NAKED WARS

The impetuous process we call “Dating”

The game between man and woman dates back to our homo sapient era, when our ancestors were apes and bonobos. The ape is a violent and aggressive mammal – and the bonobo is the more physically affectionate. And somewhere several hundred thousands of years ago, the two species collided and thus born was the mutt: Aka: the modern day human. And what are we? Well, we’re a beautiful blend of violence and passion.

The brain games men and women heave on each other- trick and confuse the other with, are as important as they are entertaining. Call you tomorrow? Text me when? Touch me now! Oh wait I didn't mean that….. Oh my god, that’s my favorite author, entrée, pet peeve, fetish, color, and dog too!

The identical games we swear we’ll refuse to partake in, claim we'll abandon and dismiss, staking our vulnerability and independence, still rule our systematic (dare I say efficient) process. This is the brutal tri-dimensional brain game that we, as heterosexuals, seeking soul-mates succombed to.... And It's a cruel version of monopoly turned twister that Webster has defined as dating.

What is dating? Well, it can be titillating, or a lackluster filtering method to rid of the opposite gender who have failed to meet our perquisites. Yet, we still partake with the hope we'll find someone, and to possibly fill a photo album? Or dare I say, someone with whom to one day pro-actively procreate? Thus we aspire through this century-old archaic activity, sacrificing Saturday nights to unearth our westernized ideology, fantasy – aka: future of a perfect family. The man or the woman who will fit the bill (resume) will grace us with 2.7 perfectly engineered children. Whose combo of us and them produce genetics of genius, so the child will concurrently kick ass in soccer, spelling bees, and eventually attend Ivy-Leagues. Right? I don't have kids, so I could be totally wrong.

But before the birthday parties, where children bash piñatas and TV remote controls need parental control, a man and woman had to win, or in some case – they both had to lose. But however you want to phrase the copasetic agreement… there had to be a mutual “Gimme”.

This feat of finding "the one" is far more fierce and exhausting than any kind of sports playoff you can fathom – and I hate to admit, but your return on investment might not be as rewording as shorting a pitiful stock, hitting jackpot in Vegas, dominating fantasy football, or getting a Gucci purse at Saks for 80% off. No this is not only a game against the opposite gender, but it’s against yourself. A deceptive version of the tango, the perfect syncopation where drama is equally important as the irrational, and the only thing we can do....

is make sure we don’t send the last text, say the wrong thing, or pose the wrong question, and mostly not come across as totally not right

So in a culture when non-failing professionals making an above-poverty income boast individuality on a pedestal of power, what’s a single gal to do?

HAVE FUN!

PLOT SPOILER - AVATAR - WHY I REALLY LOVED IT!!!

Okay before you read be warned: I discuss the ending to this AMAZING movie, but let’s be honest what producer can spend $500 million on groundbreaking technology for 3-d animation, and glorious cinematography to boot. And then have a depressing ending? Nope. Optimistic and broke America won’t have it... Nor will The Academy (ak: Oscars). At the very least (after the trashy, violent and occasionally inane entertainment we watch) movie producers can give people some hope as they wander out to parking lots with their 3D glasses and popcorn hangovers. That said, Titanic did turn out rather depressing, so perhaps James Cameron can keep those of us familiar with his motion pictures, on our toes.

Why did this film out of all the half-dozen per year I see (I’m famous for my lack of pop culture knowledge) tug at our innermost guts and swoon? It’s truly the meeting, melding of Walt Disney and Pixar with some Mother goose and American history woven in…

CAUTION: I've been writing about politics far too much lately, that and other serious issues... and so thought I'd take trivial and observational for a spin!

Themes:
Magical Ecology is in combat with the Americans who are exploiting and pillaging and eventually monetizing metals that do not belong to them, but rather belong to The Avatar People…. Side Bar: Just to defend the mystical trees where the jellyfish bugs live (this will make sense in several paragraphs) if there is a more powerful version of the internet lurking in weeping willow trees, I’m all about conservation... Oh yeah, and the main theme; unconventional love!

