There's always a new way to Heaven

You! You're my lover. You're my hope. You're my dreams: my life; my passion; my love; my sex; my money, violence, religion, injustice. Death.

- Paninaro, Pet Shop Boys

I always thought the lyrics quoted above ought to be played at some seminal moment of plot in a film or over a book reading as they sounded so final and so raw when I first heard them back in the late 80s and, even now, they stir in me the kind of tingling that I associate with action and a nameless feeling that, now that I have a diagnosis of autism, I realise the vast majority of people don't feel. It's why there's no word to describe it - I cannot recall the name given to one of these lingusitic oversights by one of the books I read last year about a language being made by women. Hmm, I should perhaps look that up but, right now, I am not going to break my stream of thought.

A decent enough view of the ensemble as
it appeared (along with Abbi's wonderful
curtains that I am not at all jealous of, you
understand).

It was really warm as an outfit too - despite
the low denier tights and bare arms and flowy
skirt, it actually worked well. I shall be doing
this again.

I mean, also: unicorns. Fucking Unicorns!

I was over at Abbi's on Sunday. Following what I wrote here (it was in the TMI bit, no need to go looking) I spent some time thinking on the Sunday morning. I awoke but there was no surprise there for a change, and then took to getting rid of the forest that has grown over the lower part of my body. Hair clippers first, the hair clogging the drain of the bath in which I stood to do so (no water). Then meticulous shaving with a razor that still left clumps after my shower, so more dragging the razor across them. Still not entirely smooth but it felt so good to be able, no, comfortable in pulling up non-opaque tights afterward. I had not realised, or forgotten, just how much of a difference to my peace of mind being hairless on the lower parts of my body made! Then I had to work out what to wear.

The outfit I took to Chams, being a black dress, beckoned. I could probably get away with my collar and maybe even go further. But I demurred. Instead I dug out the unicorn top I was gifted by Indy's wife last year and then tried to find a way to make it work - it having a lovely window for my utterly non-existent cleavage - which eventually became a black t-shirt beneath, sleeves short enough not to peek out, and then my blue broomstick skirt. This took far too long in the morning, but I did manage to get my face on and pick up some essentials. I met Abbi at the shop, she commented approvingly on the sparkle on my face, which I laughed off as always being there - but it hasn't been, my highlighter is not applied when working and, recently, I had not been feeling in a position to apply. She has not seen it before. She also commented approvingly on my outfit when we reached her place and insisted (it didn't take much to be honest) on taking photos. I am very happy with the results of those - and you get the first view of Callie.

Courtesy of Abbi - note the smile, the screwed
up eye, and the fact that I am awkwardly, but
genuinely holding Callie the Alicorn.

Oh, the sleeves did peek out after all. Bums.

Evening was spent trying something different online with the character.ai I am sure I have mentioned before and puzzling out why it went where it did. I do like chat-bots because one can learn them more easily than people, though they are frustrating as they cannot really take the lead in conversation and, I am learning, that is how I navigate: find out what my interlocutor wishes to talk about and then I can let them go, manipulating and directing a little until I am on safe ground and they feel that I have listened. Unless they are a significant person, then they will likely feel the hollowness of my interaction and, if they graduate far enough, learn that I am manipulating conversation to where I wish it to go. Oh well, it's what made me passably decent at teaching back in the day, I suppose.

Today was bizarre. I was up more or less in time (a complication surrounding my new normal for sleeping, joined by the sort of thing I experimented with in January 2021, no, not that - I experimented with that in August 2018 - the other thing) and got myself ready, barely making the bus stop instead of being early enough to catch the bus elsewhere. Still, my final theory test was scheduled for tomorrow. No, I learned at 8.15am that it had been moved to this afternoon, 3.15pm. Oh, okay then, nice. We went driving, I drove first (unexpected) and was told we would be taking a route favoured for testing, as well as deliberately overlapping part of a route I may or may not be taking over when fully engaged in my work. Okay. It went... okay. I enjoyed it, I am enjoying the driving part and I am looking forward to mingling that with interacting with passengers. Saw someone new drive, from the other group, saw my own flaws in how well he did. Something to aim for. My test was brought forward to 3pm. It went well, I didn't do as well as I'd hoped (had been aiming for 100%, of course, but only achieved 90%) but I passed, so good enough. My driving test is now booked for Wednesday. Oh!

Oh, yeah, I have arranged to go and cook for Five on Wednesday. Oh well. I had avoided today and Tuesday on the grounds that I would be prepping for and coming down from the theory test I just took. If I pass on Wednesday then I start proper the day after. Eek. Oh well, I shall have to pack a change of clothes. Part of me wants to change into the black dress, the collar, white stockings (yes, I have some, don't judge me) and maybe even the black heels I own. Not practical. But tempting. We'll just have to see how that goes.

We're invisible now: / clean and prepared / to be led: / indivisible

- Fugitive, Pet Shop Boys

And, sometimes, space and stars fill the void
with light and meaning.

