My First two Skydiving Adventures

Today, I am going to be sharing with you what might be one of the most exciting events in my whole life, and I hope that this will inspire you to follow in my stead. I will be comparing two of my greatest sky-diving adventures, and hopefully this will help you decide which one you like best.
I got to go on two tandem sky-dive jumps, and to prove them, I have two official certificates stating that I did my jumps with a certified instructor. No one can deny the fact that I did it! On Saturday, August ninth, 2014, I went to do my first sky-dive, and on Monday, September eighth, I went to do my second jump. I was not able to record my first experience, except for what happened on the ground because when the instructor put on my harness and tightens the straps, they patted my pockets to make sure I had nothing on my person. I told the instructor that I wanted to record myself in free fall, but he said that it was something I would not be able to get on tape because of the United States Parachuting Association’s policy, which stated that I could only carry stuff with me after my two hundredth jump. I was also not able to afford in buying a video package as well. On my second jump, however, I was a lot cleverer. I found a sneaky way to have my iPod touch recording while I was in free-fall, and no one knew I recorded everything until long after I had left. I was also able to have my instructor use a GoPro helmet camera to record everything on video. Most drop zones have either a hand-cam or third-person option, but since I wanted to record every possible moment along with my recording, I opted for the former. The classroom at the Sky-diving Sports and Adventures over in Estacada we used was quite small, kind of like the size of a waiting room or sitting room. The one in Molalla was a little bit bigger, and the whole building with the manifest area was quite spacious as well.
On the first day that would change my life forever, we left the park where the retreat was being held at around nine twenty-five pacific daylight time, and we drove up to the Sky-Diving Sports and Adventures in Eagle Creek, Oregon, which is owned by Ralf, chief pilot and owner of the business. I went with two other blind people, all of whom were first timers like myself. Still, I was really glad I had two months’ notice about what the experience would be like, even though there were a few differences which I will describe as I go through my experiences in order. In short, there were five of us in the car. Three blind people and one visually impaired staff member and our driver. We came to a stop in the gravel parking lot, then we climbed out and walked to a picnic table. The day was nice and clear, which was perfect for a jump with no wind, save for a cool breeze from the
North-North-East.
One of the employees came and told us that every year, there was someone who usually wanted to take a video, and they explained about how these videos were a way to record their experiences. Only one person opted to pay ninety-eight dollars for a video package while the rest of us just recorded it. I did bring my own pocket camera, and I asked one of the staffers if they could film me doing my landing, so in a way, I was partially filmed, although it would have been nicer if I had gotten everything.
After the staff person processed the payment for the person who wanted to take the video, he brought us an application for all of us to fill out. Each person was to fill out the forms one at a time, instead of at the same time, which meant that the process took nearly an hour, plus an additional ten to fifteen minutes for the person to read the waiver aloud. Since it was quite lengthy, we all had to listen in because he was only going to read it once. The next person got to fill out the form, and soon, it was my turn. The form asked for my name, age, date of birth, weight, address and other contact information, including emergency contact information.
This is where I knew the waivers were different. Here, they asked if I suffered from any medical ailments, and one of them was hearing loss or impairment. Over in Molalla, they did not ask me about any medical ailments or anything of that sort. I wonder why that was? I was afraid that if I said yes to the question regarding my hearing, it would prevent me from sky-diving, but they assured me that it was only meant as a way to let them know in advance so that I would be able to hear them, and they would be able to hear me. They also asked me if I was on any medications as well, and then I had to sign three different pages. I asked if it was possible for them to provide a copy of the waiver in a PDF form so they could send it out to prospective jumpers. They thought it to be an excellent idea, and they said that they would consider and look into it further.
The way the waivers were set up in Molalla, as I soon found out, was very different. Since Sky-Dive Oregon is a pretty busy place, they set up iPad stands in the middle of the waiting area so people could use SmartWaiver to fill out, check about forty different boxes, and sign the waver in a speedy and efficient manner. The bad news was that I was not informed about this, nor was my friend aware of it either. Had we known that they were going to use iPads, I would have asked them to reserve a space for me to use an iPad that was not enclosed in a tamper-proof case. The result was that I spent nearly half an hour just trying to get it to work, and after a lot of patience I finally managed to sign the waiver with Voiceover enabled within about an hour. Fortunately, it was getting very windy, so we had to reschedule. Normally this would have been unfortunate, but because of how long it took for me to figure out how to sign the waiver with the iPad, it was a good thing that I had plenty of time. To prevent future incidents like this, I am hoping to contact the manufacturer of these iPad stands and ask if they can build cases with key holes so they could press the home button with the crank of a key, or open a headphone compartment, etc. This is simply policy standard to prevent people from using apps that would be on the iPad and to make sure people can only use them to sign the waivers.
After all our applications were processed back in Estacada, our instructor came and talked to us, introducing himself individually. He informed us that he had worked with blind people from either the Oregon School for the blind, or from the Portland Commission for the Blind. He told us that he would be guiding us inside a small building which would be where he would teach us how we were to exit the aircraft, which was a Cessna-182, and how we were going to land. There, we would also put on our jump suits and wind breaker hats, which looked almost like a helmet, except that it was made entirely of leather.
Over at Sky-dive, I was given an envelope that I would hand to my instructor so he could get paid, and I was led to another room in the building. When I got there, I took a seat near a wall, and the instructor started talking to us immediately. According to the web site, it stated that only students who were jumping could attend the class, yet when I went with my friend, he could attend the class with me, even though they weren’t jumping. Maybe this was an exception. I would be putting my jump suit and harness in the loading area, which was further out on the other side of the complex. The aircraft I jumped out of was a Cessna-208.
Over in Eagle Creek, before he started the class, our instructor asked us if we all had any questions, which he would answer as he taught us what to do. I asked about the rodeo sky-dive, where a person flipped three times as they fell out of the plane, and they would be falling head-first. I also asked if there were several methods to get out of the aircraft, depending on what kind it was. He could not answer my question about how free fall was interpreted by the brain, so I was left to experience that on my own for me to describe. He told us that the amount of time we were going to free fall would vary on how much we weighed. Since I was the lightest, it would take me longer to reach the designated altitude where the main parachute would be deployed. On this particular drop zone, the altitude where we would be falling at was anywhere between ten thousand and eleven thousand feet, so our free fall would be between thirty to forty-five seconds. Our instructor told us that we would be falling for about a mile, and then we would parachute for about five to seven minutes for another mile.
Over at Sky-dive, the altitude that I would be jumping would be anywhere between thirteen to thirteen thousand five hundred feet, or eighteen thousand feet if I requested that option. I will also state here that either the weight of me and my instructor was more than I thought, or something else, but my fall was no more than thirty-six seconds from that altitude when they said that I would be falling for sixty seconds. To confirm this, I listened to the recording and timed my fall.
After our instructor answered all our questions back in Eagle Creek, he waited for another person to come back. Whilst waiting, he asked us if we had anything in our pockets or anything else that might fall out. I had no choice but to hand over my iPod to another staff member, who would hold it for me until I did my jump. I must have forgotten to mute my iPod’s Voiceover speech, for my instructor heard it talking, which is what prompted him to check my pockets. One of the guys was worried that his glass eyes would fall out, and I was concerned that my hearing aids would fall out as well. The instructor took the first person down to the creeper, which was basically a platform on wheels that is generally used to look at the underside of vehicles. When it was my turn, he led me to the low table, and I climbed up on it. He showed me the position we would be falling, and he told me to stay in that position so we would not end up falling head-first. When we left the aircraft, our left knee would be on the floor of the plane and our right foot would be on the platform outside of the plane. When we entered free fall, we would have to arch our head and back backwards as hard as we could, and if we needed help, he would put his left hand on our forehead to signal that we needed to keep going back. Likewise, our heels would be on his butt, and if he needed us to go further, he would put his right hand on our knee to tell us to keep it there. Then he demonstrated this by getting on top of me and showing me how to cross my arms over my chest which he called the safety position. You do this both when you leave the aircraft and when you land. After that, I went back to my chair, and then the next person went to the creeper, and soon, our instructor had us practise our landing position by having our feet out in front of us as far as we could hold them, with our knees bent at a twenty or thirty-degree angle. We did this while sitting in chairs.
Over at Sky-dive, the training was very similar, with the only difference being that we would be sitting down as if we were on a kerb, and we would simply lean forward and slide out of the plane. The other difference that I noticed was that my second instructor had me stretch out my arms during free fall when he tapped me three times on my right shoulder. I wonder why he had me do this, but my instructor did not have me do it on my first jump? It could have been the fact that I had more experience, or that the equipment they were using was slightly different. My friend was worried that I would lose my hearing aids, but I reassured them that I already did my first jump, so I knew what I was doing. As proof, I showed them how the wind breaker hid them out of sight.
When we got into our jump suits back in Eagle Creek, we got our wind breakers, and when I put them on, they completely covered my hearing aids so well that there would be no danger of them falling out. The instructor asked me if I had glass eyes, and I told him that I had real eyes, which was a good thing. The goggles were attached to a string on the back of our hats, and we were to put it over our eyes and tighten the elastic strap on either side to secure it. The instructor helped me with the chin strap because it seemed to be tangled. After we were all set, he got the order of the people in our group who were going to be jumping with him. I was the last one to jump, so I had to wait for nearly an hour and a half before I finally got moving. Before we got into our harnesses, however, our instructor took us outside to where the plane was anchored to the ground via ropes. He opened the door so that we could explore how we would get in and out of the plane. The door was set up in an interesting fashion. Imagine feeling the bottom side of the plane’s fuselage curving as it went down to the belly of the plane. Close to that was a place where a person could lock and unlock the door. They would pull on the crack that was underneath, then they would keep pulling the door towards them and then they would end up pushing it up, like the trunk of a car. This was because its hinges were located towards the top where the right wing was located. Almost all sky-dive planes are high-winged, because the carriage hangs below the wings. To get in, I had to put one of my feet on top of the platform that was located above the right rear wheel, and then I crawled onto the floor of the plane. The instructor told me that I would be seated behind the pilot’s seat. I ended up riding backwards both times. Then we got out of the plane and he led us back inside, where our instructor proceeded in putting us inside our harnesses. When I got mine on, I wanted to tie it up myself since I already had experience putting on three other harnesses in the last few days of the camp, but because sky-diving was essentially a vital and extreme sport, only the instructor was allowed to tie the harness for me. I think a person would have to be certified to handle their own harness.
Over at sky-dive Oregon, I learnt a few new things I never heard about before. For instance, I was told to never, ever, ever reach behind me while getting ready to jump, because if I pulled on the wrong handle, my instructor and I would be history. He also told us that he would ask us several times if we were ready, and if we said no, then we would not be refunded. Once I proceeded with the training, I was taken to the back of the classroom, and I was given the stuff to put on. The jump suit I put on was a lot different from the ones we used in Eagle Creek, and I had to take off my shoes to get them on. That was one thing I did not have to do on my first sky-dive. The place kind of felt as if I was indoors and outdoors at the same time; it was very strange. Since this was a bigger plane, and because jumping out of it would be easier, I was not required to use the plane to practise getting in and out. To confirm my suspicion, I asked my instructor if it was true that only the latter was allowed to handle the harness, and he answered me in the affirmative, and he said that I would have to take accelerated free-fall training to learn about handling my own harness. One thing I also learnt about from my instructor was how to stay calm when the reserve parachute was being deployed. He told us to always keep our hands in our safety position no matter what we felt, saw, heard, etc.
After everyone was set to jump back at Sky-dive Sports and Adventures, the first of the trio was led outside while the rest of us sat down in lounge chairs, still inside the waiting area to avoid excessive heat exposure. I dozed off for nearly an hour, and then I heard one of the staffers report that our first member was coming down. When they came back to the room after they landed, we all applauded and congratulated them and asked them how it went. Then the next member of our group went with the instructor. Both times, I thought I heard him say, ‘Do you want to jump? Do not answer right away. Think about it for a moment, because this is really important.’ That is when I asked him just to make sure I heard correctly if he always asked his clients if they were absolutely sure they wanted to jump, once before they got on the plane, once while they were on the plane, and once before they were about to leave the aircraft. The instructor would also tell them that they were not being pressured to jump, as it would be their choice. You see, the reason they would ask you is so they can give you your money back, or at least some of it. If you said ‘yes’ the first time, but then you said ‘no’ the second or third time, then you would not get your money back. I could not hear what he said, but it sounded like he only asked certain people. I will not go into detail about the waiting process, suffice it to say that a few of the employees handed us water or soda to drink while we waited.
Over at Sky-dive Oregon, there was no waiting, and I was able to do my jump immediately after the class, which lasted about twenty minutes, so it began half an hour before the actual time that the class was scheduled to start. I left the complex at around fifteen hundred something, and I walked over to the boarding area. There I was informed that we would wait for our plane, which would taxi to the space for us to get on, then I would climb a metal ladder that had about six rums. I could estimate that the plane was about three or so feet above the ground. The plane’s engine was still running as people started to get on it.
Back at Sky-dive Sports and Adventures, after the first person was out of the harness and jump suit and the second person left, we all headed out to eat. However, since I was soon to leave, I had to wait until after my jump to eat for two reasons. I could get nauseated, and if I threw up, it could blind the person going below me and this would be bad. Second, because I would not have time to finish my lunch. After we were outside for a few minutes, I started to feel light-headed, so I went inside, and the others followed me. I sat back down and dozed for another half hour. After a short while the second person came down, and then our instructor went to refresh himself, then he filled out a few things before he told me that we were all set. Everyone wished me good luck, and I took my instructor’s elbow and we walked down to the aircraft. I also got to feel his container, which was like a big backpack that weighed five pounds. I asked him what he meant by the fact that when we left the aeroplane, we would fall at a rate of a hundred seventy miles an hour, but that he would pull out a drogue parachute, which would slow us down to a hundred twenty miles an hour for Belly to Earth orientation. He said that because when we left the aircraft, we would experience higher than terminal velocity, which would put a lot of strain on both our bodies and on the parachute. It could eventually be lethal because travelling at one seventy would rip our main canopy to bits and cause us to faint due to the excessive amount of G’s, so the drogue and or pilot chutes would be deployed immediately upon exit. The pilot parachute would also aid the instructor in deploying the main parachute as well. The next thing I asked my instructor was what people did when they fell, because it is obvious that when we lose our balance on Earth, we would instinctively reach out our hands and arms to grab onto something. To inhibit this reaction, he told me to grab onto the straps of my harness as hard as I could while having my arms crossed. ‘This way,’ he said, ‘if you feel like you need to grab onto something, just hold on as tightly as you can and let me do the work.’ By that he meant that I should relax, because I would have a lot of adrenaline rushing through my system, though hopefully not a fatal dose, or one that would cause me to be paralysed. He assured me that he has not lost anybody yet.
Back at Sky-dive Oregon, I told my instructor about my first jump, and I also took note in his demeanour. From what I noticed, my first instructor was more of a no-nonsense person, which made sense because people who did extreme things always made sure to do everything right, and they would not like any irrelevancies. My second instructor was more easy-going, which is what I like best.
Over at Sky-dive Sports and Adventures, we did one last check in which we practised getting in and out of the plane, since the previous time we did it altogether, and therefore we did not have a lot of time for individualised practice. We went inside so he could show me where I would be sitting, which was on the floor of the plane with my legs crossed, and my instructor would be facing me, sort of sideways on the left wall of the plane. In other words, I was facing the tail of the plane, and the door was on the right side of the plane, which was to my left. We got out so that the pilot could climb in and fill out his logbook, and then he told us to climb back in. We had to wait for two more people who were diving solo, for I was the only one doing a tandem jump.
Over at Sky-dive Oregon, I could hear the plane approaching the boarding area, and it reminded me of a jet and a propeller plane combined in one. This is because the regular planes have an engine that drives the propeller through a piston, while the ones here use a fan that is driven by a turbine. As such, you have speeds going well over six thousand revolutions per minute. Once the plane was parked, I was taken over to the line. As I got closer, I could smell the fumes of the jet fuel, which, for some reason, reminded me of diesel. When I approached the ladder, I started feeling the wind from the propeller, and I told my guide of that fact, and she told me I was safe. The propeller, which was to my left, was spinning at fifty cycles per second, or three thousand revolutions per minute. The ladder was tilted at a forty-five-degree angle, so I went in as if I was crawling onto the plane. The door was located on the left side of the plane towards the back. When I went inside, I turned around until I was facing the door, and I was dragged towards the right side, where I saw a long bench that was parallel to the wall. It felt like one of those kneelers you find underneath church pews, and it was that high above the floor. I sat down in front of my instructor, and then he hooked me up to a set of seatbelts that were fitted onto my harness. I was also riding backwards. For the first time, I noticed how loose the top of my harness was, but I will get to that in a moment.
