You Just Lost the Game

Soy un perdedor, I'm a loser, baby; so why don't you kill me?

Beck. 1994. A song whose chorus stuck in my mind then and has never really left. And, let's be honest, is there any metric or comparison or interpretation of the simian dance of existence in which I find myself where I am not a loser? I'm not certain there is. I had opportunities beyond the wildest dreams of so many people who are my contemporaries both within and without my immediate circle and I have squandered them, all of them; along with all the outcomes I did achieve - which I have wasted and, to take a quote from a human blancmange, "spaffed up the wall."

My life used to have meaning. I had ambitions, dreams, hopes, desires. I didn't start out wanting to teach, it just sort of happened by dint of me being too me to apply for a Doctorate - something I now realise was down to my ASD and thus my executive dysfunction. I took risks. Like using my Nazi lesson, twice, to go for interviews (only once in it's full-throated sense - for the place that offered me a job). I dreamed of being a published author, of having a genuine bona fide relationship with someone after Terry, herself an amazing coincidence at the start of University. A relationship I squandered even if it was never going to be able to last. I got a job, I got a flat, I even managed to talk to a lesbian who found me interesting and intriguing before I ruined it by being creepily invested in the discussion after the fact. Nevertheless, I ended up going out with Toby and... that was never going to end well.

At that point I had a chance to figure out me being trans. And I came very close. But it was 2006 now. I met Tilly. And then I would spend the next fourteen years slowly destroying... everything good. I found some early e-mails that I had forgotten existed that reminded me that, in the early days at least, Tilly was very keen to work with me. Over time though... well, I must understand how difficult I am/was to live with. And now it's 2024. Among my peers I am the only divorcee. I have been alone, romantically, for 4 years - longer if we count the latter few years of my marriage. My Dad left my Mum with a relationship already in place. My Mum had a string of liaisons culminating not long after I met Tilly with her second husband. Even my aunt has had a string of relationships of varying lengths since her divorce. None of my friends is divorced. Some never married. But they are happy - they chose to not get romantically involved. They had, they still have, plenty of opportunities should they wish to take them.

I don't know how many live their dreams but I do know that most, if not all, feel fulfilled. Hell, even Tilly is published and regularly writes books, folklore and history, to some acclaim. And, like many of my friends who have children, she lives with children she loves and who love her back. Whenever Middlest stays over he spends a good half hour in contact with Tilly before bed and will text in the morning before breakfast. He does not contact me nearly as often, never for nearly as long, and certainly not regularly. I would wager not a single friend of mine with children is estranged from any of them and that they all enjoy pretty regular contact with them.

I saw a video about a flat earther who is... not a nice person. Some clips were included of him losing patience, on audio, with his children. I went to a dark place.

Soy un perdedor, I'm a loser, baby; so why don't you kill me?

Yesterday, out of the blue, Abbi got in contact regarding a reboot of Fraggle Rock and told me how Wembley was a he/they - embracing the values of the original show (and specifically Jim Henson) in a new paradigm. She said it was magical. Like me.

On the forum for the Event I went to, there's a channel called 'Mental Health Chat' and... well, I'm an ex-teacher after all. I know what that's about. And, so, when people come on to vent I offer my DMs for screaming into a private void. A couple of people have taken me up on the offer to vent to a stranger on the internet. There are few stranger people than I on the internet, to be fair. And I've been chatting with a couple of other people I sorta semi-met at the event too and even been asked advice. Anyway, late last night I got a message from someone I haven't chatted to at all, saying that they had noticed that I was being nice and they felt it ought to be recognised. So they were recognising it.

This morning, as I was getting ready for work, I was watching video essays, as is my wont, and I watched Funky Frog Bait discussing trad wives and was pricked. Also, may I just say how well-made this video is? Cos it is. And FFB as both patriarch and trtad wife was... certainly a thing. Anyway. I then watched Should People Exist? by the Leftist Cooks and it's three hours long so I only got part way through. Far enough through to realise a lot of what I had been preaching about childbrith from Grantly Dick-Face in the past was... not what he was about. Turns out he's a eugenicist and enthusiastic supporter of the patriarchy and misogynistic. Oh. But, well, Neil and Sarah often go hard on the silly joy of things. I finished that tonight.

Soy un perdedor, I'm a loser, baby; so why don't you kill me?

Ssssmokin'

It's a long way to happiness; and when we get there is anybody's guess...

Funnily enough, my Mum remains blissfully unaware 
of this motley collection of miscreants... 

