This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. It is a place where I can be honest and I appreciate that. Here, I splurge. No one comes out looking good. It is a selfish place written by a pretty selfish person. It is a place of ranting and I am, ultimately, an unreliable narrator. Bear that in mind. I attempt to be honest, but things are very much from my point of view.
Highly subjective views of people in my life proliferate. It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the "Story So Far" Page above. I can also heartily recommend that Dysphoria link if you're questioning or interested. Thank you!
Breaking streaks is never a nice feeling. Nearly two years ruined by an attempted downsize in a heatwave that led to a poor sleep a few days back and I woke unable to move my left shoulder properly nor turn my head. Initially I couldn't move them at all. It's getting better, but waking this morning was accompanied by the same sickly feeling that came from way back when I first donned it and took a couple of weeks of on/off wear to clear. I have thus gone a full day now without either the new or the old and I worry I may have hit a barrier like with the Great Experiment. I hope not, but one can never tell.
A mighty host of Seraphon (Lizardmen), to which I have done nothing at all, the work of Middlest.
Middlest and Youngest were over today for a game of Warhammer. Middlest was struggling: with the heat, with time of life, with existential questions - and so struggled to read and apply the rules. The heat also meant that Youngest was on a hair trigger and struggled to keep invested in the game beyond trying to annoy his sibling. It seemed to work mostly well, I am reasonably pleased that my attempt to make 40K Orks and Gretchin work in a fantasy setting (and create an Orc Mage from whole cloth rules wise) seems to have been balanced enough - even if it did mean that Middlest's gribbly monster basically tanked a fusillade of concentrated gunfire before going down without causing a single casualty (his unit of skinks wiped out the Orc archers before they got in range though).
I have managed one whole contract and done some extra, which is nice. I have mostly kept my head above water on the second, my usual favourite, and am now embroiled in a third that I have been finding harder. Part of that is the bad sleep I've been getting (average is about six hours rather than my usual seven or more) and the neck thing - it's hard to focus when muscle pain makes you feel a bit nauseous. I even had to resort to paracetamol and, well, that's not been my style. Still, not denying that having to resort to it felt strangely affirmational. I am strange, I know.
Youngest's Blood Orc Horde, led by the Death Mage (for whom I had to make up rules from scratch, and spells).
I continue to take on board extra hours I shouldn't. I continue to partake in bad habits that I do in marking. I continue to mull on how bad a parent I have been and continue to be. I continue to have strangely vivid dreams about the end of my relationship with Tilly - her being disappointed and saddened for good reasons and the residual emotional fall-out from that. Speaking of, she had confirmed via diagnosis some suspicions she'd had since I moved out. I apologised on her telling me last week for not having put two and two together myself. She accepted my apology, and then moved on. I guess I still hoped for some reciprocity, but I never spent any time setting that up so I can hardly really expect it now. Besides, why would she? What on earth would be the point?
House news: new plaster cracks suggest a drying out of some parts of the house I hadn't known were wet, drainpipes at the rear are detached from the house, leading to one pipe to fall apart so now my bath and sink don't quite drain into the drain and it looks like the toilet and shower pipe might fall down if I don't get that fixed soon. Good thing I'm doing these examination contracts I guess!
Been listening to a musical a lot - a musical made on TikTok, I am given to believe, that Middlest found on Spotify. I found a version that has full animations (or, rather, an animation for each song) and subtitles specially made (most helpful). I appear to be the last person on the planet to have found it (it's very good) but I shall share the video below that I have been using to watch and listen (it's EPIC - by the way, that's the name of the musical).
Week back at work has gone reasonably well. Worried about having bitten off more than I can chew with too many contracts to mark (a pretty usual worry). However, a different start than usual - I did some practice marking and was told I was good. Then I rushed through my next test scripts for the same lot - relying on gut instinct - in the hope that if I have my usual difficulty I'd have a 'get out' to drop the contract. Alas, an e-mail this morning says I'm passed to mark as there's no need for feedback as my marking is 'excellent'. I mean, lovely, but dammit!
Missed a Friday with my new friend, but a late meeting (8pm) meant that I didn't want to risk going out after that - especially as I had Middlest over today. Discussions there are... vague. Deliberately so on Middlest's part, whilst also trying to be open, making it hard to know how best to support. I have suggested that finding a group or a person with wider experience may be helpful to have other experiences on which to draw. I mean, I have experience, sure, but it's extraordinarily limited and I am not up on the modern terms (which is great! I love that there are new words to describe feelings and ideas that used to take entire paragraphs to convey in the past; I just don't know those that I'm not familiar with - if that makes sense - as I don't seek them out).