Back in Estacada, one of the skydivers asked me where I was from, and if I was excited to do my first jump. I told them that I was very pumped up, and I was hardly feeling nervous at all. I soon realised why it took so long for people to get up into the air. There was a lot of waiting once I got to the aircraft, so that they could make sure that everything was working properly. I asked what it was like to land in one of those things, and the pilot told me that I did not want to land in them, but that I should jump out of them instead. After we got seated, the pilot had a few words with the instructor and the other people inside, and then he shouted, ‘clear prop!’ This basically meant that he was warning everyone, such as sleeping vagrants and small children and their pets to step out of the plane’s propellers so that they would not get hit by them. One last thing I asked my instructor was how I would not be hitting the platform of the plane and the wheel as we dived out of the door. He said that he was going to call out, ‘ready, set, go!’ Then he would push off the step so hard that it would propel us into the air, and we would still be moving forward because of the plane’s momentum. This is called forward throw. He also showed me where I would be attached to his harness. It turns out that they can vary, but they are usually between three and five. In this case, there were four, although there could have been a rip cord, just in case I felt like my instructor was being unresponsive, although I am sure he had an automatic activation device to back us up. This would cause the reserve parachute to open right away. There were two hooks on the shoulders, and two more down by the waist.
After the pilot made sure no one was standing in front of the plane, he turned on the engine, and we started taxiing down the gravel pathway towards the runway. Once he had located and back taxied on the small airstrip to get as much space as possible, he turned around to line up with the runway. The sound of the plane’s engine sounded like I was inside one of those antique cars, or inside a motorboat. When he told us that we were clear for take-off, he throttled the engine up to two thousand revolutions per minute, and, because I was good with perfect pitch, I did some calculations in my head. The propeller blades made an audible sound as they sliced through the air, and this number was thirty cycles per second. I multiplied that by sixty and got the end-result. The pitch of the engine itself was around one hundred twenty-eight hertz. One thing I forgot to mention was that the Cessna-182 was equipped with air conditioning, which was immediately activated when the pilot turned on the engine. It felt strange riding backwards during the taxi and take-off, but it was lots of fun. It felt sort of like when I was taking off in one of those Boeing airliners, with the difference being that the engine sounded like a leaf blower and the amount of time needed to take off was a lot shorter. Since this was a small plane, it did not take as long to get into the air, which was about five to ten seconds. Flying in one of these was about the same as in a commercial jet. The only time I experienced a sensation of moving, albeit forward, backwards, or sideways was when there were bits of rough spots. I could also feel the wind rushing through a small crack near the pilot’s seat on my right. I assumed that this could have been an emergency exit, or it could have also been the pilot’s own door. One thing was for sure, these Cessna aircraft have been modified for easier jumping. This meant that everyone on board was required to wear a parachute. I should also mention that the inside smelt like it was recently filled with aeroplane fuel, which had the same smell of gasoline they use to fuel lawn mowers. It was rather hard to talk above the plane’s engine, so whenever I asked my instructor a question, I had to repeat myself, and if he had something to tell me, he would use hand signals if it were a number-based response, otherwise he would just speak right into my ear. He told me that we were going to let the first person get out first, and then it would be our turn. At around eight thousand feet, he would have me turn around towards the front of the plane, and then he would have me scoot towards him so that he could hook me up to his harness.
The climb itself took about fifteen to twenty minutes, and we were climbing at a very shallow angle, so I could not really feel it unless the pilot either dropped or ascended quickly. This number is measured in feet per minute, and the speed is usually in nautical miles. Also, the way we turned was quite interesting. Sometimes I would feel the plane tilt to one side and then straighten out again. We pretty much ascended in a spiral-like fashion. From the outer perspective, it was hard to know what the plane was doing because of the Doppler effect. After we got to the designated altitude, I had to equallise the pressure in my ears, and my instructor asked me if I could still breathe. I asked him if I could still breathe during free fall, and he assured me that it was not at all like going under water. He also told me that the air was still good up here.
Once everyone was settled comfortably on the two benches over in Molalla, which, by the way, were covered with a thin cushion, the pilot taxied down towards the runway, then he turned around to back-taxi. After that, my instructor told me that we were getting ready to take off. He also explained to me that he would unhook the seatbelt at around fifteen hundred feet, and he would start to attach the lower part of my harness. Once we got to eight thousand feet, he would finish attaching the upper part of my harness. The seatbelts were being used just in case we were to crash on the ground. Soon, the pilot opened the throttle, and we were off. The time it took for us to be airborne was a lot shorter than I had ever imagined, but it made sense because it was a very powerful aircraft, with its propeller spinning at six thousand three hundred revolutions per minute, or one hundred five Hertz. It sounded as if I were in a miniature Boeing seven forty-seven, along with the sound of one of those electric lawn mowers. The climb also took very little time, especially since we were going to a higher altitude than the one, I did in Eagle Creek. It took us about nine to ten minutes to get to the designated altitude.
At ten thousand feet over at Sky-diving Sports and Adventures, the pilot opened the door, something I wondered how that was done, and I felt the cold rush of the wind hitting me. I could hear the sound of the wind, which sounded as if I was in a car with the window opened. If you mix that with the sound of a leaf blower, you would get the same sound. Then I felt the plane jerk to the right, which was an indication that our first jumper had pushed off the platform and was now in free fall. The pilot closed the door, and then we went back to the other side of the drop zone, my instructor told me not to put my right foot forward until he told me to do so. After a few minutes of my kneeling down on the floor, my instructor pushed me forward towards the door, and then he told me to put my right foot forward just as the pilot opened the door. I started feeling the wind blowing across my face, and then my instructor had me locate the little platform. Once I had firmly planted my right foot on it, he made sure I felt where his foot was, which was to the right of my foot. Our left knees were still on the plane. We leaned forward so that we were now partially outside of the plane. By this time, I already had my hands across my chest, so there was nothing else for me to do except to listen for when he gave the signal that would tell me that we were ready. At this moment, I felt relaxed, a little apprehensive, but still very relaxed. This was because I fully trusted my instructor and I knew he has done it thousands of times already.
Halfway into the flight back in Molalla, my instructor asked me how I was doing, and if I was ready to jump. This was also when I asked him if the top of my harness was tight enough, because I could tell that it was loose. He told me not to worry, that it was tight, and I trusted him. Soon, I found out why. After he told me to lean back on his chest so he could attach me more easily, he told me to lean forward as hard as I could. That is when I realised that he had tightened the top part of my harness by finishing the attachment process. Once we reached thirteen thousand feet, the pilot decreased the plane’s engine speed, and then he opened the door. I was sitting behind a fellow skydiver, so I had plenty of time to explore the container that was atop his back. I started to feel how cold the wind was, and I could also hear the people as they left the aircraft. My instructor asked me one more time if I was ready to sky-dive, and I told him that I was. He started pushing me forward on the bench as the number of people grew less, and soon I was on the floor. My instructor told me to put both of my feet out in front of me, and soon my legs were out in the open, and he continued to push me forward until the rest of my legs were dangling off the side of the plane.
Back in Eagle Creek, my instructor called out ‘ready, set, go!’ He pushed us off the platform, and I felt myself roll forward slightly, then to the left, so that I was now on my left side. My instructor stabilised us, and then we were falling. The sensation of falling was not like the kind I was expecting. It is not like when we fall in a dream, because that sensation is usually a heavy sinking feeling. You would, however, get this heavy falling sensation if you fell from a stationary aircraft, such as a helicopter or a hot air balloon. The air resistance gave me a cushion, and it was also sort of a reference point that gave me a sense of weight and direction in space. This was how I knew that I was falling with my stomach down. When I screamed, a cheer-like shout of joy, I could hear it resonate inside my head, and then I said, ‘I love it! I really, really love it!’ It was a good thing I was wearing my wind breaker, because it muffled the sound quality of the rushing wind a great deal. Again, it sounded as if I were riding in a car, except for the engine’s sound. I could feel a stinging in my nose as I breathed in the air during the fall. Since I was falling so fast, and because I wore two layers of clothing, I could not focus on how cold the wind was. Also, it felt like I was travelling at fifty or sixty miles an hour, not a hundred twenty.
My instructor back at Sky-dive Oregon gave no warning. He simply pushed us forward until we slid out of the plane, and I was met with a second or two of feeling weightless as he kept leaning us forward. I could not remember the sensation of tilting forward, but all the sudden, I was on my stomach plummeting towards Earth. At first, I let go of my harness, but I quickly decided against it. Soon my instructor tapped me on the shoulder, and I put my arms out in front of me on either side. I decided to talk into the camera, but the wind was very loud, plus it was also hard to breathe during the fall, mainly because we were so high above the earth, so my voice was never recorded even though one could see my lips moving. Also, it appeared that I was recovering from a cold, so the thin air made my nose run, and it also made my right ear feel as if I had an itch inside. A few hours later, I was aware of some inflammation in my left ear, which subsided in a few days. One thing I definitely noticed was that I did not roll at all, but I knew when I was spinning left or right as we were falling.
I did not keep track of how much time had passed back at Sky-diving Sports and Adventures, although at one point I heard a snap, like a metal clasp being shut, and then I was whipped into a standing position. I felt myself bounce for a little bit, and then I felt weightless for a few seconds as the parachute started slowing us down to about seventeen miles an hour. It was important that the parachute deployed correctly, because if we suddenly slowed down to seventeen miles an hour, it could hurt us and or damage the equipment. Since I had my knees folded during the fall, the force of the parachute pulling us in an upright position was so strong I did not even feel my feet move downward. It was as if one second, I had my heels on my instructor’s butt, and the next second, I was standing on his feet.
We started talking, and I could hear the rustling of the sheets as the wind was blowing it along. I asked him if blind people could sky-dive solo, and he said that he met a few blind people who has done it with an audible altimeter and a two-way radio. I asked if there were ones that vibrated for people who were deaf-blind, and he said that there could be, but they were probably not approved by the United States yet. I forgot to ask him how blind people knew where to steer if they could not see. This could probably be from the instructors on the ground communicating to the person via walkie-talkie. At one point, I felt myself being tugged upward as if a spring was pulling me, and I soon realised this was because my instructor was pulling one part of the parachute so that it gave us a feeling of weightlessness. This allowed him to turn more easily rather than just spinning. Also, we had a great sensation of moving forward because the wind was pushing us back, and I could hear the low, quiet
rumble of the wind as it rushed past us. He also pulled on both wings to slow us down, which made us feel as if we were going up and then down. For a few minutes, he told me that it was okay for me to let go of my harness so I could experience what it was like to soar like an eagle. It was very exciting, knowing that I was not attached to anything except a huge pile of sheets which I felt when we landed.
Over at Sky-dive Oregon, I felt a slight jolt as the main canopy was activated. I immediately put my arms in the safety position, and then I said, ‘We did it!’ I asked my instructor a few times if I was allowed to steer the controls, but he either did not hear me or chose not to respond. He told me that he was going to loosen the two attachments down at the waist so it would be easier for him to manage the parachute’s controls. I leaned back to get a better feel for how the gliding sensation felt, and I also wanted to look up at the sky as I was being filmed.
Back in Eagle Creek, my instructor told me to put my hands in my safety position, and then he told me to put my feet out, just like we practised, and I asked him if we were going to land hard. He said that we were not, since we would be gliding forward and hitting the ground at the same time. I would be landing on my butt while he would be landing on his knees. After I felt the ground hit my butt, the small parachute collapsed, and for a few seconds, I thought it was the main parachute, but they told me that they were kidding. They let me feel the huge pile of nylon. ‘Aw, does that feel nice? That is what saved ya!’ That was one of the staff members of the park who told me.
At sky-dive Oregon, my instructor had me put my feet up in the landing position a few seconds after he deployed the main canopy for practice, and I must have thought we were getting ready to land, or he told me to relax. When he told me that we were going to land, I put out my feet and bent my knees, just like we practised. Since my instructor was very tall, the landing was very different. We came in nearly in a standing position, so as soon as I hit the ground, I could stand up right away, and I took off my gear. I exclaimed how funny the landing was, and, at the instructor’s request, I also gave him a thumbs up for the camera. Both my guide and the instructor were surprised that I did everything correctly. I guess they were expecting somebody to mess up or something, but no, I did everything right! He asked me if it was just as good as my last one, and I told him that there were just a few differences.
Back in Estacada, my instructor detached the two of us, and I quickly got out of my harness and jump suit, along with the goggles and hat. The staff person who had my camera told me that he was able to get it all on video. After I was out of my suit, I shook hands with my instructor, and I thanked him for everything. He told me that he could autograph my shirt once I bought it. One thing I should note, the way they processed the videos was a little bit more primitive, for they had to put it all on a DVD, which they would mail to you within seven days.
At sky-dive Oregon, my instructor shook my hand, and my guide took me back inside the loading area to take off my jump suit. Once I got out of it, I was taken back to the classroom where I met my instructor, who handed me my first jump certificate along with a bumper sticker, and he told me he would be back with an SD card for me to take home. My friend, whom I invited to come along with me on the trip, congratulated me on my second jump, and I promised him that I would tell him all about it.
My final thoughts on these experiences: Since I could not record myself on the first sky-dive, I was able to create a replicated version of what skydiving sounded like based on sounds that were already in existence. All I had to do was make sure those sounds match the ones I had in my memory, which was easy for me to do because of my perfect pitch. I had no trouble recording my second jump, and for that, I am very grateful.
The instructor never asked me if I really wanted to jump on my first sky-dive, and I told people about this fact. Some of my friends told me that he probably knew that I was extremely self-motivated to learn about skydiving. There were probably a certain number of people who do not want to learn about it. They simply want to get the experience. One person thought that maybe I did not hear the instructor when he asked me that question, but that sounded illogical because if I did not hear him, I would not have answered him, and this would have been a question that required a response, so he would have had to repeat himself until I understood him. Maybe the first instructor asked me a similar question, such as what my second instructor said, which might have been why I was not expecting the same question that I was told by my friend. Such things can be, do you want to sky-dive, or, are you ready to sky-dive? You get the gist.
The reason I was hardly nervous on both jumps was thanks to a meditation class taught by a former teacher and a friend of mine who was at the camp. He hosted a stress and anxiety-reduction mindfulness workshop four days before my first jump, and a month before my second. I learnt how to fully relax and calm my nerves by releasing oxytocin, slow down my heart and breathing rate, etc. Skydiving or going on a wild amusement ride can be moderately stressful, but it has shown to increase oxytocin, though. I meditated a lot, and the fact that I did it so many times was the reason I hardly felt nervous, and it allowed me to trust my instructors fully. Also, the fact that I knew exactly what to expect was a major contributing factor. This is because people fear the unknown when they have no idea what to expect, regardless of their motivation and will. All in all, I think this would be something I would be doing for quite a while, and I might start preparing to do high altitude low-opening jumps in the future.
When I showed people this transcript, many people told me that I had written it as if what happened to me happened yesterday, which led them to think I was able to remember everything so well. I told them that it all depended on several things. Since skydiving was something that I was extremely passionate about, it helped me relive the memory over and over, looking at every detail, the way you do when you watch a moving picture several times. Another thing that helped me was research. For example, I did not know what the instructor meant by a drogue parachute. When he said it, it sounded like he had said a robe parachute. I went on-line to look it up, but I did not find anything on the internet about it. One day, as I was reading about skydiving in general, I came across the same word, and I took note of its spelling. If I forgot something, reading about it on-line would cause those memories to come flooding back. Also, our brains can remember images more easily than words, even for blind people. I imagined feeling the plane’s texture, from the outside in, and this allowed me to remember the words the instructor and the other people said. Of course, there is a lot of speculation that blind people can remember words better than their sighted peers, but it is not always true. So, this is what allowed me to associate things more easily, and I recommend that people do this more often.
regarding the iPad issue I experienced, I went over to http://www.iPadenclosures.com/ to see what kind of kiosk cases they made. It really surprised me that they had something that was supposed to be accessible to everybody, but current measures or policies prevented them from making that accommodation, or at least, finding workarounds. I was thinking of having them buy several iPads and making room for quiet environments so that people who were blind and or hard-of-hearing would be able to hear and or use a Braille display along with Voiceover to read what was on the screen. I also recommended that they include an accessibility section on their web site to let other people know ahead of time with the information they would need before they got there to avoid scrambling at the last minute.
Many people who are afraid to jump are frightened by the idea and not by the experience itself. That is why it helps to know in advance what a person would be getting into, though I was told that some people do not want to know because it would ruin the surprise for them. Still, I am going to be sharing this to anyone who might be interested, and I hope you can share it with anyone you think might like this as well.