Bank Holiday. My Mum was down to see the grandchildren (eldest of which won't see me, so she's doing this alone) and stopping over at mine. It was alright, actually, even if I've been hit by the first cold I've had since August 2022 (which isn't bad going, and I shall be grateful for that! And it's on the way out) - despite my Mum being very much my Mum, bless her. It has flagged up where some of the difficulties I have embracing the Little stuff (see previous posts ad nauseam) come from as she's been very keen to disparage 'child-like' pursuits in favour of being a 'grown up'. Not anything I've said or talked about, but when talking to me of some of the things my children enjoy (fantasy novels are 'childish' and worthy of derision, sci-fi is little better, for example) she has been keen to stress what 'grown up' is and what 'childish' is - and that line is very arbitrary but fiercely patrolled. I mean, I kinda remembered this in my own childhood (itself a very western and looser-than-people-think term) but it was odd that she focus so much on it from her arrival on Sunday onwards. Or I'm noticing it more given my own musings of late. It's not bad by the way, just I found it interesting to note.

That and all the allusions to my 'not-grown-up-ness' from Tilly over the years. I mean, I always knew she was right on some level...

This was the first card Abbi pulled
for me, for 'the past' - whassat?
A lady wearing a mask!?

How unexpected and not at all
possible to link to my experience
</sarc>

Friday was Abbi's birthday, we had our very own event (Alex was also there) and it was fun. I took some Angel Delight, we did a party game, Abbi did us all a reading on her new tarot card set (which was very pretty to look at and quite fun to play free-association with the cards pulled to see what connections could be made between cards and each other's card selections - well, I enjoyed it, and also learned about Carnac as it was in the background of another set of cards by the same artist that Abbi brought out). It was, in case my inability to type coherently doesn't come out in the reading, great fun! I shall freely admit that I was happy. Happy for Abbi but also just happy to be there.

When my Mum left on Tuesday I was at work, so she left me a lovely note. We used to do that when I was at Sixth Form - I'd leave one when I got home or was out at work and she'd leave one in the morning if she was out before I was (rarely) or if she popped out shopping etc. I carried that over to when Tilly moved in way back in 2007 (I only ever got two back from her, for reference, which I still have because I still like them). I eventually stopped doing it some time in 2010 I think. I can't recall. I know she kept some but I don't know if any of them made a difference - she stopped mentioning them and I found one or two in the bin over the years (which... fair, they weren't exactly the 'special' ones, just mundane ones). Anyway, point was, it was nice to have a note from my Mum and it be nice.

Oo-be-daddy-wow! See-ya...

P-A-R-T-why? Because I gotta!

Today was a time for Middlest to be over - we watched the Mask because I was reminded it existed by my brain at some point (can't recall how or why) and... Yeah. Turns out I quote maybe 50% of the film's script regularly - stuff I didn't know was a quote from the film all over the place. Also, it came with core memories. When Ipkiss explains why the Mask turns him into the character it does... I remember thinking when I watched it (twice at the cinema, a few times on VHS at home later) what would happen to me if I could wear the titular Mask. Oh, before I spew my reminiscing, Middlest enjoyed the madcap comedy and, like me when I first saw it, did not notice just how straight-up lewd some of the dialogue is.

Oh, yeah, she also gets tied up...

Ah-hah, yeah, mm, forgot about that...

Not a core memory unlocked at all.

(but her shoes!!!)

Reader - secretly I thought it might make my body a bit like Cameron Diaz's (her first role? May need to check that) and allow me to indulge in 'being a woman' for a bit. After all, Ipkiss claims it brings out deep desires and fantasies - why Ipkiss ends up being a "love-crazy wild-man" and Dorian ends up being a terrifying monster-crime-boss villain - so I assumed that's what it would do for me. I mean, out loud, I said it would be similar to what happened to Ipkiss in the film cos, well, I was also very repressed and very much a 'loser' when it came to my (lack of) love life. Also, looking it up, it was only in cinemas in 1994! Just before my Dad left. That... figures. It also explains why this film, alone, cracked no eggs - I had no time to analyse my feelings too much before things shifted and I decided this was 'less important'. So, it's not the earliest time, but maybe one of the more significant ones where I decided to bury things rather than sit with my thoughts for a while. Watching it with Middlest I was suddenly hit with the feeling of me, in a cinema growing up, sweating and nervous as I watched Diaz do her thing and thinking "I wish I could wear her outfit and look that nice" - she suits most of the costuming (I know the final red and black dress is supposed to be 'sexy' but I was distracted by the buckles on her heels and thinking how lovely they looked). I'll admit - I was not prepared for the assault from my memories. Nor for me typing about it to be most of this post!