I mean, I would, but I am deep in my prehistory hole and so lately I'm learning terms like kerbed cairns and concentric stone circles and, my favourite: Irish Henge. None of which is relevant to my society idea for a story in the future - because that is set earlier than any monuments - but is still something that I find fascinating and I am enjoying. My point? My point is that my new vocab passion is currently dominated by this particular monotropism and so I am less than helpful to a child wanting insight on QUILTBAG+ stuff! It's great that Middlest is pleased to confide in me and discuss things with me but there's a limit to the help I can offer beyond a friendly ear.
Started wearing the bands I bought from LLI daily since doing so in the recent city break (and finding my pink and blue one - trans flag colours - under my bed on returning) and I like that. I am aware that I need to purchase a better fitting collar (it's too big). Also picked up the private prescription HRT and, amazingly, have the NHS to pick up at my pleasure. So, with one bottle remaining of the original grey market purchase remaining I shall have approximately 160 days of three pumps a day (the recommendation from both NHS and private people). Another laser appointment had on Thursday and it feels like more was zapped. Also feels like I have more hair than after the last appointment. I dunno, that could be normal, I can't recall.
Anniversaries come around thick and fast these days. Andrew picked me up from an urban conurbation for a return to the Bring Out Your Lead wargaming event, almost a year after the last one. I spent the night before round at Abbi's watching Good Omens season 2 (I want to stand on that hill about series and seasons, I do, but I use season myself these days). I enjoyed it immensely, being regaled with illustrated tales and watching the Tennant and Sheen show, and thus only vaguely packed.
Busy week beforehand, despite working faaaaar fewer hours than I have in a long time. I was more tired, more stressed and more wired than I was the week before with almost 50% more working time and driving time. I got my piercings checked out - they were fine and, apparently, well looked after (even if I ended up paying through the nose through a misunderstanding that I didn't figure out until a day later). I was fretting over day totals and eventually compromised by packing dresses and blouses but also means of ending the experiment - dear reader, the experiment continues uninterrupted - and that was silly. I also...
You know what: tl;dr - it was a lovely weekend with friends, confirming the best parts of last year but not matching it because that cannot be matched. I am me now, all the time, and my friends are my friends. It is normal and accepted. I shall post a deeper analysis and summary of the weekend after I have had a sleep. And I am tired. But a short bit of TMI is incoming, line break below!
Mesolithic hunters used highly sppecialised equipment for hunting different prey - here a tribal elder directs.
Re-enactment. Note the female hunters in the background as modern archaeological evidence suggests mutiple gender roles and more than a binary.
It's raining again. The damp patches are slowly, everso slowly, drying out - the water slowly working its way out of the wall and continuing to move through my wall. My roofer? I arranged a visit for 1730 on Saturday, he rang me at 1600 to say he was at my house but I was driving a bus and could not answer. He left no message. I rang back, when off work, at 1700, to find he was an hour away - he'd try to fit me in around 1830 or, was I in next week? Eventually, after I rang again at 1850, he said he would do what he could to get out to me in the next fortnight. Great.
Driving has mostly been fine. I got a decent amount of sleep last night after an, apparently, judicious application of the little things and thence going straight to sleep out of boredom as much as anything else. My Aunt was in contact and we chatted for a bit - her being amazed by the length of my hair in a picture I sent. To be fair, she hasn't seen me since July 2021, maybe possibly seeing my profile picture on the Book of Faces, so that scans. Tonight I spent money I did not intend to spend on take out as I forgot to take out the chicken drumsticks from the freezer this morning. Oh well, I had some left over cash (yes, actual cash) that has covered that.
No modern 'hunter gatherer' societies have words analogous to 'work' in their languages - and archaeological evidence suggests 'things that needed to be done' in mesolithic societies were done as play with children fully involved. This recreation imagines turning animal gut into thread as a game for children.
Plans have been made to see Abbi soon, which is good. Plans to go away are less developed, but Thursday morning may be utilised to seek out a blouse or else get my nails touched up. I dunno. Both are expensive. It depends whether or not I wish to make 16 days into 23 or not. I could, of course, interrupt it and start again. We'll see.