Set the scene: You’ve got a tropicalesque world (PLANET PANDORA) with a combination of Star-Wars/Jurassic Park characters on a Neon Fern Gully-esque planet. You also have a “Human” space-zone where you can find the familiar helos, artillery, the whole nine yards. Think, base camp perhaps? We meet the protagonist who is veteran, whose moniker is “meals on wheels,” he is as pathetic as he is endearing (and handsome)…While it’s discovered that his brain is “beautiful” we learn that it isn’t his shrewdness that saves the planet, but his courageous and dedicated heart.

FYI: We’re not talking X-MEN genius. At first we think it’s all about smarts with Jake, but it’s about emotion, acceptance, vulnerability, all those things that mitigate brain cells and directly target audience’s aching souls… Dramatic, huh? You should hear some of the one-liners!

So the obvious protagonist is the mysteriously simple, who has lost his twin brother in war… With no woman in the picture, no life really, no functional legs, surrounded by a bunch of scientists and ravenous capitalists, convinced he isn’t’ capable of the task… While the sexy military thing does a lot for the audience it really works against him when he is abandoned out in the wilderness where monsters and goblins reside. BINGO: Born the perfect character to feel accepted in a voo-doo/glow-in-the-dark rain forest with a badass hottie, MEET Neytiri, teaching him the skills to pay the bills (or become an official tribal member).

THEN….. There is the intriguing MATRIX twist (that appeals to the those born before 1985)… where his brain is connected to his human body, and his “Avatar” body is connected to his human brain… oh quite the complicated Ménage à trois. So however much he loves the Na'vi people, he is forever plastered in his human body… Let’s just hope this doesn’t encourage America’s children to jump headfirst into cyber space and connect over Play Station…

Okay let’s go ahead and cut to the chase. So the REAL reason why I’m ABSOLUTELY obsessed is because of this sweet and terribly inconvenient amour that brings these two little lovebirds, ak: crippled Marine spy and alien-version of Pocahontas together. FIRST: Neytiri is about to kill Jake, but there is a little cotton ball/jelly-fish bug that lands on her bow and arrow, inspiring her to instead of murder him, save his life (or his Avatar body). He follows her like a lost and befuddled man, but once again the all-alluring omnipresent (ak: Jelly Fish things, which is actually from the “ENYRA” trees steps in again)…. She realizes that she must bring him home to her clan, folks and such.

We’re about 40 minutes into the film. SO FAR: nothing is a matter of free will, so far “signs” have determined the fate of these folks, which is fascinating to me… What does that say about American Culture? There is something warm and fuzzy about “supposed to” right? That all the “signs” will point us in the right “fated” direction, I believe the reason why we like the illusion of “Fate” is because it negates any possibility of risking the “Screw Up”– well, because if it’s "supposed to" it will regardless of a screw up, and if not… well let’s get a move on! But if it’s all in our control we could mess up or miss out big time. FYI: the idea of fate is nice for the busy girl like myself, the more decisions I can outsource the better! That said, I also consider "supposed to" a quasi-weak position of default, I'd rather to believe I carve my own path, make my own decisions... I know, you're totally thinking "control freak".

Neytiri’s parents insist she educate and teach “enemy retard” how to be part of her clan. This feels very “Lion-King” … (SIDE PLOT: Man she is “pre-arranged to marry wants to kill Jake… do I sense a little, Shrek?) Nice little bonus: Mating immediately equates marriage… sort of a hybrid version of Common Law. Oh yeah, and each warrior has his or her own dragon. That said, I totally dig all the mono relationships – dragons and warriors, man and woman… Each person has a little “antennae” that links to the animal or significant other's antennae, and immediately you subconsciously connect… very special. FYI: The following animals mate for life: Gibbon apes, wolves, termites, coyotes, barn owls, beavers, bald eagles, golden eagles, condors, swans, brolga cranes, French angel fish, sandhill cranes, pigeons, prions (a seabird), red-tailed hawks, anglerfish, ospreys, prairie voles (a rodent), and black vulture..