What happened to me? The beginning of a never-ending nightmare

Hi, my fellow humans
This is going to be another long post again, and the way the introduction starts suggests that I haven’t posted here in a long time. That’s partially true, but here’s what happened.
After realizing that I wanted to be an independent WordPress owner, I got help from someone who knows how to use Linux boxes. Together, we rebuilt my blog and attached my basic HTML web site I started working in my last two years of Hi School. As luck would not have it, though, I lost all my posts because I didn’t check to make sure the SQL files were generated properly. I tried importing the XML file I got from my old wordpress.com account, but it evidently didn’t get saved. Fortunately for me, however, I kept an archive in text form of all the posts I had ever written, and I spent time going through it and reposting them, sometimes splitting them up into two or more parts. So, this is where I am now.
I know it has been quite a long time since I last posted, and I thought I’d inform you of what I’ve been doing for the last three and a half years. This is going to turn out to be I am extremely afraid of fainting, for I have never fainted before, so I didn’t know what sensations I would expect to feel, or if anyone would notice. long, so I would suggest that you find some time to sit down so you can spend about half an hour to forty-five minutes reading and re-reading through this article.
I never thought I could suffer a nervous breakdown until I actually experienced one. I mean, I’ve had bouts of panic attacks and astral projection from sleep paralysis, and I’ve survived three blood donations and two wisdom teeth surgeries under nitrous oxide, and although the side effects were tolerable, nothing prepared me for what happened to me a few months later.
I was getting ready to race with my dragon boating team in Tempe, Arizona from September 30th to October 2nd of 2016. I kept attending all eight mandatory practices before the race. Had I I kept attending all eight mandatory practices before the race. Had I known the severe hardships I would endure; I would have backed out as soon as I could. As it was, I suffered a great deal, and it took me nearly two years to recover from the aftermath.
When I arrived in Tempe on Friday, 30 September, I was doing just fine, even in the great heat. So, it was quite a surprise when, on Saturday, I started exhibiting symptoms of heat exhaustion, starvation, dehydration, hyperventilation, or panic attack, that lasted for several hours, even though I was in a shaded tent, and it was around ninety degrees Fahrenheit. Although I kept drinking plenty of water and Gatorade, I wasn’t provided with enough food, and our team was only supplied with a light continental breakfast. I first felt slightly lightheaded when I was accompanying my team down to the lake, though it could have been my imagination. After about twenty minutes of being seated in the tent, I started noticing that my mind was racing, and I was starting to breathe more rapidly. I began having problems with my thoughts. I was thinking about one thing over another until I realised that I was thinking of every possible scenario of why I would not be able to survive in the extreme heat. Then I started to feel like I was in a fog. My brain felt very hazy, and I had the strongest urge to pass out, but I fought it off by constantly being in motion. Then, since I was afraid of fainting from experience, I did everything I could to keep myself awake. I am extremely afraid of fainting, for I have never fainted before, so I didn’t know what sensations I would expect to feel, or if anyone would notice.
Eventually, I started feeling my fingertips and toes tingle if I didn’t move, though it went away when I did. I alerted one of my teammates, who had also felt this way when I was in Portland last month, and she told me to keep drinking more, as if I weren’t already. She alerted the coach, and she told me to stay in the tent, even though I asked to go back to the hotel, and she also told me to drink more Gatorade without offering me any food. I was excused from racing after that. I tried to solicit other means of help to get relief, but no one came to my aid. My Android phone, which I was using at the time, failed me greatly, and I was not able to call emergency services.
All those events took place from nine thirty in the morning until around fourteen hundred. I kept going to the bathroom every fifteen minutes because I kept drinking so many big bottles of Gatorade and smaller bottles of water.
When I went back to the hotel, I was feeling somewhat better, so I went to sleep, and I woke up when it was time for my team to go to dinner. I had trouble walking because I was still dealing from the effects just hours before, but I managed to keep drinking, and I ate a big meal, which kept me going through the night and into the morning. I even saved some leftovers so I could refrigerate it. I don’t know if Room Service could have given me relief at the time.
Come Sunday, I was worried about whether I would be able to race, and what I would do if I couldn’t. Again, we were supplied with a light breakfast, but I vowed to find more food at the venue. The temperature was climbing slowly, and I prayed that it would rain, and incidentally, it did, about half an hour later. I was relieved to receive a good shower outdoors, but soon, the water got too cold, and I was obliged to retreat to the tent. I heard one of the team members say that there was a peculiar odour about the place, and when I sniffed, I detected a sweet, pungent aroma that I associated with electricity, although it was more like the smell of static electricity mixed with gunpowder. I later learned that this was ozone, which is a Greek derivative, as I later learned about in a text adventure game called Curses. When I learned that we might have a thunderstorm, I felt as though the blood were draining from my face, but fortunately, I remained standing. Later, when I got on my computer, I made a joke about the rainstorm on Facebook, saying that I got an answer to my prayers from the heavens, and that I was saved. That downpour drenched us all, and our wet clothing offered us means of cooling afterword. I was able to partake of the last two races, and then we packed up to go back to the hotel. Some members were leaving on Sunday, while others, including myself, went home the following day. Just as we were getting ready to leave, though, I heard a loud retching, coughing, and wheezing sound. I went over to investigate, and I witnessed one of our teammates throwing up, possibly due to a concussion. I learned the next day that this teammate had been falling down all weekend, and they were being made to paddle despite these mishaps. Since nobody made plans for going to dinner on Sunday night, I didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t sure if I could use room service, and therefore, I was extremely hungry. I managed to save a piece of chicken meat, and I ate it cold. I ate an apple, and some beef Jerky. I waited, but my appetite wasn’t yet satisfied, but then I remembered saving the leftovers from the day before, so I ate it cold, since there was no microwave available. My hunger was satisfied after that, and I went to bed. If I had access to UberEats or DoorDash, I would’ve felt fine afterword.
On Monday, I awoke to take a nice, warm shower, which went without a flaw. I decided to see about how to get breakfast. I went into this warm and stuffy cafeteria, but that nearly proved disastrous, for no sooner had I gone inside, and while I was sitting at one of the tables, I started to feel my chair tilt and sway, and I felt waves of hot flashes rolling down my body. I knew I was going to faint again, so I fought it off by shuffling my legs around. I also made the mistake of drinking apple juice, which has sorbitol. And, when you’re already dehydrated, it makes it much worse, because it will cause you to have diarrhoea made by pulling water out of your system. So, I went back to my room and I had my meal delivered there. I noticed that I was having trouble walking again, and I heard a low humming sound in my right ear, around 225 Hz, the same sound you hear if you’ve ever had a tympanogram. I lied down to get some rest, but after a few minutes I had to go to the bathroom again, and I noticed that every time I released stool, it caused me to feel a stinging sensation. I drank tap water, which tasted salty, every time I went to the bathroom to replace what I lost. I called the airline the day before to see about changing it to an earlier day, but it was more expensive to carry this out, so I requested a wheelchair so I wouldn’t have to walk far.
I waited until it was around ten thirty, then I did my best to walk outside. I was feeling so dizzy I could barely stand up, but I managed to lug my suitcase to the couches, where I stopped to rest. I talked with the teammate who alerted the coach on Saturday, and who accompanied the invalid to the hospital on Sunday. She tied my shoelaces, for they were not well-knotted. It would be the last time I ever interacted with her, for on April 26th, 2017, four days before her birthday, she died in her sleep. She would have been seventy in four more days of her death. Anyhow, I went outside to wait for our cab, and I leaned heavily against the wall for support. When it came, I was relieved to sit down again. I sat in the middle seat in the back. When we got to the airport, I tried to accompany everyone to the check-in line, but it became evident that my dizziness was getting the best of me, and I was forced to find a bench until they could get me a wheelchair. I’m glad I had requested this in advance. I walked through security check and sat back down on the chair. I went to the bathroom, and the coach’s spouse got me some more Gatorade and a banana for me to snack on. With all these things, I was able to avoid hunger for just a bit longer.
The flight was uneventful, although I noticed that my breathing tended to stop just as I was falling asleep, and I would wake up immediately. This usually happened after an episode of near fainting. I previously started feeling such symptoms when I rode in a car, shortly after drinking coffee. I also over-donated blood back in June, though I had previously donated twice, and I had to deal with similar symptoms. I was hospitalised this last time, and I had to put up with some of the remaining aftershocks for several weeks. I drank coffee again in August of 2016, six months after I dealt with my last bout, and again, I experienced a panic attack when I was riding in the cab. This time, I remembered to eat a substantial meal, so I ordered some McDonalds food. I felt much better in about an hour.
Shortly after we landed, I was wheeled out to wait for my ride. Once I got home, I changed to some more comfortable clothes, and I slept for a while. My mother offered to buy me some comfort food, and I got up to eat it. On Tuesday, everything was about the same, but I wasn’t feeling any better. I ate as much as I could, and I had my mother deliver meals to my room. I started noticing for the first time that whenever I walked, I felt as though the floor were moving beneath my feet. If you’ve been on a boat in rough seas, or ever stood on a dock in a windy day, you’d know what I’m talking about. I felt the floor bob and sway, and it made it more difficult for me to walk about. I asked my mother to buy me some VitaLyte, or something similar. It is a rehydrating fluid containing glucose or dextrose, and electrolytes, which made it taste very sweet and salty at the same time. I downed one bottle, and then I drank some Gatorade as well. I continued doing this on Wednesday, and that is when I had my first real out of body experience, or astral projection. I remember thinking to myself in my dream that if I were to have a seizure, I wouldn’t be able to wake up. Then, I started to feel lightheaded, and I felt tingles come at me in big waves. Then I found myself floating in my bedroom, and I was drawn to my cordless telephone. I tried to reach for it so I could dial 911, but I was not successful. This was the first of several reoccurring nightmares that were to follow for the next five months.
On Thursday, I still wasn’t getting any better, so I told my mother everything. She offered to drive me to Urgent Care instead of the emergency room, and she did this because the ER would have been busier than if we went to Urgent Care. It would also mean that it would have been more expensive. We left at around nine in the morning and got there at nine fifteen. I checked in, and I was taken to an examining room. I told them what I’ve gone through, and they performed some tests, including an orthostatic blood pressure test, electrocardiogram, and a urine sample, followed by a blood draw. Ever since I’ve been seeing my naturopathic doctor over at the National University of Natural Medicine, I was really fascinated with the needles, syringes, catheters and IV lines, so I was really surprised when I was able to get my hands on a venipuncture kit from The Apprentice doctor back in early 2016 without a Drug Enforcement Administration Number. So, I finally got to feel some butterfly needles, some vials and ampules, and more.
Nearing the end of my visit, I was given diazepam, or valium, as is sometimes known. It was given to me in the form of a tablet containing 5 MG. After about twenty minutes, I started to feel more relaxed. The medical assistant arranged to have me taken to the emergency room if I wasn’t any better by the time I went to my doctor’s office on Friday.
Once I was through, I was taken back out, and my mother drove me to Jack in the Box so I could get something to eat. Then she bought me my first iPhone from Metro PCS so I could have something to play with. When we got home, I was feeling much better, and I spent some time setting up my iPhone. But we all know that some good things can’t always last forever, right?
