Let's Paint a Nicer World

1958- I remember it just like it was, well…, a really long time ago! Very few specifics really stand out about that time in my life, except for time spent with a very best friend who was the son of our next door neighbors. Neither of the families had an abundance of money, but that never seemed to matter in the least to a couple adventurous four-year-olds.

We always found ways to keep our time occupied, whether it was playing games, throwing rocks at cans, or scouting around the vast couple acres surrounding our duplex. At the time, it seemed like the whole world was there for us to explore.

On one of the property boundaries, there was an abandoned irrigation ditch that gathered its fair share of refuse. Although cast-off items were certainly somebody’s throwaways, we saw them as treasures that maybe we could figure out how to play with, or use in a fort that we constructed- we had our own private haven that was all of 50 feet from our parents’ front doors.

One day, when we went out to play, we discovered someone had tossed several old paint cans in the ditch, probably hoping to save a trip all the way out to the town dump.

With our adventurous minds in full gear, we mutually agreed that maybe we could paint something! Whatever we thought we might be able to paint totally escapes my mind now, but I’m sure it must have needed painting.

I started opening cans first, only to find, to my disappointment, that whatever liquid remained in the bottom of the first can looked old, separated and yucky. As I impatiently opened another can, and then another, only to find more old, separated paint remains, I glanced over at my friend. He had found a stick, grabbed the first can I opened and was patiently stirring away at the goo in the bottom. I watched, wondering what he thought he might accomplish. With steady persistence, in a short time he showed me that, indeed, there was now some colorful, useable paint in the bottom of the can. He kept stirring. I opened more cans. When they were all opened (at least the ones that still had the appearance of liquid in the bottom), I grabbed a stick and started stirring myself. Before long, we had a bright array of colorful paint, just waiting for us to paint whatever we thought we should paint. I can only imagine there were some interestingly colored bushes and rocks around the property after our little afternoon of youthful artistry.

Somehow that lesson has stayed with me through life. Often I see others in such a hurry, discarding things that don’t immediately grab their attention as perfect and ready to go. And often, I’ve been able to pick up discarded ideas, patiently stirred for a little bit, and created new colors to add to the scene.

How often do most of us quickly cast aside “old cans of paint”, scrambling to find something more perfect and made to order?

And in the political realm, how often do we encounter new ideas (or candidates) that aren’t perfectly, completely as we’d imagined they should be, and simply brush them off, without even attempting to vet their merits or capabilities?

Perhaps it’s time to slow down now and then, take a second look inside the “cans”, and maybe even do a little stirring here and there.

I’ll bet if we look at the road ahead with a little of that perspective, we can figure out all manners of ways to create a more beautiful world.

Congratulations, it's a ....(welcome to our first label)

Likely among the first words that greet a new emerging human life are "Congratulations! It's a ..."


What is that based on really? At that stage of life, there's been no question and answer period and no psychological evaluation or interaction. There is, however, an individual known as the "Attending Physician." Mr. or Ms. AP, using all their skill and medical training, either carefully, kindly and gently coaxes the baby from the mother, while reminding said mother that the excruciating pain (like none other ever before experienced) is quite normal and the outcome will certainly be ok. Either that or the mother is effectively sedated while the AP grabs a scalpel and with a few magnificently deft strokes, creates an incision through which our new baby emerges into the world, innocently unknowing of the incredibly wide world which awaits. Invariably the baby appears to have either a vagina or a penis- let the ride begin!

Did you ever stop to think about what happens at that very moment?! That first exclamation, based on superficial observation alone sets so many precedents, actions and thoughts into motion!

New parents oblige willingly (with all the best intentions) right from the beginning- "Oh my goodness, we need to get Pink/blue clothes! We need to get action toys/dolls! We need to plan attending football games/dance recitals! We need to pick out a tuxedo/wedding gown!....." And then society chimes in right behind the parents with even further emphasis on the expectations that this newborn baby will most certainly be expected to live up to.

General society often tends to follow right along with the assumptions and expectations.

For boys, they’re expected to play sports, hunt, fish; activities that require physical strength and macho.