Inciting Incidents

After posting the last post I had a quick e-mail exchange and realised a few things. The one that detains me here is how much of my life could well be the plot to a bad fictionmania story - well, okay, not that much but at least on three separate occasions. And I thought it worth recognising my immense priviledge by talking about them on here. I do this not to crow, not to show off, but to marvel at my idiocy in carrying these out and not twigging I was transgender and hopefully display a little gratitude that I was lucky enough to have these experiences in the first place. Also, maybe, to pass on something of them to anyone reading who needs that extra little nudge of their own conscience. All these things happened and I survived them intact. All these things happened and no one in my group of friends (or beyond to my knowledge) was negative toward me at the time or afterward. Furhermore, no one, I mean no one, assumed it meant I was transgender - including me. So, if someone reads this and is concerned it might out them to dress and go out, apparently it didn't work that way for me.

No. 

It was the aim but I took things 
a bit too seriously and ended up 
with a professional blouse from 
M&S, a professional skirt (grey) 
and black 100 denier woollen 
tights... No tie, no MJs... 

The first of these was when Toby and I weren't officially going out. Conversation had been opened, by Toby, on at least two occasions with the words: "you'd look good in a dress." And this was around the time that I was being fascinated by a trans-woman (not the term anyone used then) in the same friendship circle (whom I have referred to previously as Robyn). On one evening I accidentally had alcohol and couldn't drive home so stopped over and Toby loaned me a t-shirt he used to sleep in - keep in mind he was fulfilling a feminine role at the time so this was practically, in my mind, a nightie. I did not sleep that night at all. And then, one night, we were both freaking out at a party in someone else's house and Toby suggested we go back to his bedroom so I could try on a dress. And I did. It later transpired I'd worn a wedding dress (purple, goth-y, pagan-y) effectively - for all of about five minutes, granted, but still - bad fiction plot happening! Obviously, there are no photos of this at all.

Secondly, there was the time that I was 'convinced' to go out dressed to Toby's birthday party. Fancy dress, apparently, and a schoolgirl theme. Well, it was, kinda. I wasn't alone in 'dressing' - an enby we knew had also done it, but this enby was very much doiong what we would now term 'gender-fuckery' and was thus masculine and feminine and neither and both in a deliberately confusing mix. To my knowledge looking back after the fact, I was the only binary dressed person who hung around exclusively with the girls whilst Toby hung around with the blokes (a confusing point at the time but, now, entirely logical). And, again, is this not the start to a dozen bad fiction attempts in the TG genre? Is it not the climax in dozens more? I was able to dress, interact and be comfortable enough to go out. Tellingly, when we got back to Toby's place I was keen to remain mostly dressed (keeping underwear and stuffed bust under a nightie) but was prevailed upon to only keep tights and a t-shirt on to sleep in - again, something that makes a lot more sense in hindsight for Toby to insist on (the removal of the bust stuffing). The fact that it was so positive I wanted to repeat the performance (and kinda did, but just Toby and I at a different club a month later) is also the stuff bad sequels are made of! In that second time I was confused by Toby's standoffishness but, now, I get it. I was, by the way, semi-aware of seeing Toby in the 'man' role of the relationship that second night, but tried to course-correct. With no other men with whom to interact, Toby was conflicted and my over-corrections at points to go 'lesbian' were probably the cause of the embarrassment and Toby's overall discomfort that night. Alas, no photos of that night or the follow up a month later survive in my ownership. Indeed, of the latter, I don't think any were taken.

Oh, hey, look! It's that photo again.

No longer my favourite of me. But
that it was for so long ought to have
been some indication, y'know?

So to the third occasion when I lived a fiction plot, where Catherine and I conspired for her to 'dare' me to wear a dress at a meet up round her place (she was married, by the way) in the company of friends. Once again, I was given adequate cover, 'oh no, poor me, I have been pressured into this,' and Catherine gained bragging rights. I confused a couple of friends, Maynard in particular, and spent much of the evening in a lovely pink dress and bolero style matching jacket. Now, okay, this time I wasn't shaved - so as to maintain the 'forced into it' cover - and there wasn't really time to bring that into the equation (had I actually thought about it properly it would not have happened). But, again, this was the plot of dozens of stories on fictionmania and possibly hundreds of captions. And I lived it. And, again, I perhaps should have realised how often this was happening and how comfortable I was presenting in such a mode - I really was - and how much it made things just easier socially - looking back at this incident, for example, I am amazed that I didn't realise how much it changed my outlook on social gatherings for the better.

