him it was from a neighborhood up in Amsterdam, about thirty minutes east.

While they were going on about this, I sat in the waiting area, completely traumatized and telling the others about the mess that was left. “He snored like a drunk grizzly,” I said. “Well, that’s not something he could control,” Pam said. “He dragged the Eggos through my peanut butter and jelly,” I said. “I mean, in terms of sins, that’s not a mortal one,” Yova said. Then I looked up at them and said, “And you don’t even want to know what I found in the wastebasket next to my bed.” That led to dead silence. “That bottle of lotion was three quarters full yesterday. Now it’s half full,” I said. “Oh. We’re going to have to get rid of your bed now,” Bella said.

Day came back over with the information he’d gotten and we traipsed out to Amsterdam, me giving the thousand-yard stare all the while. When we pulled up to the street where the car had been taken from, we realized that it wasn’t exactly an affluent neighborhood, but certainly not a bad part of town. It kind of reminded me of the working class neighborhood I grew up in. Day, unwisely, decided to take the lead on the investigation and scouted around, looking for someone to ask for info.

Eventually, he spotted a pair of hausfraus having a chat over their fences and he went up to talk to them. From the sight of their faces, it was obvious they had absolutely no idea what to say to the giant of a man standing before them, but eventually one of them greeted him. He started asking questions about the missing car, telling them he was a PI, and trying to be friendly. I don’t mean to drag the guy (too much) but friendly isn’t exactly his strong suit. They were not interested in the conversation at all, but one of them did let slip that there was another PI asking around about the same thing, a woman. “I think you should probably go talk to the police,” one of them said, and then they turned back to each other and continued their conversation. Yep. He got Karened.

Fortunately for our investigation, we had a secret weapon of our own: a fully-fledged by-God member of the Parent-Teacher Association. While Day sulked in the car, Pam walked up a few minutes later, asking the women if she could talk to them about the local school district and how her family was planning to move to the area. They were much more receptive to Pam and they started telling her each and every gossip about the area. When Pam asked about crime, they said that the neighborhood was usually pretty safe, except for the strange car robbery a couple of weeks past. Pam managed to out-Karen the Karens as she led them into conversation, learning about how nobody was that sorry to see Mr. Jeffers’s car go because it was a real piece of junk. They stage-whispered to her about how they wondered if there was a possibility of drugs and whether Mr. Jeffers might have smoked five whole marijuanas.

Once we knew whose car had been stolen, we dropped Day and Bella off to talk to Mr. Jeffers while the other three of us went to go talk to the po-po. Day started asking Mr. Jeffers questions using the same techniques that got him nowhere with the Karens and Bella mercifully interrupted, turning out the cutesy act, batting her eyes, and asking Mr. Jeffers if they could get some info from him to help find his car. He was disarmed and agreed to tell them what he knew, what wasn’t much. He wasn’t all that upset that the car was stolen – the insurance company was already processing a claim and he was going to get a better car out of the deal. He was able to tell them that there were a ton of cigarette butts all over his driveway, but aside from that, he didn’t see anything because he wasn’t home when the car was stolen.

Pam, Yova, and I went to the police station, which was pretty small, only covering a couple of neighborhoods. Yova took the lead with the receptionist, telling her she needed to make a report with a detective about a man taking pictures of her through her apartment window (not, technically, a lie). The officer came out and Yova gave him her report, but gave him a phony address from nearby. When she gave him the info for the car, he mentions that an Albany PD officer came through, asking about the same info. Yova asked for her contact info and he gave her card. The officer’s name was Brenda Break. When Yova tried to call, the voice mailbox was full, so we decided to swing by the precinct on our way back to Albany.

“So, Brenda Break,” I said when we got back in the car. “Her parents must have hated her.” “I wonder what her middle name is?” Pam asked. “Probably Beatrix. Brenda Beatrix Break,” I said. “Ooh. Or Bethany. Brenda Bethany Break,” Yova said. “Brenda Bridget Break?” Pam asked. “Brenda Barbie Break?” I asked. “Brenda Brianna Break?” Yova asked. “Brenda Belinda Break?” I asked.

You get the picture. Point is, we were still coming up with middle names for her when we picked Day and Bella up. He looked kind of – surprised? Taken aback? – when he heard what we were saying and we explained that we were trying to figure out what the middle name of the officer from Albany PD who was looking into the car was. He went pale when we said we were going to go speak with her and started stammering out some obvious lies about why he couldn’t come along. We saw right through that and asked him what was up. He let out a long sigh and came clean about it: Brenda was his old partner on the force, someone who he didn’t always get along with but who he had a mutual respect for.