Girls, by contrast are expected to dress in pastel colors, play with dolls and learn domestic responsibilities such as cooking, sewing, or even tending to family.

The exceptions (and there are fortunately many) have to break out of the stereotypes, prove their uniquely different personality or traits are valid and acceptable.

For presentation in teens and beyond, all the aforementioned stereotypes play along, based on an individual’s outward appearance. If an individual appears to be male, he certainly must have interests within the scope of existing stereotypical expectations. If an individual appears to be female, her interests are assumed to also fit into the neatly formed opinion box of stereotypes as well.

Well...I happen to know some incredibly cool people who just don’t fit ANY preconceived stereotype. I don’t either. One thing I know now proceeding through transition- if people perceive me as a female and assume I might like to cook or sew, they’re not as far off. In fact, many of their assumptions are likely more accurate that when they formerly perceived me as male. Conversations begin on better first notes. There’s a sometimes surprising aspect to my being- I hunted, fished and won motorcycle races, so they can’t rightfully argue I don’t understand- for now, give me a set of pots and pans and a good recipe. Gonna feed me & friends good tonight!

Scrape the Whole Darn Thing!

The area where I live is prone to a variety of climate challenges. In fact, they change so rapidly as to hinder intelligent choices such as tomorrow's best wardrobe, or even whether to venture out on the roads. There may be places to go, it's certain- to the store; to work; to drop off a slightly over-due payment to the cable company. And yet, challenges arise....

Occasionally we have frost and other times we have snow; sometimes we have both! And the risidual result is that we cannot see out our car windshields without clearing a vieweng portal.

While preparing to head out into reality, I meticulously scrape enough of my auto window surfaces- front, back, sides, wings, etc. In other words, I'd like to see where I'm going, where I've been, and what the options are, were, or could be as I move along.

As I venture out into the day's winter wonderland with my clear windshields, full vision all the way around my ride, what do I see? Vehicles careening down the roads to destinations real and perceived with, at best, PEEP HOLES of cleared vision areas. PEEP HOLES!

I attempt to figure out the thinking (or lack thereof) that must have preceded this individual's choice to journey out onto public thoroughfares. "I have at my beckon the opportunity to see clearly all around and in front of my vehicle, roughly 80 square feet or better, but I'll accept being able to see through the 24 square inches I felt like clearing this morning... I'll accept .2% of what's available to me. If you're outside the vision range of my precious 24 square inches, I can't see you. If you're beside me, I will likely not know you're there. And if you are behind me, who the heck are you and where the heck did you come from?"

What happened here? Wake up a little too late? Converse a little too long with the family before leaving for work? Or simply forgot you were supposed to be somewhere?!?!?!?!?!?

Not only would you probably like to arrive safely to your chosen destination, I'm also likely to desire arriving at mine.

Outcomes in life are determined by choices we make- are you willing to accept .2% of what's available to you or will you consider scraping the whole d**n windshield?

Does Life in a Drop-Down Really Reflect a Life?

The recent several weeks have included a lot of “form filling”- legally changing my name and then going through the process of notifying every entity that “needs to know” such a the Social Security Administration, Department of Motor Vehicles and all the utility companies, banks, insurance, etc, etc……. one could rightfully conclude I’ve become a bit “formed out.”

One area in particular has caught my attention and stimulated this little rant- online forms for social networks and general surveys. Although they still allow factual input like using my very own REAL name, too many categories are relegated to “drop down” entries. A pet peeve of mine is the “education” category. I appreciate and highly respect education, don’t get me wrong, but it’s certainly not the only barometer of ones life, particularly if inaccurate or incomplete. And NONE of the choices address the excruciating inner turmoil of feeling transgendered or how it factors into experience!

Invariably the choices are limited to K-12, a few variations of college/ trade school, or specific degrees. Regarding colleges, the drop downs I’m referring to only listed one of the colleges I attended, so by completing the form, it’s not even a true reflection of my formal educational experiences. And no “fill in actual names and places” options even exist!!

After “some college” I decided since I was only taking general courses, hadn’t a clue as to “what I wanted to be when I grew up,” it was time and money that wasn’t being productively spent. At that time, I really wasn’t sure I wanted to grow up at all! Some 37 years later, I’m quite certain I’ve never found any practical applications in my life for the formulas and theorems I studied in calculus.