In none of these occasions did I... there wasn't anything sexual, you know? I thought that was the whole thing - my knowledge was strangely limited and vague, and so I assumed it was a fetish thing - and I shall confess to having an awful rising of things getting dressed in that third experience. At the time I felt this confirmed that it was a pervert-y thing and fetish only. That said, I was utterly unable to, uh, get rid of it by what I assumed was the 'right' method and found it more effective to simply ignore it. Attempted hands-on did nothing, but five minutes of just... being and it was gone. In the earlier two examples I cannot recall whether there was a stirring but I can say that by the time I was fully dressed and prepared (make-up both times - mascara, lipstick, some eye-liner not applied by me) there was nothing obscene going on and the whole time I was out was similarly without any interjection from down there. Even sharing a bed with Toby (only to sleep, my insistence we go no further) involved no... well, it wasn't as difficult to sleep as that time I borrowed the t-shirt.

All of which is to say, yeah, sure - this can be fuel for that kind of thing and one can have interruptions and there is nothing wrong with that - but, for me, I found it fascinating at the time (less so after I finally allowed myself to work out what was going on) that there was nothing beyond what could credibly be termed 'euphoria' because of course that's what it was. Also, this revisit to these examples, I hope, serves as illustration for what one can 'get away with' and still 'pass' as cis-het should one wish to do so.

I think I may have a new go-to pose...

There are two other examples I wish to share, of a slightly different type and direction, so they shall follow a line break for TMI reasons.

Incoming!

A Little Muse

A projection, if you will. Suitably close to 
reality since March 2022, granted, but 
still, at heart, a projection. Just one I am most 
comfortable in projecting. 

This may be a very thought about (not thought out, don't worry) post. I've actually been trying to write something (type?) since Thursday, if you can believe that, and I've already cycled through numerous options. However, late shifts at work equals lots of time in my own head behind the wheel in almost complete silence without too much in the way of immediate driving distractions (if that makes sense) and that is a lot of thought and introspection if you're me.

I read Susie's blog and it is fascinating. I love the set-up and the way the title works in at least two ways. I like the concept and I like the idea behind it. I wish I were that creative. I wish I'd thought of it. I'm not going to do similar here because my evolution is different - I don't know that there was ever a point in my past where I would be simultaneously cognisant of my issues and dressed - the thinking after the fact was always what resonated with me. I remember reflecting after Toby's birthday, where I dressed as a school-girl, that I had been so much more comfortable in the 'girls' group and interacting with girls as a girl, so to speak. I managed to make it to a club and stay without wanting to flee and run away. I was at a pub making small-talk like a normal person beforehand. I stayed out as long as everyone else did and never once looked at my watch longing to go home. I didn't drink any alcoholic drinks. It was only afterward that I contrasted that with my usual trajectory of going out: stress, stress, more stress, refusal to talk to people, hiding from the noise and wanting to escape the club, followed by regret and self-loathing. Indeed, a few years later, I would do that with Tilly and spark the incident that really ought to have ended our relationship where I called her 'drunk'. Point? If the me out at Toby's party met the me I am today, I'm not sure there would be much knowing dialogue. Not in the same way as Susie managed, certainly. The me then could totally have done with some commentary to help make sense of things and maybe even spot in the moment that this was more than cross-dressing but... I'm not sure it would be an interesting read.

Heh, like that whole paragraph.

An inflection, the opposite of a projection,
the inner workings that sometimes come
to the fore.
No eye-contact, defensive body-language,
prickly demeanour, trying to hide inside
oneself.
One might claim: a reality.

On the bus, I was thinking about budgeting - about what has changed price-wise and what has not (not in terms of inflation, but in terms of what I choose to spend money on and what I don't). About how, back in 2003-6 I was saving for a house and managed to save enough to buy one. About how that affected decisions and about how long it took (lost to time, I'm afraid, Catherine would know) before I dared spend money on 'fripperies' like a couple of swords (I want to say 2004). And, even then, how I regulated my life: fish, chips and gravy on a Saturday, after shopping, if my spend came to less than £20 on groceries - which it nearly always did; two meals cooked by me a week on a weekend (the rest were supplied at work) and sandwiches every day; church on a Sunday then marking; showers every day; bed by 11pm (that was considered a 'late night', usually I was asleep by 2130); awake at 0600; ready to leave the house by 0645 every day.

