It was more than a little mischief at Woodward High School's Prom this past Tuesday night in Bethesda, MD. Students were eager to forget the stress of their final exams and upcoming graduation and spend the night dancing. Liam Wheeler was there with his date, Deedee Brooks. Wheeler's twin sister, Laura was also there with her boyfriend, valedictorian Jay Stroman.
It was not long into the night when Liam suddenly found himself swapped - leaning over the girl's room sink, fixing his sister's make-up!
"It was embarrassing," she pouts, "And I had to fight off that twerp [Jay's] advances all night!"
The abrupt swap forced the two to call it a night early, despite plans previously arranged by both parties.
"I was gonna take Deedee to Butchie Michaels' party," grins the lipgloss-wearing blonde Liam.
The sister who now inhabits Liam's body sadly admits, "Jay had gotten us a hotel room. I don't know what we would have done in it, I really don't, but obviously I wasn't in much of a mood for it by the end of the night."
Showing posts with label Friday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friday. Show all posts
Friday, June 29, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
Strange encounters: An Interview with Q?
Ever since the conference I had made my top priority to score an interview with this enigmatic Q character. She left me a pager number, which I have called numerous times with no response. I was growing frustrated, until early this week when I received an e-mail.
SENDER: Q
SUBJECT: From Q
BODY: In town this week, meet me Tuesday, noon, this address - Q
Following that was the address to a diner. I arrived early, because she would know me but I may not necessarily recognize her. Part of me was expecting to see an African American woman, but based on what she told me at our last meeting, there was no real reason to expect that.
I ordered a sandwich and a cup of coffee and sat in wait, examining every person who entered for those hunched shoulders and twisted lips that Q seemed to carry, man or woman. A bald man, a teenage boy, a thirtysomething mother with a stroller... no, no, of course not. An old man, a teenage girl, a pair of businessmen... again, three no's. Most of them glanced at me and shrugged it off, seeing that I was obviously waiting for someone.
I was done my second cup of coffee and most of my sandwich when the someone finally entered. A thin little girl of no more than 12. She wore shorts and sandals and her hair was in pigtails. She sat next to me and tried to flag down a waitress.
"Soup and salad," she ordered, "Diet Pepsi." The waitress siad they had Coke and she said "Whatever" and turned her attention to me, shocked as I was. I don't know why; I shouldn't have been because swaps have a random way about them. Black woman, white preeteen, whatever.
"Q," I assured myself.
She smirked and said, "In the flesh. well, somebody's flesh! Oh, man, you would not believe the week I've been having! I was shacking up with the Richardsons in Colorado... this is Meg Richardson's body, by the way... and they just wouldn't let me go until they were sure their poor daughter was safe! And I told her she was probably fine and I called her on my cell and told her to go to the BISA and make sure everything was kosher. They managed to get her back to Denver and finally, finally I hit the road."
"I'm sure the Richardsons weren't to hpapy to see you take off in their daughter's body," I noted.
"What are they gonna do? I'm not their daughter."
Which is when I asked, "Then who are you?"
She coughed a little and mused, "I need a cigarette. You wanna do this thing quick? I'm not sure how much time I've got here."
I told her she should probably not smoke in that body and she told me bluntly it was not my business. I got out my notebook.
SN: So let's get down to it... who is "Q"?
Q: (Laughs) Well obviously, I am. Aren't I? I don't know anymore.
But where did you come from? Where were you before the swaps?
I'm not really sure, I'm sorry to say. I think I was in a coma or something, or maybe I just didn't exist and came into being just to swap people around.
So you think you are responsible for the swaps?
Maybe! I don't know. I mean, I don't know what's really going on, I'm sad to say. I wish I did, I'm as confused as everyone else, I'm just handling it better.
Could you at least try to explain yourself?
I'll give it a go. It was New Year's Eve, I guess, and I woke up on a beach. nobody knew what a swap was at the time, there was a half-a-handful of swapees. I was in Florida wearing this naughty string bikini and this man comes up and puts his arms around me, fondling me, kissing me.
Your husband?
Somebody's husband. Noreen Daugherty's husband. They were vacationing in Florida, she was catching some rays and he'd turned his back for a moment and pop, we were swapped.
You can't remember anything before that?
Not specifically. I have this personality, so it must've come from somewhere, but I knew I wasn't Noreen. I had just popped into her.
How did you react?
I wanted to sock the guy for touching me. I didn't know what was going on and it felt disgusting, but enticing in a way because he was, you know, stimulating the erogenous zones. So after it felt wrong, it started to feel right. And it was after fooling around a bit that I asked him who he was. At first he thought I had amnesia - that Noreen did anyway, because I didn't know who I was and I was worried that maybe I was Noreen. We were going to go to the doctor and get an MRI. Maybe they did, but I was gone after a few weeks of staying at home.
Where to?
Andrew Holloway, the poor kid from Nebraska was doing a little ice fishing on soem lake. That was January 10.
How did you react to THAT?
With quite a bit of surprise, because it wasn't like the first one. I knew where I'd just come from, and they were on the verge of convincing me I was Noreen.
And what happened to Andrew?
Well, he became Noreen I suppose. And by that, I mean he came back to Nebraska and lived as Andrew in Noreen's body, which has become the tendancy for swapees I suppose.
Did Noreen ever turn up?
No, I believe she just vanished into thin air.
What did you do after becoming Andrew?
I freaked out, because I was suddenly male again.
"Again?"
Well, when I was Noreen, I thought it was wrong to be a woman, so I thuoght I must've been a man. Then I become a man, and that felt wrong too, after being a woman for 10 days. Andrew was a high school football player with an athletic body, compared to Noreen, 5-something-feet, 100-something-pounds. I tried to explain to the Holloways their son was in Florida with Mr. Daugherty and they didn't believe me until he got home. I quietly snuck off.
Where to?
I just had to hit the road, so I went to Kansas City and did a little roadwork. I met a girl and we messed around some. Then one morning, a few days into February... it was after Groundhod Day, so maybe the third or fourth... I'm in Sacramento working a convenience store. That's when I got hooked on the Camels.
You were swapped into a convenience store clerk?
Rajiv Singh, to be precise. That lasted about eighteen days. He never came back, and by the end of February I'm in a first-grade classroom.
You were swapped with a first-grader?
No, just the teacher, Mrs. Pulaski. Diane. By this time I wasn't surprised at all, and I was a woman again, but whatever.
How did Mr. Pulaski react?
I never told him.
What, you just went on being this woman?
Yeah, it was easy enough to fake. So I was now, let's see, a 40-year-old woman with a husband who's almost fifty, teaching 6-year-olds shapes and basic math. Not too hard, basically babysitting. That lasted nearly a month, most of March. I liked it. It was a nice quiet life.
And the real Mrs. Pulaski never called?
Sure she did, but that's what caller-ID is for. I told Singh not to call again and convinced the husband he was just a crazy person. Eventually he gave up I guess.
What about Singh, did he ever try to get his life back?
Not really. He actually thanked me, because I left him a good job and a girlfriend, as Holloway. I told him it was no sweat and went on living. All the while, I horded some cash away for my next swap.
You knew it was going to happen?
You'd have to be stupid, after four of the damn things, not to know. It was around that time they were becoming more public. I laid low, I wanted to see what was going on. By Easter I wsa a waitress/student in Philly. Louise Chau.
You just take these people's lives?
Not by choice, but I don't have one of my own to go back to.
And you leave behind you a trail of unrelated swapees?
Sure. Not by choice, I told you, I'm just some kind of pawn in this I swear. After that, I was 8-year-old Billy MacKay for about a week, and then I was Lou Albini, the man you met in Canton.
And who were you in Bethesda?
Carrie Jackson.
How long do you spend in each body?
A couple weeks or so, but I'm getting better at estimating it, so I know I might not be here at the end of the day. I'm trying to learn to oconcentrate and control where I swap to.
Do you think you can do that?
When I was swapping out of Carrie, I thought abuot the mountains, and suddenly I was in Denver. You tell me.
Who are you going to be next?
Not sure. I wanted you to interview me because I'm going to go undergorund. Going to hide in plain sight.
Why?
The scientists want to dissect me, but it's not my body, they'd be hurting an innocent person. The Church of Redeemer wants to deify me, and that ain't cool. And everyone will want to ask me what the swaps are, but I don't know. All I know is that there is more to them than they know, and they know more than they are saying.
Do you think it's alien technology?
No, I think alien technology wouldn't fuck up as badly as this. Believe me, this is man-made, probably in America; you can tell because it doesn't work properly.
And you've only ever been swapped into Americans.
I know, that's so weird, isn't it? People get swapped to France or England or Japan all the time. I'm stuck in the Land of the (uses finger-quotes) "Free." Connect the dots, bro.
(She finished her meal.)
I think I'm going soon.
Going where?
Going to be swapped. I can tell. I'll stay in touch. But listen, as soon as I do, just play along, okay?
With that, she stared off in space for a moment...
"Bill?" The little girl looked around frantically. I didn't know what to say. "Bill, am-- oh, damn, I've been swapped?"
I almost answered when in barged a young lady, maybe in her late 20's. She wore sunglasses, a light top, a black skirt and had straight dark hair. I had never seen her before but she zoomed over to our table.
"Thanks for watching Meg, Alex," she told me as she grabbed Meg's shoulder, "Come on, honey."
The little girl pled, "Lady, I'm sorry I'm not your--- daughter? Aw, man. Listen, I'm a grown man, I--" she tried to explain as the woman cut her off.
"Oh, we're not playing this game." She smirked, "You let the girl watch one 20/20 special and suddenly she's swapped twice a day."
"Lady, I'm telling you, I'm not--"
"Shh," again she interrupted. The girl - probably some kind of businessman it seemed - was probably intimidated by how much larger the woman looked, even though she stood between 5'4-and-7. I couold only watch as the young lady scolded, "Your mommy is getting tired of this game."
Whatever Q had set up, it was a pretty flimsy cover and would probably only get him so far, wherever he now was. The little girl will likely get to a BISA soon and alert the authorities. I don't think Q can run for ever... just that there won't be a prison to hold him.
SENDER: Q
SUBJECT: From Q
BODY: In town this week, meet me Tuesday, noon, this address - Q
Following that was the address to a diner. I arrived early, because she would know me but I may not necessarily recognize her. Part of me was expecting to see an African American woman, but based on what she told me at our last meeting, there was no real reason to expect that.
I ordered a sandwich and a cup of coffee and sat in wait, examining every person who entered for those hunched shoulders and twisted lips that Q seemed to carry, man or woman. A bald man, a teenage boy, a thirtysomething mother with a stroller... no, no, of course not. An old man, a teenage girl, a pair of businessmen... again, three no's. Most of them glanced at me and shrugged it off, seeing that I was obviously waiting for someone.
I was done my second cup of coffee and most of my sandwich when the someone finally entered. A thin little girl of no more than 12. She wore shorts and sandals and her hair was in pigtails. She sat next to me and tried to flag down a waitress.
"Soup and salad," she ordered, "Diet Pepsi." The waitress siad they had Coke and she said "Whatever" and turned her attention to me, shocked as I was. I don't know why; I shouldn't have been because swaps have a random way about them. Black woman, white preeteen, whatever.
"Q," I assured myself.
She smirked and said, "In the flesh. well, somebody's flesh! Oh, man, you would not believe the week I've been having! I was shacking up with the Richardsons in Colorado... this is Meg Richardson's body, by the way... and they just wouldn't let me go until they were sure their poor daughter was safe! And I told her she was probably fine and I called her on my cell and told her to go to the BISA and make sure everything was kosher. They managed to get her back to Denver and finally, finally I hit the road."
"I'm sure the Richardsons weren't to hpapy to see you take off in their daughter's body," I noted.