On Friday, I woke up, and I was feeling pretty good. I got something to eat, and then I continued working on my iPhone. I also talked to a friend of mine, and I thought things were going quite smoothly. Well, when it came time for my mother and I to depart to Portland, I started feeling the old symptoms come back, including diarrhoea. I have a suspicion, but I don’t know if it would be warranted that if I consumed products from Pizza Hut, I’d get the runs every time. I thought I could get some rest on the way to the clinic, but alas, that didn’t work out in my favour. I guess the effects of the valium had worn off, for my anxiety was causing me to feel the same as I had felt on Monday. I could barely walk up to the desk, so I leaned heavily on my cane, which wasn’t designed for that purpose. Once it was my turn, I checked in as quickly as I could, and then I plopped down on the nearest chair. I waited for about five minutes, but I knew I couldn’t walk such a long distance. So, when my name was called, a wheelchair was brought up to me, and I was asked if I wanted some rescue remedy, which uses the placebo effect to make you believe that you were being given a dose to help you relieve your anxiety. I was taken upstairs, and I was administered the same tests I was given at Urgent Care. They also checked my skin elasticity to make sure I wasn’t extremely dehydrated. The doctor did not prescribe me valium, as I had asked, but instead, they prescribed me something called Propranolol Inderal, 60 MG 24-hour release capsule. I saw in later research that if you were to take this medicine shortly after experiencing trauma, your brain might respond to it differently. Unfortunately, this didn’t work.
At first, taking this beta blocker once a day had no major effects, although my blood pressure readings had gone down somewhat, and my heart and breathing rates were slightly lowered. After about a month of taking it, I started noticing some subtle changes, like being more sensitive to heat, though this could have been related to what happened to me. I went in for a blood draw, one day before Trump was elected president, and I nearly fainted from that in the car on the way home, since it was a fasting blood test. I sort of surprised the phlebotomist when I told her that she was using a winged infusion set because I felt the rubbing of the tube against my arm.
My mother told me that I started getting heavier, and she noticed my cheeks rounding up with adipose tissue. I also purchased some Lavela, which is a lavender-based essential oil enclosed in a soft gel. I requested to have a balance evaluation report, so I went ahead and did that with Pacific Ear Clinic.
By late November through early December, I had purchased some equipment to measure my vital signs, and a scale to see how much I weighed. In January, I also purchased a glucometer so I could see how my blood glucose was doing. By that time, I was into two months of taking my beta blocker, and I started noticing major changes in my appetite. I got hungry every four to five hours, instead of nine to ten hours like I normally would. This might have been a trick that caused my body to believe I was in a famine, which is why I probably gained so much weight afterword. By late November, I had received my physiotherapy and vestibular reports, which were sent to my ear, nose and throat specialist, who arranged to have me undergo an MRI in late December. I will post about my MRI experience later. I was also told that my potassium levels were quite low, so I ate bananas, and I also took potassium supplements.
In January, I had a feeling we were going to be snowbound, so I tried to get as much food as I could, via the Safeway Home Delivery programme. As it was, the snow came in earlier than I had anticipated, and Safeway was not able to deliver my order. My mother, not wanting to risk going out in the snow, was not able to provide me with much food, either. On top of what I’ve gone through, I was ready to give up. Then, the snow started melting, and Safeway was finally able to deliver my order. A few more days and I was out of the woods. I had started going to some physiotherapy exercises beginning in January, but because of the snow, it got delayed. I went for about five or six visits, but it wasn’t really helping me much. I got to ride the Alter G antigravity treadmill, though, and I experienced sensory fatigue when my legs were used to being nearly weightless for several minutes.
I had already suspected that the cause of my excess hunger and weight gain was due to my beta blocker, so I gradually began to lower my dosage without letting my doctor know, and, since I didn’t want to stop suddenly, I tapered off of it completely by the beginning of February.
In November of 2016 and in January of 2017, I received two intravenous treatments, one consisting of a push, and the other one containing a solution which dripped slowly over the period of two and a half hours. Both treatments were not covered by insurance, so I had to pay out of pocket for these treatments. I didn’t feel a whole lot better, but it was worth a try.
I had another blood draw on Wednesday, 23 February 2017, and they discovered that I might be dealing with fatty liver, and that I was possibly prediabetic. They also found that my cholesterol was quite high on the HDL, I think, and my blood sugar was at 109, even when I was fasting. I had also risen to 194 LB, and I wondered how I could gain forty pounds in just four months.
By the end of February, my former partner, who is still my friend, suggested that I try out DirecTV so I could try and learn more about humour and the latest social trends. So, to oblige them, I did. I had a lot of trouble with DirecTV at first, mostly having to do with technical issues in not being able to make the device talk. I soon got it resolved, and I was able to use it more independently.
Back in August of 2016, I was interested in the possibility of getting a secured credit card, so I applied for it, but I didn’t have enough funds to put in the minimum deposit of $300 to get $300 in credit. I waited until February of 2017 to try again. I was finally approved for the secured credit card, and the $300 was deducted from my account. Had I known that I was to be in dire peril, I would have waited until I was out of it before getting the card. As it was, I had to make many sacrifices to survive. It was all because of my two-year older brother that my mother, my brother, and I were all put in this predicament.

For the Young at Heart

As one who has researched and worked with children for a while, I often took notes about the way people behaved and why they behaved the way they did. I volunteered a little bit with the Children’s club in 2014, and I’d also like to self-reflect a little on consciousness when I was but an infant.
So, to start this out, I’d like to introduce you to the idea that babies can probably talk in their minds before their hyroid bone is lowered. Because of that, I thought it pretty interesting when I read how Louis Sachar described how the substitute with the third ear attempted to hear what was coursing through the baby’s mind. Since the baby had no organised language, they could only think in terms of sensations, much like how my brother would. He can’t see or hear, but he can still form thoughts and ideas with his other senses. But since Sharon M. Draper said in Out of My Mind, you need thoughts to have words, and you need a voice to express those thoughts, obviously my brother’s only voice is his behaviour.
As an example, a child may not have the necessary information to express their true feelings about what they really want. It’s common in many parent and child relationships. Neither the parent nor the child is able to establish a clear understanding for one another when one or both of them lack the vocabulary needed to express a certain emotion. That is exactly what happened in that book, so I highly recommend you read it, and look at the first scene when the protagonist is at the toy store, and again when she is trying to warn her mother towards the end.
Another thing I found fascinating was what would happen if we didn’t learn the things we took for granted. Here’s another example about my brother. Since he’s never learned any kind of abstract concept like time, how does he perceive time in his mind? What if we decided that we would teach our future children everything but a certain item? Let’s say that in a hypothetical situation, we had many groups ready to start raising children. One group focuses on eliminating colour, another group removes time, and another removes sound and music (which already exists in Deaf culture). How would these children act when someone outside their group exposed them to the concept they never learned growing up? I probably mentioned this when I was talking about how Jonas didn’t know what colour was in the Giver, by Lois Lowry.
So, if you have a child(ren), and you are at your wits end, I’d suggest that you find out when your child is misbehaving, what prompts them to misbehave, where they are doing this, why they are doing it, who is it that they are targetting, if applicable, and how to solve the issue once it has been found, possibly by redirecting the behaviour instead of spanking. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/04/02/parenting/child-discipline.html As someone who has worked with a behaviour technician to develop a behaviour support plan for my brother, these things are very intriguing, especially since not a lot of people have experience working with deaf-blind individuals who do not communicate with words.
If a child is having problems at a strange place like a day care centre, perhaps it is the way that they are being treated, and maybe it is affecting their overall development by giving them false information that leads them to make assumptions. I think one of the best ways to intervene is to give the child something they enjoy doing, or provide extra stimulation for something they don’t like doing. For example, most children don’t like to do chores, yet they must grow up learning how to do them. This is called the Premak Principle. It simply states that you must do an unfavourable task first if you want to earn a favourable reward. I have found through my own experience that providing extra stimulation, such as listening to music or reading an audiobook can help surpass the time.
I’ve once thought of implementing a GPS system on bus routes that would be available on an iOS or Android app, or even a Windows phone app. It would work on the same principle that Uber and Lyft uses. Since today’s kids are attached to their MIDs, which I like to call the iWorld, I thought it would be great if they could get realtime updates of when their bus was coming and track its progress on a map. However, some opponents of this would say that if we did htis, kids would depend on their phones rather than their own self-reliable resources and learn responsibility. I mean, what if your phone died?
For many blind kids, where walking around is not permissible in a private daycare home, or even when visiting parent’s friends, one has to be stimulated in other ways because of the lack of sight. Based on my experience, I found that whenever I visited other blind people, the children there were treated as family instead of strangers, and they understood the need for extra stimulation that they could not otherwise obtain just by seeing. So as long as they behaved they were free to walk around and feel what was around them. When I was little, my mother used to take my brother and me to my paternal aunt’s house so she could work. Similarly, she always dragged me to her friend’s houses. Sometimes I’d stay in the car while she did whatever it was she needed to do. However, my aunt made me sit all day, every day, without anything to do. I couldn’t simply look around me and observe the action. I could’ve used the time to write in my diary, as my writing was exceptionally good in sixth grade because I’ve read a lot of classic literature during that time. However, I didn’t have a computer until a year later, and it was but a desktop. I didn’t get my first netbook until I was beyond old enough to stay at home alone, so it was already too late. If any of these apps were available at the time, like title=”Aira Homepage”>Aira, which tells people what’s happening around them through a trained agent, or Be My Eyes, which is solely based on volunteers, perhaps my life might have been more enriched.
Here’s an interesting experience I had when I was four years old. I remember living at a house that was a two-three storey building. I cannot remember which one it was. I remember exploring a vacuum cleaner, feeling a closet, and things like that. One day, I happened to be outside, and I climbed two fences that was out on the second deck. I was walking until I felt the floor disappear, and I plunged down-down-down. I do not remember feeling any pain except for a big jolt on my bottom half, but I remember crying pretty hard until I was eventually found. Someone must have seen me fall off the side of the house. I probably fell asleep or fainted, because it all felt like I was in a dream or haze. It was a miracle I could not feel pain because I was so distant, not to mention it was a long fall, yet I am still able to recall almost everything that happened to me. It was as if I were on sedatives 24/7! So, what do babies really remember? My mother told me a story about a time I was in Mexico when I was running down five steps. It is queer how I figured it out because I never recall. What happened was that I ran, and fell over the first step. I stood up and tried again. On the second step, I also fell, and so for the third, and fourth. However, when I got to the fifth, I did not fall. I slowly put my right foot out and noticed that the ground changed and so I did not fall this time.
Now, here’s something else I learned. According to some hypotheses I’ve read, children who grow up listening to intricate forms of music stimulate deep parts of their brain, which helps improve their personality (emotions, cognition, and identity). At this point in time, most children go with the flow. It won’t be for a few more years when they will have enough schemas to think for themselves. I would take this moment to approach this situation in a rational and logical manner, and briefly set your emotions aside to allow you to think more clearly. Some children sometimes like to test the limits to see how much attention they can get, because that also provides a sort of stimulation as well, even if that might be a bad form of stimulation. It’s all based on the reward and pleasure centres in the brain. Some people with ADD or ADHD respond better to punishment and intimidation instead of reward. Others are the opposite. Being swamped with several projects, though, I can wholeheartedly understand the pressure being added to meet everyone’s expectations in very little time. I’m sure there are some ways one can do to lessen the workload. People seem to be too fast-pace nowadays, so we do not have time for any family get-together traditions. That needs to come back.