I spent a lot of money on my two weeks off. Far more than I do usually. I bought a new set of dungarees at full price and a pinafore dress on sale. A belt too. Lovely colours, may be a bit big, I discovered when Tilly was over with Youngest and I decided to go with the original dungarees and a blouse. Youngest and I played chess, one all. He's seven, I wasn't pulling any punches. The family go on holiday to see Tilly's parents this coming week, they return in time for my Mum to visit next weekend. I shan't see them until afterwards, a few days later, but this way my Mum gets to see all the grandchildren. Were I involved she would not. My Mum gets to take all three on her own if she wants. Ah, consequences.

She's been with me less than a fortnight.

Would I even have looked had I not lost
my career?

What if I had not lost my career? Another night on the bus. Comparisons in state of being - I would be gearing up for an extended trip Oop North whilst the family were away. I would likely still have a relationship with Eldest and be able to see Youngest unsupervised. I'd still be on holiday. I'd probably have had laser sessions on my face. I may even be on privately-supplied HRT. I'd certainly still be a regular at the favourite local vegan gaming cafe and playing Pokemon cards. Heck, I'd be attending Chams on the regular too. Would I have gone to the event just a fortnight ago? Hard to say. In all likelihood I would have attended BOYL instead - my concerns and worries from 2023 would have been much ameliorated by being able to get there under my own steam and it being in a sea of time off rather than a rushed weekend. Moreover, I would probably have come straight from Oop North, having visited Tim and Gary's families in the week beforehand - so I would have been better placed to go and thus probably not even have considered an event I found randomly on the internet. My yard would be weeded, the shed likely still serviceable rather than slowly falling down, my roof repairs may have been completed more swiftly, my living room would have been plastered (as I would have had the funds to do so at the time it was damp-proofed) and I may even have been looking to get the bathroom sorted... It may even have been done.

I certainly wouldn't have Callie, because I would
never have met Abbi. I never said the life would
have been more positive.

I went round to Abbi's and we had a Little time together. I'm not sure if I should be using TMI tags here or not. So, we went to Littles' Lock In back at the start of August - that was the event I was alluding to - and we both realised that we hadn't fully unpacked with each other about what we found there.

VERY IMPORTANT CAVEAT - THE EVENT WAS ENTIRELY NON-SEXUAL

Abbi was overflowing with how much it had been healing and powerful and fun. I, on the other hand, had been ruminating on how much I had run away inside the event from interaction and avoided doing things that I wanted to do because of vestigal embarrassment. Part of the reason this is draft three of this post and it's taken so long to type. Okay, I give in, the rest is behind TMI tags.

Line break incoming! Take cover!

The Dictator Decides

I mean, they're gorgeous, but still rather 
pricey as an item of clothing! 

Funny, isn't it, how thing shift and change in short order - to and fro and back again.

So it was that I took a day to visit a local urban conurbation because I have nothing better to be doing with my days off and I suppose I can do what I want. Nerdy Bunny, an acquisition from IKEA bought because she made both Middlest and I crack up, joined me and I went with the express intention of getting some nerdy factoids and spending no money. Alas, I slipped and fell into a comic book shop and ended up buying the latest Rivers of London graphic novels, because I have a collection to maintain, and another book on spec because I am useless at sticking to sepnding plans. This second book was the Prince and the Dressmaker and the fellow on the till warned me that it had made him cry. I have to confess, on reading it that night, it should have made me cry but my stupid hormones once again prevented the catharsis of a proper good sob. It's a good story. Was it worth what I paid? Hmm, remains to be seen, I guess. I'm doing my best, but I am still very very stingy at heart.

The full haul.

The pinafore dress, on sale, was still reasonably
costly, but I do love it paired with this new
t-shirt from Primark...

That wasn't the worst of it, because after I left I had another tumble and found myself in Lucy and Yak with a sale on. Luckily, there were too many options to choose from so I left in a hurry and took a moment to pop into Bird and Blend for some samples of their teas. I hadn't taken my container so I couldn't justify buying anything, despite musing on buying a tea to complete my lunch. Speaking of, I then went and had my lunch in the main square and enjoyed the sunshine a bit. A quick sojourn to get a teaspoon to eat my yoghurt (I'd forgotten to pack one) - I suppose a teaspoon isn't a huge outlay - and I had some correspondance with Abbi, who suggested that maybe I should get at least one thing from L&Y. Thus it was that I went back and got a new set of dungarees for summer use (my lovely blue ones, also from L&Y, acquired in January, are a bit warm for the summer weather - as I discovered Oop North in a Lakeland town with Gary and Shiona - light denim, certainly, but too much) - but at full price. Oh, and a new pinafore dress on sale and a belt. I spent... a bit of a sum. Look, I'm trying, okay? The dungarees are now my most expensive item of clothing since a new suit back in the Before Times. Nerdy Bunny learned about Lensing and the pair of us retired home. Ostensibly, I was going to have a bath, but I got distracted by a very big stout (15.5% ABV!) and thus retired to bed a bit sozzled and a bit later than planned, whereupon I read that book.