What if my Prehistoric setting was connected to the plotline of Reality/Shifts and thence onward, given the multiple reality underpinning of that, to my Socialist Britain guff and my rewrite of the appalling werewolf fiction from way back when? It could be done. I may even actually get round to writing it. Seer of the End could very easily be Anastasia Cable could very easily, by dint of being named exactly the same, the hunter and Knight Errant. Moon Dancer, the unnamed escapee in Socialist Britain (pursued by Fabius Denning) and Pete could easily be the same person also. Each split across multiple realities but united by one plotline - one that actually, in all honesty, makes a bit more sense with a fuller suite of realities to inhabit. Moon Dancer, Mona Laikaz, has changed a fair bit since their incarnations originally - certainly Pete would need some serious monkeying with. Maybe... I don't know, I should have to write it rather than zoning out to YouTube. I haven't even done any painting in the build up to BOYL, so... much as the idea entices, I suspect it is just as far away as ever it was.
A face wreathed in feather and flame...
Had a shower and washed my hair, letting it dry overnight, on Friday. On Saturday my hair... I liked how it looked, how it felt,, how it felt - how the shorter cut of an abandoned fringe caused it to fall down the left of my face. Now... Now it is a bit less frizzy and light, my usual lankness returned, the hair no longer falling but heavily draping and growing less fun. I did not manage a selfie. Middlest over on Tuesday, Monday is a long day, eleven hour shift. Laundry needs to be done before I go to BOYL, to allow me to pack. I need to program a way to set out my shifts - to know roughly when I am free and not.
After dropping my Mum off for her train and wandering home via the canal today.
I am loving the length of my hair.
Latin, always the refuge of a scoundrel. Alea iacta est. It's been a bit of a while since I blogged and there are precisely a few reasons for this remarkable fact. Which, because I am so very much me, I shall enumerate:
b. I have been very busy.
Part of this has been down to driving buses and part of it has been down to the annual visit to the marking mines of Mordor. All of it is down to my inability to make sensible decisions when faced with the opportunity of doing more in increments leading to the concept of 'extra' income. That is, money coming in that exceeds my budgeting requirements. Invariably, I shall spend this in advance. And this year is no exception:
Ω. Buying the things I mentioned in my last post
x. Buying in food for lunches that is pre-made and thus more expensive and less fulfilling than homemade food
😊. Days out
So it is that I worked around 65 hours, at approximately £8.95 after tax per hour, two weeks back and I've just completed another week of 57 hours, which will clock in just above £9 per hour after tax (I think) on buses and then doing extra marking on my marking contracts. This works out at approximately £3.95 per script on one contract and £1.60 per response on the other after tax. My days off were on days when I had examination meetings (paid handsomely) or I worked an extra shift and my spare time was spent marking. Because I'm an idiot.
I went and got my nails did on Saturday and found I can probably get them done on a break at work in future. Good to know.
£38 though. Eek.
This had two effects:
VI: I have some extra money
♣: I had an accident
The latter was annoying, so I shan't go into details beyond the fact that I took the front of a car clean off with a section of my bus that ought not to be able to do that. This may, or may not, mean it wasn't my fault. This is yet to be determined. Taking eleven days off, as I have and when I have, means I shan't be able to work that out with any certainty for a while yet. However, in the meantime, I have donned my new items (got a heat spot on my collar bone on Friday though) and managed to see Abbi by dropping by on Friday evening. I got my nails done, at last, meaning I can type again without it looking like I'm doing it drunk. Then my Mum was over, she lost her luggage, for a lovely couple of days - I got some new shoes (yay) that ripped my heel to shreds (boo) and had some lovely meals out. Also, new lesbian herbal tea (a repeat of the strawberry lemonade, which is fantastic, and some lemon sherbet, which is nice but smells far better than it tastes - I shall mix the two together next time). I also introduced her to Death of Stalin which, amazingly, went down really rather well. I'm a fan, because it is Ianucci and Soviet history (the latter heavily mixed up and lacking accuracy, but a Yorkshire-accented Zhukov played by Isaacs covers a multitude of sins, as does having Palin as Molotov). An insect bite, likely a horsefly bite again, that I got sometime before my last post has flared up again having been relatively innocuous and that's... annoyingly itchy at present. Wearing an above-the-knee skirt at work has obviously been more helpful than I realised and my slightly below the knee dress today has been irritating it.