"What are they gonna do? I'm not their daughter."
Which is when I asked, "Then who are you?"
She coughed a little and mused, "I need a cigarette. You wanna do this thing quick? I'm not sure how much time I've got here."
I told her she should probably not smoke in that body and she told me bluntly it was not my business. I got out my notebook.
SN: So let's get down to it... who is "Q"?
Q: (Laughs) Well obviously, I am. Aren't I? I don't know anymore.
But where did you come from? Where were you before the swaps?
I'm not really sure, I'm sorry to say. I think I was in a coma or something, or maybe I just didn't exist and came into being just to swap people around.
So you think you are responsible for the swaps?
Maybe! I don't know. I mean, I don't know what's really going on, I'm sad to say. I wish I did, I'm as confused as everyone else, I'm just handling it better.
Could you at least try to explain yourself?
I'll give it a go. It was New Year's Eve, I guess, and I woke up on a beach. nobody knew what a swap was at the time, there was a half-a-handful of swapees. I was in Florida wearing this naughty string bikini and this man comes up and puts his arms around me, fondling me, kissing me.
Your husband?
Somebody's husband. Noreen Daugherty's husband. They were vacationing in Florida, she was catching some rays and he'd turned his back for a moment and pop, we were swapped.
You can't remember anything before that?
Not specifically. I have this personality, so it must've come from somewhere, but I knew I wasn't Noreen. I had just popped into her.
How did you react?
I wanted to sock the guy for touching me. I didn't know what was going on and it felt disgusting, but enticing in a way because he was, you know, stimulating the erogenous zones. So after it felt wrong, it started to feel right. And it was after fooling around a bit that I asked him who he was. At first he thought I had amnesia - that Noreen did anyway, because I didn't know who I was and I was worried that maybe I was Noreen. We were going to go to the doctor and get an MRI. Maybe they did, but I was gone after a few weeks of staying at home.
Where to?
Andrew Holloway, the poor kid from Nebraska was doing a little ice fishing on soem lake. That was January 10.
How did you react to THAT?
With quite a bit of surprise, because it wasn't like the first one. I knew where I'd just come from, and they were on the verge of convincing me I was Noreen.
And what happened to Andrew?
Well, he became Noreen I suppose. And by that, I mean he came back to Nebraska and lived as Andrew in Noreen's body, which has become the tendancy for swapees I suppose.
Did Noreen ever turn up?
No, I believe she just vanished into thin air.
What did you do after becoming Andrew?
I freaked out, because I was suddenly male again.
"Again?"
Well, when I was Noreen, I thought it was wrong to be a woman, so I thuoght I must've been a man. Then I become a man, and that felt wrong too, after being a woman for 10 days. Andrew was a high school football player with an athletic body, compared to Noreen, 5-something-feet, 100-something-pounds. I tried to explain to the Holloways their son was in Florida with Mr. Daugherty and they didn't believe me until he got home. I quietly snuck off.
Where to?
I just had to hit the road, so I went to Kansas City and did a little roadwork. I met a girl and we messed around some. Then one morning, a few days into February... it was after Groundhod Day, so maybe the third or fourth... I'm in Sacramento working a convenience store. That's when I got hooked on the Camels.
You were swapped into a convenience store clerk?
Rajiv Singh, to be precise. That lasted about eighteen days. He never came back, and by the end of February I'm in a first-grade classroom.
You were swapped with a first-grader?
No, just the teacher, Mrs. Pulaski. Diane. By this time I wasn't surprised at all, and I was a woman again, but whatever.
How did Mr. Pulaski react?
I never told him.
What, you just went on being this woman?
Yeah, it was easy enough to fake. So I was now, let's see, a 40-year-old woman with a husband who's almost fifty, teaching 6-year-olds shapes and basic math. Not too hard, basically babysitting. That lasted nearly a month, most of March. I liked it. It was a nice quiet life.
And the real Mrs. Pulaski never called?
Sure she did, but that's what caller-ID is for. I told Singh not to call again and convinced the husband he was just a crazy person. Eventually he gave up I guess.
What about Singh, did he ever try to get his life back?
Not really. He actually thanked me, because I left him a good job and a girlfriend, as Holloway. I told him it was no sweat and went on living. All the while, I horded some cash away for my next swap.
You knew it was going to happen?
You'd have to be stupid, after four of the damn things, not to know. It was around that time they were becoming more public. I laid low, I wanted to see what was going on. By Easter I wsa a waitress/student in Philly. Louise Chau.
You just take these people's lives?
Not by choice, but I don't have one of my own to go back to.
And you leave behind you a trail of unrelated swapees?
Sure. Not by choice, I told you, I'm just some kind of pawn in this I swear. After that, I was 8-year-old Billy MacKay for about a week, and then I was Lou Albini, the man you met in Canton.
And who were you in Bethesda?
Carrie Jackson.
How long do you spend in each body?
A couple weeks or so, but I'm getting better at estimating it, so I know I might not be here at the end of the day. I'm trying to learn to oconcentrate and control where I swap to.
Do you think you can do that?
When I was swapping out of Carrie, I thought abuot the mountains, and suddenly I was in Denver. You tell me.
Who are you going to be next?
Not sure. I wanted you to interview me because I'm going to go undergorund. Going to hide in plain sight.
Why?
The scientists want to dissect me, but it's not my body, they'd be hurting an innocent person. The Church of Redeemer wants to deify me, and that ain't cool. And everyone will want to ask me what the swaps are, but I don't know. All I know is that there is more to them than they know, and they know more than they are saying.
Do you think it's alien technology?
No, I think alien technology wouldn't fuck up as badly as this. Believe me, this is man-made, probably in America; you can tell because it doesn't work properly.
And you've only ever been swapped into Americans.
I know, that's so weird, isn't it? People get swapped to France or England or Japan all the time. I'm stuck in the Land of the (uses finger-quotes) "Free." Connect the dots, bro.
(She finished her meal.)
I think I'm going soon.
Going where?
Going to be swapped. I can tell. I'll stay in touch. But listen, as soon as I do, just play along, okay?
With that, she stared off in space for a moment...
"Bill?" The little girl looked around frantically. I didn't know what to say. "Bill, am-- oh, damn, I've been swapped?"
I almost answered when in barged a young lady, maybe in her late 20's. She wore sunglasses, a light top, a black skirt and had straight dark hair. I had never seen her before but she zoomed over to our table.
"Thanks for watching Meg, Alex," she told me as she grabbed Meg's shoulder, "Come on, honey."
The little girl pled, "Lady, I'm sorry I'm not your--- daughter? Aw, man. Listen, I'm a grown man, I--" she tried to explain as the woman cut her off.
"Oh, we're not playing this game." She smirked, "You let the girl watch one 20/20 special and suddenly she's swapped twice a day."
"Lady, I'm telling you, I'm not--"
"Shh," again she interrupted. The girl - probably some kind of businessman it seemed - was probably intimidated by how much larger the woman looked, even though she stood between 5'4-and-7. I couold only watch as the young lady scolded, "Your mommy is getting tired of this game."
Whatever Q had set up, it was a pretty flimsy cover and would probably only get him so far, wherever he now was. The little girl will likely get to a BISA soon and alert the authorities. I don't think Q can run for ever... just that there won't be a prison to hold him.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Brief: Swap halts plans for spring wedding
Donald Terry, 27, of Greenwich, CT, was heartbroken this past weekend to have to put his wedding plans on hold indefinitely. He had planned to wed his longtime fiancee, Marlene Darrick, 24, but is now completely unable to due to an untimely swap.
As final preparations were being made - Darrick was already in her dress for the cereminy later that afternoon - the bride felt dizzy and tried to sit down, only to regain her vision, a middle-pew view of the altar, in the seat occupied by Terry's own cousin, Frances Terry, 31.
Donald and Marlene are now legally unable to wed, as Ms. Darrick is biologically Donald's cousin.
"It's damn frustrating," complains Donald, "To look at the woman I love and in fact be seeing my cousin."
Donald hopes that the swap may soon someday be undone, as he is eager to resume life as normal.
"Plus," he quipped, "We couldn't get the deposit back on the Reception Hall."
As final preparations were being made - Darrick was already in her dress for the cereminy later that afternoon - the bride felt dizzy and tried to sit down, only to regain her vision, a middle-pew view of the altar, in the seat occupied by Terry's own cousin, Frances Terry, 31.
Donald and Marlene are now legally unable to wed, as Ms. Darrick is biologically Donald's cousin.
"It's damn frustrating," complains Donald, "To look at the woman I love and in fact be seeing my cousin."
Donald hopes that the swap may soon someday be undone, as he is eager to resume life as normal.
"Plus," he quipped, "We couldn't get the deposit back on the Reception Hall."
Friday, June 1, 2007
Nick: Small Steps
In his last column, Alex alluded to seeing me at the Bethesda Conference and seeming to have a chip on my shoulder. Well, wouldn't you? It's been two months and I still don't have a handle on my life.
I lashed out at him a little bit, which afterward made me feel like a bit of a bitch. I guess I felt he didn't understand anything about what I was going through since he hasn't been swapped (yet) and in my opinion has a limited understanding of what we go through, even he's spend all these months talking to every swapee he can possibly get in touch with. There's nothing like first-hand experience.
And then Dr. Bergman drops this bomb, casting doubt on my identity. I wonder if she really believes that she's just a little Mexican girl with a scientist's brain. If she doesn't miss the touch of his wife or being able to lift his kids up. And if he really, really thinks it's temporary, if he's really not worried about spending years of his life growing into a young girl's body. Because I know I am.
I didn't want to be anything. For the longest time, my biggest ambition as a swapee was to keep my head down, make a living, stay independant and just coast. But months go by and make it seem impossible. Every morning I wake up on the couch, wait for a body that's rightfully mine to get out of the shower, change into a fresh pair of panties, and feel so damn lonely. Even my new best friend doesn't understand, and for a long time, I didn't think Traci was willing to listen.
I was feeling crappy already when I finally sat down to have a talk about it with Traci. I didn't know who to turn to. I thought about Cherrie, but she was occupied and I didn't want to lay the trip on her (plus, it'd open up other issues I'd rather keep bottled for now.) All my old friends are in Chicago, and they're men so I don't even think they think about me the same way they used to. I needed someone I could trust. So I called Traci over to the table on Tuesday before the conference and just bared my soul. At first I didn't even think he was listening. Then he starts breaking down and for the first time in my life, I see my grown male (former) body crying.
"I'm sorry," he sobs, "Oh God, I'm a mess." He wipes his eyes and tells me that he and Rose had split up, that he had become the kind of man he hated, who was concerned mostly with sex and a good time and didn't understand what was going on until it was too late. That he'd pushed away a woman who was a good friend and patient girlfriend because of his newfound male stupidity. I thought it was a cop-out to blame the body, but I guess that without being raised that way it doesn't come with training wheels.
And there we were, two lonely swapped people commiserating in the night, sharing tears and stories when something unexpected happened... he kissed me, or I kissed him, or somebody kissed the other anyway. And it was seriously the first intimate contact I'd had in all my time as a woman and, despite the nagging guilt at the back of my mind, I didn't want it to let up.
And that's the story of how I lost my female virginity.
Trust me, I felt awful afterward, and he did too - especially because from his perspective he was committing the very crime he'd just confessed. But I admitted that, at the time, I wanted it, and even felt better for having had it, but didn't think we should continue that. It was just, a big step. I don't know, maybe now I'll be less afraid of intimacy, of opening up and being a person again, not just an employee and citizen.
Which is why I took Bergman's revelation badly. Because I'm not her, I'm not Traci at all, and I don't want things to change, because I want to believe that I, Nick Blanchard, am growing as a person, as a woman.