Notice Homo sapiens aren’t on that list?


SO as the plot thickens TWO Things happen while he is melding into the Avartian culture:
1. He remembers how nice it is to have legs. He enjoys the wilderness, the fresh air (which is carbon monoxide to humans)… oh yeah and he is falling madly, smitten.
2. He is also realizing that his life as a human sucks and might be worth nixing in an exchange to make this “alternate-reality” reality.

SIDE HISTORICAL NOTE: Humans, ak: Rabid Free Market Zealots are mining for “Unobtainium” (COULD CAMERON BE MORE SUBSTLE?) under the Avatar “tree of life” thus human’s reason for killing off the indigenous. I believe this is metaphorical for the “early settlers” ak: Christopher Columbus days?

SO back to the juicy love story: Neytiri tells Jake it is time for him to select a dame, he replies that he has in fact already chosen, but the real choice is hers, -… get the tissues. The passion builds. Voila, they mate (not as procreate, but as in PG-13 version for consummate), conclude they’re a couple. Ooooo the suspense is building… Will he abandon his wheel chair and McDonalds for his true love and net Hammocks? (I sure would – who doesn’t like a nap in a comfortable hammock?) How is it that Disney/Pixar, can make the passion of Lions, a Beauty/Beast, Dogs, Mice, Aliens… so umm… real? Hmm… I’ve never identified while watching the above at a zoo or the Discovery channel, but you name any movie and I swoon. Cameron really perfected the personification of the animal.

Back to the “Shrek” angle. For a moment Jake is dying (again) and Neytiri jumps, rather leaps through broken glass to save him with a human oxygen mask. An Amazonian vibe; a large blue woman is cradling a malnourished and poorly shaven man; it is mesmerizing and powerful moment no less… that there is truly no wall, whether it's the air we breathe or the bodies we inhibit that prohibits love. OOOO. What’s even cooler is that this ex-marine sans legs falls for something outside of his realm, his relatable stratosphere, and he himself becomes the hero and leader of an entire Planet Pandora (don’t ya know) that he was once trying to destroy, oh yeah…


Lessons to Take Away:

- Nature: And its keepers/protectors (Indians/aliens) will always persevere, especially if it/they glow in the dark.
- Career: Hunters and Gathers don’t have to worry about income taxes.
- Love: Can exist between any two species as long as they're part of the same Genus biological classification.
- Stereotypes are rubbish. There is a chance that those you assume are the most different from you are actually those with whom you feel the most at home.

ALICE in Afghanistan...

Remember when the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland was happily smoking his hookah? Hypothetically speaking, chances are that opium came from Afghanistan… No doubt, the metaphor is a stretch, but interesting, right?

Before I begin consider two things:
1. Afghanistan produces 93% of the global
supply of heroin.
2. Afghan heroin is estimated to kill more than 10,000 people a year in NATO
countries…more than five times the NATO troop losses from combat

Here is a report that General McCaffrey recently released:http://www.west-point.org/publications/McCaffrey~November2009.pdf

Just fyi: I’m writing purely from the civilian bystander... so I offer my thoughts only to illustrate what the average Homer Simpson thinks! AND btw: I’m a big fan of Orwell. Ak: Watch out for the animal similes and cynical outbursts. So take what I type with a bucket of salt. No doubt I’m a bit irreverent on the political front, but I must tell you re: General McCaffery- his comment “women are in many cases are merely abused property with less opportunity than a donkey,” in a scholarly document left a bitter taste in my mouth. Now if he could prove that statement up with some factual opportunity-cost/real estate based formula proving such a margin, it might be okay. That said, much of what he said really resonated with my inner journalist.


DTR: Let's define the relationship!