It was at this point that Yova had a horrible realization and she turned to me. “Derek, didn’t you say the guy who you saw out your window was on the heavier side?” “Yeah,” I said. “Bigger dude, not like Day, but hu – ohhhhhhhhhhh,” I said, realization dawning on me as well. “What? What is it?” Day asked. Yova and I looked at each other, then at him. “Day… do you think maybe the guy who stole this car was…” “Was who?” he asked. “Your Fetch,” Yova and I said in unison. He slumped against the side of the car. “And maybe that’s why Brenda’s looking into it, because she thinks it’s you?” Yova asked. Day didn’t have much to say to that. “Listen, if you want, we can drop you off back at your apartment. You don’t have to come see her if you don’t want,” Pam said. Day took a minute to respond, then nodded, saying that he’d rather not. We dropped him at his place and agreed we’d pick him up when it was time to go to Schenectady.

As we pulled away from his apartment, I said, “Okay, I wasn’t going to say it when he was in the car, but were they seriously Day and Break?” “You see, I was thinking that, too…” Yova trailed off. “I mean, it could have been worse,” I said. “She could have been Nancy Night.” And with that, we drove off to speak to the po-po for the second time that day.

Albany PD was considerably bigger and busier than the Amsterdam PD. There was a secretary at the front desk who somehow managed to look both stressed and bored at the same time. Yova took lead as usual and asked him about Officer Break, saying that she had information about a case she was handling. He agreed to go get her and disappeared down the hall. When Brenda came down the hall, I was surprised to see she was much younger than I was expecting, and attractive. Kind of like a battle-hardened, corn-fed Emma Stone.

When she saw us, she stopped in her tracks and told the secretary that she was going to step out for a few minutes. She asked us what information we had for her and Yova gave her the cliffs notes. Brenda held the door for us and led us down the hall to an out-of-the-way room. Once she got us down the hall, she started acting positively giddy, saying, “Oh, man, this is so great. I’ve been trying to talk to some of you guys for so long, and you always run from me. But now you’re here! This is great! This is awesome!” The four of us looked at each other, clearly not understanding. But then she started dropping hints that she could see what we really are.

“Wait, so… what do you see me as?” Yova asked. “You’ve got this crazy bright hair and eyes, it looks like starlight and nebulas,” Brenda said. Yova pointed at me and said, “And does he have feathers?” “Oh, yeah. A shit-ton of feathers,” Brenda said. I bristled a little at this and said, “I don’t have that many feathers…” Brenda told us that a little more than two years ago, she’d suddenly started being able to see changelings (she obviously didn’t know what we were, but from what she was describing, it was clearly changelings).

I asked her when she was able to start seeing us, and if it was around May 2015. “A little later than that,” she said. “I had this partner – big, gruff guy. And he used to wear the most godawful aftershave. Smelled horrible. He disappeared and… this one day, I would swear I could smell that aftershave. I went out my front door, smelling it. Only it wasn’t my front yard. It was this weird brambly maze, I didn’t recognize it. But I kept going after that scent.”

She told us that eventually she made her way through the Hedge (not that she knew it was the Hedge) and found her way out at a Little League field a few minutes from her house. And ever since then, she was able to see things that she hadn’t before. This, as you might guess, left us all completely nonplussed. She wasn’t threatening or anything – she seemed completely thrilled to be talking to some of us. “You have to understand, we’re a skittish lot,” Yova told her. “If someone we don’t recognize comes running full on at us, our first instinct is to bolt.”

Brenda wanted to talk with us at length about what we were. As much as we realized we probably had to do this, none of us were comfortable to keep going with that conversation in the precinct. She told us that she had a lunch break coming up and we agreed to meet with her at a nearby restaurant.

And that’ll about do it for this week’s installment. Next time: brunch with Brenda! And other shenanigans. Until then, be safe, and may you always keep your Bath & Body Works under lock and key.

[maidenariana]

Ari Beats the Gatekeepers Part 1 or.. Ari Knew She Was Right So She Went Around Those In Her Way

Unfortunately, due to the lack of clear guidelines and training in all levels of government regarding policy on transgender name and gender changes.. transgender people need to be prepared, they need to know more than 'the supervisor,' they need to be polite, but confident and assertive, and maybe someday, the gate-keeping will stop for all of us. Well, we can dream!

Today was a difficult day filled with aggravation and disappointment.. however, today was also a wonderful day topped off with a victory over red tape and a would be gatekeeper.