But, having told that story, there is still one very important chapter to write...
-Nick
I lashed out at him a little bit, which afterward made me feel like a bit of a bitch. I guess I felt he didn't understand anything about what I was going through since he hasn't been swapped (yet) and in my opinion has a limited understanding of what we go through, even he's spend all these months talking to every swapee he can possibly get in touch with. There's nothing like first-hand experience.
And then Dr. Bergman drops this bomb, casting doubt on my identity. I wonder if she really believes that she's just a little Mexican girl with a scientist's brain. If she doesn't miss the touch of his wife or being able to lift his kids up. And if he really, really thinks it's temporary, if he's really not worried about spending years of his life growing into a young girl's body. Because I know I am.
I didn't want to be anything. For the longest time, my biggest ambition as a swapee was to keep my head down, make a living, stay independant and just coast. But months go by and make it seem impossible. Every morning I wake up on the couch, wait for a body that's rightfully mine to get out of the shower, change into a fresh pair of panties, and feel so damn lonely. Even my new best friend doesn't understand, and for a long time, I didn't think Traci was willing to listen.
I was feeling crappy already when I finally sat down to have a talk about it with Traci. I didn't know who to turn to. I thought about Cherrie, but she was occupied and I didn't want to lay the trip on her (plus, it'd open up other issues I'd rather keep bottled for now.) All my old friends are in Chicago, and they're men so I don't even think they think about me the same way they used to. I needed someone I could trust. So I called Traci over to the table on Tuesday before the conference and just bared my soul. At first I didn't even think he was listening. Then he starts breaking down and for the first time in my life, I see my grown male (former) body crying.
"I'm sorry," he sobs, "Oh God, I'm a mess." He wipes his eyes and tells me that he and Rose had split up, that he had become the kind of man he hated, who was concerned mostly with sex and a good time and didn't understand what was going on until it was too late. That he'd pushed away a woman who was a good friend and patient girlfriend because of his newfound male stupidity. I thought it was a cop-out to blame the body, but I guess that without being raised that way it doesn't come with training wheels.
And there we were, two lonely swapped people commiserating in the night, sharing tears and stories when something unexpected happened... he kissed me, or I kissed him, or somebody kissed the other anyway. And it was seriously the first intimate contact I'd had in all my time as a woman and, despite the nagging guilt at the back of my mind, I didn't want it to let up.
And that's the story of how I lost my female virginity.
Trust me, I felt awful afterward, and he did too - especially because from his perspective he was committing the very crime he'd just confessed. But I admitted that, at the time, I wanted it, and even felt better for having had it, but didn't think we should continue that. It was just, a big step. I don't know, maybe now I'll be less afraid of intimacy, of opening up and being a person again, not just an employee and citizen.
Which is why I took Bergman's revelation badly. Because I'm not her, I'm not Traci at all, and I don't want things to change, because I want to believe that I, Nick Blanchard, am growing as a person, as a woman.
But, having told that story, there is still one very important chapter to write...
-Nick
Friday, May 18, 2007
No news is good news
There will not be a real update until Tuesday, or maybe next Friday. Nick might send in another blog entry, but she's been kind of a recluse lately. The reason for this is that I'm going on a brief "summer vacation" (although I know it's still spring.) First, down to Bethesda for a conference at BISA, then a little R&R getaway. It's a Canadian long weekend, and I'm making it longer.
Still, there's always something going on. I have a few stories lined up for later once I get back. I'm sure Dr. Gulf and Dr. Bergman will have plenty to tell me. And of course, if you're dying to get in touch, you can leave a comment or e-mail your questions/swap stories to Ken Moorehead (who has very graciously allowed me to drop his personal e-mail on here for weeks now and has gotten very little of the credit he deserves.)
The last thing I wanted to say was that Newsweek recently did a cover story on gender. They actually contacted me and I spoke briefly to their reporter, because of my previous project but nothing I said was too relevant to the angle of the article. One of the unsolved mysteries of the Swap phenomenon is that 70% of them occur across gender lines (a number which has held consistent as the swaps have increased.) Most puzzling, to me especially, has been that the reaction has not been... consistent. And why should it be?
You have the Frickmans, an early swap case, a husband and wife who had the fortune to be swapped when in the throes of passion. Apparently, the lingering effect was that the new Mrs. Frickman took very enthusiastically to her wifely duties. Then of course there is Nick, who has been a woman for about two months now and yet wouldn't consider herself as such if you spoke to her (and remains quite convincing as "gender neutral.") Meanwhile, the person in Nick's body, Traci, has very gradually toughened up and become "male," but it was gradual. So you've got a number of alternative possibilities for when these swaps occur.
If gender is, as the article postulates (and I agree) hardwired into the brain by physiology and environment, I wonder what effect it truly has on the swapees? Do the hormones of the new body overrule the old instincts? And what about everyone looking at you and talking to you differently? You would certainly think, wouldn't you, that the swaps would be creating transgendered individuals - crossdressers, people on the waiting list of surgery, etc - but by and large, people are just getting on with their lives.
Hopefully I'll be able to pick Dr. Bergman's brain about it.
Still, there's always something going on. I have a few stories lined up for later once I get back. I'm sure Dr. Gulf and Dr. Bergman will have plenty to tell me. And of course, if you're dying to get in touch, you can leave a comment or e-mail your questions/swap stories to Ken Moorehead (who has very graciously allowed me to drop his personal e-mail on here for weeks now and has gotten very little of the credit he deserves.)
The last thing I wanted to say was that Newsweek recently did a cover story on gender. They actually contacted me and I spoke briefly to their reporter, because of my previous project but nothing I said was too relevant to the angle of the article. One of the unsolved mysteries of the Swap phenomenon is that 70% of them occur across gender lines (a number which has held consistent as the swaps have increased.) Most puzzling, to me especially, has been that the reaction has not been... consistent. And why should it be?
You have the Frickmans, an early swap case, a husband and wife who had the fortune to be swapped when in the throes of passion. Apparently, the lingering effect was that the new Mrs. Frickman took very enthusiastically to her wifely duties. Then of course there is Nick, who has been a woman for about two months now and yet wouldn't consider herself as such if you spoke to her (and remains quite convincing as "gender neutral.") Meanwhile, the person in Nick's body, Traci, has very gradually toughened up and become "male," but it was gradual. So you've got a number of alternative possibilities for when these swaps occur.
If gender is, as the article postulates (and I agree) hardwired into the brain by physiology and environment, I wonder what effect it truly has on the swapees? Do the hormones of the new body overrule the old instincts? And what about everyone looking at you and talking to you differently? You would certainly think, wouldn't you, that the swaps would be creating transgendered individuals - crossdressers, people on the waiting list of surgery, etc - but by and large, people are just getting on with their lives.
Hopefully I'll be able to pick Dr. Bergman's brain about it.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Briefs: 2007 to be "Summer of the Swap"
June 21st, the first day of summer, will has been named by the BISA to be "Swap Awareness Day 2007," as preliminary estimates suggest to officials that 2007 will be the "Summer of the Swap."
"Our working theory," explains BISA's Dr. Howard Bergman, "Is that climate and temperature has an effect on the number of swaps that occur. As the summer heats up in North America, we may be seeing more swaps than ever before."
Bergman explains that during the winter months, swaps were far more common in areas in the southern United States, Australia, and Brazil. As spring wore on, temperate areas such as the coastal United States (particularly the Pacific Northwest,) Canada, England, mainland Europe and Japan were affected more and more.
BISA is still far from learning what factors induce a swap, or determine who is swapped with whom. They hope to refine their current theories by "Swap Awareness Day" in order to further spread awareness.
BISA reminds people that, to their knowledge, it is impossible to be swapped twice, although a swap could strike any two people, regardless of physical type of georgraphy, at any waking moment. Nobody has yet been swapped while sleeping, however.
Bergman also warns to avoid supposed "swap protection," a scam presented as a method of avoiding being swapped. "Protection" may come in the form of machinery (most often a cannibalized TiVo or Wireless Router,) medication (usually sugar pills, prozac, or vitamins) or even hypnosis. There is no remedy for a swap, only acceptance and conditioning once it has occurred.
Swaps currently affect one in every 2000 people in North America, one in 10 000 worldwide. The North American number may drop as low as one in 500 by August.
"Our working theory," explains BISA's Dr. Howard Bergman, "Is that climate and temperature has an effect on the number of swaps that occur. As the summer heats up in North America, we may be seeing more swaps than ever before."
Bergman explains that during the winter months, swaps were far more common in areas in the southern United States, Australia, and Brazil. As spring wore on, temperate areas such as the coastal United States (particularly the Pacific Northwest,) Canada, England, mainland Europe and Japan were affected more and more.
BISA is still far from learning what factors induce a swap, or determine who is swapped with whom. They hope to refine their current theories by "Swap Awareness Day" in order to further spread awareness.
BISA reminds people that, to their knowledge, it is impossible to be swapped twice, although a swap could strike any two people, regardless of physical type of georgraphy, at any waking moment. Nobody has yet been swapped while sleeping, however.
Bergman also warns to avoid supposed "swap protection," a scam presented as a method of avoiding being swapped. "Protection" may come in the form of machinery (most often a cannibalized TiVo or Wireless Router,) medication (usually sugar pills, prozac, or vitamins) or even hypnosis. There is no remedy for a swap, only acceptance and conditioning once it has occurred.
Swaps currently affect one in every 2000 people in North America, one in 10 000 worldwide. The North American number may drop as low as one in 500 by August.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Support groups offer swapees forum, advice without pressure
Nick Blanchard and I were recently invited to a Swap Support Group in Canton, Ohio. It has been running since prior to the advent of the BISA or the Church run by Evelyn Trimble, and offers swapees a less formal medium to vent their frustrations at adjusting their entire lives. Small groups like these have cropped up all over the nation, loosely-associated and subtly but not expressly supported by BISA. They meet in church basements, community centres, rec halls, auditoriums, wherever they can rent out. Nick and I enter and are greeted quite heartily.
"Well hello," one young man, Cassandra Davis, a 14-year-old Ohio girl in the body of a 10-year-old boy, greets us, shaking Nick's hand first and telling her, "Wow, you're very lucky," he turns to me and says, "You were so pretty."
Nick blushes and explains that she and I are not connected in that way, the original occupant of her body just opted not to take the road trip (as Nick had yet to start her new job but Traci was getting used to his.)
There are ten people present apart from us. They encourage people to come with their swap-partners, but this isn't always possible. Shaun Speedman and Marie DiManno, two University Students, sit across from each other. Victoria Worth, a St. Paul, MN single mother who was swapped into the body of a Vancouver teen, came alone, as did William Trenton, originally from Oklahoma. Also present are Lew and Donna Frickman.
Darren Chau and Brad Eidelman, from San Diego, CA and Canton, OH respectively, set the pace of the meeting. They were swapped in December. Chau, a fireman, and Eidelman, a Kindergarten teacher, agreed to start running support meetings after discussing Chau's unfortunate inability to face fires the way he previously had, owing strangely to a recurring dream Eidelman had as a child.
"There will always be pressure, be it from your family, co-workers, even the BISA, for you to adopt the identity of the body you have been given," begins Eidelman, "But you can't forget it is you who dictates your identity. Not society, not a piece of paper, not the face you wear. What's under it."
There are rumblings of agreement as the floor is opened. Trenton stands first. Originally a high school student, he was swapped into the body of Melissa Belleville-Adams, a 29-year-old French/American widowed teacher just a week before his seventeenth birthday in March. After it happened, she tearfully explained, her mother, Noelle Trenton, was in dire need of gallbladder surgery, a procedure the lower-middle class family could ill afford. At her darkest moment, the younger Trenton nearly accepted a role in a pornographic film series, "New Confessions of a Window Washer" to pay for the procedure.