I rediscovered this again today, and it holds up really well. Along with a realisation about why I liked it so much (I identified with the feminine aspects, duh).
Tomorrow I'm seeing Five, who has literally just been in contact to plead poverty (she went on a big holiday a couple of weeks back and has just had to pay it off), and then the day after I see Abbi - maybe with beers. Well, I already got some in for her and Alex, so there will be beer, I may or may not manage to make it to a place of semi-public beers. Or we'll watch Good Omens - honestly, either counts as a win. Hell, we may just sit inside and bounce enthusiastically at one another and that's also a win.
I did scare off Miss Warrington, yes She was actually in contact, by mentioning my sacking. One day I shall learn how to be mysterious rather than open (this blog stands as testament to my general inability to not over-share). I am now enjoying an actual alcoholic drink - after losing my card for my last opportunity - of berry flavoured gin with tonic. *click* Noice. <insert animated gif of Michael Rosen here> Also, I have paid for my upcoming holiday with wargaming and my oldest (meant warmly) friends as it came in well below what I had budgeted - hurrah! I am ridiculously excited about it and, and, I may have extra money to spend there to buy some miniatures to paint in my potential leisure time once I finish my marking. And, no, I shan't give into the siren call of extras this August. Once I meet my final contracted span (34 scripts to go as of writing) I shall simply... stop. I've marked enugh extra now that I shall have some 'bunce' over what I have budgeted or already spent so that will do for a change.
My final note: I spent two days with my Mum and I wore my favourite dresses and it was lovely. Mum referred to me as her daughter; two people told my Mum, unbidden, that I was their favourite bus driver (amazing who recognises you as you travel about places) and... well, yeah. That's good enough, right?
Finishing with a photo of me curtseying is unlikely to get old quickly...
Busy week got busier. I need to learn how to say no more or at least some times. I've agreed to work 65 hours in total at driving buses and am at 41 hours so far. I have also marked a large amount of papers and looked after my team. It's been... well, it's been busy and looks set to get busier as I push myself to the weekend. The children are away for ten days with Tilly seeing her parents, so I guess it's best to make use of the space to do overtime and extra work so I'm not trading seeing them for that. I have booked a week off soon and the pay for that is an average of the last 8 weeks so extra hours now will pay off twice. Plus, some extra hours inamongst that which have not been budgeted for gifted me the opportunity to have some take out tonight as I marked - I am not complaining.
I got changed from work clothes into... uh... work clothes to do some marking.
I held a tissue because of hayfever. Didn't realise that would make it into shot. Or that a ponytail makes me look more male than not.
I also finally succumbed to my inner splurger and bought some items I have been umming and ahhing over for a while - arguably most of my life actually - but some money from my bank allowed me to do so without having to dig into any savings or extras. It looks as though the examining will actually pay for the matrimonial roof in part and leave me enough from last year's examining efforts to sort my bathroom at any rate, and my extra work hours ensure that I may actually cover the bills in the meantime. In essence meaning that I shan't need examining to plug financial holes over the course of the year - which would be nice. I also have enough saved over the last year to pay for the long weekend away with friends at BOYL in August, so that's nice.
Wagons fallen off, however, which is irritating on some level, but perhaps more than it should be. I didn't get chance to have a decent ale on Saturday last as I managed to lose my bank card again - it was in trying to pay I noticed its absence. Bugger. No chances for ale until my week off. Also means I have not managed to see Abbi at all, apart from briefly passing one morning as she walked to work and I drove a bus. I have also singularly failed to book myself in to sort out nails or have my piercings looked at. Coming up eleven weeks now!
I have finished reading Red River and it was worth reading. I liked it less as it got closer to the present day and the author, understandably, felt less able to fictionalise. I am now deep into Wolf Hall - something Tilly urged me to read once. Well, I'm doing so now. It's not bad, but heavy and I can see how avoiding it back in 2009-11 was a good idea, let alone afterwards. Also I now see all the bits Tilly tried to tell me about as if it were from reasearch. I think I'm reading it quicker than she did, which makes sense, I'm taking five minutes here and there as I work and she had one then two small children.
Right, time to get a later night (9pm, ridiculous) and prepare for marking in the morning followed by 13 hours at work (also madness) finishing at midnight.
Just a quick post tonight to record some images. If you've read here long enough then the significance will be obvious. If not...