Testimony, my Coming Out Journey

The Manifesto to Freedom and Liberty, to Whomever finds this Useful

The time has come.

I must take you to a deep area of your mind so you will be able to comprehend what it is I am about to tell you. Trust me, you’ll be glad you did when you awaken. First, I’d like you to find a comfortable place in your dwelling, like a cozy bed or a reclining chair. Once you’ve found this space, continue reading this document.
Okay, first thing’s first. I want you to take in a deep breath through your nose, and exhale through your mouth, clearing your mind of any thought. Slowly breathe in, then slowly breathe out. Each breath should make you feel lighter, and more relaxed. Good, keep going. In, then out. You should almost start to feel like a feather, as if a breeze could blow you away. Now, I want you to think of a relaxing place, like the beach, a warm swimming pool, or an amusement ride. Make it as real as you can. Can you see the colours of light over head? Can you hear the soft hum of the ride? Can you feel yourself climbing on board? Remember, this is your own place, and no one else can intrude upon it. This is your own place alone, and it is a safe place you can always visit when you need to.
First, I need you to think about how you’re going to enter this place. This is what I’d like you to do. Don’t picture it in your mind. Feel yourself stepping down a long ladder. You’re facing the rums. With each deep breath you take, you climb down one step. Climb for about ten steps, slowly and gently or until you begin to feel a warm light. Now, I want you to gently let go. You should feel yourself enter free fall. If you get dizzy and disoriented, try again. Once you’re in free fall, imagine you’re falling, falling through space, until you gently land in front of the amusement ride, called the Hyperloop transport.
Now, I want you to imagine that you’re going to board this capsule that can travel underground. In front of you are a set of nine steps that climb onto a platform. You notice a shape that looks like an aeroplane. You slowly, calmly walk up the steps, gracefully approaching the capsule, its door open and inviting. You climb in and take a seat on the soft, comfortable seat. You feel yourself put on the seatbelt. The doors gently slide beside you and then you hear a rush of air. The sound of the ride’s engine gradually intensifies. It pulses in a rhythmic fashion, making you feel relaxed, as if you’re going to fall deeper into a trance. Good, you should start to feel light. The engine’s whine increases in pitch, like a turbine aboard a jet. The seat suddenly begins to lie you back, your feet resting on a footrest which begins to move up until you’re flat on your back. The whole car starts to rise, nose-first, and you can see from the window that you’re moving.
While you are moving, I want you to imagine that there is a bucket in front of you. Think of your body as being full of sand. You want to empty your body of this heavy substance so you will feel as light and detached from your body as possible. First, start with your feet. Take a deep breath, first inhale, then exhale. You’re letting go of the sand inside your feet. They should already start to feel very relaxed on the footrest.
Now I want you to empty the sand in your ankles. You just keep taking a deep breath, in, then out. Good, your ankles start to feel very light as the sand pours out of them. Next, your legs, full and heavy, you take a deep breath and notice how light they become as the sand pours into the bucket.
More and more relaxed. Now, your stomach, where there may be a lot of sand. Feel it get lighter with each breath you take as the sand falls out. Good. Now moving up to your chest, sides and back. Feel how light you’re getting as the sand empties down below.
Now all we have left are your shoulders, arms, hands, neck and head. Slowly let the sand pour out of them as you inhale through your nose, and slowly exhale through your mouth. You should no longer feel your body any more. You should feel as if it weren’t an important part of you any longer. Remember, you’re still riding peacefully on nothing but air, and the sounds of the rushing wind is calming, soothing. Music starts to play, deep, calming music.
I’m going to count down from five to one. Each time you’re going to go deeper, deeper, and deeper. Ready?

Five, you’re slowly, slowly starting to feel sleepy.

Four, getting sleepier. Remember, slow, deep breaths.

Three, going deeper and deeper.

Two, more and more. You’re starting to become less aware of your surroundings.

One, good. You’re now in a deep trance.

You will obey my commands. You are now extremely open to suggestion. You’re now under my control, and my voice is your only focus. Your mind is going to take in every word I say, and you’re going to obey them, not because you want to. You simply must obey them.
I want you to pay very close attention to what I’m going to tell you. From this point on, you should have no emotion of what this will bring until I am finished.


Hello, my readers.
You folks may be wondering what this is that has come to you. Well, what I have to say here is going to be very long and very profound, but there is simply no other way for me to sugar-coat this. I just have to get this out of my system before it’s too late. There is something which I must bring attention to, something which I tried doing before but was unsuccessful. What I mean is, I must call attention towards a few things which may not be something some people aren’t ordinarily used to hearing about all the time, but I think it is necessary for these facts to be established if we are to be on the same page.

There were some friends I used to hang out with when I started being more extroverted from 2012 to 2013, and I thought that by hanging out with them, it would eventually make me feel better about myself and my ability to meet their expectations. Alas, it’s had the opposite effect. It’s making me feel worse, because I am constantly reminded that I must hide my inner piece while I am with them. I also struggle to still be cordial and friendly towards my friends, so I have this inner battle with myself that leaves me feeling hopeless and despaired. But now the war within me has become so intense I just want to stop having to fight with myself and let my mind and spirit rest in peace.

I cannot condone to being treated like this.

If I leave, no one will care, so why have I been here for these last twenty-something years? Because I simply had no choice, but now I’m going to rebel. So, I’m just letting you all know that it was a lot of fun, getting to enjoy what life had to offer, but unfortunately, like the beginning of a chapter in a book, these chapters must come to an end, like the saying goes, ‘From every ending comes a new beginning.’ Lurlene McDaniel. I’m sorry to have to be blunt about this, but I have had enough emotional suffering. I’m tired of this constant monotony, this humdrum existence which hasn’t enough to offer me with the best things in life that are free. I’ve tried so hard, but nothing has worked, so why bother? Therefore, the only way I can fix all these problems is to simply move on. Where I’ll be going to, I know not, but don’t bother trying to find out. I’ll always be thinking of those whom I loved and for those who still love me. Please understand this and forget this ever happened. I can never forget the fun times I’ve had with you all, and I know you’ll be deeply heartbroken when you find out that I’m gone, but the truth is, I’ve been torturing myself for these past few years. I cannot take it any more. It’s literally tearing me apart. I know I’ve failed to come out to several people, some of whom I was afraid would freak out if they knew, because they have always known me as the person they saw in their mind’s eye, not the person I truly am and feel. I cannot deny the truth any longer. I must be honest with it, because every time I am around my old friends, I am constantly reminded by their actions towards me of how people see me, not the way I want them to treat me. I know I said to my family members several times over the months that I had my own outings to go to, but they were sort of lies. And while I apologise for having told them a falsehood, I could not compel myself to tell them where I was really going. So that’s why I’m going to tell you all now. I’ve been saving up money to seek treatment such as laser hair removal and electrolysis, so that I can live in sync with my inner-peace. The road to recovery isn’t easy, but I swear that someday I will get there, and you no doubt know how hellbent I am.

More than several years ago, I used to be a happy person. I always got what I wanted if I worked hard to get them. I didn’t have many friends who understood me for who I was, mainly because I didn’t know who I really was either. I simply conformed to whatever people wanted me to be. I was easily impressed. I was weak-minded. If someone said I was a boy, I was like, okay. If someone said I was acting girlie, I said, okay. Once, when I was about seven or eight, my dad asked me, are you masculine or feminine? I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, so I just answered with the latter. He immediately corrected me and told me I was masculine. I didn’t have a firm opinion on either one. I knew I was different long before my coming of age, but I couldn’t put a finger on it. I didn’t know the difference between what a boy and a girl was at all, just the anatomical differences. Heck, I didn’t even know that there were identities beyond boy and girl, like nonbinary and other sex variants, like intersex.
When I was fifteen, however, I started to form opinions of my own, but I still got into disrespectful disagreements with people who were stubborn to have their opinions changed. I enjoyed, or should I say, I loved reading romance novels, novels about young teens of all types facing life-altering situations, like cancer, chronic illness, a disability, or a death or divorce. I would read these books every day for a year or so. I found comfort in them, like not only opening a door to a lot of new possibilities, but they have also mellowed me out, and it allowed me to find my inner being. I ended up sympathising with a lot of the female characters because, in a way, I was extremely akin to this. That initially started in 2008. I read over a hundred books between 2009 and 2013, right until I graduated from high school. I have always felt as though I were the quiet one, the shy one, always observing, a camera placed on the sidelines of whatever was going on around it. I don’t want any more of that. I need to get involved. I need to be where the action is.

Sometimes I wondered if I ever failed to receive proper nurturing as I grew up because my mother was so preoccupied with my brother, two years older than I. Since I am both blind and severely hard-of-hearing, I do not have a support service provider (SSP). I have thought of moving in with a friend and pay a small sum to help them cover expenses, and I could start over there. The important thing is to get out of the situation where my older brother, who has the mental capacity of a two-year-old, could attack my mother or myself because this is his easiest means of communication. For example, our family van broke down about two and a half years ago, but my stinking brother refused to board my uncle’s car. I threatened to sedate him and or restrain him until he learned that he must live with situations that he may not feel comfortable with, even if it might improve his well-being in the long run. The fact that he is totally deaf and blind and has no language skills because he never got early intervention has frustrated all of us. And now, to make matters worse, he is refusing to put on any clothes or shoes because he has figured out that he could get results this way. He’s literally gotten tired of going out to places where nothing made sense to him. I was briefly forced to rely on my limited resources to get more groceries, since my mother refused to compensate me, saying that it was her problem. I argued by saying that it was too my problem, and what was more, it was our problem, because it affected us as a family unit. I had told her that he was a time-waster because he prevented her from cooking good food, someone who constantly made messes in the kitchen that he never cleaned up, especially at night, that he has been doing this ever since he could walk. For God’s sake, he’s two years older than I am, yet he acts like such an animal or feral child! I had almost turned to using narcotics and or recreational drugs and alcohol full time, just to numb the pain, but I know that those won’t fix the problem short or long term, and would only add addiction to the mix. My mother just doesn’t want to admit to herself that she has a problem, and even saying that my brother only wants his mother to look after him is not enough. Won’t he understand that his mother may not be around forever? Her health is slowly declining, and sooner or later, he will have to tolerate having other people support his personal activities of daily living, especially now since he is refusing to set foot outside the house. People have told me that my mother and I have two completely different views of the situation. My mother thinks that things are fine just the way they are, whereas I think he needs a lot more substantial and meaningful care and guidance for him to have the life he needs and wants.