If you have been following my story long enough, you may remember I legally changed my name and updated my driver's license and social security card information in May of 2016. Well, I was also in the midst of my divorce during that time. I wanted to apply for a passport since I never had one before. I filled out the paperwork over the summer and set it aside. I wanted to be able to apply with the divorce date filled in so the records were accurate. I decided, "no rush, I can wait until my divorce is final." I did not anticipate it taking 11 months for my divorce to be final. It was not contentious.. my ex and I handled ourselves in the best manner possible in my opinion. Still, due to all of the built-in delays (30 days to respond here, 30 days to respond there) and some rather inept lawyer-ing from her representation.. it took 11 months! 

Guess when it was finally final? The irony.. it was Inauguration Day! That's right, I waited to send out my passport application due to that one little box not being able to show that I was legally divorced and in doing so, I am one of the transgender people now holding my breath to see if I sent it in time. In time for what, you ask? In time to be treated like a human being rather than be treated like a criminal by the wretched hive of scum and villainy that is now the white house.

Anyhow, one of my loved ones had to be admitted to the hospital on the 19th, just one day before my divorce was final.. this threw a new wrinkle in things as I took the needed time to care for my loved one. She had to be top priority. My passport application waited another two weeks for me. (My loved one is due to be released tomorrow - yay!!!)

Finally, yesterday I went into my local post office which is also an acceptance facility for passport applications. I asked the woman working the passport desk to take a new photo for me because the Walgreens employee made me look like a grandma in my first attempt at getting an acceptable picture. This woman had kind eyes and she was also very knowledgeable and patient. She went through all of the paperwork I brought... my physician's statement, my legal name change court order, my photocopy of my id.. then she paused.. 

"Is this the only birth certificate you have?" she asked. I said, "Yes, Why??" (as my heart began to sink)

"I'm sorry, but you need the long form and this is the short form. They will reject it immediately if your parent's names are not on the copy."

My heart sank as she told me I could get a copy the same day if I went to one of the Cook County Vital Records locations. I thanked her and decided I would just take the next day off (Friday) and take care of it. I double-checked the website when I got home and confirmed that the nice woman at the post office was correct. She had not given me bad information. I just missed that detail in my research. 

I started Friday morning at the dentist getting my newly prepared crown put in place of the temporary crown I got 3 weeks ago. Once that was complete, I was off to the Vital Statistics room of the Bridgeview Illinois Court House. Of course this involves going through a TSA like security (only not as invasive). They had the lines split for men and women. I of course went through the women's line. They were nice enough and there were no issues. I found the right room, took a number and waited. I got called up to a station and told the woman that I needed a long form birth certificate. I showed her the short form one that I had (with my original birth name), my court order for my name change, and my current license. She started punching things into the computer then went to get a supervisor. Of course, I could already tell this was not going smoothly, but I hoped the supervisor knew the drill and knew that everything I brought was more than sufficient to prove who I was. NOPE! She told me that there was no way they could issue me MY birth certificate since my driver's license now stated a different name. She said that I could be anybody. I had given her a stamped and sealed COURT ORDER for the name change and she told me she could not help me. 

I was so dumbfounded by the inept logic that I did not have the words to argue as she handed me a form to fill out and ship to Springfield Illinois so that I could have my birth certificate updated (a process that takes 4 to 6 weeks) BEFORE they could help me. Of course, as you can tell from the title of this post, I knew this supervisor was wrong. I decided then and there that I would visit each of the 5 other Cook County locations that day until I found a supervisor that knew the actual guidelines. Of course, because of the extended conversation about my gender and my name change with many people behind me waiting for their turn.. I had about 12 pairs of eyes looking quizzically at me when I turned around to leave. That's okay though, because I smiled at them all, knowing I was right and that this was not a true road block. I imagine I had a rather determined look on my face..

It turns out, I only had to visit one more location! That's right, after another twenty minutes of driving, the helpful people at the nearby Markham, IL location sorted me out in a matter of minutes (well, after I waited in line for about 25 minutes). The clerk did ask for a supervisor, but she returned just to tell me that I should make sure to also send the right form to Springfield, IL so that my birth certificate would match my ID in the future. I promised her that I would. I paid for two copies of my birth certificate and thanked the woman.

I glided out of there, feeling like I had just won a major victory. I knew I had enough time to get to the post office and still get my passport application out that very same day. I drove straight there (an hour drive back by that point). It was the same woman who had to turn me away the day before. I said cheerfully, "Hello again! I have the correct long form birth certificate, although I had to go to two different locations to get it!" I explained what had happened to her and she basically shook her head and lamented that it was sad I had to go through all that. She carefully went through all of my documents and told me that everything looked good and that I was all set. I paid for expedited processing and my passport application is now on an airplane.