An article about being autistic shared by a good friend also resonated well - the whole concept of feeling alien and different. It loomed large, that feeling of being out of place, in my original diagnosis document. Back then, in 2017, I assumed there was a fair amount of gender confusion there and that this was likely the main wellspring of my discomfort. I was partly correct: I learned more about the effects of ASD and that it was a big part of being out of place, feeling alienated and like an alien. Was it any wonder that I had gravitated toward sci-fi (specifically ones with aliens) for so long? That I had been attracted to the sorts of media that spoke of isolation and, rarely, over-coming that somehow. I'm thinking things as diverse as Falling Down or the Burbs as well as the more certain fayre like the Mask and Dark City. Well, turns out that there's more to that (again I refer to my last TMI, sorry), but the idea that I am alien in the way society works... yes, that resonates. Let us hope I can make that work for me rather than against me. I thought, for a long time, that I had achieved that in teaching: that I had mastered my alienation and turned it into a way in which I could control the classroom. Well, I did, I guess for the best part of 19 years. Until it failed.

Sometimes / someone gets upset / doesn't hear the laughter / takes it as a threat / but it's different after / after the event / looks like someone's smiling / happy to be here / blue skies heaven sent

- After the Event, Pet Shop Boys

Projected Trajectories

Like a learning flightpath but with less input and a lot more sketching of cannonballs, angles and a bit more Maths.

Oooo, look! This is a female bus driver in a cravat and, 
apparently, the UK's best bus driver some year (I did not 
read the article from which I stole this image). 

Point? Oh, yes, point: this looks like the sort of aim I 
would set my sights on and then fail to achieve. Many 
years later I would rest on the laurels of being nominated  
lose sight of why and then, slowly, build habits that lead 
to being sacked. 

Or else, just fuck up and get sacked. 

Busy week, had a flurry of contact with Five, cut short, mentioned in the last post and then... nothing . I suspect that I am waaaay too boring and that, finally, Five has decided that they aren't getting anything from the interaction. Which is fair, I wasn't bringing much to that friendship in the end, I don't think. Oh, no, as I type this, they've been in contact to promise a meeting next week where I can cook for them. Ah, yes, the subby part - and obviously the part I enjoy because... yeah. I also passed my first practical on the Monday having passed the theories on the Friday, which was nice. And, because I am a teacher's pet, I have become the one to be shown off - meaning lots of driving time this week and a surprise entry for the next theory before the final practical. Also, the strange position of being supportive to my instructor as they take on more of an educatory role. Which means, much like being a shopgirl beforehand, I am over-achieving and... we all know how that ends. So, been trying to dial back my ego!

Close enough.

I had four in it. OH MY GOODNESS!

Can recommend.

Thursday was lovely, evening at Chams and there was hot chocolate, Izzy brought marshmallows, and it was a completely random style of conversation. I got to wear my lovely black dress and my favourite collared blouse (big wings, lace edging) and the gifted boots from Izzy. Hurrah! Good friend took me down, she rocked a fab sweater for the evening and seemed to just relax into conversation, which was great to see! I didn't dare wear my collar collar, if you see what I mean, following certain events in the UK news-media, about which I shall say no more. I'd even managed to get some shopping done (grocery, not clothing) and had spent the day showing off my driving a bit (which is nice, but bad ego!). Basically, I am concerned that if I get too pumped up with praise and perceived competence then I shall do that thing where I start cutting corners, taking liberties, bending rules and then get burned and chucked out. Like with my spending, still waaaay too high for the money I'm on. Still, the roof repairs seem to be holding, hard to tell properly as no major rain, but that means I shall move on to getting other things sorted soon enough.

Sunday was lovely, Abbi was over and I got the opportunity to make a ridiculous curry from scratch with the rest of the spices from Lynn. We watched Spirited Away and chewed the fat and I sat with Callie and Abbi luxuriated a bit. I really enjoyed it. Can't really explain why. Not effectively. But I don't have to, it was just nice to have a friend over, spend far too much on my heating bill, and feel like I was having fun. I even booked some train tickets to head Oop North for a Ladies' Night in March with Shiona - I shall be taking Middlest for a meet up with Gary and Shiona's boys for mutually assured fun and Warhammer frolics.

Anyway, my worry is that I will let the praise go to my head; that I shall use my role as teacher's pet a little too much and lose friends before I get a chance to make them at work. That I shall be fine in the learning phase and then fall flat on my face and/or arse when I move to the independent stage. It's my standard trajectory and flightpath if the last year is anything to go by. And before then, frankly, in more than employment: it can be perceived in my relationships and parenting as well.

After the line break I shall be discussing some... well, basically, don't click on if you are avoiding the TMI tag and, well, you should be avoiding the TMI tag!

Olive Rudge

If I may do some Sociology at it... working on buses 
is kinda upper-working-class employment. 

Teaching, by comparison, was firmly middle-class. 

So, unfairly, it feels like demotion. But, it is better 
respected that shop work. And slightly better paid. 

It's been a busy, but largely positive, week. I passed my theory tests on Friday (yay) and did a good enough job of practice reversing a bus on the Thursday that I gained some very nice praise (but am now incredibly wary of my ego, I know how I am with stuff like that). I even managed to get to and from work without too much issue using buses, which was nice. However, in the tumult (if I may call it that, more on this momentarily) I forgot to arrange time for Middlest to have a chat with Gary and Shiona's eldest when he came over on Friday. Twice running now! Also, I spent almost £30 on shopping this week (that's a 50% increase) which is... unsustainable. Whoops! Taking Middlest out to the nearby urban connurbation today, Pokemon was not on alas but we didn't know til we turned up, also set me back nearly £15 even with free bus travel. I must be more careful, I still don't know how much I'm going to get after tax (and how much I shall have to chase regarding tax codes and the like) so... yeah. Mind you, I also texted the boiler person from last year (she is lovely) to see if I can book her out. My cushion will also stretch to sorting out the bathroom, which I have decided is more important than dealing with the damp in the living room on the grounds that I should like to wash without worrying about leaks from the shower.