I could not go on many outings the way most blind people could.

I literally did things to entertain myself. Wasn’t that why I was more attached to other relatives than I was supposed to? Hasn’t that been because I could not develop a relationship with my brother who could not communicate? Whenever I felt so lonely, I resorted to writing and other things to keep my mind occupied. I even had a short episode of maladaptive daydreaming, but that sort of went away the more I immersed myself into school. Could having a sibling who was older, yet who needed more attention than I have made a significant impact on my overall development? I seem to attach to people very easily, and I often become heartbroken when I lose them for whatever reason. When I visit my friends, I sometimes envy their lifestyles and feel that somehow the grass is always greener on the other side. Sometimes I’d like to copy that person’s life, not to look like a copycat, but because I find their lifestyle much more exciting than the monotonous life I’m forced to live. Ever heard the expression, copying is the sincerest form of flattery? I wonder how much of that is true?

I don’t think I will want to come out to the rest of my immediate family and relatives because of their sheer ignorance and religious background. They deserve not knowing about what’s going on in my personal life. They have hurt me enough already when I was little. One of them accused me of being extremely talkative to the point they wanted me to just shut up, of possessing traits not usually found in guys like having deep emotional conversations, etc.
Before I was born, my mother anticipated on having a daughter to take care of her firstborn child. She thought that simply wishing could have affected me, but I don’t think that was the correct answer. When I was born, she wanted to give me the name Ulysses. I like that name because it doesn’t describe full maleness or femaleness. Rather, it describes someone who has been heroic, and I believe everyone can be heroic as well, regardless of gender. But my dad wouldn’t hear of it; he wanted to give me his name to give me the personality of a man, I suppose. Strangely enough, last year he and his girlfriend had a baby, and guess what they named him? That’s right. Why did they do that to me? When my mum and dad were previously living together twenty years ago, he would abuse both her and my older brother, my mum because he didn’t like the way she was treating him, and my brother because he was angry about having a son who was deaf and blind and not having any means to communicate. Therefore, I turned out to be his elitist. I would constantly be coddled by my father after he and Mum have had a fight. If I cried, he would comfort me, telling me everything was going to be okay. But soon, my dad had to move out, bag and baggage, because he was into unethical polygamy. That was also when he had a habit of hitting my mother with a belt. She didn’t like him hanging out and having kids with other women. Since then, I’ve been living more with my mum and less with my dad. That might also be a reason for my current dilemma, which is the fact that I was primarily living with a domineering mother.

Why is it that even before I was exposed to those romance novels, I was so overly enthusiastic in taking pride of my accomplishments? Why did I always seem to want to hear every single detail and emotion about what others thought, felt or liked about something I had asked of them? I didn’t realise that many of those traits would pop up in the young adult novels I started reading in 2008-2009. Why, when I was little, I was attracted to taking care of babies even though I didn’t know what one was. So, when my mother took me to some place where I heard high-pitched crying and wailing, she’d tell me that it was a baby. I had asked, what’s a baby? And she told me that it was a younger version of me. Excitedly, I asked, where could we get a baby? I want one so bad! Thus, whenever we stopped at one of my mother’s friend’s houses, she’d always ask me if I wanted to take this baby home with me. At first, I believed her, but after two or three years, I was more knowledgeable, and didn’t give in so easily.

Had it not been for a few things that had happened, like a dream I had in June of 2013 about getting a brain transplant, right after I had graduated high school and other things, I could have still felt fine right now. The thing is, I feel like I am impersonating the role of the person I show as me. I’m nothing but an imposter, a spy behind enemy lines. That’s why I’ve packed my feelings so deep inside me until they became hard as concrete.
Someone once noticed that I flinched every time somebody called me by my birth name, called me a young man, or something equally ridiculous, at least in my view. I also wondered why I always seem to mumble my old name whenever someone asked me what it was. That’s the worst of it, including when people addressed me by the wrong pronouns. Still, some people insist on calling me by my old name. I’m thankful that I’ve got it legally changed now, so that if I am ever challenged, I can stuff it in their faces. Should I also say that whenever people called me by my old name, it felt as though they were stabbing a dagger through my heart? Or, like someone twisting my guts inside so much it hurt? That’s why I insist that society sees me as the person I really and truly am, and not for what they think I am. I learned how to censor them saying my old name out to make them sound less hurtful. Once, someone had asked me a question, but I didn’t answer them because I made a rule to myself that I would not respond to anyone who used my birth name unless I absolutely had to. Therefore, I would only answer if the person addressed me by the name that I identified with. So, the next time someone called me by my old name, I’d bleep them out, or I would not answer them until they called me by the name that I wanted them to call me by. I may act like I don’t know who that person is, since in a way, I have detached myself from the person who was conforming to that role. Most people would be like, it would be just better to say, ‘Please call me this.’ I will also correct anyone who uses the wrong pronouns to address me, whether in private or in public depends on the circumstances. I know that people always tell me to be patient if they make a mistake in using nontraditional nonbinary pronouns, but they don’t realise that the offence has a lot more to do than wanting to use the right pronouns. They can trigger a lot of negative things from my past which I want to completely forget, but I cannot do that when I am constantly exposed to those triggers.

Since I consider myself to be gender-neutral, I would very much appreciate it if you called me by the name which I say is okay to use, if you avoided using words or phrases linked to gender cues, and when speaking to other people about me, please refrain from using pronouns like he or him. Instead you can simply say they or them, to keep my gender hidden.
note Since I am more on the feminine side of the spectrum, I don’t mind being referred to as she, so if you feel comfortable with it, even if I don’t fully look female, go for it!
This may seem like a lot of information to take in all at once and you may not feel compelled to using gender-neutral pronouns at first, but I promise you, it’ll all be worth it in the end. If you do end up making a mistake, and we were in private, simply say I’m sorry and move on, but do try to get used to the idea. If, on the other hand, we were in a public place and you made a mistake, don’t fall over yourself in apologising and correcting yourself — it’ll make the situation worse than it already is. Just move on and remember to try harder next time.

I went as far as changing the way my screen reader pronounced my old name so that it wouldn’t hurt as much. So, if I am out and about, then I will go by Ulysses. If I am in front of any of my family members or relative, then I may use the first two letters of my birth name. These names are as gender-neutral as they can be.
I even went as far as making my screen reader say they or them whenever it encountered phrases like he or she, s/he, he/she, etc. Still, the screen reader might say they is, instead of they are. That’s why some are using ONE as a gender-neutral pronoun. I even threatened to charge five cents for every use of the phrase in any variance, similar to how Demolition Man worked, and I said that the money collected would be delivered to a civil rights organisation to push the Modern Language Association to officially recognise gender-neutral pronouns and gender-inclusive vocabulary.

Haven’t these folks been catching on to the hints? Why I want micromedicine, nanomedicine and picomedicine to come sooner rather than later? Why I want a brain transplant or a cloned body? Why I want to donate my body fat for stem cells and get my DNA preserved, why I want to be cryopreserved if I die? Some people think those things are going to happen in a hundred years, whereas I want them to happen ten or so years from now. Wasn’t it obvious based on all these posts I’ve been writing about was why I am obsessed with bone reconstruction, voice modelling and gene therapy? I want to undergo a morphology and body proportion analysis for future remodelling, but at the same time, I cannot bring myself to seek an allopathic plastic surgeon, because I do not trust them. Look at my head and face. My facial hair is almost gone. I’ve been seeking electrolysis and laser hair removal. And my long hair. It’s more than just wanting to have long hair. It’s a need to have long hair. And until recently, I got breast forms. I refuse to undergo any hormones until gene therapy can permanently turn the gonads into a different set of sex cells and transplant an entirely-functioning reproductive system. I have been a consumer of phytoestrogens for a very long time without knowing it. I have been getting it from soy milk beginning at five years of age since somebody claimed that drinking dairy products would cause more harm to my body. Until recently, I discovered that the soy milk I’ve been consuming has increased my gynaecomastia, but they are of small size that I am not satisfied with them. So, that’s why I am so interested in whole-body regeneration, why I am so overly-focused in biological engineering, like 3D printing, cloning, and brain transplantation. I don’t think I’ll feel at home until I have had a change, and no, I don’t want an artificial make-over. I want to be the first, or one of the first to undergo a biological procedure that can change my insides and outsides until they matched perfectly. Also, this is not just for me, but for others who are suffering as well. To reiterate, the reason why I am so interested in biological engineering is because I’m obsessed with finding a cure to my condition. I would very much like to be one of the first people to receive a biological sex change instead of an artificial facsimile of one, like I’ve seen many transpeople do in the past and at present. My philosophy is that a person should have every opportunity to work hard to advocate for what they feel is right, even if others say it would not be practical.

One of my friends told me about using the sinner’s prayer , the one which would allow me to find forgiveness in the lord to help guide me in the right direction and help me get rid of my negative past. Well, this is a different kind of prayer. I pray to God night after night to take the feelings I have away from me, or if he can’t, then have him take me away to some place I can feel safe, or to give me a new body. My prayers haven’t been answered. I’ve tried so hard to meet other people’s demands, but it’s become a daily struggle just to make it from one day to the next. Testimony, which I had hitherto mentioned, is a song I learned when I attended a concert that featured the Philadelphia and Portland Gay Men’s Chorus (PGMC) along with Bridging Voices in March of 2014. The lyrics were extremely powerful that they hit me right down to the core. At that time, I was participating in a social justice choir called Bridging Voices, formerly called Portland GSA Youth Chorus. Now, whenever I hear the song, after I’ve finished talking like a man to someone I haven’t come out to, I think about what I have just done, and all of the emotions I have buried would suddenly spring forth from the darkest, deepest recesses of my soul until I am left with heart-wrenching chords and keys, rising to a climatic crescendo.

I play and sing this song every chance I get because the words speak the truth.

I’ve been preparing to spring the truth to people by exposing them to this masterpiece. This is how significant this anthem is to me as no doubt it is to others who felt the same way. Didn’t people think that even if they knew the circumstances, that they would be fine with it if it went unnamed and if they kept calling me by my birth name and using male pronouns? I simply can’t take that any more. Please, please let me be free. It’s all I’m asking of those who struggling to accept me for who I am, how I am, what I am. I’m tired of having tortured myself day and night, feeling confined to a dark prison which had once been my safety closet. I just want to feel the joy of living in authenticity.

This might also pose as a shocker, but I have no choice. I have decided that I will not continue pursuing higher education until my old life has been removed from the selective service registry, and that the selective service requirement be abolished from this country forever. That is, I will cease to continue pursuing higher education unless one or more of the following occurred:

  • I made a lot of money from publishing my manuscripts.
  • I made a lot of money from exhibiting my ceramic pieces at an art gallery.
  • I made a useful invention, and it brought in a lot of income.
  • I got a lot of capital gain from monetising podcasts, doing tarot readings, or anything of that nature so long as it was legal.
  • I won a full scholarship or grant that was in no way associated with Federal Student Aid.
  • I got the opportunity to travel abroad, with possible help from MIUSA.
  • I got income from any other source I haven’t thought of, like from an anonymous donor.

Remember, it’s not the schools I have a problem with, it’s the federal government that is the issue here. If they insist on having this requirement, then one condition must be met. They must allow total inclusivity. Otherwise, farewell to this system. One shouldn’t be forced to sign up just to receive federal student aid if they were assigned male at birth. Now, I know what you’re thinking, people with disabilities are exempt from being drafted, but it doesn’t always mean they are exempt from registration in the first place. Sadly, though, the concept of a military draft has been around since the time of The Ballad of Mulan, so it wasn’t a new concept by any means. Until that is made, I will seek alternative education and career paths.
I want to abolish this requirement so that our citizens can feel a sense of confidence in knowing they won’t have to face any legal challenges. I just think it is unfair for college students who are biologically male must be forced to register for this idiotic service simply to gain access to federal student aid, or any other federal benefits for that matter. Since I believe in taking action via litigation and legislation on issues I deeply care about rather than just raising awareness, I have started a petition asking Congress to do something about it, and you can put your name on it if you’d like by going to https://www.change.org/p/congress-change-the-way-transgender-and-nonbinary-individuals-have-to-register-for-selective-service

I have gained several friends on the internet and I have now established a good reputation under my new identity. Therefore, I don’t feel much like socialising under my old identity, and I am afraid that leading a double life would eventually catch up with me and take its toll as my two identities become compromised.
Towards the end of 2013, I was close to reaching the turning point in my life the more I failed to make friends in the blind community. People expected too much of me, they wanted me to conform, and worst of all, no one accepted me for who I was. I had no choice but to leave all of that behind.
I need to be able to be in a place where I can be myself with no interference from outside influences and have confidence in knowing that I will be safe if people are willing to be supportive when I divulge the truth about myself. Sometimes I go for several days being happy, then I’ll have a dark spell for a few days when I feel like I won’t make it, then I would have good days again, and so it repeats in an ever-ending cycle. It’s like I’m switching between good and bad days, and I can only predict what things would cause my mood to change dramatically by knowing what foods I had eaten, how I slept the night before, what events happened in which I felt good or bad, etc. Choosing who I should come out to is no easy task. It all depends on how the person views life in general, and I often have to put up with this before deciding if it is all right for them to know about who I really am, or simply stop being friends with that person just because I would not be able to stand them constantly calling me by my old name or whatever. These initial days is when I despair, but in the end, I feel relief when I know that the person is okay about who I really am when I tell them the truth.