I used to sign every post off with a photo of a curtsey and I used to love the dress in these photos. It was a thing of beauty that I indulged very infrequently. Today I was feeling flighty and silly, and I thought: hey, I can wear that dress if I want. So I did. I spun in it. I took it out for shopping. I walked to Abbi's in it and I took my apron so that I could cook. Abbi offered to take a photo and we both had the same idea at the same time; she was like "why don't you curt-" but I already had. Hence the smile. Then she took a short video.
So, I am storing them here. The mood, I feel, is pretty obvious too.
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
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.
Sneaky selfie. This was where my Dad and I had lunch. He even complimented the jumper, said I looked good in it.
He did also say that I lacked feminine features, which was... well, he was being fair I feel.
Now the plan is that I go north with my mother for Christmas day, and the sad fact is that Tilly was very helpful and supportive of that. She has what she wanted: what did I hive up when I left? Well, I've given it up now I suppose. They came back from the family holiday yesterday, my mother has successfully arranged to see all three children on Thursday, when I am not there, so I shall get to have an interview for JSA instead, maybe even get to drop in on Abbi and Alex - who have been ill. I also got to join an old work colleague out in some pubs on Sunday evening - I paid bus fare - and when the middlest came over today I even used a voucher to get us a take out (first since March apparently) for £3.50 all in.
Medical took place today for one of the bus driving jobs and passed off without a hitch: I am apparently just 179cm tall and weigh 10st 7oz - which is much more like I remember my weight. I suppose being unemployed and stressed will do that. Condensation in the bathroom is bad again (it was this time last year too) but no showers since Sunday, so hopefully it will clear. I went to IKEA instead of the intended write-in with Abbi (cancelled due to illness). No hot chocolate, the machine was out, but some tea and some soft drinks. I even managed to finish the book I was reading, so that was nice.
Out having beers on Friday night, this was later on in the evening. It was great to catch up with Izzy and have a night out of the house.
Alas, I was in trainers and I had failed to make picking me up easier by walking out to meet Izzy, thus the trainers were just a poor footwear choice!
Friday was spent out at Invasion with Izzy - who had dressed well for the evening and did her usual networking and chatting. It was nice. I spoke to some nice people, got a bit of conversation in, had some beer (though, frankly, I should have had soft drinks - it was a good night and the beer wasn't in the same league). However, one of the photos I got looks... well, you'll see what I mean.
Tomorrow I have an interview for a night-shift position paying more than the bus job. I don't want to work nights, if I'm honest, and I likely won't get it because it is education adjacent and my sacking looms large in such things. I have also applied for a posh job in HMRC that, if I were to get it (I won't), would pay roughly what I used to get as a teacher. I don't stand a chance, of course, but I applied anyway, it would be a poor do if I did not. Speaking of which, Five has also applied to HMRC for, I think, the same job. They've gone down south to spend Christmas with their mother too - I got a flurry of texts as they were on the road (not driving, obviously). I still have literally no idea what our relationship even is - but it seems positive.
A thaw brings warmer weather, and a return of the leak in the loft since next-door's roofer left me with a big gap in my roof (it'll be fixed when he comes to fix it, whenever that is). Sleeping downstairs banished the frost on my duvet these last few days, but did my back in - turns out sleeping as long as I did on the sofa bed has largely removed my ability to do so comfortably these days. Also, sending off my driving license for the bus driver job may scupper my chances at JSA, which is £77 a week less. I shouldn't complain.
On the Friday I couldn't see the screen well enough to judge this when I took it.
I blame being tired.
It explains why I tend not to get talked to though, doesn't it!
My Dad was up Sunday as well, sad that my brother and his family had stayed less than five hours the day before, my Dad stayed with me less than three. Ah. But he listened to my digressions on how long I appear to have known about me and encouraged me to look into proof-reading or maybe writing for a living. He pointed out he hadn't read anything I'd written since my dissertation back in the early 2000s and apologised - he was about to promise to read the novel draft I'd sent him back in 2012, but thought better of it and stopped short. Which is fair, I think.
This time last year I had been to see my mother and my brother on a trip to see my grandmother. I had taken the whole family. Eldest was still stopping over at my place regularly, I was still able to see youngest without Tilly in tow. I had a job that seemed secure. I had finances, I was worried about condensation and leaks but had come out the other side of worrying about myself. I had steeled myself for the wrong fights with the wrong people about the wrong things. I had a car - it would allow me to pop north on a whim almost and set in motion the final push to being me full-time. In two days time I would finish work for the Christmas period, see a film at the cinema and buy some lovely Chelsea boots (that finally gave up the ghost about a month or so ago having been abused significantly in my walking patterns, the next pair should last longer). 2021 may stand as my greatest ever year for a long while yet. I had hoped that 2022 would be better.