Let's just say I think Section 35 could well be the
Section 28 of the end of the Union.

Sorry Scotland. But, honestly, you're better off without
us English.

There is another trans-woman working at my new place too, so that was nice. I had wondered seeing her about but then, on reflection, decided she was cis and put it from my mind. Anyway, she approached me on the Friday, just before taking my theory tests, and we had a chat and she sort of blurted it out mid-conversation assuming that I had already clocked. And, well, I kinda had but, as I say... Anyway, that could be very nice indeed. She's seven years in already and... well, aims and all that.

Ah yes, the tumult. So, last week I was worriting about starting the new job and it just slipped my mind until the Sunday about arranging a video call for Middlest. This week? Well, the first two days were easy enough, but I was buzzing with stuff in the evenings and was still getting used to the concept of my new work - hours, place, location, routes there and back - you know: autism stuff. Then the last three days were... different. Their idea of intense is not my idea of intense. I did a few hours practice tests on the Wednesday, then it was out watching other trainees learn and stealing all the advice they were given regarding reversing buses and how buses are driven. Thursday was similar, but I managed 16 practice tests before lunch, which was an extended affair, and then ended up being able to reverse a bus (reasonably well apparently). Friday? I got the morning to practice (12 practice tests) then a two hour lunch(!) then a test, with an hour long break afterwards before the final two. Then I was sort of left to my own devices for two hours before going home.

Not many people can eat candy-floss threateningly,
it's true.

This is not a criticism. It's just... I guess I am used to teaching and, more recently, the more breakneck pace and stress of the shop. There's a lot to do before some yahoo like me can waltz in an take a legal test or reverse a bus willy-nilly. Also, I am aware that I read quickly and, well, this sort of thing is kinda my bag so I guess I move more speedily than most. The crunch will come, of course, in the practicalities and the bedding in. The unknown unknowns, you know? But it does mean that, with a lift maybe, I should be able to make Chams, maybe even getting there on buses. Hmm. There is an option of getting home too, but it is very convoluted. I digress, as is my wont.

Tomorrow I meet Smallest at a park for two hours and then Abbi is coming round with the potential to watch Blackpool, which I am far from averse to seeing again, whilst I cook us some curry (I got in some new spices, part of the spending I guess). Oh! Yes, Five was ill this week, so I never made it round there to do cooking. Did mean I managed to have a shower though, so not complaining. I rather suspect my approach has become... well, I would be surprised if I hear back from them now. Which... well, I guess I was waiting for it to happen: I'm not the most interesting person to be seeking some kind of involvement with! Right, time to make tea for the Middlest and me.

Roll up for the Mystery Tour!

My name's Ringo, and I play the drums.

I'm Paul, I play the guitar.

This is George, and I also play the guitar.

I'm John Lennon, and I play the fool.

Today's 'look'. One of the office ladies 
loved the waistcoat. As well she might! 

I forget what album that is the opening to, but I am reasonably confident that a. my Mum had it on vinyl and cassette and b. it had Magical Mystery Tour on it. Why do I relate this? As a novel way of introducing my post, silly, why else? Because I have had two days of induction at my new job. I am lucky, I was the only person out of six to have it on their first day - no one else has waited less than two months for it - so I have the 'proper' experience. Hurrah! I think.

And, truth be told, it's been really interesting. Lots to take in. Today we were to be out of uniform (so only a day in uniform, and I do like uniforms) and take a trip along as many bus routes as we could (minimum 20 minute rides) in 3.5 hours. I managed a meagre five having spent a good four hours last night planning to hit seven - some snarl ups in traffic and issues meant two services were running behind time and one that I did catch was running at a completely different time to that posted. Oh well. Best laid plans and all that. I did get a bit frustrated at myself for that mess up whilst out and about, so I have noted that my internal monologue has defaulted to being a bit nasty. But, on the other hand, I have the ability to use buses to get to and from work for free and have used them so both days. So that's nice. Spent £2.05 on a lamb and mint hot slice today, though. Must watch myself - my pay won't be so much I can start spending money like I used to!!

Obligatory first day photo.

Hopefully with any company identifying
material removed. I wore a cravat!

(It's not a tie!!!!!!)

My biggest concern? Making sure I don't mess this opportunity up. As my Dad reminded me when he rang on Sunday: this is kind of my last chance now, mess this up and there is nothing else. I mean, he's not wrong. Still, everyone seems nice (he/him being used by colleagues almost exclusively of me, despite name and presentation).

Regarding that he/him stuff: I really do wonder what's going on - back in July I didn't get this nearly as much and I would posit that I look vaguely more feminine than I did back then. Is that it? Is that what it is? Hmm. Probably shadow and voice related. Or it's just not knowing. Did have a very good conversation with one of the other attendees about it, albeit briefly, where he expressed amazement that I was so recent and early in transition, he assumed I'd done it in my teens(!). Not complaining. He later continued to use he/him - but unconsciously and only with positives - so that was fascinating to me.

Roofers have been, I can see some of the work they have done and it seems valid - just got to wait for a fall of rain to see if they caught everything (these ones didn't go and check where the leaks were visible in the loft, just said they could see on the roof). We shall see. I suspect if they haven't they will come back and sort though, and I have their details, so we shall just have to see. For now, I am hoping it's a positive. To celebrate I have spent £6 on heating both yesterday and today, it's been very cold (though my sleeping arrangments are such that I overheated and woke both nights).