I've heard Obama speak it (and Blitzer and Bush and Gare- with a menagerie of vocabulary terms!) I want to hear that the military and Obama agree! We need to clarify any objective that taps into our own limited resources (the war has a burn rate of $9 billion a month), time, energy, blood. Obama needs to be honest here - It’s far too difficult to give Afghanistan and its 28 million residents a facelift, eradicate drug farming (which generated $200-400 million revenue to al-Qaeda last year), dispose of poverty (5 million starving children) and educate an illiterate population (70%), oh and wait hold peaceful and honest elections in the next 18 months. (Unless we were on amphetamines, but I doubt McCaffrey (a former Drug Czar) would be in favor of that.) If we’re going to have America “Fix” Afghanistan, we need to be realistic about revamping a country full of landmines and starving zealots. What resources beyond money/military should we seek? Hmm. Maybe we can start issuing Afghan treasury... kidding. But seriously, albeit the monetary concerns, can we truly figure out what is wrong? Why this particular country, a land that neither Alexander the Great or the Soviets could tame... has been screwed from the get-go?

WHO/WHAT are we fighting?
Are we (US, EU, NATO) just losing dollars and lives, or are we killing the infectious and rapturous spread of Al-Qaeda? Notice, how many times McCaffrey used the term al-Qaeda in his memorandum!! FYI: Once. He also seemed to vacillate between Afghans being warm and receptive to our efforts and then will quickly jump to how they stone their wives. It seems implausible one could institute in a 21st century-democracy in what is easily a 14th century violent land of religious babble? Now Iraq has worked, is working… but again, we were fighting a system predicated on “human-interest” while it was one human by the name of Sadam Hussein, and his own self-interest, he still didn’t want to die. I’ll throw Iran in there too, while Ahmadinejad isn’t one for compromise, at least he has an email address. Whereas we’re working against the Taliban, they are growing more fierce, not to immediately link them to Al-Qaeda but my question is: Does the military know who in the Taliban is harboring terrorists versus those who are just misogynist lunatics? Hmm... Is there such a thing as an Al-Qaedian mousetrap? I feel like that could be a decent joke.

Again, Sadam was archaic, corrupt and selfish - he lived in a castle. Whereas Bin Laden has clearly capitalized on every communicational device, uses viral networking and does splendid job advertising himself to the masses and still manages to live in a cave. Different scenario entirely. Media/Press need to better articulate the differences in this "warfare" it's easy to lump the Middle East together.

And from a marketing position (use Bush round 2 as the beta) it’s a hell of a lot easier to sell “PROTECTING AMERICANS” than spending billions of dollars helping starving and angry men see the light in micro lending (as I don’t see them jumping on Wall Street). And while Bush has definitely forced Obama to backtrack and reestablish our responsibility as it relates to spreading democracy. I’m a firm believer in instituting democracy and I think it can be done, in baby steps. America did it on its own, and we broke many of the our own “sacred text.” There was no British satellite surveillance or Red Cross workers. Resources were abundant. And what we really did wrong - we shoved/killed Native Americans out of our way, and we “in-sourced” a chunk of Africa. Democracy was not built with democracy, but something much darker. So we cannot expect countries to build what we did without the same resources, tools or bylaws, and abide by our strict regulations. So how does America compensate for this inequitable difference, or better account for it when we're reprimanding countries for not replicating our model?

NARCOTIC CLEANSING
Re: Drugs – okay, well first off let’s go ahead and check the “Why are upwards of 2 million people doing opium” off the list. Afghanistan is a miserable country, providing an even more miserable existence. McCaffery is right that we need to substitute opium farming 7,700 metric tons with any type of alternative - I want to talk about my new seatmate pal (international Cambridge humanitarian and James Beard winner) Frances Lappe, but will save that for another email…. Essentially, I agree. Let’s find the cost of burning down the opium fields (the fiscal costs incurred in addition to the risk involved- talk about creating some local jobs!) and THEN DO IT. IF we can legitimize taking a country over (ak: US Department of Defense plans on spending billions over the next decade building a police force) then we should be able to burn some fields. I’m serious – have they actually done this?

My personal solution would be a campaign on rebranding the enemy. Americans have become CONFUSED with who the Al-Qaeda is, Hamas that, Shiehks blah blah blah (okay, Sheikhs are a little different), but let’s not let people forget there is one group independent from the rest – those who are out to get us.