Belleville-Adams was a onetime contender for the title of Miss France before moving to the United States with her husband (a native of Louisiana,) and giving up modelling to become a teacher. Trenton was very afraid for her mother's life, but was disgusted at the proposition, saying her mother would never forgive her if she even knew the offer had been considered.
I watched Nick's face through that story. Having had some personal, physical and romantic adjustments to make for herself, it appeared to affect her. William Trenton never said whether she actually performed in the adult film, but sobbingly informed us that they did indeed raise the money needed for the procedure.
There was a bald older man with a goatee sitting in the corner playing with a cigarette throughout the story. He never introduced himself, and before I could ask him, he left the building. The meeting continued.
Cassandra Davis attempts to express his frustration at being a prepubescent male, but words appear to fail him and he doesn't seem to find the words he is looking for. So he re-takes his seat. Nick indulges in a few lighthearted anecdotes about living with his former body.
The meeting becomes more of a debate as the Frickmans expound the virtues of the Church of the Holy Redeemer, as they'd recently joined. Having thought enough about the Church that week, I stepped out, where the mystery man was waiting.
"Need a light?" he says, emerging from the shadows lit only by the orange bead of light from his Camel cigarette.
"No, I'm not here to smoke, I just needed some... air," I told him.
He chuckled and went back to the shadows.
"Who are you?" I asked him.
He asked me in return, "you're the news guy, right? From the website?"
"Yeah."
Again, he chuckled. "I think you'll find out soon enough."
"But... you've been swapped, right?"
He nods.
More than a little perplexed, I return to the meeting.
Speedman and DiManno are arguing, which often seems to happen. They share a common ground: DiManno, a studious girl, was a star on the University of Sydney Women's Basketball Team, and Speedman, originally an African-American, was attending the University of Alabama on a basketball scholarship. however, as University of Alabama does not have a women's basketball team, Speedman has met difficulty and may not return to the school next year. There is, you might imagine, some hostility between the two.
Speedman, who in DiManno's body dresses like the gangsta she once was, looks somewhat ridiclous in the baggy jeans and chains. Having grown frustrated with her current life, Speedman, in contrast to many swapees, has become aggressively sexual toward both genders. DiManno, meanwhile, dresses like a proper gentlemen and retains an Aussie accent, and seriously disapproves of Speedman's actions.
Chau and Eidleman break the argument off as best they can, telling people that an hour is about up and they can check the website if they want to come to another meeting. Speedman leaves in a huff, DiManno exits the other way. I get contact information for as many people as possible.
I remain most curious, however, about the smoking man. He told me I'd find out soon enough. I don't think I can wait that long.
"Well hello," one young man, Cassandra Davis, a 14-year-old Ohio girl in the body of a 10-year-old boy, greets us, shaking Nick's hand first and telling her, "Wow, you're very lucky," he turns to me and says, "You were so pretty."
Nick blushes and explains that she and I are not connected in that way, the original occupant of her body just opted not to take the road trip (as Nick had yet to start her new job but Traci was getting used to his.)
There are ten people present apart from us. They encourage people to come with their swap-partners, but this isn't always possible. Shaun Speedman and Marie DiManno, two University Students, sit across from each other. Victoria Worth, a St. Paul, MN single mother who was swapped into the body of a Vancouver teen, came alone, as did William Trenton, originally from Oklahoma. Also present are Lew and Donna Frickman.
Darren Chau and Brad Eidelman, from San Diego, CA and Canton, OH respectively, set the pace of the meeting. They were swapped in December. Chau, a fireman, and Eidelman, a Kindergarten teacher, agreed to start running support meetings after discussing Chau's unfortunate inability to face fires the way he previously had, owing strangely to a recurring dream Eidelman had as a child.
"There will always be pressure, be it from your family, co-workers, even the BISA, for you to adopt the identity of the body you have been given," begins Eidelman, "But you can't forget it is you who dictates your identity. Not society, not a piece of paper, not the face you wear. What's under it."
There are rumblings of agreement as the floor is opened. Trenton stands first. Originally a high school student, he was swapped into the body of Melissa Belleville-Adams, a 29-year-old French/American widowed teacher just a week before his seventeenth birthday in March. After it happened, she tearfully explained, her mother, Noelle Trenton, was in dire need of gallbladder surgery, a procedure the lower-middle class family could ill afford. At her darkest moment, the younger Trenton nearly accepted a role in a pornographic film series, "New Confessions of a Window Washer" to pay for the procedure.
Belleville-Adams was a onetime contender for the title of Miss France before moving to the United States with her husband (a native of Louisiana,) and giving up modelling to become a teacher. Trenton was very afraid for her mother's life, but was disgusted at the proposition, saying her mother would never forgive her if she even knew the offer had been considered.
I watched Nick's face through that story. Having had some personal, physical and romantic adjustments to make for herself, it appeared to affect her. William Trenton never said whether she actually performed in the adult film, but sobbingly informed us that they did indeed raise the money needed for the procedure.
There was a bald older man with a goatee sitting in the corner playing with a cigarette throughout the story. He never introduced himself, and before I could ask him, he left the building. The meeting continued.
Cassandra Davis attempts to express his frustration at being a prepubescent male, but words appear to fail him and he doesn't seem to find the words he is looking for. So he re-takes his seat. Nick indulges in a few lighthearted anecdotes about living with his former body.
The meeting becomes more of a debate as the Frickmans expound the virtues of the Church of the Holy Redeemer, as they'd recently joined. Having thought enough about the Church that week, I stepped out, where the mystery man was waiting.
"Need a light?" he says, emerging from the shadows lit only by the orange bead of light from his Camel cigarette.
"No, I'm not here to smoke, I just needed some... air," I told him.
He chuckled and went back to the shadows.
"Who are you?" I asked him.
He asked me in return, "you're the news guy, right? From the website?"
"Yeah."
Again, he chuckled. "I think you'll find out soon enough."
"But... you've been swapped, right?"
He nods.
More than a little perplexed, I return to the meeting.
Speedman and DiManno are arguing, which often seems to happen. They share a common ground: DiManno, a studious girl, was a star on the University of Sydney Women's Basketball Team, and Speedman, originally an African-American, was attending the University of Alabama on a basketball scholarship. however, as University of Alabama does not have a women's basketball team, Speedman has met difficulty and may not return to the school next year. There is, you might imagine, some hostility between the two.
Speedman, who in DiManno's body dresses like the gangsta she once was, looks somewhat ridiclous in the baggy jeans and chains. Having grown frustrated with her current life, Speedman, in contrast to many swapees, has become aggressively sexual toward both genders. DiManno, meanwhile, dresses like a proper gentlemen and retains an Aussie accent, and seriously disapproves of Speedman's actions.
Chau and Eidleman break the argument off as best they can, telling people that an hour is about up and they can check the website if they want to come to another meeting. Speedman leaves in a huff, DiManno exits the other way. I get contact information for as many people as possible.
I remain most curious, however, about the smoking man. He told me I'd find out soon enough. I don't think I can wait that long.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Nick: Foreseen problems
Let me just say that I firmly believe that, whatever gender you belong to, sex is supposed to feel good. But, for the first time since I was 12, I don't want any.
The reason should be obvious. Mentally, I'm still a guy, even though the tampax under the bathroom sink suggests otherwise. I don't know what sex feels like for a woman, I don't know when I'll find out, if ever. It's not even that I have a problem with the notion of some force invading my female parts. The problem lies in determining when, under what circumstances, and most importantly with whom.
As a man, I would have given Traci a good look walking down the streets. A lot of other guys feel the same way, and that's something I've noticed as time goes on and is bothering me more and more. At first I shrugged it off, but it's getting really irksome because it reminds me what I present to the world now. Simply put... I hate guys.
I've had exactly one sexual experience since being in this body, and it was a minor one. I wasn't even sure what it was until days later. It was during my first appointment with Cherie, the hairdresser Traci sent me to. She had my neck bent over the sink, soaking my hair, and her breast brushed up against me.
I havn't been with a woman in a very long time, and I'm talking about before I became one. Since that incident, I've had plenty of contact with breasts, not all of it sexual. The female body is becoming commonplace for me, I'm falling in to a sort of non-sexuality. I can't date guys, I can't screw girls.
I hadn't even thought about my romantic predicament because I'd been so busy working, trying to get my personal life in order. I had an interview for a PR position today, and I wanted to look nice. Traci seemed to think I accomplished it.
"Whoo, are those my legs?" he cheers before seeing my leave this morning, wearing a knee-length skirt, my first time in one. It's really warm today and my thinking is, it'll breathe well, plus make me appear professional. My hair's done up in some kind of ponytail with strands falling down the side of my face. I even got the make-up kit out.
My appointment was with the BISA Toronto, who were looking for swapees to staff the centre. It's not great pay, but I at least have a leg up. Ever since I told Traci's co-workers about what happened, I've been really eager to get out of there.
Traci, meanwhile, has been working in the mailroom of the office, so we commute together. We don't see one another during the day, though, so it's not that awkward. After all, we have to hang out at night, and it's already incredibly, incredibly awkward. I'm not going to lie, he's taking the swap way more easily than I have. I guess that's just some peoples' lot.
-Nick
The reason should be obvious. Mentally, I'm still a guy, even though the tampax under the bathroom sink suggests otherwise. I don't know what sex feels like for a woman, I don't know when I'll find out, if ever. It's not even that I have a problem with the notion of some force invading my female parts. The problem lies in determining when, under what circumstances, and most importantly with whom.
As a man, I would have given Traci a good look walking down the streets. A lot of other guys feel the same way, and that's something I've noticed as time goes on and is bothering me more and more. At first I shrugged it off, but it's getting really irksome because it reminds me what I present to the world now. Simply put... I hate guys.
I've had exactly one sexual experience since being in this body, and it was a minor one. I wasn't even sure what it was until days later. It was during my first appointment with Cherie, the hairdresser Traci sent me to. She had my neck bent over the sink, soaking my hair, and her breast brushed up against me.
I havn't been with a woman in a very long time, and I'm talking about before I became one. Since that incident, I've had plenty of contact with breasts, not all of it sexual. The female body is becoming commonplace for me, I'm falling in to a sort of non-sexuality. I can't date guys, I can't screw girls.
I hadn't even thought about my romantic predicament because I'd been so busy working, trying to get my personal life in order. I had an interview for a PR position today, and I wanted to look nice. Traci seemed to think I accomplished it.
"Whoo, are those my legs?" he cheers before seeing my leave this morning, wearing a knee-length skirt, my first time in one. It's really warm today and my thinking is, it'll breathe well, plus make me appear professional. My hair's done up in some kind of ponytail with strands falling down the side of my face. I even got the make-up kit out.
My appointment was with the BISA Toronto, who were looking for swapees to staff the centre. It's not great pay, but I at least have a leg up. Ever since I told Traci's co-workers about what happened, I've been really eager to get out of there.
Traci, meanwhile, has been working in the mailroom of the office, so we commute together. We don't see one another during the day, though, so it's not that awkward. After all, we have to hang out at night, and it's already incredibly, incredibly awkward. I'm not going to lie, he's taking the swap way more easily than I have. I guess that's just some peoples' lot.
-Nick
Friday, April 13, 2007
High school records unusual amount of swaps
Because of the relative rarity of swaps, most public institutions have not bothered to educate its faculties or, in the case of schools, student bodies, about the matter. Many students at Algonquin Memorial High School in upstate New York had unanswered questions and unassuaged fears when the first swap occurred among their ranks. What they didn't know was that it wouldn't be the last.