"Withshen! I haff Opinionthsh about thspaythsh
twavew!"🤓🐰

Readers, this is Nerdy Bunny. She knows
Things. Because of her, I've already had to
learn about Margaret Hamilton and Canis
Majoris IV.

Yesterday was thus spent getting milk, soap and getting some tea from Bird and Blend because what is budget, right? I also reflected back on the unpleasantness over the last fortnight across the country. I passed the remains of a Palestine protest when out getting tea and the people were friendly and happy to one another and to passersby. There was a stall manned by muslims offering lessons on the Qu'ran who smiled as I passed and nodded to my wave. A couple of loud and boisterous hen parties crossed roads, one in front of a police car, to whom they waved and smiled and apologised in that way only truly drunk people do. The atmosphere was full of gaiety and light, both days. Popping into a music shop and getting a Best Of Kylie compilation on a whim was just... And yet... There are people in this city, some of whom I work with, who would shout and scream, who would happily watch others burn down hotels with people living in them. Apparently. Not a majority, counter-protests proved that with their stirring chants of "whose streets? Our streets" and "Nazi scum off our streets" and no longer with an friendly ear in government- scratch that, as friendly an ear in government. But enough. More than a few. It is upsetting. Ah, but, there are 'legitimate concerns' as well. Hmm. Not convinced, personally. A short interaction online with a colleague about cost, in which I pointed out what we decided we could afford as a nation was met with a repetition of their first principles and no apparent reading comprehension - these are not legitimate concerns, but they are oh-so-useful to vent unpopular camoflagued racism and xenophobia. Does that make people parroting these talking points the same as those creating them? No, there are dupes and educated fools who will always believe them - I am guilty of being an educated fool myself, of course - but ignoring answers, or failing to parse them, will always upset the most autistic part of me. If I meet challenges, I must at the very least incorporate them into my argument - even if they undo it - but if they are thus incorporated and fail to alter existing knowledge, I must use the points to better explain the facts. It's not the most human response, I know, I'm not the most human person you'll meet.

Like old times!
No filter though.

Anyway, today there was a car show and I popped along on an errand to get something at the shop (I forgot what and did not, therefore, get it). And as I'd gone mad already regarding budget I bought a cheeseburger from the Rotary Club, a cake from a local cake-seller stall and a brace of halves from my favourite local pubs. Yeah, I have been financially incontinent, but I go back to work this coming Tuesday and that'll be the end of spending and time for a while. I justify things how I can to myself. My dream last night was being convinced to go back into teaching at my old old place with my old old boss, the Head of Department this blog began with. The 'going back into teaching' part wasn't the sticking point, shall we say, and, again, not hard to work out what's going on with that one. I also spent the evening last night chatting to someone I vaguely met at the event I went to last Sunday (goodness, has it only been a week?), like, over a voice channel. She's got a lot on, a lot. Fascinatingly, she has an abundance of romantic interest - we were chatting as friends, not anything else - and sees this as just a normal part of life. I was good, I only got maudlin about it after the fact!

Tonight I intend to finally have the bath I've been promising myself since before I went Oop North and getting rid of some of the hair that is irredeemably bush- Oh, that was it, batteries for the Lady Shave I bought way back. Oh well, it can wait another day or so, a bath will allow the use of a razor. TMI? Probably, this is partly why I'm still single, I know. 😉😅

Gremlins, Drops and Quests

Middlest introduced me to this some time last week, 
pre-weekend, and it is gloriously silly. 

One of the tracks is called 'Laser Shooting Dinosaur' 
and it does exactly what it says on the tin. 

An online whirlwind of messaging people who were at the event on Sunday (and being messaged) and trying to unpack things a bit. I am better, it seems, online than in person at making connections and having people open communication. Which doesn't actually come as that much of a surprise to me, but isn't my preference. Is this part of the warned about 'drop' following events? Possibly. Certainly I struggled to stay awake yesterday - despite going and having a couple of games of Laser Quest with Middlest, Youngest and Tilly (there were other people there but...). It was a good brace of games followed by a meal out (a cheeky Nando's) and then Middlest came home with me and I promptly fell asleep next to him on the sofa whilst watching a video on YouTube. Luckily, I woke again, but too late to do much with the afternoon other than watch videos and make tea.