I went home, filled out the form I was given to change my birth certificate and went back to the post office to get that sent out along with another physician's letter and legal name change court order. This should not impact my passport application, because with expedited processing it should be finished by the time they get to my birth certificate change in Springfield (a slower process by all accounts). If my passport gets rejected because the birth certificate I sent has my old name and the system gets updated and shows my birth certificate has changed.. then resubmitting will be fine and less complicated because my birth certificate will show the correct gender and they will have no reason to question it or to deny it. What a tangled web.

By this point it was late in the afternoon and I was elated to have all of that done, but I also had several stress knots in my neck. I looked across the street and saw one of the salons that I frequent. I decided to get a blow out (they also give you complimentary neck and shoulder massages). The girl doing my hair did a great job and had some suggestions for a cut as well. I plan to go back on Wednesday for a cut, but went with just the blowout for today.

The point of writing all of this out is that I hope it is helpful for anyone else dealing with this. Even if you have only one county court house you can visit, perhaps going on a different day and getting a different clerk will get you different results. It is unfortunately a toss of the dice every time we as transgender people have to deal with changes to identification documents. Be in the know, do your research, know more than the supervisors, be prepared to politely but assertively stand up for what you know to be the correct process. You could also even suggest that they call another location to ask how they handle it if they are unsure. 

I titled this post with "part 1," because I am fully aware, that there is a strong chance that either my passport application or birth certificate update request will be denied. As long as one of them comes back as expected, then I know the next attempt should be the last to get this all finalized. Of course, Mr. Drumpf could sign an executive order on Monday that calls all of this into question and both of my requests could be halted. If that happens I will immediately contact the lawyer who represented me for my divorce (she is also a transgender woman) and together we will take on the U.S. Government if we have to. 

I will keep standing up for myself and keep going to any lengths to make sure I am not denied. You should do the same 😉

-Ari

My goal in sharing my transition is to represent transgender people in the positive light that we all deserve. Re-blogs are always okay if they are for this purpose, but if you are a fetish blog or fetish website then I want nothing to do with you and you do not have my permission to use my images.

[hotel-oscar]

FACTS : what I know without a shadow of a doubt happened vs deduction, speculation and/or my opinion.

FACT : December 18th, Sunday - Woke up on corner of Robertson & Santa Monica Blvd in front of Pavilions. I was partially robbed & obviously sexually molested. Also had 1 thin clean cut over left top lip. Like a purposely cut line approximately 1" in length. I was also missing my left earring. It was a black circle and superman symbol on other (I sometimes use that mismatch combo on my left ear only and both matching circles on the right). It’s the kind often referred to as fake plugs so they screw into each other, which in turn makes them more secure and a task to remove so ya, left earring was missing and not on the floor. Otherwise, absolutely no other signs of visible trauma or impact points so I know I didn’t fall on the ground.

FACT : I was missing my wallet, motorcycle key, motorcycle w helmet BUT I still had my A1 leather bomber jacket on, $1+ in coins, 2x collector Swiss Army pocket knives & my black Ray Ban Wayfarer sunglasses. Partial robbery…? I then went into Pavilions’ and bought myself a Tonic Water w the change I had.

FACT : I parked right in front of Abbey and went into Chapel @ the Abbey and bought Bacardi Limon from the tall slender female bartender with the obviously fake English accent.

FACT : Other than feeling confused to how, when & HOW the hell I ended up there, I felt 100% sober & clear minded. This was no surprise to me since I know I didn’t even drink enough to have a buzz. I don’t even remember finishing my shot.

FACT : I thought it weird that NO ONE offered to neither help me nor express any concern. Then when I went back to The Abbey to get my credit card that I had left there, everyone was being rude and giving me the run around and saying come back & just meaner than I have ever recalled them being. They never gave me back my card. I tried from before 7am until noon.

****UPDATE**** They charged my card $40 and it’s a straight up lie. For one, I lost my phone a few days earlier and so I wasn’t sure my balance so I was limiting myself 1-2 drinks max and I always keep my limit. Second, I haven’t spent $40 on a tab since the military and that’s no joke. Besides, I’m 100% positive that I didn’t authorize $40.