Bret Turnbull and Harvey Kidman were not very close. Both 15, Turnbull was known to be a tormentor of smaller students like Kidman. On a February day, Kidman was forced to hide underneath the track bleachers while Turnbull sought to terrorize him. though Turnbull had been reprimanded for his behavior on various occasions, it was no deterrent. It was a classic case of bully and victim, until the swap.
When, during a fourth period lunch session, Turnbull found himself sitting across from a chess board, he knew something was amiss. To his own personal shock, he had been swapped into the body of his favourite victim, whom he had nicknamed "Worm."
"I hate this," said a mournful Kidman, sitting in the shoes of a much larger but more physically agressive body. "I don't believe this was the only way the bullying could have stopped. He probably would have stopped picking on me if I'd turned into someone else. Anyone else. now I have to live with his face."
Kidman has reportedly been quite depressed since the incident, and has sought counselling, something he wouldn't even do when he was the target of Turnbull's scorn. Turnbull, for his part, seems to have settled down, but has been demoted to a benchwarmer on the school's baseball team, on which he was once a starting pitcher. It should be noted that, if one more serious incident had been reported between him and Kidman, he would have been removed from the team altogether.
The two were used as an example, sitting beside one another on the auditorium stage in front of all of their peers, to present an information package provided by the Bureau for International Swap Affairs. As the principal went over the details, that it could happen to anyone and was in fact happing all around the world, one student had his mind on other things.
Paul Derrien, 17, had one thing on his mind that day, like most days, and that was Kayla Aronson, 16. A grade below him, she had captured his imagination when they met briefly in the library. She was, however, dating another boy in his grade, Mike Hadley. That was to change one mid-March afternoon.
"It was actually the Friday before March Break," explains Derrien. "I was in math, I had just written a test when I felt like I was falling asleep. And that's not unusual I guess because I was pretty bored. And the first thing I sense is, like, the smell of sweat, and I get really warm. I hear all these voices around me echoing and footsteps running. It was like I had sleep-walked down to the gym."
It took a moment for Paul to realize what had happened. The girl had to catch her breath, bolting breathlessly from the gymnasium to the principal's office, where she was met by a famiiar face.
"She looked at me," Kayla recalls, "And I think she almost broke down in tears. And I almost did too."
"To suddenly be confronted, in this public place, with what has happened to you, it's a lot to take on," she recalls. "And at that time, you don't even grasp exactly how your life has changed. No, it takes a few days of walking around in someone els'es shoes before it starts to set in... this is different, and scary, but I can do it."
Kayla and Paul (now commonly referred to by students as "Kyle and Paula" despite the BISA's preference for not changing names,) were seen often in public together afterward. They say that at first, it was mostly for support, because not everyone has the advantage of being in close proximity to their body's prior owner.
"There were other advantages," Paul explains, "Because Mike [Hadley] wouldn't leave me alone for almost a month after the swap. and being seen with Kay in my old body, that gave people the idea that we were, you know, together."
In reality, Paula explains that was never the intention. "The last thing any teenage boy wants to see in the mirror is a pair of breasts, and the last thing he needs is to be gawked at or even hit on by guys incessantly. We were there for each other."
"And be for long," Kayla adds, "I thought, Paul makes a pretty nice girl. And I stopped looking at her as some guy in my old body, but as one of my closest friends."
It was, however, a shock to their friends when Kayla and Paul first kissed in the cafeteria.
"Paul used to have this wicked jumpshot," explains friend Dale Karlov, "We played basketball a lot. And now he's a girl, kissing boys. we haven't, um, talked a lot since."
"At first, I thought it was gross," says Melissa Kelown, a classmate of Kayla's, "But things change."
The change she describes echoes her own. Kelown was sitting at home reading on her bed one night when she felt feint and decided to lie back.
"And when I woke up, it was like the worst dream ever."
While Kelown did not have to address the same type of change Kayla and Paul did, the swap she found herself in was in a more serious situation.
"I was due after the end of the semester," explains Darla Montgomery, 29, a physics teacher at Algonquin Memorial. "[My fiancé] Bryan and I were very busy buying baby things and planning our finances. He'd already gone to bed and I was still awake, and then it happened."
Kelowna, in a body almost 6 months pregnant, now must face the unwilling duty of acting as a surrogate mother to her teacher.
"I feel so bad that she has to live with this," laments Mongomery, "Being pregnant isn't something you can just live with and get on with your life. It affects everything around you, especially at this late stage."
Kelowna, optiistic, says that she is grateful for the amount of leeway she has been given with her studies. "I don't think this is, like, an ordinary teen pregnancy," she jokes, adding "And when this is over, whatever body I'm in, I don't think I'll be having sex for a very long time."
Officials are concerned this matter could touch off perhaps the first-ever 'maternity' suit for the courts to argue over, but Kelowna is not looking to make herself the child's mother.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm doing all the work and hopefully I get something in return, but I don't want to, like, keep their baby hostage or anything. They're totally the parents. I'm just, like filling in."
Bertrand Mosses, the vice principal of Algonquin Memorial High School, has observed that three separate swaps have occurred, all concerning members of the faculty and student body.
"I don't like it, and it seems very odd," he scratches his head as he says, "It's as though somebody's targetting my people and I don't like it at all. The swaps seem totally random but this sort of thing doesn't happen when it's random."
No one can say for sure when, where or why a swap will occur, but Mosses is keeping a close eye on his school until the answers are divined.
Bret Turnbull and Harvey Kidman were not very close. Both 15, Turnbull was known to be a tormentor of smaller students like Kidman. On a February day, Kidman was forced to hide underneath the track bleachers while Turnbull sought to terrorize him. though Turnbull had been reprimanded for his behavior on various occasions, it was no deterrent. It was a classic case of bully and victim, until the swap.
When, during a fourth period lunch session, Turnbull found himself sitting across from a chess board, he knew something was amiss. To his own personal shock, he had been swapped into the body of his favourite victim, whom he had nicknamed "Worm."
"I hate this," said a mournful Kidman, sitting in the shoes of a much larger but more physically agressive body. "I don't believe this was the only way the bullying could have stopped. He probably would have stopped picking on me if I'd turned into someone else. Anyone else. now I have to live with his face."
Kidman has reportedly been quite depressed since the incident, and has sought counselling, something he wouldn't even do when he was the target of Turnbull's scorn. Turnbull, for his part, seems to have settled down, but has been demoted to a benchwarmer on the school's baseball team, on which he was once a starting pitcher. It should be noted that, if one more serious incident had been reported between him and Kidman, he would have been removed from the team altogether.
The two were used as an example, sitting beside one another on the auditorium stage in front of all of their peers, to present an information package provided by the Bureau for International Swap Affairs. As the principal went over the details, that it could happen to anyone and was in fact happing all around the world, one student had his mind on other things.
Paul Derrien, 17, had one thing on his mind that day, like most days, and that was Kayla Aronson, 16. A grade below him, she had captured his imagination when they met briefly in the library. She was, however, dating another boy in his grade, Mike Hadley. That was to change one mid-March afternoon.
"It was actually the Friday before March Break," explains Derrien. "I was in math, I had just written a test when I felt like I was falling asleep. And that's not unusual I guess because I was pretty bored. And the first thing I sense is, like, the smell of sweat, and I get really warm. I hear all these voices around me echoing and footsteps running. It was like I had sleep-walked down to the gym."
It took a moment for Paul to realize what had happened. The girl had to catch her breath, bolting breathlessly from the gymnasium to the principal's office, where she was met by a famiiar face.
"She looked at me," Kayla recalls, "And I think she almost broke down in tears. And I almost did too."
"To suddenly be confronted, in this public place, with what has happened to you, it's a lot to take on," she recalls. "And at that time, you don't even grasp exactly how your life has changed. No, it takes a few days of walking around in someone els'es shoes before it starts to set in... this is different, and scary, but I can do it."
Kayla and Paul (now commonly referred to by students as "Kyle and Paula" despite the BISA's preference for not changing names,) were seen often in public together afterward. They say that at first, it was mostly for support, because not everyone has the advantage of being in close proximity to their body's prior owner.
"There were other advantages," Paul explains, "Because Mike [Hadley] wouldn't leave me alone for almost a month after the swap. and being seen with Kay in my old body, that gave people the idea that we were, you know, together."
In reality, Paula explains that was never the intention. "The last thing any teenage boy wants to see in the mirror is a pair of breasts, and the last thing he needs is to be gawked at or even hit on by guys incessantly. We were there for each other."
"And be for long," Kayla adds, "I thought, Paul makes a pretty nice girl. And I stopped looking at her as some guy in my old body, but as one of my closest friends."
It was, however, a shock to their friends when Kayla and Paul first kissed in the cafeteria.
"Paul used to have this wicked jumpshot," explains friend Dale Karlov, "We played basketball a lot. And now he's a girl, kissing boys. we haven't, um, talked a lot since."
"At first, I thought it was gross," says Melissa Kelown, a classmate of Kayla's, "But things change."
The change she describes echoes her own. Kelown was sitting at home reading on her bed one night when she felt feint and decided to lie back.
"And when I woke up, it was like the worst dream ever."
While Kelown did not have to address the same type of change Kayla and Paul did, the swap she found herself in was in a more serious situation.
"I was due after the end of the semester," explains Darla Montgomery, 29, a physics teacher at Algonquin Memorial. "[My fiancé] Bryan and I were very busy buying baby things and planning our finances. He'd already gone to bed and I was still awake, and then it happened."
Kelowna, in a body almost 6 months pregnant, now must face the unwilling duty of acting as a surrogate mother to her teacher.
"I feel so bad that she has to live with this," laments Mongomery, "Being pregnant isn't something you can just live with and get on with your life. It affects everything around you, especially at this late stage."
Kelowna, optiistic, says that she is grateful for the amount of leeway she has been given with her studies. "I don't think this is, like, an ordinary teen pregnancy," she jokes, adding "And when this is over, whatever body I'm in, I don't think I'll be having sex for a very long time."
Officials are concerned this matter could touch off perhaps the first-ever 'maternity' suit for the courts to argue over, but Kelowna is not looking to make herself the child's mother.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm doing all the work and hopefully I get something in return, but I don't want to, like, keep their baby hostage or anything. They're totally the parents. I'm just, like filling in."
Bertrand Mosses, the vice principal of Algonquin Memorial High School, has observed that three separate swaps have occurred, all concerning members of the faculty and student body.
"I don't like it, and it seems very odd," he scratches his head as he says, "It's as though somebody's targetting my people and I don't like it at all. The swaps seem totally random but this sort of thing doesn't happen when it's random."
No one can say for sure when, where or why a swap will occur, but Mosses is keeping a close eye on his school until the answers are divined.
Friday, April 6, 2007
First BISA swap inquiry challenges previous notions
In the preliminary draft of his first BISA-sponsored inquiry into swapping, Dr. Howard Bergman makes some startling assertions that are giving clarity for the first time to the phenomenon.
"Our original understanding was that some force, what we're calling Factor-X for now, has physically been removing the entire contents of swapees' brains and replacing them," explains Bergman, head of Psychology for the American BISA in Bethesda, MD. "we're already seeing it's much more complicated than that."
"There were irregularities in swapee CAT scans that were unaccounted for," he explains. "The same pattern emerged with each of them on their first scan, but we've been continually scanning a few subjects and found very distinct developments."
Notes Dr. Arthur Gulf, a colleague at BISA, "The pattern developments were mirrored between swapees... there is a definite link, which could be extremely useful if we ever discover how to reverse the process."
Bergman was first pointed in this direction by a swap occurring between an American who suffered from mild Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and a Japanese businessman.
The American, Derek Schultz, was swapped all the way across the Pacific Ocean. "It was more like a dream than anything else, I was surrounded by all these Japanese guys in suits and I had a drink in my hand. I don't drink, but I had some anyway." He explains the most confusing part to researchers. "I completely understood everything everyone around me was saying. I speak Japanese now."