There were a couple years of working jobs I liked (but didn’t pay much)- making pizza and working in the warehouse of a popular snow ski manufacturing company were just a couple of the environments I enjoyed most. But they didn’t pay well enough for me to do all of the things I thought I wanted to accomplish in life- like racing motocross, a little socializing/partying and even starting a family.

So began my highly scientific study of what I wanted to do to make a living- I asked all my friends “Who do you know who makes the most money?” At the time, most mentioned one individual working in a specialized construction trade (drywall finishing). He was making a king’s ransom relative to anyone else I knew and the profession was listed among the top 10 highest paying jobs in America, even above corporate lawyers; definitely below specialty surgeons, but very handsome income none the less.

I lobbied him persistently (and ultimately successfully) for a couple months to hire me and teach me his trade. It helped that we had developed a mutual respect as fierce competitors on the race track. Then my real education began!

The trade was a natural fit for me- I enjoyed the creative aspects of the work and had a knack for it. In addition to the finishing trade itself, I had a keen fascination with the equipment used to perform the work- I like to call it “mechanical tinkeritis.” I began making more money than I had ever dreamed possible, blossomed socially (in hindsight had all the friends money could buy) and decided to get married and start a family. The reasons were wrong and immature, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

During the course of 15 predominantly turbulent years, three beautiful children were brought into the world. I continue to love them dearly and they are all close in my life.

I knew that although I enjoyed the drywall trade, it wasn’t something wanted to be doing physically as I got older and it had become competitive enough that the relatively ridiculous earning potential had dwindled somewhat compared to the beginning heydays. Even as the marriage relationship was spiraling downward to a nasty crash ending, I continued to aggressively seek new opportunities.

There was a brief, highly enlightening (but not particularly profitable) stint with multi-level marketing. Then there were moderately fulfilling experiences selling real estate and life insurance and construction contracting. Although I saw potentially rewarding economic opportunities, they were things to do and not activities that stirred my passions. I stayed connected with the drywall trade and tools.

I married again, this time to the most wonderful lady I’ve ever known, still one of my dearest, closest friends. We raised/guided my 3 kids and her 2 until they were all successfully on their own and out of the house. The net result is I now have 4 beautiful children I feel closely connected to in life.

My career had evolved into primarily management positions- lead project manager or general superintendent for various companies. One day, in the middle of one of the most hideously stressful periods of construction activity (workers were sick or AWOL, equipment was broken and the world in general seemed to be angry specifically with me), I received a fateful call from a Canadian company owner. “Are you enjoying what you do so much you wouldn’t consider another opportunity?” Was that satellite in the sky watching my day that day???? By mutual agreement between me and my business partner at the time, we decided to complete existing contract agreements, he welcomed the chance to scale back on commitments, and I went to work for the Canadian company owner.

Within a couple short months, I was selling more equipment each month than the company could produce, so I moved up to public relations. While doing my best to connect customers’ needs with the company’s production capabilities, I directed all US operations. That required that I travel extensively throughout the US, with frequent visits to headquarters in BC. I met a lot of wonderful people and gained invaluable experience, ultimately becoming an acknowledged authority in the industry. I’ve since written instructional manuals for the major factories and they regularly consult with me on technical issues and new tool development.

I've never found choices in the drop-downs about walking on fire, bungee jumping, or non-accredited leadership courses.

Over the last year of significant and magnificent change, I’ve realized there are things a girl can do and things a girl can’t do.

A girl cannot remain married to another woman who doesn’t want to be married to a woman.

A girl who is known to be intelligent and considerate can continue to be intelligent and considerate. A girl with confidence can remain confident. A girl can continue living, even though there was significant knowledge and experience gained while living a “guy” pretense. A girl can appreciate life to its fullest.

I guess the only remaining question now is- am I educated?

Kimi “some college” Cole

What Has Changed- What Has Not?

In addition to occasional, well... frequent, questions from others, I also find I question myself!
Really, since beginning taking hormones, what has changed about me? WHAT'S DIFFERENT? WHAT'S BETTER?