FACT : At sundown, I walked miles and miles walking all lit main streets until someone finally asked me if I was ok. It was a homeless woman at a 711 whom I later gave my Air Force Swiss Army pocket knife to as a gift. I was freezing and hungry & she fed me and we huddled together for body heat right outside the 711 doors. When she left, she offered me to go with her but I still felt a danger lurking and didn’t want to put her at risk. When she left, I began looking for a cement or steel trash can bc I was shivering uncontrollably from the cold and needed to get warm. I found one on a sidewalk adjacent to a gas station. I made sure there was no residue gas dripping from the pumps as I walked by them on my way to the trashcan on street. I started that fire for the sole reason of staying warm but also made sure I was being seen on the station’s camera in case anything happened to me bc I had a feeling that someone wanted to make me disappear.

FACT : At no time was anyone or thing in any danger, including myself. Firefighters put it out. Cops (LAPD) showed up after the fire was already out and the firefighters were packing up to leave. It was obvious I was going to get hurt right off the back so I repeatedly told them loudly & clearly that I was a woman. They only got more aggressive and more threatening to the point where I thought that’s it, I’m about to get tazed/shot so I finally yelled, “Ok ok I’m a guy,”– in which they proceeded to tackle me, hogtie, rip my nose back, suffocate me, inject me & beat me. I begged & pleaded for my life forever it seemed bc I couldn’t breathe & that alone was unbearable. When I realized that they were not going to let up, I yelled in Spanish for God to help me and that’s when I got one last sock to the face in which I pretended to be knocked out. I began listening and feeling everything they were doing. I felt my butt exposed while they injected me w something. They had my socks off and had my ankles turned in an unnatural way which w the handcuffs made it impossible to feel anything they were doing to them but the overwhelming pain & fear of breaking like my wrist already felt was. I do however remember the firefighters driving by close enough to make eye contact while I was struggling on the floor before pretending to lose consciousness.

FACT : They tortured me for over 25+ minutes but now actually seemed a lot longer than that and am sure it was. Then they finally put me in a paramedic-like vehicle where not only did they refer to me as a WOMAN but one said, “I wish she’d keep squirming so I could rip her nose back again.” Wtf? Then they proceeded to cut my A1 AF leather bomber jacket into little pieces so I’d never wear it again. Btw, that jacket clearly had my (female) name & rank on front name badge. Then they cut off my white t-shirt and binder which held down my breast followed by sticking an IV down a vein in my throat and opening my eyes and pushing each one so far into my skull that I swore they were gonna poke each out. I’ve never had anyone do these things to me & didn’t know people like that even existed, let alone people that wore uniforms and were supposed to be saving lives. Not enjoying themselves torturing one… I heard them all making little jokes and enjoying themselves the entire time and even when I was walked thru the precinct and booking topless with my breast out in the open (Yet, they were still trying to book me as a male even then!). I remained exposed for everyone to see until I was seen by the doctor in holding in which she said can we put a shirt on him/her. She saw the IV in my throat & asked why the hell they put an IV in me. Even the officer stuttered that he didn’t know why. They x-rayed my wrist bc it was badly injured. I still have no feeling of left thumb and wrist. I still have scars on wrists and ankles from being hogtied with the handcuffs overly tightened. At the time I had blood and swelling at my wrists and ankles from the handcuffs. I also noticed that I was bleeding under one of my middle toes from my left foot & wasn’t previously.

FACT : I reported the rape from West Hollywood as soon as I felt safe and asked for rape kits. Santa Monica Hospital, USC and LA County Women’s Jail. Sheriffs sent SVU investigators to talk to me while in jail. I told them every detail including how I got my motorcycle stolen from right in front of the Abbey and gave them title info in order to find it. The men left their #’s. I called them several times later to find out status and left msgs. I did this from jail and later from home after I was released. I never ever received a call back or acknowledgment and the other # said it didn’t exist. I made sure to keep record of any calls & messages I made to or left them as well as keep the business card they gave me when they came to see me in jail.

{For the record, WOMEN’S LA County Jail was the best part of this ordeal. Not only did they take care of me and make me feel safe and respected me but also the inmates were a blessing to have met. Each inmate made a very special & personal contribution to my heart’s recovery. They all became my friends and I know we all share a special bond and will no doubt see each other again and hopefully work with too. Thank u to every Deputy. U guys genuinely care about human beings and I’m sorry there are Sheriffs that carry guns on the outside tarnishing your priceless contribution to humanity. I’d work w u guys any day.}