What this appears to mean to Dr. Bergman, is that swaps may not in fact be as black-and-white as a new brain in an old body. "There are some things we can anticipate, sensory reactions and injuries that stay with the body despite their apparent connection with the brain. This appears to have been an incomplete swap, which suggests that more of the original body's mind is retained than previously thought."
What this would mean to swapees is that their identity isn't removed, only buried beneath a new set of memories and personality.
"Potentially, in the long-term," theorizes Bergman, "The old personality could re-assert itself. We're learning new things about this all the time."
Brian Keller, a 16-year-old Vancouver boy who was swapped with a single mother of one earlier this year, disagrees. She emphatically denies any of her body's previous memory remains in her.
"I don't see what they're getting at," she explains, "I know who I am, and I don't see this changing that."
Bergman explains that this theory will be proven or disproven as the months wear onward and more is learned about the swaps.
As Bergman, Gulf, and their colleagues at BISA continue their research new leads present themselves all the time, as do new questions.
"There's always the one big question," says Gulf, "Of what, exactly, is responsible. Until we know that, I doubt we can ever truly call our work done."
"Our original understanding was that some force, what we're calling Factor-X for now, has physically been removing the entire contents of swapees' brains and replacing them," explains Bergman, head of Psychology for the American BISA in Bethesda, MD. "we're already seeing it's much more complicated than that."
"There were irregularities in swapee CAT scans that were unaccounted for," he explains. "The same pattern emerged with each of them on their first scan, but we've been continually scanning a few subjects and found very distinct developments."
Notes Dr. Arthur Gulf, a colleague at BISA, "The pattern developments were mirrored between swapees... there is a definite link, which could be extremely useful if we ever discover how to reverse the process."
Bergman was first pointed in this direction by a swap occurring between an American who suffered from mild Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and a Japanese businessman.
The American, Derek Schultz, was swapped all the way across the Pacific Ocean. "It was more like a dream than anything else, I was surrounded by all these Japanese guys in suits and I had a drink in my hand. I don't drink, but I had some anyway." He explains the most confusing part to researchers. "I completely understood everything everyone around me was saying. I speak Japanese now."
What this appears to mean to Dr. Bergman, is that swaps may not in fact be as black-and-white as a new brain in an old body. "There are some things we can anticipate, sensory reactions and injuries that stay with the body despite their apparent connection with the brain. This appears to have been an incomplete swap, which suggests that more of the original body's mind is retained than previously thought."
What this would mean to swapees is that their identity isn't removed, only buried beneath a new set of memories and personality.
"Potentially, in the long-term," theorizes Bergman, "The old personality could re-assert itself. We're learning new things about this all the time."
Brian Keller, a 16-year-old Vancouver boy who was swapped with a single mother of one earlier this year, disagrees. She emphatically denies any of her body's previous memory remains in her.
"I don't see what they're getting at," she explains, "I know who I am, and I don't see this changing that."
Bergman explains that this theory will be proven or disproven as the months wear onward and more is learned about the swaps.
As Bergman, Gulf, and their colleagues at BISA continue their research new leads present themselves all the time, as do new questions.
"There's always the one big question," says Gulf, "Of what, exactly, is responsible. Until we know that, I doubt we can ever truly call our work done."
Friday, March 30, 2007
Brief Chat with a Swapee
In the midst of the busy restaurant, she sits unassumingly. A sweet-looking girl of about 26 years old, dressed in a light pullover and green top. Her auburn hair is pulled back, falling just to her chin. With a cup of coffee by her side, she peers over a newspaper, the Toronto Sun.
"Alex?" she asks, extending her hand for a shake. I take it. "I'm Nick."
I sit down and order a light lunch, setting out my notepad and tape recorder. Although I've interviewed a number of swapees, this is the first one I could find in my hometown of Toronto, let alone who would meet me in person. I've decided to handle her story somewhat differently.
"I'll let you do most of the talking," I tell her, "And i'll interject when I wave a question, but I mostly want you to tell your story."
She rolls her eyes. "I wish I didn't have a story, but you know there's no getting away from this thing."
I laugh lightly, "You should see the all the post-it notes littering my desk. There's no way I can escape it now."
"So what do you think of this whole thing, anyway?"
I take a pause and tell her, "I really just want to talk about you. Maybe we'll talk about me later."
She shrugs "I guess I'm the interesting one here. So where do I begin...?"
Swap Nation: What were you doing when you swapped?
Nick: I was brushing my teeth. I'd rolled out of bed, visited the toilet, and was brushing my teeth before showering. You know, the morning ritual. I had the toothbrush in my mouth when it suddenly rushed over me, just for an instant. My vision went blurry, me hearing went to, like, a dialtone. I felt like my legs were buckling under me, I think you've probably heard it all before. So I came to and I'm lying on this bed and I've got this pair of jeans half-on, clutched in my fingers. I took me, like, a half of a second to figure out what had happened. And my first reaction was, like "Well there goes my whole day." I didn't know where I was, what I looked like, or who was around, and I'm most worried about how I was going to go to the drug store, because I had a cold. Well, obviously I didn't have a cold anymore. This was early in March, the weather was terrible, not like it is now (the weather is 13 Celsius and sunny as we speak.) So I buttoned up the jeans and look around the apartment. It was a mess, but a nice one... some clutter, you know, some books, I didn't know. So I try to find the washroom and there she is, looking me in the eye in the mirror. I didn't realize I was female at first, and so I'm looking at this face and I'm like "Teenage boy?" I don't know. I felt my chin, no stubble. I'm rambling. Am I rambling? (I assure her she's not.) So first I notice the face and it looks so odd and I didn't put it together. It sounds like an insult to say I didn't realize I was a girl, but that's just my mindset... the thought didn't cross my mind and I didn't ant to believe it. Nothing felt different, at least. Then I notice them. Hard to ignore, right? It's okay, you can glance. I got this sinking feeling and suddenly everything... everything you'd think I would have noticed at first starts to hit me. How short I am, how my weight's distributed, my hair in my face... how I suddenly can't feel what I thought was there.
Now it feels wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. I sat on the toilet with the lid down clutching my sides shaking like I had hypothermia.
I stood up and looked myself in the eye again. I start talking to myself, I guess just to hear my voice. I said, "Nick. Nick. Nick," over and over again, trying to tell myself who I was. "What's going on, Nick? Oh not much, just got a vagina." (Laughs) And then I said that word like a hundred times! "Vagina, vagina, vagina!" It meant something new now, I guess. I felt like I was going to cry, and I was still laughing, but I felt, like, helpless. I didn't know anything about this girl.
So what did you do?
I found out who I was. Actually, since I live with my parents, I e-mailed my dad and told him that his son wasn't there anymore. He e-mails me back and tells me the guy in my body is named Traci, and I say "Dad, that's a girl's name." He tells me, "I know, poor guy." I would have laughed if I weren't so distressed.
Traci, like me, was low on cash. However, at the time of the swap, she was employed as a secretary, except she can't go to work because she's at my house in Chicago. So I think, "Okay, great, secretary, I can do that." So now I've been doing her job for however many weeks and she's been living, in my poor, balding body, without much money.
It sounds like you adapted quickly.
Well, in a sense, you have to. You can't choose your body -- believe me! Little things like pickle jars and jammed doors don't bother me, and that's the only time I remember how I'm not all that strong anymore.
What about your personal life?
(She giggles just enough to seem awkward) I don't really have one. I didn't have a girlfriend, Traci didn't have a boyfriend, thank god. All she had were these modest little rubber jobs in the sock drawer, and I ain't even touched those.
(She sighs, there's obviously something she's not telling me)
The first thing I did, I guess, when I left the apartment, was get a haircut. Traci sent me to her usual hairdresser. She was really excited to see me, but I told her who I was. And then she got even more excited, kind of like "Oh that's so cool, my mom's friend was swapped, I think it's so neat, I'm sorry about what happened but I still think it's cool." (Laughing, a gleam in her eye,) I wanted her to shave my head, but she refused. She did the hard sell on keeping my hair long, "Not many guys get to have really gorgeous hair, so why don't you just try it out?" This 'do is a compromise.
She also told me she'd be seeing me again soon. "As I'm sure you already found out, Traci's not a natural redhead." That made me vomit in my mouth, when I first heard it. Is it okay to tell that part?
I'll let it slide. Why do you think you were swapped?
Why is anyone swapped? I don't know. I'd like to think it's random. I'd rather not think someone's sitting at a control switch saying "Okay Nick, you're going to be Traci now." I hope it's all random and I hope there's a way to reverse it. I mean, Goddamn, it happened, so why shouldn't there be a reversal?
What changes have you noticed in your personality?
Well there's the obvious. I mean, I'm really shy now. Not that I was a ladykiller, but I wouldn't even dream of approaching a woman looking like this, so my sex life is DOA. I stay at home most night and read or watch TV. I tried to get into the Ugly Betty show, but it's not my style, so I guess I'm still a guy inside. And I started drawing. That's weird, because I didn't draw, and Traci didn't, but people have been telling me I'm pretty good.
I'm just really particular about who I talk to. I'm not a supermodel or anything, thank God, but guys like me will talk to any moderately attractive girl, and most of them come off as really skeevy. So there's the shyness for you.
As we shake hands and part, she offers to contribute a column to the site, which I welcome - to add variety, I absolutely welcome it. You'll be seeing Nick's first blog within weeks.
"Alex?" she asks, extending her hand for a shake. I take it. "I'm Nick."
I sit down and order a light lunch, setting out my notepad and tape recorder. Although I've interviewed a number of swapees, this is the first one I could find in my hometown of Toronto, let alone who would meet me in person. I've decided to handle her story somewhat differently.
"I'll let you do most of the talking," I tell her, "And i'll interject when I wave a question, but I mostly want you to tell your story."
She rolls her eyes. "I wish I didn't have a story, but you know there's no getting away from this thing."
I laugh lightly, "You should see the all the post-it notes littering my desk. There's no way I can escape it now."
"So what do you think of this whole thing, anyway?"
I take a pause and tell her, "I really just want to talk about you. Maybe we'll talk about me later."
She shrugs "I guess I'm the interesting one here. So where do I begin...?"
Swap Nation: What were you doing when you swapped?
Nick: I was brushing my teeth. I'd rolled out of bed, visited the toilet, and was brushing my teeth before showering. You know, the morning ritual. I had the toothbrush in my mouth when it suddenly rushed over me, just for an instant. My vision went blurry, me hearing went to, like, a dialtone. I felt like my legs were buckling under me, I think you've probably heard it all before. So I came to and I'm lying on this bed and I've got this pair of jeans half-on, clutched in my fingers. I took me, like, a half of a second to figure out what had happened. And my first reaction was, like "Well there goes my whole day." I didn't know where I was, what I looked like, or who was around, and I'm most worried about how I was going to go to the drug store, because I had a cold. Well, obviously I didn't have a cold anymore. This was early in March, the weather was terrible, not like it is now (the weather is 13 Celsius and sunny as we speak.) So I buttoned up the jeans and look around the apartment. It was a mess, but a nice one... some clutter, you know, some books, I didn't know. So I try to find the washroom and there she is, looking me in the eye in the mirror. I didn't realize I was female at first, and so I'm looking at this face and I'm like "Teenage boy?" I don't know. I felt my chin, no stubble. I'm rambling. Am I rambling? (I assure her she's not.) So first I notice the face and it looks so odd and I didn't put it together. It sounds like an insult to say I didn't realize I was a girl, but that's just my mindset... the thought didn't cross my mind and I didn't ant to believe it. Nothing felt different, at least. Then I notice them. Hard to ignore, right? It's okay, you can glance. I got this sinking feeling and suddenly everything... everything you'd think I would have noticed at first starts to hit me. How short I am, how my weight's distributed, my hair in my face... how I suddenly can't feel what I thought was there.