On Friday, December 23rd, 2005, I was to watch a movie on child development with the rest of my sixth-grade class. Unfortunately, I was too bored to pay attention, and I didn’t have the slightest inkling that I was only surrounded by guys while everyone else went to different rooms. All I remember hearing that morning was, ‘… I can’t wait to see the new you!’ I thought I heard what sounded like an older boy’s voice and possibly his mother talking. At the time, I didn’t know that it was there to inform me about male puberty. I guess that’s why I grew up experiencing things I couldn’t explain, or why I was attracted to them. Then, in April of 2007 and April of 2008, I read Judy Blume’s book called Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. The first time I read it was on tape I had gotten from the public library, but I still didn’t learn the facts until I re-read it in 2008. That’s when I downloaded a copy of it onto my eReader from BookShare and learned more about female puberty. Then, in 2009, I was given a phone number to Teen Link from one of my relatives, and it is a division of WGBH News Channel 8. Then I read a book in late 2009 called ‘What We Have Told Our Kids About Sex’. Also, I’ve been wondering about my sexuality, because people in general who are transgender tend to have differing views towards their sexuality. I don’t think I’ll ever be interested or attracted to girls the way I ought to be, and that’s fine with me. But whenever I see a pretty girl, instead of wanting to flirt with her, I envy her. Why? Because she would have the perfect body I desperately need. Whenever I would do something nice to someone, like give someone, especially a girl a birthday present or a cake, the guys would make fun of me for being such a goodie-goodie or for being different. Maybe they thought I was wanting to impress them when in truth I didn’t see it that way. I’m not sure if I’m attracted to gay guys, straight guys, bisexual or pansexual people, lesbians, etc., but whatever it is, it’s bound to be a sensual experience.

There was a time in early January of 2015 when my friend and I were at the college campus.

As I was checking my notifications on my iOS device, I got a message from somebody, telling me how much they loved me. Since my friend was there and he happened to overhear the message, he asked me who that was. I told him, ‘it was a friend of mine, and I met her a few months ago.’
‘She loves you?’ My friend asked.
I was quickly trying to think of something to say. ‘Yes,’ I finally answered. ‘She and I have been dating for the last three months now.’
‘Wow, that’s awesome. But uh does she know you have long hair and you’re hard-of-hearing?’ I didn’t want to answer the last question. I mean, I’ve always hated and will continue to resent having hearing loss as much as I hate being in the wrong body. I’ve been bullied enough by blind people, including one of my relatives because I couldn’t cross streets like they could. Fortunately, Karma went to bite them hard, and now they started losing their hearing shortly thereafter, so I hope they learnt their lesson.

‘No,’ I said, ‘she doesn’t know that I have long hair, but she does know I am hard-of-hearing.

I don’t think having long hair will make a difference.’ I’m just turning into a liar, but no more. This is the truth. The girl who messaged me is one of my best friends. She loves me, like other girls would love each other. I can never have a heterosexual relationship in the male way. Who would want someone who was only a little more than a metre and a half tall? Who would want someone who treated them as a friend instead of a lover? Nobody. That’s why I’m turning around, and I later discovered that being more submissive was a trait I’ve always had. So, not only am I trans, but I am also pan. I love people of any sex and gender, but from a different perspective and if they also felt comfortable with me. Many people I meet assumed I had a female partner, simply because I had the appearance of being male, even though my attitudes and mannerisms said otherwise. Alas, I do not have a girlfriend. I wish I had been honest with them from the beginning, but I can’t just come out to anyone unless I trust them fully, because I never know how they’re going to take the news or how they’ll react once they find out. I could have said, no, I don’t have a girlfriend, but I do have a partner, or no, I don’t have a partner at all, but I’ve been pressured by so many people that I should date someone of a different sex, and that I should be manly towards them that I virtually set up a shield to protect myself, but in the end, I would feel as if I had betrayed them by saying that I was in a relationship even though that wasn’t true. That’s why I’m giving you all the opportunity to read this before things take a turn for the worse. I am not interested in, nor am I attracted to female partners the way I’m supposed to be, but everyone keeps insisting that I should be this way. So, having said all this, I really do apologise for having said I have a partner when I don’t think I’ll have a partner for a while, not unless I stop pretending to be something I am not. I shouldn’t feel as if I am impersonating the person I show as me. It’s not right for me to feel like I am an imposter; a spy behind enemy lines, but despite the circumstances, I would have no choice but to hide my inner peace. That’s when I would pack my feelings so deep inside me, they would turn to concrete. Lyrics from Testimony.

I feel so much happier when I go on-line and portray myself as my true being, when I could experience something that I never thought to be possible. That’s why I am afraid to have my two identities compromised if those in real life exposed my anomalous identity when others have already known me as my old self. I learned, several years ago, that people have misconceptions about transgender people, that we chose to liv as one gender and decided to change genders. If people change parts of their identity all the time, why is gender the one thing Western society doesn’t want you to change? Also, if we become that gender, would we make those who have identified with that gender since birth feel uncomfortable because we were encroaching or intruding on their turf, or that we were an imposter to them? Just because we didn’t grow up to know the ins and out of being that gender that we needed to become? Or, what about those of the gender we once were would feel like we were deserting them because we no longer identified with that gender? These things need to go away. We need to be able to transition in peace. So, I never wish to be referred to as a man transitioning into a woman. For me, I never was a man, nor will I ever be. The reason I was conforming as male was because that is what I was expected to be, and I didn’t know any better. But no more. From now on, I would like to be referred to as a person in transition. I know that some people’s religious beliefs and their ideologies are getting in the way of this, since there’s a part of them that doesn’t want to believe, a part of them that doesn’t want to let go of the person they thought to be real, when in fact it wasn’t. To those people: I cannot change your mindset, nor can you change mine, but we can control how we feel about each other by being tolerant and supportive even if we cannot truly accept and agree with them wholeheartedly. A lot of people say that it is just a phase I am going through, but it’s not true at all. Besides, if it were a phase, would there be a chance that it would go away? It depends. What I’m trying to get at here is that a person shouldn’t be made to be their old self, not when so many things have caused them to be the person they are now.

During my first long-distance relationship with a heteronormal partner in early 2013, I kept wondering why she wanted to give me men’s stuff. I said, ‘I don’t want men’s things, I want something different!’ That was even before I knew what a transgender person was. I mean, I basically had a sliver of knowledge on the subject, but not enough to dwell on it.
When she told me she wanted to be with someone else, my partner expected me to behave the way guys would normally act–refuse to accept the facts, be jealous, those kinds of stuff. But I didn’t do any of those things. I tried to help her be more open about herself and explain her reasons for wanting to end the relationship without fear that I would judge her for that decision.
Also, the reason I didn’t feel comfortable travelling by myself was not just because I have hearing loss, but having a group or company of some sort always reassured me, because if I got lost, then we would get lost together. I have always had more other confidence than self-confidence. So, together we will do it, for No One is Alone.
Starting over for me was like re-lighting a match, which is going to be the fuse. I so much want to leave all the drama I had gone through in these last few years behind. I don’t want people in my old life to know what I have been up to. It’d be better just to regroup and have a new identity.

If it were possible, and I think it will be soon, I would encourage you to experience what it was like to live in the body of a different sex for a predetermined time. This would allow ignorant people to be more aware of the world around them from someone else’s shoes, just like dying a white person’s skin black, so they could see what it’s like to be in a person of colour’s world and vice versa. Think of how useful that could be if we could change the attitude towards several majority groups if we could do this! All humans are believed to have derived from Africa, for it is a small world after all.

We need those around us to know that we will not repent our decision and wish to have the procedure reversed if it didn’t work out.

Update: I am glad to say that back in January of 2016, I met someone who used to be in love with another transgender female named Wendy Carlos, a keyboardist and composer of electronic classical music. She, meaning my former partner, became my soul mate and has allowed me access to anything I wanted to know about living as a female. I did tell her my reasons for not wanting to transition with today’s standards, though, and she is fine with that.

Science has shown, statistically anyway, that female babies tend to mature faster than male babies. Some female babies tend to be mellow when they are first born, that is, they would not cry or anything. My mother had always told me that I looked at her with a sedate expression on my face. My dad told me that my mum was mistaken, that I did indeed cry when I was born. Maybe he made me believe that was true, for he probably didn’t want to admit that his queer child was any different than he was. So, could this signify that I have a female’s brain inside a male’s body, which was recently coined ‘Harry Benjamin Syndrome’ (HBS)? Could it be related to psychology and environmental factors, as well as biology, like the things that made me read those romance novels all the time? Did reading them so much rewire my personality and my brain chemistry? Was it because I was righter-more brained than left-brained? Is that why I like artistic and more intricate music than modern, popular music? If so, that might explain a lot. Is that also why I loved writing words more than I liked working with math? I have always referred to the thing that I write in as a diary, not a journal, despite what others say.

Another trait I found really attractive in a certain group of people was something I didn’t quite discover until after I came out to myself. When I was still conforming to live as a guy, somehow I always hated it whenever I asked other guys how they did something amazing, and they’d be , like, ‘Buzz off’, or, ‘Go and figure it out yourself!’ Well, after I started being myself, I learned that most guys would give more of their attention to me because they generally assume that girls were dumb. So, I would often do that to really get a guy talking and explain things to me, and that is what I really find hot. Now, that is not to say that I am stupid, it is just a tactful way to get information. You might be thinking that I shouldn’t always be given things on a platter, but again, I think there needs to be a balance.

So, now that I have unladen my burden off my shoulders, I literally and figuratively feel light as a feather.

From this point on, I am okay with whatever happens. If you find this too much to absorb, take some time to think about it. That’s why I got myself new e-mail addresses, new Skype accounts, and new social media accounts, so as to try and distance or rid myself of my wretched past as much as possible. I chose Princess Ozma as one of my screen names because in the Wizard of Oz, she was originally born a girl, but an evil witch turned her into a boy. Since he was so young, he had no idea that he was to grow up a princess when the witch was forced to reverse her incantation. I found it a total coincidence when I first saw that in Being Emily, by Rachel Gold.

I have been brave. I grew and so did those around me. I hung on, even if I had to wait just a little longer. I know it now; it gets more than better. It gets amazing and astounding. If I could reach my past, I’d tell them what I’ve learned.

I was a lot more loved than I ever dared to know.

Every time a new friend told me how extremely supportive they were, I felt like there had always been open arms I could not see.

And when I die, when it’s time for me to go, I want to come back as the person I am now.

I want to come back as me. Love will come, and it’ll come unconditionally.

I know that what I said here was extremely deep and depressing, but I just wanted to share with you all how I flat-out felt about all of this. I have spent many years on this topic. I’ve regrouped and joined new organisations that are taking me under their wing and walking me through the process. Again, I’d like to point out that I currently see myself… feel myself to be what I like to call gender-neutral or androgynous, that is, neither being male nor female. People are constantly under the impression that you should choose between one or the other. That is not true. There are many other possibilities that are outside the binary. Besides, some people are born with undetermined genitalia, so they are termed intersex. There are chimeric or mosaic and who are true hermaphrodites. Furthermore, I will not use any amenities that require you to match your genitalia to your identity. I will, from now on, use a unisex lavatory, or if one is not available, I will suffer until a change is made in Western culture. Besides, it wasn’t needed a thousand years ago to know what sex or gender one was. This is simply an attempt to oppress those who are different and continue to put them down. And say to those who blame us for the way we chose to fight. Sometimes there are battles which are more than black or white. Why did I not put my sword down when justice was my right? Make Them Hear You, from Ragtime Remember, all lives matter!

Finally, to close this out, I’m going to take you through a very special song that inspired me to write this document. Let’s pretend you’re in a big auditorium and you heard a concert grand piano strike the first few notes. A chorus sighs in time to the music twice.

If you are left feeling deeply saddened by these words, that’s how I felt when I listened to this song every time.

You’ll know what a daily struggle it is to play the role of something I am not. I hope you have the chance to accept me for who I am. If you can’t, that’s okay. I have other friends who would gladly welcome me with jollity and sincerity.
If you ever get the chance, please do so. I encourage anyone, young or old, tall or short, light or heavy, etc. to go to their nearest biobank facility and donate blood cords, milk teeth, body fat, anything before it is too late. You can live forever, and you will want to thank me later. Be careful, though, for the world is currently overpopulated, so make your choice wisely. You could also make periodic backups of your DNA in case you got a viral disease in the future that. You could potentially restore your DNA with the backup you made! Be careful about befriending people who will keep dying if you choose to live in eternity. (The Fountain of Youth).

Again, I would strongly suggest that you read this letter in its entirety before asking questions or making assumptions.

Thank you for listening, for understanding, for caring.

Best,

Heavenly Harmony


Now, it’s time to return you back to your consciousness. Think about how the car you are in is gently tilting you forward, the roaring wind gently subsiding as the cushion gradually weakens beneath the air skis. You start to feel more awake as the car continues to be more vertical. It starts to lower you down as it prepares to park on the launchpad. Snap! The sound breaks the spell and the doors open, revealing a ramp for you to get back out.
Remember, as you leave the capsule, this is not a good-bye. This is a big hello! I’m going to count from one to five to wake you up even further.