I begin with the obvious (at least to me). My mind feels more clear and focused. That's likely just a by-product of the unifying process of aligning my mind, body and image. Think about it- how would you (or anyone, for that matter) deal with daily living, looking in the mirror and feeling "There's an image there that everyone else sees, but it's not me! It doesn't fit; it doesn't work!"

Now 'it' fits. 'It' works better.

And then there's the thinking process itself. For others of similar background, it will make all too much sense, but for those "conventionally wired" it may take a little imagination.
Certainly there exist stereotypical "male" thinking patterns as well as stereotypical "female" thinking patterns.
I've always been able to readily see both perspectives. Therein lay another base of inner struggle. Being able to see multiple perspectives of situations led to much second guessing- The 'male' side sees it this way, the 'female' side sees it that way. I most often and most thoroughly gravitate(d) toward the female side but I needed to keep up the male image. Therefore this is what I thought I should do, how I thought I should act. Imagine going through that process on virtually every decision, every day, involving social and business circumstances! NO MORE! Now I  look at any given situation, decide what my conscience, instincts and experience tell me and act accordingly- no pretense, no second-guessing.

Physically, my skin is getting smoother, body hair getting lighter and then the obvious (and welcomed) development in the breast area. One particularly interesting note, even though I look like I have boobs now, overall physical dimensions have remained relatively static, merely re-positioned. To be continued...:-)

Then there are the questions regarding certain capabilities that have allowed me to make a living and even prosper in my particular field of business. "Have you lost any of your mechanical abilities?" Well, in a word, NO! I'm not certain it's lady-like, nor do I care; but I still understand nuts, bolts and screws and how they connect parts and assemblies. I thoroughly understand what the assembled machines and equipment do, how they do it, what happens when they fail and how to repair them to full function again. I even have an easier time explaining to others how to acheive the remedies, just because I feel an inner calmness (patience) I never felt when my system was under the ravages of excess testosterone.

After college, I participated for a brief period in semi-professional motocross racing. I guess it's fair to say I felt a 'need for speed!' These days I enjoy the rush of 100 mph+  on the Harley,but it's not a steady diet like it used to be. Plus I've also developed a strong sense of not enjoying pain, so I certainly take a few more precautions to avoid it (pain).

Oh, yes- then there's the mystical draw of wind and water, such as experienced on a sailboat. In all of my life, regardless of what was going on, good or bad, in times when I'm able to harness the wind with a set of sails and exist with the 'flow' of the water and energy, everything else disappears for those moments. That feeling of joy when sailing has not left me and I certainly hope it never does!

Of all observations, current and retrospective, I have always realized that every person has value. I look for and find the talents. I love people, always have.

Getting back to that original main question, "What has changed?" In my mind, nothing really.

What Does 'It' MEAN?

Invariably, a curious, likely well-meaning, but possibly insensitive person will ask- “What does it MEAN?” or “I’m not sure what this means.” They refer to my transition while, in a word, want to know how it might affect them, how to explain it to anyone else (or probably even to themselves), all the while implying that “it” has such significant meaning that I’m obligated to provide instant, satisfactory and most of all understandable explanations.


Perhaps we can break this down to an easily understandable level.

First thing in the morning, invariably without exception, my eyes open- that MEANS I’m awake, something I enjoy in the mornings. In fact, as long as I remain standing and active during the day, that MEANS I’m still alive- I really like that!

But then it gets more complicated- several days a week I go to the local gym. That MEANS I’m willing to discipline myself and MEANS I’m willing to work up a sweat to keep myself in shape.

Now, let’s not overlook really important observations- here we go…

When I get home from the gym, I’m sweaty and anxious to take a shower- That MEANS I like being clean and actually enjoy the soothing sound and feel of a nice warm shower.

When I’m done with the shower, I start thinking about breakfast- that MEANS I’m hungry!

After eating, I get ready for work- that MEANS I need to make a living.

After several hours work, I’m thinking about lunch. You got it- that MEANS I’m hungry again.