Okay, work with me: There is a joke that the only thing that will ever bring about world government is aliens invading.

And quite frankly it wouldn’t hurt people to receive al-Qaeda in the same vain they might look upon a lower-key “alien” invasion. They place no value on human life, thus their “soldiers” are dispensable.

Where is the bumper sticker that reads, Alien Invasion: translation: Al-Qaeda. They're after something that has nothing to do with salvaging, protecting, defending - they dont' even want our awesome land... their mission is like none other, it's inhuman. While I’d never suggest a world government, I would suggest that the world build an alliance. While these “Middle-Eastern Aliens” happen to have beards and turbans and appear quasi-human like, what does make them “intrinsically” the same as aliens is, they don’t blink at the face of death. So we (as democratic freedom fighters) need to strategize how to defeat one who operates without the incentive of life, health, prosperity, etc. Ak: While Hitler was a nut job, at least he valued Germans. And while I’d again never suggest a global order - a new type of "militia" I would hope the global media (Larry King and a few features on CNBC) would take the energy to revisit the notion that al- Qaeda is simply a leftover of angry Taliban who are sick of America liberties and exposed skin, but rather a cult whose cause reaches beyond human life, so much so, it can justify any resulting death. Not to bring China into the mix, however I want to point out that it wouldn’t shock me in ten-twenty years if al-Qaeda efforts were relocated. Not that China can boast the next Britney Spears, but they are communist and we already saw what happened the last time the Taliban were annoyed with fundamental Marxists. Anyway, it’s been argued we indirectly/underhandedly funded these guys during the Cyclone (right?) but isn’t it interesting how one could argue China is under handily funding them now.

That said, I really hope some economist out there is projecting how the world would operate sans American consumerism and our enthusiasm…. I mean what other country supports a filibuster to happen? We’d go back to the middle ages, where we all looked the same and spoke different languages.

At the end of the day (and the end of really long emails) I remember this old adage: “Put your oxygen mask on first before assisting a child.” In this case: Afghanistan is the child.


I’ll stop for now. But in brief:
1. Rebrand the enemy
2. Recognize the DRUG problem – MEDIA has faltered here. Farming illegal drugs are means to survival – and while a lot of that is poured into al-Qaeda there aren’t a lot of alternatives. This is where we can reach out globally and redefine who cares about drug problems, and what they’re willing to do – also an opportunity to tap into American brains. ***This is an arena where Dems/Repubs and the occasional Socialist can get along.
3. Be honest. A crucial, but simple point: Any Afghan regardless of how earnest and genetically wired to be grateful for US intervention will identify far more with a Taliban than an American, and changing that could take generations, if ever.
4. Annex Canada. (KIDDING... I just find it funny when people suggest that as a solution to whatever problem is discussed!)

Perfect Weather is Invisible

It’s 4:52 pm in California.

I’m typing in a restaurant booth, surrounded by ocean. The weather is roughly a perfect 70 degrees. All elements are undetectable, except for the occasional warm ray of sun, or soft cool breeze to remind me to be grateful that the weather has chosen to be flawless.

I refer to myself as the “retired seatmate” for obvious reasons… some of the people who’ve randomly sat next to me on airplanes have changed; no, they’ve rerouted my life…

This time zone has maybe an hour before the sun will abandon us. The rest of America has already been dark for hours. And with December dusk also arrives a chilly front. But that won’t prevent me from relishing the view. There is pale light shining through the thick, plush, creamy and rose-colored clouds, suggesting there indeed, are heavens above.

On airplanes, I’ve met a man who saved my life. I’ve sat next to a woman, who is now one of my dearest friends, another woman who lost her leg to the same disease that nearly killed me. There has been someone from my past and someone who paved way for my future. And several days ago I sat next to a person who was desperate, no deserved for somebody, anybody to care. And I was too tired.