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FACT : I was in Signal Hill the day before and received a ticket for the motorcycle being parked on the sidewalk. The motorcycle a 1983 Blue Hondamatic had mismatching license plate from VIN on registration. This is bc I have 2 of the same exact bike and often switched out parts between them. I have its twin sitting here at home in pieces and missing its original license plate, which went w the stolen bike. When I finally got home from jail in mid January, I discovered that the titles for both of the bikes that I had put away safely in a box were both missing. I didn’t even have time to fully take in this whole mess before I was conveniently 5150’d for crying on a curb on a street named Cudahy in which HP Police decided to tow my other bike which was simply parked against the curb correctly & not even w key in it. It was towed to Mr. C’s Towing in South Gate. I tried to get it after my VA nightmare but they wanted me to pay $66 per day for something they did illegally. Well, just like my other bike it has a twin so it has the same mismatching plate detail. I still have the title for this one and the original plate on me. Not on the bike they are holding. I also have the original plate for the 1983 Hondamatic that I just learned from its previous owner, the guy I bought it from, that it was auctioned off in January while I was in jail. They said that they had contacted him to demand he pay for the fees that I guess were not recovered w the f***ing auction but when he tried calling them back w his defense the DMV claimed they had no record of the bike’s existence. Can somebody please tell me what the f*** is going on????

****UPDATE**** I can’t seem to get a police report anywhere. I want to know what they said so I can defend myself but they keep jerking me around sending me on a wild goose chase and lying. HPPD first said I was operating the bike impaired but when I brought evidence contradicting that, they changed their story once again. This time they say that they didn’t want to be responsible in case the bike was stolen while I was in the hospital bc God knows how long I’d be there. BULLSH*T. 1st, they 5150’d me which is a 72 hr hold. 2nd, I’m sure I could have easily arranged for a family member to just walk over and get it. No biggie. 3rd, U ARE RESPONSIBLE for it being stolen! Both PD & Towing place keep sending me back and forth to supposedly get something needed which have been lies and the days have added up. Here’s the big whopper though, they hold for 45 days after which they not only send me to collections for the entire 45+ day storage cost but they ALSO auction my bike! Wow, talk about rape…is this even legal??? It doesn’t seem ethical that’s for sure. I know it’s not right in my heart either. I still have faith in humanity. I refuse to believe there are so many evil people around here.

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West Hollywood Sheriffs think they can do whatever they want and say and do unspeakable things without any repercussions. (????) Literally think they are above the human race and they have an acute hate for strong women who don’t need men (i.e. Lesbians). As far as I’m concerned, they are domestic terrorists and traitors to our country and God-given rights. If u don’t believe me, I’m sure they have videos. They have a thing for recording everything. Or u can believe me bc I’ve never lied to u and would never want to see anyone else hurt. I rather it be me than anyone else bc I know I was born special & can take more than others and I’m ok. Plus, I took an oath to protect my country against ALL ENEMIES, foreign & DOMESTIC and I meant it & live accordingly. I was born to serve my country and its perfect people. I take attacks on them personally and will be damned if I let them intimidate me into letting them get away with it. Over my dead body and even after that.

I believe martial law should be implemented in LA County with special emphasis on West Hollywood & VA in Long Beach (ER & L1 psych ward), if not ALL Emergency Rooms, Psych Wards & Law Enforcement in the county of Los Angeles.

West Hollywood used to be a safe haven for gay people from all over the country. Now it’s become the fastest way to become a non-reported missing person. I’ve had the privilege of meeting their spirits and the honor of their unwavering love and guidance through my drugging, rape, torture and eventual death. That girl I used to be is forever gone.

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The VA in Long Beach has a modern God-complex psychotic Doctor who I lovingly refer to as GPS bc his name sounds like a GPS Navigation brand name. Dr. Magellan?

FACT : I told them I didn’t want to go in the back door. I didn’t feel comfortable & told them I rather go in through the front entrance just like every other 50 millionth time but they were adamant & not budging. I had a bunch of pix w me but mainly of my niece and nephews. Before knocking out I tucked them into my binder like I had been every night. I woke up and found them sprawled all over the bed & floor which was odd & shocking but to make matters worse, 3 pix were missing and that pissed me off. I pulled a fire alarm. Not only did they cancel it on their own instead of the fire department but it also made them pretty angry so 2 guys tied me up to a bed and then each injected a shoulder. I muttered something about the only people that could cancel a fire alarm are the firefighters and was out.

I don’t think anything u guys did was cool. The mystery straight up bite mark was like wtf (and I know u’ll say it’s mine but not only is that stupid as hell but also physically impossible bc of angle it was done).