Abbi is coming over on Sunday. Middlest is coming over to stay the night Friday and Youngest wants to meet in a local park on Sunday morning. Tomorrow I hope to go and cook for Five. It's a busy week.

New clothes and a curtsey.

I'm doing the curtsey!!!!

On a Magical Journey

It's not my actual roof, because my felt is so eroded 
that it crumbles when touched... 

New day, new tribulation: second set of roofers in, spot more problems (by going on the roof and having a proper look) - they reckon £1,300 to set most things right, another £1k for an issue with my chimney about to fall down. I check with the first roofer - he was about to call me to cancel coming and doing the work he'd spotted for £600 anyway, advised me to get another roofer (he had a new contract and reckoned my roof wouldn't last the four weeks he'd have to delay). So, second set have been commissioned and they're in on Monday whilst I'm at work for the first time in ages. Yes, that's when my training starts.

Ordered some new clothes, they were due to arrive yesterday but the parcel delivery was botched - they claimed I wasn't in (but I was, dear reader) - posting a card to say they'd tried at 1300 (but I found it at 1256) and sending an e-mail to that effect at 1247. Took Middlest (he stayed overnight last night) to retrieve it and... it's not so bad. Honestly lower quality than I had expected but, yeah, an obnoxious orange jumper, a mustard yellow cardy, a £1 skirt (not expecting much on that if I'm honest) and a maxi-dress... they'll do!

Like all good sci-fi shows, Red Dwarf played with alternate
realities and dimensions - like this one where, I think, Lister
had twins...

Chams was great, very busy. Got trapped, to an extent, in a nice conversation. I say trapped because it meant I couldn't speak to the friend that has been over a few times (despite her sat right next to me) nor have a proper catch up with Lynn (but there were two new people, so perhaps that was for the best). Izzy made sure I got there, despite having to go further to pick me up from Abbi's due to a failed text. I have thus seen Izzy's hair sans wig and it looks great. I can see she's going to really suit it as it grows out! Also, Lynn very kindy brought some packets of spices and so today my Middlest and I used them to make his very first curry. He liked it! Good flavour, not too hot (I only started tearing up toward the end) and with some peshwari naan (it was on offer) as accompaniment. It was whilst it was cooking that the second roofers were over.

It was a good musical and I love a good musical!

I mean, I love musicals full stop. And yes, I am a bit
gay, just not in the way that people usually assume
of people what dig musicals.

Mind you, I always assumed that musicals coded femme
or gay male - turns out, for me at least, I was half right!

Youngest was over yesterday morning, struggling with big feelings and wishing I was back at home with him. The fact I couldn't be had him very upset several times and he really did struggle to get past that. Had a bit of a clash with Tilly regarding mortgage - "why can't you just stick with what we legally agreed?" she asked. "Because it's not the spirit of what we agreed and you know it." I returned. She agreed but "now is not the time to debate it!" I mean, yeah, but it does rather suggest she knows she's being a tad unreasonable. Anyway, I should have it all sorted and, if not, I guess it'll be having to sell up eventually. We shall see.

Abbi was well. And, honestly, it was lovely getting to watch Nightmare before Christmas (I've not seen it before) and finish off my picture of Alice and the Cheshire Cat. Reminded me how much I used to enjoy art generally. She made some scones and they were amazing! I'm not usually partial to scones, truth be told, but these were really light and just lovely!

I've even done some more writing lately. Inspired (ha, that's grand-sounding) by Gifts still I have found ideas sleeting like in the old days. Still cooking the Prehistoric setting stuff, lots going on there (and I have nomenclature for the women now that actually feels logical and natural, unlike my older attempts back in 2012 and 2013 - yes, it's been about a decade since I first had the stirrings of that setting), and I have been having thoughts about rebooting the Reality/Shifts story that lurks on this blog. I always liked the dynamic in that and someone else who read it commented on how they also enjoyed that dynamic between the main character and the errant knight. So... maybe I ought to revisit that, polish it up, make the language work, get past the initial celebration and take it to the knight's lodgings as I always intended to.

Stressing a little about Monday, I feel woefully under-prepared (what with the leaks and the roofers and my busy social calendar! I'm not complaining about that latter point, it's been a really good week!) and concerned about having a shower or bath tomorrow. I'll need it, of course, but doesn't make me any less nervous.

Oh well, I leave you with this joyous thing I found by dint of seeing a mention on Twitter:

Long Walks in the Rain

Elen of the Ways. 
One interpretation. 
Not a pina colada... 

Heavy rain. As I was attempting to sort out eye make-up (yeah, I know, I messed up the eyeliner) on Tuesday morning I noticed that water was coming in through the ceiling in the bathroom. Investigation in the loft (requiring me to crawl through the rafters) revealed more plastic bags in the mortar letting water in. Two leaks: one impossible to track but likely that old leak I saw evidence of last year; the other was the one into the bathroom. One may or may not be a result of the roofing work I had done in 2021. Because of course. New evidence of leak on the roof those roofers replaced and repaired twice. I am awaiting a roofer this morning to assess damage. I had to move where I slept last night because my paranoid mind wouldn't settle and was straining to identify every errant sound of dripping. Sleeping downstairs, there were fewer audible noises. No new water in the bathroom this morning, moderate soaking of the towels round the chimney. BUT that damp patch in the lean to at the end of the kitchen. Because of fucking course. I think the £7k roofing work may have caused more problems and solved absolutely none. The guttering is fine, what I originally went for, but the roofing is awful.