In the aftermath of not attending BOYL, and maybe dropping my friends in it with some things, I had arranged to speak to Gary. I wasn't really prepared for him saying that if I wasn't going next time then he probably wouldn't either. I thought this folly. We spoke on the phone in the evening and... he said a lot of nice things and I am not fully able yet to parse that healthily. For so long I have responded to such things by telling people not to care and finding it hard when people say they do. Like, really hard. Like, ending friendships over it kinda hard. It's not healthy. So, I am trying to be better, and having to sit with it a bit before I do my usual run away and view burning bridges at a distance later. In the discussion, he also asked, gently, about jobs - another person who feels bus driving can't possibly be it. Which, fair point, but my job search experience has been... well, it's not been mixed, it's been pretty negative. I got the job I got because they were desperate for drivers, not because I was any good. They were interviewing anybody and everybody that applied. They still are to some degree. Point? Any job with a bit of leeway and less desperation hasn't even called me to interview.

The existence of triceratops implies
the existence of tricerabottoms.

A joke I shall repeat until I don't find it
funny. So, potentially, forever.

Which led to a couple of dreams featuring my old Head last night. In both cases I was for some reason in the same place as he whilst he was presenting and in both cases it was by accident. In both cases he was concerned I should be where I was and moved the events he was part of to gently avoid talking to me or having me be even accidentally involved. Much embarrassment on my side, some putting my foot in it and getting in other people's way and eventually being bailed out, in both cases, when my Mum turned up to give me a lift because I'd missed a bus or mis-read a timetable, or something. These are not hard dreams to analyse, if I'm being honest.

Seeing the boys thrive at the Laser Quest, and Tilly step in and do the honourable adult thing and help out when a small child had a proper meltdown (which I was sorta kinda aware of but too far away to do more than vaguely register... no, that's not right, I was as far away as Tilly, but she stepped in and I fled), was nice but also... yeah. Same at the meal. Boys had a lot of fun but I was superfluous to requirements, an extra wheel, to their interactions with food and Tilly. Similarly with Abbi at the event, come to think of it: she was very concerned to help me out but she was Home there and people saw that. It was her place, she owned it. It doesn't mean it wasn't mine but it does throw into sharp relief just how bad I am at connecting and letting go enough to engage. I managed, like I said, surprisingly and in the end but my presence was very much a drag on Abbi's trajectory. Which is also the reason I wasn't at BOYL - and something I struggled to explain to Gary over the phone. Huh, figures I work it out as I type the sentence here!

And that's historical too - the feeling that positive words and supportive actions from friends are lovely but, ultimately, misplaced. That their very existence is evidence that I am burdensome and difficult and in the wrong. the more they protest otherwise, the more it is proved truth in my brain. It's not healthy, and I am working on it, but it's hard.

Was it worth it?

Yes, it's worth giving more

I went. I got up early enough, despite having imbibed some gin liqueur (gooseberry!) that I bought on a whim on Friday's jaunt into town and spending a full day with Middlest on Saturday, to make sure I could make my legs less scratchy (my Mum said she couldn't tell my legs weren't shaved, before adding that my leg hair was pretty dark, so she could see why I might notice it) and agonise over clothing choices. I mean, I woke before my alarm (7am) and was thus ready and sorted by, well, 7am. I made a lunch, packed my bags and finally left the house a little before 9am. I took my new unicorn coffee cup thing - which was brilliant (and yes it had coffee in it because I felt caffeine may be required) - and dropped it (doh) as I was attempting to hold an umbrella due to just enough rain that I couldn't ignore it (it was obscuring my glasses).

Cash got out, Abbi's house for seeing her latest crafts and artwork (and it is artwork) and, ostensibly, to watch some MLP:FiM but I think I was too keyed up to really get involved in the latter. Thus it was we went and successfully caught two buses, ate some of the lunch (mainly the cucumber and carrots) because we were both a bit keyed up by this point and made the venue slightly early.

Poor quality, slightly blurry, post event
photo for illustration. It was a very humid
day - hence the manic hair frizz!

It was very well organised, the event, not me, and we got a short tour to show us where everything was (and sign up for free cake) and hear about all the options for the day. It was a bit hot, no air con, and the fans were good, but still just fans. Abbi, of course, fit right in straight away, instantly attracting many people with her natural exuberance to make friends and chat: she was most definitely home and among her people! I did my usual initial skittishness and bouncing around places because FOMO. It was a very good time - I was not expecting a change in headspace (like at cons, I guess) that people report around such events (positive, mind you) and was thus rather surprised when a. I realised it was happening and b. I spotted how it manifested. For Abbi it was a case of not having to hold things in, for me it was a case of relearning how to not put on a mask and finding part of me I didn't know I still had. Like, when I have thought about the requisite headspace in the past I assumed it was one way but, apparently, it really wasn't. Huh.