FACT : Blood & liquid build up on toes by the nails, not being able to account for over a week, being told I’m being given certain meds that we both know damn well aren’t what u said they were, u getting upset w the social worker for not hanging up properly w a public defender and accidentally recording everything u were saying right before I walked in and just all of your bs, GPS. Honestly, I just feel betrayed by everybody there bc I trusted them. I already didn’t trust u bc u always had a smile when u were telling me something that would make my world crumble. I do remember seeing the cameras in the employee meeting room and thinking oh sh*t they are watching me change & sleep?? Then I thought how is that possible if inside the rooms there is not a camera in sight. Still, I wish I would have had a courtesy heads up before getting undressed bc that’s embarrassing/uncomfortable for me to do around anybody.

I also finally realized that not only have u guys been f-ing w my mental health but also that u literally are not one bit interested in really helping me. The same goes to the ER where they watched me have an anxiety attack and didn’t calm me down but instead took detailed notes of whatever fright I was experiencing and even had others come watch and also do nothing except ask that same dumb question, Do u wanna hurt anyone or yourself, all while watching me bawl my eyes out & scared outta my mind seeing whatever it was that was so terrifying but thank goodness u made sure to make a detailed transcript, right?? That still surprises me btw bc I only begin to remember it when u read from it. Weird how u guys remember my dreams/nightmares better than I do. Like how are u able to get inside my head while I’m totally asleep…?? Seriously.

FACT : I always made sure to get a ride to your ER where every time I’d walk in and just ask for someone to talk to. That’s all just a Therapist or someone that could help me relax just by listening and responding like one and not some smart-ass condescending one that belittles what I’m feeling as if I didn’t just now ask for help. I just needed to talk to someone and I’m sure my provider remembers how many times throughout the years I would continuously ask for one-on-one therapy. Every single time I saw u guys I’d ask for that therapy and I practically lived there! Yet, I would be put to sleep & always waking up days later confused of where I was at and then later finding out from the other patients that I was out for days! DAYS! WTF is that all about?? U can’t tell me I’m a drug addict that was doing this to myself bc I know now that is all BS and I’m really pissed about it. U swear we aren’t smart enough to know the difference between the drugs we knowingly put into our systems and the ones u claim are the cause of our perpetual detachment from reality! Yes, u do a good job of keeping us confused so that we accept your BS but eventually something had to give. Maybe my tolerance got higher or maybe I just became immune to your junk. It really is unbelievable how f-ed up u are. I didn’t think there was a cure for what u said I had bc I couldn’t wrap my mind around the perpetual diagnosis u would give me and I’d reluctantly accept even though I hadn’t been doing any drugs. I somehow would convince myself that maybe I don’t remember using (ya right) or someone in my life was purposely drugging me (which made me paranoid) or maybe it was just my guilty conscience from using in the past. I didn’t even consider that u’d be that evil and that your staff would be too naive to question.

I still can’t believe this is happening. So many of my Vet buddies were patients of yours. Some got worse and others I’ve never seen again and no one has either bc I’ve asked. We’re family and we look out for each other no matter what and u know that. It’s unfair that u’d tell the staff to tell me that they were not able to tell me what happened to Izzy for privacy reasons but he had no other next of kin. I was his family and I knew something happened to him the first time I returned to L1 after he was gone and u put me in his old room. I can feel everything and I knew and cried. I’m not saying u did something to him but my last memory of him was me being discharged from there and wanting to say bye but seeing him be tied down to the same bed but not making it easy for your staff. He was in duress and I should have stayed to calm him. I don’t think any of this is funny. Not one bit. I don’t play around when it comes to other people’s quality of life. Heck no and though not all of u guys are guilty, I still won’t return to your part of the hospital and will share that w the Vets I know. There’s nothing u can say to confuse me anymore. I finally feel more like the old me I used to be when I was still in the military. It took more than a miracle for me to overcome this but I’m glad I did and I’m glad u guys were wrong. I’m totally fine and healthy and NOT addicted to any substance or thing. I’m also STILL not a danger to myself or anyone. In fact, every day I get better & better. I had forgotten how good it felt to be sane.

There’s something wrong w u, GPS and I’m sure I’m not the only one that would agree and I’m sure we can count on u to always be smiling when u know ur about to and/or are making someone miserable. U really had me going there which is why I felt no remorse when I turned the tables on u. Just remember, ur the doc and u discharged me regardless of my state and me asking for help. U can figure the rest out.