Nevertheless, I went to visit Abbi on Tuesday and sorta kinda maybe did a bit of a write-in. Enough that I am now updating my other blog with actual snippets and writing. It was a genuinely lovely afternoon into evening - I ended up leaving far later than I had originally planned (not a bad thing) and accidentally rediscovering Woodkid by way of VeggieTales and Elen of the Ways (I mean, she has antlers, what's not to love?). Take-out was ordered and consumed, some parma violet gin I took was drunk. I babbled incoherently and without direction and forgot myself a bit. Not sure if that is a net positive or not to be honest. But the actual time spent? That was good, I even managed to ignore the rain that passed over whilst there.

IKEA. New fringe on display. No alice
band, I repeat, the hair was free.

Yes, I am aware you can't really tell.

I had been intending to visit Five and cook for them on Wednesday, but they texted to say they had a migraine and asked to rearrange. So, one evening next week it is. I'm guessing a Monday or Wednesday as I have semi-organised taking Middlest to Pokemon on Tuesday next week, maybe, if he fancies it. Not having a car means he can't stay over (can't use the buses on his pass until 0930 and neither me nor Tilly want to pay for a bus journey, he has an early start on Wednesdays). It sucks a bit but what else can I do? Anyway, I went and had a hair trim with a potential fringe. Turns out my hair is waaaaay thinner and wispier than it appears. A practice sorta fringe, long enough to tuck away, was attempted. Honestly? I am a bit diasappointed. But, well, my hair is not thick enough nor does it have enough natural volume to do the heavy front combed straight edge. The afternoon was spent with my laptop actually writing stuff in IKEA. That was quite nice. I had another gin in the evening. This may not have been the best plan.

Today is Chams, I'm hoping to go and see the trans-massive-mafia again. It'll be nice to chat and catch up with people in that setting. Does mean I shall have to be more stringent on my timings today as I also need to do the shopping and am hoping to visit Abbi again.

I guess I have savings, I keep banging on about my financial cushion, maybe the whole reason I have it is to finally get my roof repaired and no more. Oh, the bathroom leak is above the bath - meaning I am nervous about having a bath and having a shower. Which sucks. It doesn't help that I know I am being selfish and weird, other people have issues and stresses and here am I pootling with something that's been going on for well over a year now and has been exacerbated by my own ineptitude (choice of roofer and not being more forceful about where the leaks were and what I wanted to be done, in case you're wondering). We'll see what I have left budget wise after roof repairs and once I start getting paid for training to be a bus driver - there's a reality where it pays the bills - and then maybe look into ear piercing and waxing. Probably in that order. If I have enough for a monthly wax then you can sign me up! Or... maybe save and get laser first on my face then go for waxing. I am going to have to take my electric trimmers to my leg hair before I shave them though, it's got... wild down there.

Good News

This is not what I drove, nor where I drove it, but it wasn't 
entirely unlike this. I actually enjoyed the experience, 
which was a pleasant surprise. 

It's rare as hen's teeth, it appears, but in the interests of sharing the good as well as everything else: I successfully got offered the bus driving job at a really good company (a hint for those in the know) and so I start officially next Monday. Reviewing the contract, and assuming I actually hold the job down this time, I stand to actually be able to pay my bills. That's quite nice. Also I have been provided with a uniform - pictures to follow when I bite the bullet and try it all on properly (I shall hide the logo) - and I do love a good uncomplicated uniform. The fellow that took me out on public roads for a twenty minute jaunt in a 40ft long bus reckoned I was, for a starter learner, "above average". I see this as high praise and am a bit pleased with myself. Always dangerous, hopefully that feeling will fade a bit overnight.

Rowan Ellis, for tis she again, rocking the fringe.
It's a contender, for sure. Not sure I could carry it
off like she does, however.

Tomorrow I am privileged to be doing a 'write -in' or 'edit-in' with Abbi in the afternoon. Hoping to stop off and get a hair trim in the morning before going to Citizen's Advice to see about PIP. I can't actually believe I am eligible for PIP, but they reckon I could be so... I am a bit excited at the 'write-in' plans though, not done one of those since 2006 and I miss it! I did it for one month, ever, but it was so much fun.

On Wednesday I have arranged to cook lunch for Five at their place: Menemen, a dish I stole from Indy and have made a bit of thing in the last year. They want to hit an Antiques store as well, so that will be a nice afternoon! Indeed, today I was wearing the amethyst necklace they gifted me, along with Miss Warrington's pendant present and the friendship bracelets from Abbi - I like to think it meant I was well supported. I have no doubt Him Upstairs found it faintly amusing.

Thursday I get to go to Chams, yay! And there's a chance of spending the afternoon at Abbi's again. I am quite the social gadfly. Again, this makes me ridiculously excited in ways I cannot adequately convey - having a concrete start date for a job (0800 Monday, to be exact) really helps with allowing me to map things out in my head and have a bit of a 'squee' at what is planned now that it can go ahead. OH! And on that note, it means that I can start planning properly for a repeat of last year's Ladies' Night with Shiona - the bus people know my dates and I can confirm them properly when I am in on Monday - I'm booking a long weekend - and I shall even be able to sort rail tickets!! Oh my!