I am aware I am being vague, but there's no TMI warning and, frankly, I don't know if this is the correct forum to be more specific. I'm not being dishonest, this is my most honest space, but still... Maybe when I've planned a proper post?

Point? Oh, point! It was a lovely day, much too short. When we were told it was nearly over, after almost seven hours at the venue, I was genuinely surprised because it felt like we'd only been there an hour or two - in a very positive way. I bounced around most of what was on offer but I hadn't sampled even a small fraction of it and what I had done had felt very much like a soupcon of what I could do when I'd sampled everything - if you see what I mean. This means I am very keen to see if I can make another. Sure, it cost money, but - much like my first Ladies' Night or BOYL - I feel that it was a price worth paying. It was Good Value. Now, it may well be that when I attend a second I feel like I do at most things that I enjoy the first time - it isn't as good the second time because the first time was the First Time and that's what made it good. But I won't know until I go a second time, will I?

Someone once said that a ball-pool was like a hot-tub. I can't comment, I've never been in a hot-tub, but maybe there's some truth to that. I don't think one can fully submerge in a hot-tub, well, not safely nor socially acceptably anyway. Certainly not and still breathe.

Home

I went North, it went mostly without hitches. I bought a huge new rucksack for £19 (on sale) and then went and bought another (smaller) one for £13 there because, as my Mum put it, "it's got unicorns on it." Apparently she thinks I need one for shopping as my big one is too big for that - I mean, I was sold on the unicorns part, to be perfectly honest.

It has unicorns on it. 

It's famous.

The first day was spent travelling up, so no pictures, but I was very tired and had had poor sleep. Indeed, for most of the week beforehand I had had poor sleep - high temperatures combined with poor planning on my part. Anyway, the next day we went to an outley village and then to the place in which I grew up. I discovered the cathedral was still lovely and the high street is deader than where I currently call my main residence. Which was quite a shock!

That night I signed up to a discord server (because I am so down with da youff or something) that is connected to my plans for Sunday - in that the same people run this and the event itself - and it was... well, I've done my usual: get all involved and splash about. I may yet still run away due to getting the Fear, who knows. I also watched a video on Autistic burnout and it took some nebulous concepts and ideas about which I was already aware and mapped them perfectly onto my lived experience for a good portion of this blog's life. Oh.

Not as out in the wilds as I had assumed, it was easy
to access and looked every bit as I had hoped!

Day three was begun by going to a stone circle which turned out to be closer to civilisation than I had assumed. I accidentally had an audience because I talk loudly and some Statesians asked me questions about prehistory that I could answer - whilst annoying my Mum because she feels I grandstand and make stuff up. Still, I was happy, got to soak up some Neolithic ambience and then meet up with Gary and Shiona and their children. My Mum reported that evening, whilst we ate a big carvery, that both Gary and Shiona told her separately that it had been good to catch up with me so I must assume I wasn't too boring, geeky and quiet (I felt like I was struggling to interact that day). We finished the day, pre-carvery, with a sneaky trip to a major henge monument (one standing stone, no circle) that means a lot to me. Tilly and the family joined me there one year, it may even be on this blog, I can't recall. Still, I liked going back.

Expansive hand gestures!

I am a child.

Day four was a trip to a place on the Roman wall that I recall from my youth. An active dig site, I recalled the famous find they had and assumed it would remain a relatively small site with a tiny museum and gift shop. I was wrong. I must have visited last before 2001, and the site is something like twice as large now - with so many more finds. The museum was twice the size I remembered and the amount of evidence has exploded since I last went. I mean, it's a massive amount of evidence. I assumed it would take an hour, I'd buy my dream item of a Roman torc bracelet that I remember getting very hot and bothered by when I last went (literally shaking before walking away) and that would be that. We were there just over four hours, and we could easily have stayed much longer than we did, we saw maybe half the stuff on offer! I did not buy the torc bracelet, I did find them, because they were for children - meaning my shaking and yearning is dated to the mid 90s rather than the last time I visited - and there was no chance they would fit on my wrist. Sad, but not unexpected.

Emperor Palpatine's takeaway as executed...

The day was completed with fish and chips, well, I had battered sausage, and that was that. Each evening was accompanied by forays onto the little discord server connected with the upcoming event I am looking forward to on Sunday. Oh, and spamming poor Abbi with photos of the day. Hopefully I haven't upset her too much.