Now it feels wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. I sat on the toilet with the lid down clutching my sides shaking like I had hypothermia.
I stood up and looked myself in the eye again. I start talking to myself, I guess just to hear my voice. I said, "Nick. Nick. Nick," over and over again, trying to tell myself who I was. "What's going on, Nick? Oh not much, just got a vagina." (Laughs) And then I said that word like a hundred times! "Vagina, vagina, vagina!" It meant something new now, I guess. I felt like I was going to cry, and I was still laughing, but I felt, like, helpless. I didn't know anything about this girl.
So what did you do?
I found out who I was. Actually, since I live with my parents, I e-mailed my dad and told him that his son wasn't there anymore. He e-mails me back and tells me the guy in my body is named Traci, and I say "Dad, that's a girl's name." He tells me, "I know, poor guy." I would have laughed if I weren't so distressed.
Traci, like me, was low on cash. However, at the time of the swap, she was employed as a secretary, except she can't go to work because she's at my house in Chicago. So I think, "Okay, great, secretary, I can do that." So now I've been doing her job for however many weeks and she's been living, in my poor, balding body, without much money.
It sounds like you adapted quickly.
Well, in a sense, you have to. You can't choose your body -- believe me! Little things like pickle jars and jammed doors don't bother me, and that's the only time I remember how I'm not all that strong anymore.
What about your personal life?
(She giggles just enough to seem awkward) I don't really have one. I didn't have a girlfriend, Traci didn't have a boyfriend, thank god. All she had were these modest little rubber jobs in the sock drawer, and I ain't even touched those.
(She sighs, there's obviously something she's not telling me)
The first thing I did, I guess, when I left the apartment, was get a haircut. Traci sent me to her usual hairdresser. She was really excited to see me, but I told her who I was. And then she got even more excited, kind of like "Oh that's so cool, my mom's friend was swapped, I think it's so neat, I'm sorry about what happened but I still think it's cool." (Laughing, a gleam in her eye,) I wanted her to shave my head, but she refused. She did the hard sell on keeping my hair long, "Not many guys get to have really gorgeous hair, so why don't you just try it out?" This 'do is a compromise.
She also told me she'd be seeing me again soon. "As I'm sure you already found out, Traci's not a natural redhead." That made me vomit in my mouth, when I first heard it. Is it okay to tell that part?
I'll let it slide. Why do you think you were swapped?
Why is anyone swapped? I don't know. I'd like to think it's random. I'd rather not think someone's sitting at a control switch saying "Okay Nick, you're going to be Traci now." I hope it's all random and I hope there's a way to reverse it. I mean, Goddamn, it happened, so why shouldn't there be a reversal?
What changes have you noticed in your personality?
Well there's the obvious. I mean, I'm really shy now. Not that I was a ladykiller, but I wouldn't even dream of approaching a woman looking like this, so my sex life is DOA. I stay at home most night and read or watch TV. I tried to get into the Ugly Betty show, but it's not my style, so I guess I'm still a guy inside. And I started drawing. That's weird, because I didn't draw, and Traci didn't, but people have been telling me I'm pretty good.
I'm just really particular about who I talk to. I'm not a supermodel or anything, thank God, but guys like me will talk to any moderately attractive girl, and most of them come off as really skeevy. So there's the shyness for you.
As we shake hands and part, she offers to contribute a column to the site, which I welcome - to add variety, I absolutely welcome it. You'll be seeing Nick's first blog within weeks.
Friday, March 23, 2007
60's pop group to reunite under unusual circumstances
The Monkees, one of the top-selling pop/rock acts of the late 1960's will reunite this summer after a pair of fortuitous swaps.
Singer Micky Dolenz, 62, swapped with former 'NSync singer JC Chasez, 30, on February 18. Neither man would comment on te swap at the time, with Dolenz only saying it was "One of those things you live with, hopefully."
A publicist for Chasez said, "Mr. Chasez can only say he has the utmost respect for Mr. Dolenz and hopes to continue his own musical endeavours."
However, less than a month later, on March 10, Dolenz received a call from his former bandmate, Davy Jones, 61, albeit in n unfamiliar voice.
"Davy always did have kind of a light voice, you know," grinned Dolenz, "But I get this call, the voice says, 'Mick, it's Davy!' And I can tell it sounds British, but I couldn't help but clean out my ears and ask, 'what?'"
Jones had recently been swapped with Maureen "Reeni" Gould, lead singer and bass guitarist of Cybertronic, a "girl-geek-punk" group from Southern California.
"I told Micky what'd happened," Jones' English accent is fully audible coming over Gould's pierced tongue. She brushes a lock of dyed-pink hair from her face and rolls her eyes, "It seemed this would be a natural concept."
The Ventura, CA native Gould had very choice words regarding her swap with the Manchester-born former pop idol. None of them are, however, printable in a family-friendly article. Using a very colourful metaphor for oral sex, Gould expressed her displeasure with the swap.
Jones & Dolenz are currently rehearsing their old material, as well as a pair of new songs, one of which will be written by their fellow ex-Monkee, Peter Tork.
When interviewed, Tork found it difficult to stop laughing.
"Mick and Dave are good friends of mine, yeah we go way back," Tork beamed, "And hey, maybe I'll get swapped with one of those boy band types too, and get Jessica Simpson's number in the process."
Tickets will go on sale soon for the tour, which will start in July.
Singer Micky Dolenz, 62, swapped with former 'NSync singer JC Chasez, 30, on February 18. Neither man would comment on te swap at the time, with Dolenz only saying it was "One of those things you live with, hopefully."
A publicist for Chasez said, "Mr. Chasez can only say he has the utmost respect for Mr. Dolenz and hopes to continue his own musical endeavours."
However, less than a month later, on March 10, Dolenz received a call from his former bandmate, Davy Jones, 61, albeit in n unfamiliar voice.
"Davy always did have kind of a light voice, you know," grinned Dolenz, "But I get this call, the voice says, 'Mick, it's Davy!' And I can tell it sounds British, but I couldn't help but clean out my ears and ask, 'what?'"
Jones had recently been swapped with Maureen "Reeni" Gould, lead singer and bass guitarist of Cybertronic, a "girl-geek-punk" group from Southern California.
"I told Micky what'd happened," Jones' English accent is fully audible coming over Gould's pierced tongue. She brushes a lock of dyed-pink hair from her face and rolls her eyes, "It seemed this would be a natural concept."
The Ventura, CA native Gould had very choice words regarding her swap with the Manchester-born former pop idol. None of them are, however, printable in a family-friendly article. Using a very colourful metaphor for oral sex, Gould expressed her displeasure with the swap.
Jones & Dolenz are currently rehearsing their old material, as well as a pair of new songs, one of which will be written by their fellow ex-Monkee, Peter Tork.
When interviewed, Tork found it difficult to stop laughing.
"Mick and Dave are good friends of mine, yeah we go way back," Tork beamed, "And hey, maybe I'll get swapped with one of those boy band types too, and get Jessica Simpson's number in the process."
Tickets will go on sale soon for the tour, which will start in July.
Briefs: VP issues statement on swap at Bureau opening
Vice President Dick Cheney spoke briefly at the opening of the first BISA in Bethesda, MD this past Wednesday.
"I'd just like to say, the office of the Vice President, and the office of the President, both endorse this institution. It will do much good to the confused Americans who are victims of this unlikely epidemic, whatever its source. It is important that we maintain our resolve and not let our enemies who may be behind this get the better of us. It will not affect our way of life. We are American, and we are determined. Thank you very much."
The VP also briefly answered questions. He was evasive on the topic of swap marriages, and the legal stature of the individual's identity rights.
Vice President Cheney merely said, "The position our government has is the same one it has always had. Whether that position is the same as the BISA is a different matter. We want no disruptions to our way of life."
"I'd just like to say, the office of the Vice President, and the office of the President, both endorse this institution. It will do much good to the confused Americans who are victims of this unlikely epidemic, whatever its source. It is important that we maintain our resolve and not let our enemies who may be behind this get the better of us. It will not affect our way of life. We are American, and we are determined. Thank you very much."
The VP also briefly answered questions. He was evasive on the topic of swap marriages, and the legal stature of the individual's identity rights.
Vice President Cheney merely said, "The position our government has is the same one it has always had. Whether that position is the same as the BISA is a different matter. We want no disruptions to our way of life."
Friday, March 16, 2007
Vancouver teen ponders future in wake of swap
On a lazy Saturday afternoon, all Brian Keller, 16, really wanted to do was to relax in his room and play video games. Unfortunately, the mysterious force behind swaps had other plans as Brian found himself transported away from the world of Super Mario, and into a supermarket, where he was suddenly pushing a cart full of groceries.
Victoria Worth, a 36-year-old single mother, found herself dressed in Brian's grungy System of a Down t-shirt clutching his Nintendo controller.
"I didn't understand it, and then I remembered... the first news report of a swap had just aired the week before and everyone was talking about it," remembers Victoria.
"I didn't know where I was or what I was doing," says Brian, "I was holding onto the cart and my hands weren't my own. I couldn't breathe. Something was wrong. It was like I was having a panic attack."
Supermarket patrons saw the brown-haired mother of one fall to her knees and begin rifling through her purse. as she sorted through her things, her cellphone started to ring.
"Well what would you do?" Brian asked rhetorically, "I answered it."
The phone call was from Victoria, now many thousands of miles from her body in St. Paul, MN, calling from Brian's room. "Who is this?" the now-teenager asked.
"It's... Brian," she replied, uttering her first syllables in a new voice.
"Brian, have you heard of swapping?" he asked. Brian hadn't. "Well I think that's what's happened to us."
Brian says, "When Vick explained it to me, my first thought is, 'This isn't fair!' I'm only a kid, I've got my life ahead of me. She's got a 13-year-old daughter, and a career. Then I took a little liberty with whatever alcohol Vick had lying around, followed by, oh, maybe six hours of vomitting."
As they made their arrangements to return to their normal identities, Victoria muses, "She gets my silk blouses, leather shirts and lace panties, and I have to wear ugly loose jeans, old faded t-shirts, and grungy boxer shorts. Who really comes comes out on top here?"
Over the long-distance call, Worth directed the boy in his former body home, and directed her on what to pack. More than somewhat overwhelmed at the situation, Keller followed the suggestions of the voice on the line, packing up every article of clothing from the woman's dresser, and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.
Says Keller, "I remember picking up a pair of panties and thinking... it's not the boxers I'll miss, it's what I kept in them."
Brian also recalls the moment something very startling happened. "I remember nearly dropping the phone and saying... 'A girl just walked in.'"
The girl in question was Worth's daughter Sabrina, 15, and who had some very serious questions about what was going on.
"I ended up having to stay until finally Vick got home," Brian says, "It was awkward, but at least she wasn't married or anything."
"We still keep contact, I talked her through her first period, just like I did my daughter," Victoria says with an impish teenage smile, "Sabrina didn't take the swap so well, she doesn't think I'm her mom anymore."
While Brian got a very scholarly lecture on her biology, she had less enlightened advice to offer when Victoria came to face his own physiology.
"He calls me up," laughs Brian, "And says, 'I'm at the office, and I just saw the receptionist straighten her leggings and your thing - my thing won't go down!' When I finally stopped laughing, I told him he's got too choices. Take care of it, or don't."
"Once I accepted I'm not who I used to be, I began to fall quite willingly into the role," Victoria muses cheerfully, "I'm definitely hormonal, and I'm definitely out there. Looking. Sabrina can't bring her little friends over, I made her promise!"
While Victoria has assumed the role of teenage boy, Brian's new body is giving her mixed signals.