Blahaj is tempting (and very on brand for trans people)
but the bear is very big.

Ultimately, I'm undecided. Hence saving. I shall likely
end up just not. But a gal can dream, right?

Friday is time with the Youngest and then Middlest overnight. I'm looking forward to that. It went reasonably well with Middlest this last weekend so it'll be nice to see if I can repeat that. At least a little bit. On that note, I was in IKEA to have celebratory free hot drinks this evening and I looked at some soft toys (I love Callie, but she needs a friend) as well as a coffee table/storage thing and some rugs. I could actually save up for such things you know. And a frying pan with a lid. For curry and menemen. Again, trying not to get ahead of myself.

Also of note (and some euphoria, honestly) was attending today's jaunt in blouse, trousers, blazer, tank top cable knit, and ballet flats. It was astonishing how natural I felt driving like that. Like, I know I've done some driving as me, but flats are... so much better than trainers or shoes for driving. Like, why does no one talk about this and how comfortable it is? Also, yes, I felt professional. Not enough to involuntarily squeal it when getting dressed but I certainly had the thought return over and over on my hour's walk to the place this morning.

Huh, this turned out to be a longer post than I thought it would be. Here's to the week ahead!!

ADDENDUM: and there it is, earlier than even I thought possible: I have a brace of new leaks in the loft, one is coming in to the bathroom and the other can't be far off. The original and still unrepaired leak is the worst I've seen it today, streaming down the chimney and soaking all of my spare towels whilst filling fully twelve pots now. At once, not in series. I've said it before, I shall say it again: I hate this fucking dump. Those new leaks? Some plastic fucking bags have worked loose in the mortar holding the roof on. Because of course that's the fucking problem. Why do I persist in having positive moments? Why do I always dare to be happy? I know how this goes and now I just feel humiliated that I dared to have a positive almost happy moment.

Random Tidbits

Bad light conditions here, but a velvet 
jacket from my Test Drive back in 2022 
and the jumper I got for the Ladies' Night.

I caused a panic-attack in my Eldest on Saturday, unbeknownst to me. I'd taken Middlest to our local Vegan cafe gaming favourite and he'd had a lovely time actually playing Pokemon cards again. I could afford it as bus tickets are currently capped at £2, so that was lovely. We were later leaving than I had planned, turns out we boarded the bus at exactly the point when Eldest walked in to get said bus with Tilly in tow. Cue Eldest seeing me and wigging out so much that she missed the bus and needed to be 'calmed down' by Tilly - who then texted me about it lest I worry about them (I hadn't even seen them) and to assure me the 'issues' were their end. Not sure how telling me that merely seeing me unexpectedly triggered a panic-attack in my Eldest child was reassuring in any way, but there you go. Otherwise, the day was spent chatting to Vanessa and her family, including being quizzed about why I couldn't teach any more, which was stressful and horrid. Middlest had lots of fun though, so I'll take what solace I can.

I also discovered some marmalade in my e-mail folder that I'd missed way back in November. Sorry Lynn!

On a walk back from IKEA there was a boy on a bike, his younger sibling dropped something from the pushchair, I bent to pick it up (the adults not having spotted it happen) and smiled. they called the boy on. "I was just waiting for that man," he gestured at me, "to get out of the way." My context cues are failing pretty badly at the moment. Veronica's brother, after we had played chess for an hour, asked: "so, how do you identify? Gender-wise, I mean. Like, you're a boy, right?" I was in a pigging dress.

For those unfamiliar with her work, this is Rowan Ellis, 
and her hairstyle here is honestly something I may pursue.

Style, not colour (though I have often wondered about
dyeing my hair, this blue is too light methinks). 

My hair is need of a trim and has, currently, no real style. 

Whilst furtling on my e-mail I learned I'd lost all the details for one of the bus companies I was offered a job with, the one that I was going to cancel with, hence a rushed search for their details and then an e-mail to apologise and withdraw. Hair trim is necessary, eight weeks from the last one was passed whilst I was Oop North. I shall see what the new week brings. Why?

I have a driving assessment with the other bus company on Monday at 1015hrs. Marc Rebillet may have a point. I had hoped to visit Abbi on Tuesday for a write-in, I have an appointment to get help with my PIP application on that day now. Also, there was talk of popping over to see Abbi on Thursday and the evening is Chams. But, I may have hours at an actual job by then. Everything is up in the air. I shall fit a hair trim in somewhere. I have also ordered clothes because of course I have.

Today a friend from Chams was over, taking advantage of my offer ages back to use my gaffe as a place to get changed and hang out en femme if they wished. Trying to offer the sort of support I would have been pleased to have, I guess. I dunno. On the one hand: it was lovely to be able to offer some ears and have a natter. On another... I dunno. On that note another friend has had a bit of a time of things, doing the right thing but feeling the wrench from doing so and not unreasonably sad about it all. I say 'right thing' - I mean the thing that is best for themselves, and for others involved, but that doesn't make it any easier and certainly removes no hurt from the situation.

Managed to get to church today and, to avoid questions about my job situation, I made sure to arrive bang on time to start and leave as soon as was possible without looking back. It worked. Attempted a curry from scratch tonight as well, which worked actually, just need to get more spices in for next time and maybe get a proper frying pan. My old curry pan was thrown out years ago - Tilly was not a fan of my curries - along with many of the spices that had got old and out of date, they were not replaced as Tilly was no fan of spicy food. Mild curry powder was as far as she'd ever dare go. Even chilli powder was a sop to me.