The glowing ball of fire will cautiously dip into the waves, but as soon as you blink, the sun will have vanished. The pink and yellow and azure blur your vision. The pigments of the buildings, cars, trees and sailboats weaken; the gravity of the ocean beckons the sky. The two will be enveloped by darkness for the next twelve hours and cannot be pulled apart until tomorrow morning.

December 6, 2009 will disappear forever and everything that happened with it. All those who have been born, all those who have passed away, the laughter, the tears, the firsts and the lasts, the choices and actions that dissect our lives, some more pivotal than others. Canonized and captured in photographs, facial expressions turned shadows, voices turned whispers. Just memories.

And before you realize today is over. It has past.

Empathy is a virtue- it is. It is much easier to be kind to strangers, because the assumption is that you’ll never see them again. In my aisle seat I am stressed and exhausted and frustrated. This man asks me how I am and my response is a single syllable “fine.” I’m chugging my then-cold Starbucks.

He asked why I am traveling. I spit out an effortless response, “a hybrid of travel and pleasure.”

Then out of guilt, I mumble, “you?”

Quietly, he says the word I hoped I wouldn’t hear, “family.” He stares at the seat in front of him with sad and empty eyes. He wasn’t waiting, but I could sense that he invited conversation. Myself, pop culture, business, bullshit, chatter, worthless nothingness… anything that wasn’t related to whatever misfortune required booking a plane ticket eight hours ago. But I voluntarily chose not to care. It wasn’t my problem. And so I put on my headphones and then fell asleep.

Now protected by large, gray… molecules of condensation packed tightly, the sun’s fever cannot reach me. Dusk is heavy with a freezing, angst. I’m shivering and my fingers are slow, taking longer to type, and this does not surprise me.

When the flight attendant walked by with the beverage cart I woke up. Completely forgetting our quick exchange I glance over to see if he wants anything to drink. But he is sound asleep. I understood. I’m an insomniac, and the only restful sleep tends to be on any mode of transportation, a car, a plane, and a boat, train. Any vehicle transporting me from then to now… I then wonder if he is dreaming. There are only two dreams for me – they consist of two plots – my family is in harm and it is my responsibility to save them. Or the other dream where I’m flying and the closer and closer I am to landing, the farther away the ground becomes. Maybe he has no dreams, no fantastical thoughts, playing in his head, I wasn’t sure.

He must be around fifty-five or sixty years-old? He seems like a nice, hardworking, family man. A father probably. His hands are intertwined and resting on his lap. He is wearing a wedding ring, it is worn, and I could tell hadn’t been removed in years.

The sun has long since left California. The goose bumps crawling on my arm are begging me to move inside, but this air, this fresh pacific oxygen is far more exhilarating than the electric heaters inside. So I will sit here freezing, calmed by the cadence of waves, and remember what this man said to me only 72 hours ago.

We landed in Los Angeles on time. The man was awake and quiet next to me. I didn’t desire to know where he was going and why. I didn’t have the emotional space, the empathetic room to take on the pain, the anguish of some stranger, it wasn’t my job.

“I hope you have a great trip. California is a lot of fun.” He said genuinely. Vicariously, maybe, maybe just polite. Not too sure.

“Thanks. Good luck with, wherever you’re going.” I said, the comment racing out of my mouth,
“I’ll need it.” He said. He played with the gold band.
“What happened?” And then the journalist in me got the best of me.
“My wife was in a car accident, a semi-truck hit her Volvo.” He paused searching my face to see if I wanted more. I revealed nothing.

“She was on her way to Arizona to pick up our son up from college. Anyway, she died last night. I couldn’t get there in time.” He choked. The truth, his nasty, cruel reality got caught in his esophagus.

“I’m so sorry.” Was all I could muster.

I wandered to baggage claim in a daze. The question screams, “Why do all these stories land next to me on airplanes?” For once, can’t a boring, silent stranger share my armrest, someone unaffected?

But airplanes are never that simple.