One, you’re still oblivious of your surroundings, but you slowly start to be more aware.

Two, feeling more awake now.

Three, the sounds of the ride slowly fade out. You start to feel some parts of your body.

Four, the sounds of reality gradually increase in volume.

Five, you’re awake now. Thank you.

Oaths and Vows

I, Ulysses Harmony Garcia, also known as Heavenly Harmony, hereby acknowledge and affirm wholeheartedly to my vow that I — will, under any circumstance whatsoever, refrain from dressing in and or partaking of any outfits and ceremonial events where gender-based requirements are an absolute necessity, especially one of a masculine nature. One of such major ceremonies are weddings, where the wedding assistants are assigned a gender-based position delegated by the persons getting married. If I find that I am assigned to such a position which does not meet my specifications, I shall undoubtedly withdraw from the event forthwith.

Potential Experiments, a wrap-up to this series.

Today I learned that olfactory nerves are the only nerves in the central nervous system that can be regenerated. Could this be the reason why some people have anosmia, because their nerves didn’t regenerate? This is what a team of researchers used to allow a Polish man to walk again. In addition, I read that someone had been able to create a connection between the severed parts of the spinal cord using a stimulation device, and the paralysed person could wiggle their toes for the first time since their accident.
I’ve been writing heavily in my diary for the last ten years, and at that time I wrote a lot about things that might help as a transgender person. In biohacking, there is a technique that people are working on that would allow the injection of serum that contains nanobots. They would attach themselves to cells, modifying the genes. The changes would occur gradually. Once the changes occur, you would use nanobots to model and customise your body. In the future, there would be a lot more taking over when racism peaks its height. You can prepare serum by putting the blood into the centrifuge.
I figured since I have a lot of fat in my abdominal area, I could use that to create new fat tissue, which can be used to fill out other areas that need it the most, while at the same time slenderising the areas that would not need it. That would also require the thinning or dissolving of a lot of bone mineral layers and other tissue. I am purely against things like cochlear implants and breast implants since they are all artificial facsimiles of the real thing.
The following was written by a male best friend of mine who is into endocrinology. I was thinking about how hormones could psychologically make someone more attracted to a different gender, and so I tried to think of qualities that are common to females and not males which males would be attracted to. At first I thought of the ratio of fat to other body tissue, but I realised that it must not be set in stone, because some cultures think fat females are attractive, fat within reason anyway, and some think thin ones are. So I thought of what I am attracted to, which is voice quality, although it might not reflect the preferences of other males. Anyway, I was trying to think of what exactly would make me attracted to voices that have a certain high in pitch and resonance, because it seems strange that hormones could affect that. So I thought: maybe it only does that because those voices are different than my own, meaning at least what I think of as being more female-like, and less male-like. I also like shorter instead of taller females, within reason anyway, which I think reflects this as well.
Also, I was thinking that it would be good to do a study to see if a certain amount of pressure could cause growth plates to fuse and undergo senescence. I know that growth plates are at the ends of bones, but for the sake of explaining what I would like to study, imagine the growth plates being in the centre. The two things I would like to study are these. If, let us say you had a leg bone, I think and the thigh, the longest bone in the body. Imagine you had the bone on a table, facing vertically so it was really tall from the table to the sky. I would like to put plates on either end and squeeze them together for the first experiment, and pull them apart, maybe with clamps or something for the second. The problem for the second experiment is that the growth plates are at the ends, so the clamps might grab the plates themselves and damage them. I have heard two different explanations as to why growth plates fuse and undergo senescence. The first is that they have a certain growth potential they can reach which is their maximum, and then they stop growing. The second is that oestrogen causes them to undergo senescence, which is part of the reason females stop growing earlier, or that they are generally shorter. The enzyme aromatase converts testosterone into oestrogen, which is why the growth plates of males fuse eventually as well. I do not know if it is proven or not, but I heard that males can take aromatase inhibitors while they go through puberty to only produce testosterone and not oestrogen, so it will take longer for the growth plates to fuse. It is probably useless once they have fused, though, unless, as I had said, we can figure out how to manipulate bone structures. Some parents have opted to use high oestrogen doses to keep their severely disabled kids from growing up, so they would be more easy to take care of as they aged. So, this proves that oestrogen, at least, is responsible for this. This practice has been around for quite some time, and it is called growth attenuation therapy. It has parked a lot of controversy among disability rights advocates, though.
What do you think makes up some of your or my attractiveness? Some people on a FaceBook group I were in were asked, tell us about your most sexy attributes you are complimented on. Many of the cisgender guys said that their hair, deep radio voices, broad shoulders, and maybe penis length made up some of their good-looking attributes. Many of the cisgender females said that they were complimented on how short they were, how small or narrow their hands, wrists, ankles, or feet were, how narrow their waists were, or how big their butts and or breasts were, as well. So,I was thinking, why should we take the high road if there is something about us we don’t like about ourselves. People always tell you that you should accept your body the way it is, and live with it by finding the beauty in everything. Whether or not that’s a popular opinion, my view is different. I say, you should do everything within reason to change it as long as you can demonstrate that there is scientific evidence to prove your claims. For example, a lot of trans-guys struggle with having smaller bone structures, and if they take testosterone before the senescence of growth plate and other mechanisms of bone metabolism, bones can be made to continue growing. This is because testosterone makes someone more muscular, although it has some growth inhibiting properties. Human growth hormones are what make people grow. Oestrogen is another growth inhibitor, but it doesn’t make one muscular. Aromatase, an enzyme, can convert too much testosterone into oestrogen… So, what I want to know is, why are humans meant to grow in one direction,, but not shrink in the other direction? Are there any animals in the animalia kingdom capable of shrinking? I’ve seen how trees grow through growth rings. Some people might shrink as they age, but I heard that this is related to the spine. Testosterone can make your voice box lengthen, and the vocal folds to thicken, which ultimately deepens it, but with our current medical resources, nothing can make it shrink back to its previous size. This is the same thing for bones. So, I met another trans-guy, and we were talking about bio-engineering, and some options came up. Now, I’m a big fan of nuclear and radiological imaging, within reason anyway, since I don’t want to expose the body to massive amounts of ionising radiation. I’m also big on 3D scanning and printing, as well as lifecasting. Why can’t we inject somebody, or two volunteers to compare and contrast, and then we can study, in fine details, how these bones are laid out, and what kind of planned action we can do to optimise growth or shrinkage of these structures to reach a desired outcome. We know that the human body replaces itself every seven or ten years. That part is widely debated. Everything except within the central and cranial nervous system is constantly being replaced with new material. This is because most birds and some reptiles have epidermal stem cells that mammals don’t have. The only exception to this is the nerves in the olfactory region. If they didn’t regenerate, we’d lose our sense of smell. This dividing and replacement of cells is called mitosis. It is a controlled mechanism of replacing dead cells with new ones. It’s like when you go and stock shelves at a store. You see people picking out soda cans and other things from the outside, and then more would be pushed out from behind to replace the gaps. These are called layers. We know that bones can thicken in diameter by a mechanism that causes more layers to be built on the outside, and more layers to be dissolved on the inside, so as not to make them heavy. We also know that bone lengths are dependent on something called growth plates, which are fused by a mechanism caused by chemical messengers. The key here is to use the principle of tissue expansion. Or tissue replacement to either lengthen or shorten and or slenderise bones. We also know that bones are flexible and durable. If you use acid, like vinegar, it will become soft and spongy. If you put bones in a hot fire for a long period of time, it will become crumbly. I once performed an experiment where I took a chicken leg bone, and I used a giant hedge clipper to break it cleanly down the middle. What I saw was surprising. The thickness. Between the hole in the inside and the outside was about a quarter of an inch, or about 20 mm. I wondered why we couldn’t peg these bones in place without using metal materials simply by using new bones to pound them into place, then the bone peg would dissolve after it has been exposed to pressure for a while. The pieces could also be glued together with a morphogenic protein growth factor. We can also work on reversing the mechanism so that more layers of bones would dissolve on the outside, and more would be laid down on the inside. That, in turn, would make a cluster of bones like wrists, hands, ankles, or feet smaller or narrower. I’ve also talked about using a handpiece and or routing materials to round out square portions of bones as well. If you wanted to square out a rounded piece of bone, that has yet to be discovered, although I’d love to work in that area.
If you are squeamish about certain things, then don’t read on. If we are to build a fully-functioning reproductive system for trans-femme people, then adhering to these facts is a must. Some facts you DIDN’T learn in Health Class!
1. Vaginal discharge is normal. What’s normal about it? Well, so long as it looked and smelled healthy, I guess.
2. Wearing panty liners 24/7 is not necessary. Why not?
3. Vaginas are acidic enough to BLEACH fabric, hence the discoloration of underwear. I thought the pH of the internal lining was nearly the same as that of the skin’s surface.
4. Longer labias are more normal than smaller ones (but both are fine). People think you need to get rid of longer ones because of edited porn magazine photos.
5. Sperm CAN throw off your ph balance and also change the smell of your vagina. Well, if it’s like combining what pancake batter smells like in comparison with leavening dough that has been activated with yeast, then it’ll make a perfect freshener and tell everybody that you’ve had sex. In all seriousness, though, I wonder if any of this is pheromone-related?
6. It is not safe for vaginas to smell like sunshine and flowers so quit expecting it to. Damn, so many of today’s vagina owners, mostly female-identified, have been brainwashed by our society to think that a natural scent is bad and unattractive.
7. STOP douching and washing your vagina with bath & body works, and Victoria secret. That shit’s not healthy for the vagina yall. Right. Just leave it be and find something else to do. Perhaps it’s another attempt at trying to get them to use more of their products for lucrative gain.
8. The vagina cleans itself. Duh, what else is it supposed to do?
9. Having sex has no correlation of how “tight” your vagina is. I could’ve figured that out a long time ago.
10. Yeast infections are COMMON!!! Why wouldn’t it be?
11. The best thing you can do for your vagina is to leave it alone. 😴 That is, unless you’re pleasing yourself or being pleased, going to the bathroom, or giving birth.
12. If your vagina stinks or your discharge stinks and has a color then go see a gynaecologist. What is it generally supposed to smell like? Many say it has a fishy smell that can attract cats. This may be due to the breaking down of amines.
13. Let it breathe. As if had lungs? Wait, I suppose you mean let the area around it be exposed to the open.
14. The VAGINA is the narrow canal that runs INSIDE the body. NOT the whole genital area. Well, why do you suppose people don’t call it a vulva to refer to the whole genitalia, then? Precision and accuracy matters!
*Do not use soap in your vagina.* Right! Just a little side-note here to remind us.
15. Always urinate after sex to rinse the urinary tract of fluids that could be caught there and can cause UTIs. As if….
16. Drink water. Right, so you don’t faint upon arrival of Aunt Flow.
17. COTTON panties ladies. Wearing silk, satin and lace seven days a week will absolutely throw your Ph off. How so? Are those substances basic?
Don’t argue with me about this. Even if you say your mama put you in satin diapers and all you’ve ever worn is satin panties. If that’s true, YOUR PH IS OFF. I GUARANTEE it. Well, let me just get a talking lab quest and insert a probe to find out!
18. Stop sprinkling powder on your lady bits, stop IMMEDIATELY! Talcum causes cancer. This isn’t a hoax or a joke and I don’t care if your 97 year old great Aunt Myrtle has been using it twice a day, everyday. STOP IT! TODAY! Trust me. So, talcum causes cancer, eh? And, where’s your scientific evidence to prove that?
19. Also, the Vagina is a natural sperm killer, except when you’re ovulating with the exception of a very high ph level. (Still use protection people!) Right, abstinance is the best way not to get any sperm inside of you.
20. This is all correct and true. Ladies, stop letting boys who got sex ed from Pornhub tell you about YOUR vagina. Well, welll, and just who do you think the boys are? Obviously, boys can have periods, too, especially those who’ve previously been assigned female at birth.
Sorry…. couldn’t help being a little smart-alecky, but I just couldn’t resist. Regardless, a lot of it’s true and straight-up blunt. Not only would we have to change the person’s genitals and internal organs, but somehow change the glands, i.e. prostate to Skene’s, Cowper’s to Bartholin, etc.
I also want to use genetics to cure Progeria, a rare ageing disorder caused by special proteins. It could help us develop antigeria, the way some jellyfish have. We can also use chemicals that can alter fat cells so as to destroy them, or extract stem cells from them. We can speed up or slow down metabolism. This way. Think about ectomorphs, mesomorph, and endomorph, or neotenic individuals. There’s also the possibility of brain transplantation and cryogenics, which is always an option for hibernation. At some point when I got older, I experienced a rapid weight-gain, with my cheeks puffing out and rings developing around my neck, and stretch marks forming almost all over my body. The worst part was that it was probably due to a combination of medicines I was on after something bad happened to me. It was as if I were on cortizone-related steroids, since they were messing with my thyroid gland. I was constantly hungry, and hence, I was equally worried about running out of food. My brain was in almost a constant fog. Anyway, I will wrap up this series, so as to make room for more stuff.