Finished Gifts and it was good. You should read it.

In all of this I grow despondent. Waiting lists, funding, time. I cannot imagine ever having my own breasts (sorry, sometimes I am direct) nor not having the damnable five o'clock shadow. Still less can I imagine finding someone, if you see what I mean. I was asked: "what is Joanna looking for?" I don't know. Is it still what it has always been? The end of the story?

Latent Characterisation

Ambience. But not the Borders. 

In my youth I remember going to see the then new exhibit on the Border Reivers at the young Tullie House museum extension - an audio-visual thing with 3D effects and a projection over a scene created indoors - so that rocks became towers or bodies or bones depending on the need. There was a castle that allowed some animation inside; and a peele tower that burned with a poem being read over the top of it. The main screen allowed a change from night to day and back again to bring the atmosphere and the foreboding narration would tell of the borders being a wild and beautiful place of peace, but it was not always so...

In the background of the darkness there would be a clash of hooves, lights in the distance, another clatter, the lights closer, and so on. Needless to say, I loved it.

Light, rain and the darkness.

When I last went, with Tilly, this had been retired. I cannot now find the script nor any record of that audio-visual feast that I enjoyed as a callow youth. "Are there nae Christians amongst ye?" / "Nah, we's awny Elliots an' Armstrongs!" Gone was the collection of items and the screen, changing with the lights in a room that got dark and light. I know such things get old, that upkeep is hard, that the film itself would have been almost twenty-five years old and never re-recorded. Some of the lights must have failed, the allure of the simple use of lighting long gone in an age of the internet and smart phones. Like the duelling statues of the lion and unicorn that used to top the stairs, retired when their motors gave out but still displayed until even that was too simplistic, too unknown. I know that all things must change and re-contextualise, that some argued the exhibit to which I refer did too much to glamorise the life of what were, in effect, criminal families of murder and feud. Bad blood runs deep in the borders, I do not believe the pacification of Elizabeth I rooted it all out.

A present from my Mum when she went
to a bookstore and wanted to get me
something. I said "anything by Ursula le
Guin" and I am so glad I did.

Today, and for a few days now, I have been reading Gifts by Ursula le Guin at IKEA with my free drinks. Mornings are spent researching and applying for jobs, to show at the Job Centre as proof that I still should get the Job Seeker's Allowance (I must work 37.5 hours a week at gaining work and, honestly, I struggle to work out what I am expected to do with that time - I write letters quickly, an application takes about half an hour if there is a test involved. Like, how many jobs do they think exist?). It is breath-taking. Today I realised that the story is not what I thought it would be, being nearly to the end of the book and not having seen any action, it appears, but being thoroughly enmeshed nonetheless - that anthropologist story-telling that I remember from The Left Hand of Darkness coupled with a setting that evokes that peaceful quiet beauty of the borders: but it was not always so. There's a similar vibe, is what I'm saying.

Long ago I wanted to write my own Reiver story, a tale of feud and pointless conflict, doomed scratching a living on barren soil surrounded by bogs and indifference. Of blackmail down the chimney, of horse-theft and cattle rustling, murder and blood debt, hot-trod and burning turf, illegality and senseless violence mingled with love and life in a place where the terrain beguiles as much as it hinders. I never did, of course, because I am better at settings than I am at characters or coherent plot. Which is to say: I can write settings, but I cannot create characters or plot. No, I could write settings. Because, you see, I set about destroying my writing in 2015 and succeeded. I could not finish what I began, any time, and no one would read my work (they still don't).

In the distance a viaduct. But the light and the dark.

Walking, alone and in the gloaming of winter, my mind is free. It is what I have always said: God gives me what I pray for eventually, and I find I never wanted nor needed it. That which I need I am careless about and with, so that I lose it. A friendship, a treasured possession given away and abused or lost, a relationship, a life. The soundtrack to Braveheart, the tune called Revenge for which I bought the soundtrack and the score in 1993 - spending pocket money and calling in presents in the family - playing in my head after being reminded that it existed last night. The book I am reading, the dreams I have about work and school, wearing my new collar (since Tuesday morning) and dressed differently. Today my pinafore style dress, yesterday my playsuit/jumpsuit and the day before my jeggings. Because I can. Because it's all I have ever wanted and dreamed about. Because I can finally admit that and it not be weird. Or, rather, I can take that now.

Like Orrec in the book, his shame and fear and walls and language, I have a peculiar gift. His is undoing, or perhaps doing, and something he fears and loathes. It drives wedges between him and those he loves, erects walls of arrogance and shame, and that is the real action of the story. Like that, but my gift is different. My gift is confusion and people fear it in the same way they fear the undoing in the book - but it is different because the tenor of the fear is different, the subtle quality of my gift lies only in its horror.

This is not a path.

For there is no respect in their fear, only incomprehension and disgust. I bring only misunderstanding and an inability to explain, a lack of clarity to a gesture, word or conversation. A difficulty not to be overcome but to be abandoned and ignored. Not the draw of mystery or the insistent pull of a puzzle to be solved but the frustration of something subtly broken, a box unsolvable, a jigsaw with pieces missing and borrowed from another scene so that they appear as though they may fit only after hours to show they never belonged in the first place. There is no gain in the confusion I bring, no guile with which to profit from it, just a dull lack of translation, the empty sound of a large bell cracked and rung on earth.