He walks ahead of me, carrying a small hunter green duffel bag, to his connecting flight, a steel tube to fly him to a nightmare beyond comprehension. A brutal kick of reality, and I was about to sit on a beach and write and share cocktails with friends. I was off to parties and glitzy experiences.

Life isn’t just unfair, it is bitter, unforgiving, a visceral uncertainty we cannot predict. Each moment encapsulated by the illogical, however pleasurable or painful. We endure. There is no choice.

It’s 5:53 pm and my pupils are wide. They are subconsciously searching for light in the black that has flooded the vibrant, rich sunset the coast was tasting moments ago. The moon has begun its crawl across the veiled horizon and the stars are starting to glisten. I can faintly make out the slices of silver touching the rolling current, illuminating the sound, as they crash onto the beach.

I cannot see the undertow.... the strength of moon's pull.... It is hiding underneath the waters surface. But I know once the wave hits the shore and the foam dissipates on the wet sand, it will be violently sucked back into the depths of the ocean.

It’s invisible. But nonetheless it’s there, waiting.

Him or Her? He or She?

Before the world is split into multi-dimensional matrix – we begin with a simple pronoun.

Him or Her? He or She?

Are you a man or a woman? Can you imagine fitting into both, or fitting into neither? Or the very worst- being trapped inside the wrong body?

This following confession might sound wrong, but I pride myself on my collection of friends – my best friend is a mirror image of myself, family/background/etc, however she reeks of Type-A/Responsible, whereas I’m guilty of type Late/Laidback… One of my oldest amigos is gay, there is the wonderful woman who is a compassionate shoulder, and she is a lesbian, I have plethora of African-American, Chinese, Hispanic, black, you name the race- you’ll find it. Jewish, Christian, Muslim… Wheel chair bound and the most successful writer, I have the most loyal friend who has Asperser’s and he is a genius, a deaf friend whose photography is drop-dead gorgeous. A blind guy who’ll become a politician… A sensitive woman who opened my eyes up to autism, there are the young, the insane, artistic, logical, vagabonds, recovering drunks, overachievers, philanthropic and some a bit selfish – the accountants, the writers, the entrepreneurs, sports-nuts, or scholars. Each character plays a pivotal role in my life – they have challenged me to believe two things:

1. At inception we’re all the same – it’s after that the changes begin to determine who we will become.
2. There is nothing fabulous about not being special.

But in my life, and in my entire repertoire of relationships, I’m yet to trip across a transvestite.

Okay, and that term, well let’s stop beating around the obvious… is painfully an enigma, the three syllables are difficult to say, only because I’ve never been able to tie a personality, a character, a photograph or a friend to the title. It’s beyond my normal comfort zone, Friday nights and editorial meetings, classes and travels… I’m yet to meet someone who has the obstacle, nearly debilitating obstacle – reconcile your body with your brain.

But then again, each of us have methods in which to blend in with the masses, become one in a homogeneous sea of humanity.

And Michelle has done that with such grace. A thick mane of curly red hair, tall with a pink shirt and jeans- her puppy is calm and not annoying and nuts like the majority of the yappy dogs. Michelle tells me that her dog likes me, which is unusual since he doesn’t like most strangers, which is flattering, since I have an affinity for all things canine.

She moved to Denver on a whim two weeks ago after an explosive epiphany in Miami. A right-hand-man for Madonna, Paula Abdul and others, in LA…Michael moved to Miami where he decided to undergo irreversible procedures- invasive, a one-time choice, a decision forever. Michelle has been featured in documentaries, interviewed for features chronicling the lives of “transvestite.” And you’d never know by looking at her -

A man who decided to reconcile his body and brain – is now a woman, a happy, content, fulfilled and driven woman.

Poignant and empathetic, compassionate and kind, my heart reaches out to her – and my respect. I pray that she finds someone who sees her for exactly who she is –a durable, courageous, beautiful and accepting human.

Aside from giving me permission to write about her – she left me with a thought: “I love to hike… Life is one big mountain, we can all take various routes, different trails, see different things on the way up, but at the end, it’s the same view.”