****UPDATE**** I requested all my medical records from VA. I reviewed my recent 5150 stay in L1. In the short summary they are very detailed on all days except for the 6 day gap of nothing. So I went back to review the entire month of March to see what u put for those 6 days I lost. It’s funny bc u put the same type of very detailed notes for those 6 days. U put my vital signs, exact bowel movements, participation, % of food eaten, etc. Oh u also mentioned that I was temporarily put in restraints and stated the strict policies u have with that like notifying next of kin and 24/7 100% face to face surveillance. Well first off, EVERYTHING u wrote for those 6 days minimum are complete utter BS. Lies. Not only did I find many holes in your detailed fabricated data but regardless of me having to prove anything, u’ve managed to screw yourself. I’ll put it to u this way, u somehow managed to keep meticulous record of not treating me for my said perpetual disorder but also keeping me at that state the whole time. Plus, there were other discrepancies that might seem small but in my case stand out like a sore thumb bc it meant I was 100% not myself in anyway which would be the first in my life since I’m very consistent regardless of my state of mind. So glad the AF & VA keeps records of everything so I’ll let them speak for themselves. U should have paid closer attention to me all these years or just listened to me every time I told u certain things about myself that haven’t changed my entire life. They are important in order to be able to accurately assess and treat me, your patient, medically. I mean, it could mean life or death literally. Either way, u grossly neglected to do that job u swore to do correctly. Add f-ing liar to that. Never mind that u guys also have 100% surveillance in L1 so per your notes, everything in those 6 days should check out at least visually right? Well at the very least for your sake.

I urge everyone to call the jails, hospitals and everywhere to find that loved one and make it known that that person will be missed and looked for and that no one will give up and accept their loss bc they couldn’t live with themselves if they did. Go in person, call or go online to check inmates & arrests. Snapchat and use all & any current social media to record, keep track of, make note of or just have as insurance if anyone is not doing their job, threatening u, putting your life in danger, lying to u or just getting a bad feeling from. They tend to think twice before continuing their disturbing behavior towards u but also letting others know what’s up in case, God forbid, they do harm u. Email all resources & be heard. Email even strangers that might just be in your address book automatically from buying something from them on Craigslist. Serious. Someone, the right person will be listening and that’s all it takes.

FACT : I’m an Air Force Vet who got out in her prime and had nothing less than a stellar career but decided she wanted to be with her family and see their kids be born and grow up. She chose family and chose right. I still have very close ties to my military family and still have the same beliefs I had while serving which is why I will continue to serve, pay or not. I began to transition from female to male but I never intended to change my gender nor name so basically even though considered Transgender, I am just a woman that looks like a dude but I don’t pretend to be and don’t tell others I am. I’m a woman who’s happy looking masculine, as weird as that sounded just now. Ha. Some women get breast implants, others want them removed. Truth is I just rather look this way and it makes me happier than I’ve ever been and the people that love me say that it shows and that makes them happier as well.

FACT : I represent a vast majority of Americans who struggle against all kinds of discrimination and violence and at the hands of everyone, including my own kind. I’m Hispanic, Mexican, Irish & Jewish descent, Woman, Lesbian, Transgender, Gay, Military Veteran, Domestic Violence Survivor, Rape Survivor, Mental Illness, been Homeless. The reason I mention this is bc everything that happened to me can only be categorized as a HATE CRIME because not only did they totally know I was a female all along but there really was absolutely NO NEED to cut my jacket into little tiny pieces AND strip me NUDE topless. That was obviously meant to shame me. Yes, it was deliberate and intentional. They knew what I was and they 100% intentionally meant to hurt me. There’s plenty of evidence to back it up as well. Including the officer’s body cam. I even asked him what that was on his shirt and he told me that it was his body cam.

FACT : If a woman or man or speaking animal says that they were raped. THEY WERE. Who the f*** are u to tell a person, especially a grown-ass one what THEIR body feels. Shame on u stupid women who decided to be the judge of that bc u let rapists of all that are living know that it was ok.

Regardless of u doing unbelievably psycho and amazingly unfair things to me to make me feel like I should just shut up and forget that these things happened to me, I simply can’t. I’m not gonna lie, I really, really considered it and even contemplated moving far away but it always comes back to NO, I’m not crazy. I didn’t imagine this sh*t bc I know the difference between being f-ed up or confused. NO, they will never stop and they will hurt so many more people and I can’t live with that sh*t. I know u f**ks are all working together in some crazy ass levels of authority making it seem like we have no choice but to bend over and take it and believe me, I thought this was too twilight zonish to still be reality but u really do exist. U literally can do whatever u want and have been getting away with it for years. I’m gonna bring an end to that now. I’ve gone above and beyond and even what u can’t fathom to make sure that nmw the truth is known and u guys will not get away with any of it.

Anyways, I was just giving u a heads up of what’s to come and that everything u do (literally) is in our favor and absolutely instrumental in justice. God love us for believing in him and our God given rights. One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and JUSTICE FOR ALL. One Love - God, Family, Country (US).