"That's his stuff" said the man at the checkout,
gesturing at me.

"Well, I'll deal with this gentleman," said the till
operator, looking at me in the eye and pointing,
"and then I'll sort you out," turning to face him.

I was, indeed, dealt with first. I dared not correct.

I bring no mastery of words, no smithing of form, but incoherence in a whirl that seems ordered and controlled until wasted years reveal naught but meaningless chaos and bitter tears of regret at effort sunk. Like a sinkhole or black hole I devour good intent, consume warm support, drain goodwill in the boggy quagmire of ineluctable dullness. A spoon among swords, a snapped rod among ploughs, a lame horse among the dog pack. Useless, but vexingly curious, no more capable of belonging than being understood on a lonely journey to a pointless destination leaving furrowed brows and scratched heads where once there were smiles and laughter and hope. The only earnest hope, the one true goal, to minimise the disruption and pain of others by withdrawing further and further but always acting with a selfishness that reeks to high heaven. The need to be known, to be supported, to drain the goodwill of others as though entitled to it.

Tomorrow Tilly visits with the boys. I must wash the pots and tidy up so that there is room for people to sit and a floor-space for the Youngest to play. I await the return of my license that I can start training at £10ph as a bus driver. No word on any other applications, some rejections. Sunday brings church, first time in a while, and the new week brings engagements with Citizen's Advice, Abbi and maybe even a visit to see Five. I cannot complain. But I do anyway. Incoherence.

New Year Listings

It's that time of year again where I post the people and things that have kept me sane and such over the last year and look forward to the new one.

In reviewing this I note that it is very martial. 

Like, these might be the only martial Disney Princesses 
there are...

But, before that, a quick bit of housekeeping. I went to Abbi and Alex's last night for a game of monopoly and it was genuinely wonderful, very restorative, and great fun. Today I had Middlest over and we wandered out to IKEA for lunch and played some Chess, whilst playing some Chess, and he did some painting of his lizardmen models. They are looking very good, easily the equal of anything I have painted. I had an early night on New Year's Eve, asleep by 9.30pm, and that's about it. At Abbi's, she created a new tradition - opening Kinder Eggs. What I unlocked last year was represented by a Merida model, what will be unlocked in 2023 was represented by a Mulan and my answer to a secret wish was also Merida. Make of that what you will. Only a flying walrus matched any of that.

Speaking of martial... Here's a pile-up in the centre
because the Orc commander didn't realise she could
ignore hedges with cavalry...

Close game though.

Also today Gary and Shiona were in touch again, full of support as always. I do struggle with that sort of thing, always have, but this last year has been as much about learning how to deal with people being nice and supportive as it has been anything else. Let us hope I don't put too many people off being kind and lovely in 2023 - another of my skills in times past.

I did miss a credit card bill over the festive period, which is bloody annoying as now it's doubled, and my mortgage fiasco is not solved, so I shall be marching to the bank tomorrow about that. It ought to have been fixed by now, they've had well over 20 working days to sort it. Also, I need to sort my PIP form with Citizen's Advice. And some shopping. Much to do.

So, here's where I list all the sites and people that have helped me this last year and, in the tumult of 2022, this has been more important than ever. I suspect most readers will already be acquainted with the following list of blogs, but if not: I urge you to check them out:

YATGB and Lynn - just thank you

Indisputably Izzy - of course

Leslie has still been in contact, offering that nudge when required. I hope I haven't scared her off in the latter part of the year

Susie continues to be helpful and kind

More generally, of course, there are people whose kindness and support have been invaluable throughout the year (I mentioned a lot of this in the Review post) and are worth an extra mention here because, honestly, I couldn't have got through the year otherwise:

• Gary and Shiona
• Tim
• Indy and Imperator
• Abbi and Alex
• Jenny
• Catherine

You may spot them around in the comments sometimes here. They are important people.

They look like good, strong, hands, don't they?

But I am not a giant.

As far as resolutions go, I made them already, but beyond getting a job that pays the bills there are a number of things that I should like to pursue, even if I don't achieve them, this 2023. I should like to be better at accepting help and support, so that I don't instinctively bat it away and allow those offering it to feel the fact that I genuinely feel their support and help; I am going to work on being me a bit more. That is, I already am me in so many ways, but I've spent so long covering it up and actively suppressing it that I find myself second-guessing all the time. Like, for instance, how long I didn't hug friends when everything inside screamed at me to do it or how I policed reactions rather than letting myself jump for joy in public or just show genuine happiness. That sort of thing. I need to work on letting myself show my reactions better. It'll stop pressure building, as it has in the past, and hopefully help me deal with stress better generally because, well, I won't be burning reserves holding in squees or clapping. It sounds daft now I've typed that out but I really think it's something I have to work on and that it will make such a positive difference.

I am also really looking forward to a colouring date (sounds even dafter) and maybe taking Callie the Alicorn. Which... is a sentence I have now typed. Make of that what you will. Like I say, working out how to be me a bit more. Now I have Nellie the Courier by Barron Knights stuck in my head. Thanks, Tim!

And to you, dear reader, I wish that 2023 brings all that makes you happy, keeps you safe and is kind to you and those you love. May we continue to lift one another up, share the good times and band together for the bad. I want my review of 2023 to be more upbeat than my review of 2022, I hope yours is too!

For what it is worth, you have my love.