Towards the end of the afternoon, there’s been action, challenge, downtime, constantly mixed and I look forward to getting away from the office- that MEANS I want to get away from the office.

I’m wondering- is there a pattern here? Have you ever found yourself experiencing a similar pattern? Have you been hungry? Have you worked for a living? Have you taken care of yourself? Have you been tired?

Does this MEAN we’re more similar than different? Does this MEAN maybe we can be friends?

Dancin' in Tune With Life- (or Swingin' From The Knot ot the End of My Rope!)

When someone asks me about my activities, I might list ‘swingin’ & dancin’ among them, at least on particular days. Of course, looking back on my life, sometimes it meant doing a two step to avoid a sticky situation or even “dancin’ around the question” a bit.
Early in life the swingin’ was surely quite juvenile. Often there were ecstatic feelings of getting to enjoy “fun stuff” with friends- swimming in the local river, hiking in the nearby mountains, building secret "getaway forts". And none of the rest mattered at the moment.

Sprinkle in the obligatory, perceived drudgery and persecutory requirements levied by well-meaning parents- room cleaning, doing homework and mowing the lawn! Uuuuuup…& dooooowwwwnnn….

The constant teeter totter continued through school, ever present, someone always seeming to be pushing or pulling. The darned thing about school was that the ups & downs had nothing to do with gravity and there was no absolute constant. In classes with the "good" teachers, the ones whom I respected the most (or related to most closely regarding their teaching style), learning came easily and excellent grades reflected that. Don't forget the OMG teachers (Oh my goodness, not THEM again!) when every passing minute seemed like an hour, having a difficult time staying in step with nearly-frozen winter molasses. In fact, at times, a crawl would have seemed lightning fast by comparison!

Ms. K began raising her hand more often, begging to be acknowledged, only to encounter the most vicious rejections. "Who are you? You're not supposed to be here in this life, this body, at this time! Go away!" That proved every bit as effective as covering ones eyes and pretending that "no one else can see me now." As the UP's got higher, the DOWN's progressed ever lower.....

An ever-present itch to “do something with life” provided an anxious drive to accomplish [something]. Jobs always seemed to present themselves (either by my begging for them or having friends invite me to work at their places of employment and introduce me to their superiors.) Although the engine that propelled the passionate enthusiasm for each consecutive employment opportunity was most certainly fueled in my inner insecurities, the net results were generally attaining leadership positions and advancement in the workplaces.

Ms. K continued to make her presence known, often subtly, but occasionally with a roar befitting a lioness claiming her territory or protecting her offspring.

What was I supposed to do?! Under constant scrutiny by society and my own conditioning, it seemed like the only thing to do was to start a family. Surely a family and the accompanying responsibilities would provide too great a challenge for Ms. K to retain foothold in my life…..surely…..

One available survival technique during family-forming years was to engage in periods of such intense activity and over-commitment that there was no room for anything or anybody else- kids off to school, off to dance, off to football, off to soccer, off to…..anything and everything. “Are you coming, coach?” And yet all it took was the occasional ceasing of motion, a break, and Ms. K became ever more fiercely demanding- “Can’t you see me? WON’T you see me?!” PLEASE?!!!!!?

Who could match the challenge, if not wonderful kids and rewarding careers? Surely there would be a mate so wonderful, so magnetic, so captivating that she might supersede previous thoughts, notions and inner challenges! I found her (or we found each other) And with the proper counseling, life could be as it should be, perfectly shoe-horned into a quaint little, society accepted….MOLD, BOX, STEREOTYPE, choose a word!  It seemed like it made sense at the time, but the magic was all too short-lived.

As if everything previously in life had simply been the warm-up bands for the concert that was about to play, Ms. K added more speakers, amps and volume. Not to be silenced, the concert progressed incessantly toward crescendo with a deafening, repeating demand, “Let me be! Let me be ME!” Could ther ever be any peace or quiet in this life?

In the course of a couple short years (and sudden loss of some good friends), there remained only one vision, one goal, one ever-present commitment- Kimi must live!

Although there have certainly been many changes, tears and challenges, the rhythm now swings and rocks, every day becoming more fulfilling and more focused- would anyone like to dance with me?