"Nothing seems more revolting to me now than the idea of sex," she says, "I'm sick of looking at a naked woman in the mirror, and I hate the idea of some clumsy, hairy, sweaty guy putting his hands on me. And I think dad's happy about that."
Since Brian's mother left six years ago, the young man has been cared for by his father, Theo, who says "[Brian's] whole persona hasn't changed much. He used to squrim a lot, and he still does that, always tugging at those blouses, trying to stay loose. I don't think [she] is very comfortable dressed like that. But it's so funny to see [her] get carried away at a Canucks game."
He adds, "It's also very uncomfortable watching your teenage son sort bras. I'm really not prepared for this."
When Theo asked what she intended to do in the body of a 36-year-old mother, Brian was evasive.
"I want to keep going to school," she mused, "But I guess I'm kind of old now, so how much time do I really have? If I'm a woman now, do I want children? Do I want a career? Things are different now. I just want to be me. [The swap] has made things so much more complicated."
Untilt he swaps become reversible, young Victoria continues to work in St. Paul as a data processor, and provide for his daughter. In Vancouver, there's a grown woman in a Rolling Stones t-shirt sitting in the back of History class, trying to keep to herself.
Victoria Worth, a 36-year-old single mother, found herself dressed in Brian's grungy System of a Down t-shirt clutching his Nintendo controller.
"I didn't understand it, and then I remembered... the first news report of a swap had just aired the week before and everyone was talking about it," remembers Victoria.
"I didn't know where I was or what I was doing," says Brian, "I was holding onto the cart and my hands weren't my own. I couldn't breathe. Something was wrong. It was like I was having a panic attack."
Supermarket patrons saw the brown-haired mother of one fall to her knees and begin rifling through her purse. as she sorted through her things, her cellphone started to ring.
"Well what would you do?" Brian asked rhetorically, "I answered it."
The phone call was from Victoria, now many thousands of miles from her body in St. Paul, MN, calling from Brian's room. "Who is this?" the now-teenager asked.
"It's... Brian," she replied, uttering her first syllables in a new voice.
"Brian, have you heard of swapping?" he asked. Brian hadn't. "Well I think that's what's happened to us."
Brian says, "When Vick explained it to me, my first thought is, 'This isn't fair!' I'm only a kid, I've got my life ahead of me. She's got a 13-year-old daughter, and a career. Then I took a little liberty with whatever alcohol Vick had lying around, followed by, oh, maybe six hours of vomitting."
As they made their arrangements to return to their normal identities, Victoria muses, "She gets my silk blouses, leather shirts and lace panties, and I have to wear ugly loose jeans, old faded t-shirts, and grungy boxer shorts. Who really comes comes out on top here?"
Over the long-distance call, Worth directed the boy in his former body home, and directed her on what to pack. More than somewhat overwhelmed at the situation, Keller followed the suggestions of the voice on the line, packing up every article of clothing from the woman's dresser, and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.
Says Keller, "I remember picking up a pair of panties and thinking... it's not the boxers I'll miss, it's what I kept in them."
Brian also recalls the moment something very startling happened. "I remember nearly dropping the phone and saying... 'A girl just walked in.'"
The girl in question was Worth's daughter Sabrina, 15, and who had some very serious questions about what was going on.
"I ended up having to stay until finally Vick got home," Brian says, "It was awkward, but at least she wasn't married or anything."
"We still keep contact, I talked her through her first period, just like I did my daughter," Victoria says with an impish teenage smile, "Sabrina didn't take the swap so well, she doesn't think I'm her mom anymore."
While Brian got a very scholarly lecture on her biology, she had less enlightened advice to offer when Victoria came to face his own physiology.
"He calls me up," laughs Brian, "And says, 'I'm at the office, and I just saw the receptionist straighten her leggings and your thing - my thing won't go down!' When I finally stopped laughing, I told him he's got too choices. Take care of it, or don't."
"Once I accepted I'm not who I used to be, I began to fall quite willingly into the role," Victoria muses cheerfully, "I'm definitely hormonal, and I'm definitely out there. Looking. Sabrina can't bring her little friends over, I made her promise!"
While Victoria has assumed the role of teenage boy, Brian's new body is giving her mixed signals.
"Nothing seems more revolting to me now than the idea of sex," she says, "I'm sick of looking at a naked woman in the mirror, and I hate the idea of some clumsy, hairy, sweaty guy putting his hands on me. And I think dad's happy about that."
Since Brian's mother left six years ago, the young man has been cared for by his father, Theo, who says "[Brian's] whole persona hasn't changed much. He used to squrim a lot, and he still does that, always tugging at those blouses, trying to stay loose. I don't think [she] is very comfortable dressed like that. But it's so funny to see [her] get carried away at a Canucks game."
He adds, "It's also very uncomfortable watching your teenage son sort bras. I'm really not prepared for this."
When Theo asked what she intended to do in the body of a 36-year-old mother, Brian was evasive.
"I want to keep going to school," she mused, "But I guess I'm kind of old now, so how much time do I really have? If I'm a woman now, do I want children? Do I want a career? Things are different now. I just want to be me. [The swap] has made things so much more complicated."
Untilt he swaps become reversible, young Victoria continues to work in St. Paul as a data processor, and provide for his daughter. In Vancouver, there's a grown woman in a Rolling Stones t-shirt sitting in the back of History class, trying to keep to herself.
Friday, March 9, 2007
Unlikely "wife-swap" causes more healing than hurt
An appropriate Valentine's Day swap may have been the medicine that Mr. and Mrs. Lewis Frickman's relationship needed.
It was a gruelling day at the office for Lew, 32, who had to contend with a lengthy commute after a record-setting snowfall. He had hoped only to spend the evening on the couch with his wife and nod off in peace. She, however, had other plans.
"I've been unfaithful to my wife," confesses Lew, "But I admitted that to her long ago and we separated. It was our first Valentine's Day back together and we had no idea how we were going to spend it, relaxed or formal.
"I came home in my untucked shirt and loose tie and just wanted to collapse. And then she comes out of the kitchen with the lights low, dressed like a temptress or something."
With a playfulness, Lew recounts how they moved to the bedroom without even having dinner, split a bottle of red wine, and "Got down to some serious business."
It was in the midst of this business that the swap occurred.
Says Lew, "I hadn't even heard of them, it was just tabloid nonsense that the papers weren't even reporting yet, so why should I pay attention? So my wife and I are having sex, and I can feel it, you know, I'm about to come when all of a sudden, it's like nothing I've ever experienced. And I don't mean to sound, you know, experienced but i thought I'd seen and felt it all." Lew laughs.
The room was dimly lit, and Lew's eyes were clenched shut by this point, but at the moment of climax, Lew Frickman was swapped, into the body of his own wife.
"I've been to support groups," she sighs, "There are a few men who have gotten this treatment, and they mostly hate it. I guess they didn't have the fortune of coming into it the same way I did."
Lew and her now-husband, Donna, lay beside each other in bed, out of breath, unsure of what had happened. "Did you feel that?" Lew recalls Donna asking in a softened baritone. "All I could tell her... him, was, it was wonderful."
Donna, 30, was a housewife whose experience had been in the advertising industry. Lew is a PR representative for a publishing house. Once she realized what had happened, the notion of simply claiming the other's life was floated, but rejected.
"We wanted to ease into this, once we started to learn more about what was going on," Donna explains, "I can't be Lew Frickman, but whoever I am now, I like. And I like her very much."
There is a very warm look between the two of them as they sit together, hands clasped, Lew in a necklace and white turtleneck, Donna in a plain green shirt and blazer. Lew took a leave of absence for a week before finally explaining the situation with her boss.
David Worth, the publisher for whom Lew works, said that "The adjustment was fine, it was like having a new employee who knew everything and everybody. I've seen an improvement in Lew's attitude, like a weight has been lifted off his [her] shoulders."
Having already become a woman in private, Lew said it was not hard to adjust to that role in the professional world. "I'm still who I am, and sometimes I'm very difficult with my husband. But out in the world, I want to feel like a woman. It's so odd to say, but I don't want any part of this to feel unnatural. The change has been sweeping for me."
Donna loves the change in dynamic between him and his wife. "Maybe my husband and I didn't have to swap bodies for this to happen, but something did have to change. He wasn't going to change, so something, I guess, forced it on him."
Meanwhile, he is looking for work in his previous field. "I have a unique perspective on things that is a skill I plan to bring to any new job I have. Hopefully, I will get one soon. We're planning to make an addition to our little mixed-up family soon."
Donna and Lew have a standing apointment at the soon-to-be established International Centre for Swap Treatment, here they plan to hammer out the legality of their identities.
It was a gruelling day at the office for Lew, 32, who had to contend with a lengthy commute after a record-setting snowfall. He had hoped only to spend the evening on the couch with his wife and nod off in peace. She, however, had other plans.
"I've been unfaithful to my wife," confesses Lew, "But I admitted that to her long ago and we separated. It was our first Valentine's Day back together and we had no idea how we were going to spend it, relaxed or formal.
"I came home in my untucked shirt and loose tie and just wanted to collapse. And then she comes out of the kitchen with the lights low, dressed like a temptress or something."
With a playfulness, Lew recounts how they moved to the bedroom without even having dinner, split a bottle of red wine, and "Got down to some serious business."
It was in the midst of this business that the swap occurred.
Says Lew, "I hadn't even heard of them, it was just tabloid nonsense that the papers weren't even reporting yet, so why should I pay attention? So my wife and I are having sex, and I can feel it, you know, I'm about to come when all of a sudden, it's like nothing I've ever experienced. And I don't mean to sound, you know, experienced but i thought I'd seen and felt it all." Lew laughs.
The room was dimly lit, and Lew's eyes were clenched shut by this point, but at the moment of climax, Lew Frickman was swapped, into the body of his own wife.
"I've been to support groups," she sighs, "There are a few men who have gotten this treatment, and they mostly hate it. I guess they didn't have the fortune of coming into it the same way I did."
Lew and her now-husband, Donna, lay beside each other in bed, out of breath, unsure of what had happened. "Did you feel that?" Lew recalls Donna asking in a softened baritone. "All I could tell her... him, was, it was wonderful."
Donna, 30, was a housewife whose experience had been in the advertising industry. Lew is a PR representative for a publishing house. Once she realized what had happened, the notion of simply claiming the other's life was floated, but rejected.
"We wanted to ease into this, once we started to learn more about what was going on," Donna explains, "I can't be Lew Frickman, but whoever I am now, I like. And I like her very much."
There is a very warm look between the two of them as they sit together, hands clasped, Lew in a necklace and white turtleneck, Donna in a plain green shirt and blazer. Lew took a leave of absence for a week before finally explaining the situation with her boss.
David Worth, the publisher for whom Lew works, said that "The adjustment was fine, it was like having a new employee who knew everything and everybody. I've seen an improvement in Lew's attitude, like a weight has been lifted off his [her] shoulders."
Having already become a woman in private, Lew said it was not hard to adjust to that role in the professional world. "I'm still who I am, and sometimes I'm very difficult with my husband. But out in the world, I want to feel like a woman. It's so odd to say, but I don't want any part of this to feel unnatural. The change has been sweeping for me."
Donna loves the change in dynamic between him and his wife. "Maybe my husband and I didn't have to swap bodies for this to happen, but something did have to change. He wasn't going to change, so something, I guess, forced it on him."
Meanwhile, he is looking for work in his previous field. "I have a unique perspective on things that is a skill I plan to bring to any new job I have. Hopefully, I will get one soon. We're planning to make an addition to our little mixed-up family soon."
Donna and Lew have a standing apointment at the soon-to-be established International Centre for Swap Treatment, here they plan to hammer out the legality of their identities.
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