Attempting to keep my lazier left eye open resulted in this rather crazed looking selfie late last night whilst talking online about cartoon soundtracks. Also I was reminded of Zia from Mysterious Cities of Gold and it turned out to be a core memory. Because of course it did.
The collar arrived, which was nice, but the lock won't actually, y'know, lock. Also, next door had some roofers in to finally fix the problems, I'd agreed to pay half, but they finished work and now my leak is back to how it was this time last year - before any work was done. I even tried to get in contact with Five and heard nothing back. At work, though my contributions are recognised, my boss warned that if she goes down (a distinct possibility from what I'm gathering) she'll make sure she takes us all with her - a threat backed up by her immediate boss. So that's nice.
Tilly dropped a bombshell as well. According to legal advice she has sought, if she pays anything toward the mortgage over what I owe her for child maintenance then I am ultimately liable to pay her back from my equity - which could very well mean that when we eventually sell I owe her money. Also, repairs, the legal wording means that I can only stop them being done; if they are done, then I must pay off my half - it cannot be held over nor paid in instalments unless Tilly agrees. She's told me she won't agree. So I guess I be the bad guy and don't agree to pay for repairs then. I said that all sounded rather unfair, she told me that she would have got better terms if we'd gone to court - so suck it up. I said I had been trying to be nice, Tilly said I was raising my voice to her and that wasn't nice at all. My Mum offered to help but thought my mortgage was on a total of £20k (which is substantial) and not the £85k it actually is. So she can't help.
She may have been my favourite (the wrist guards played a bit of a role there), but Mendoza was always my second. Apparently he was a very grey character - no black and white.
My top infants class teacher: "With [Joanna] there is only black and white: there is no grey."
Make of that what you will.
Yesterday evening, Tilly was again in contact to let me know the the Eldest doesn't want to attend the light switching on ceremony if it means I am going to be there. This does not bode well for Christmas, but I have arranged that my parents send the children's presents to the matrimonial home directly.
Cliche alert: last night I slept with a cuddly bunny left behind in the house. I cuddled it and it felt nice. I may have to acquire myself a soft toy.
Luckily, I was able to hang out over at Abbi's twice, which has kept me mostly on an even keel throughout all of this. Won't lie though, I am struggling a bit.
Losing my cards has rather thrown out timings (along with having Smallest over today, who told me that he wants to come over alone when he is older and got upset when I said that Mummy would decide when he was old enough) so I have not managed to get my weekly shop done yet, another thing hanging over me as I prepare for my shift today - with uncertainty over whether we'll have enough people on shift. Joy.
To record the joy and the slight fear (well, read "bricking it") of the last few days!
A blast from the past this: a selfie whilst walking that route home. You know the one, I took many photos this time last year.
This one was from Tuesday evening.
Okay then, Middlest enjoyed his time over with me watching videos and painting lizardmen (sorry, Seraphon) and was almost sad to leave - though exicted about his day ahead. I'll take that victory. Monday evening shift was longer than originally planned - I was in from 1pm - and I nearly missed it because I was round at Abbi's and getting excited about things (I can't quite remember the specifics right now, for reasons I shall come back to in a moment) - which was great! It brought home how much I miss the ability to get animated in company since I'm no longer in a classroom, but also how much I am blessed (genuinely) in having Abbi and Alex as friends - I am priviledged to have been let in to their lives, to their tribe, and it has sparked my idea sleets once more. Long ago I wrote about a prehistoric setting and society and now find myself wondering how a relationship such as theirs, with all the advantages it brings, would work in such a setting as I created (as well as realising how much of that setting stemmed from my own mental space at the time of writing it).
Work: busy, hard. I am getting sloppy, like, ASD-sloppy. So I miss things and can't take the information in. Non-regular hours, constant change, it's harder than I thought. I can do the routine stuff (ha) most of the time, but I'm starting to make sloppy errors and struggling generally. Not awfully, not badly, but I am spotting what is happening and aware of why. I worked 1pm-10pm then was in the following morning at 4.25am for a stock take. Oh, and I was visited by a Dark Knight team, which was a tad stressful and took about 45 minutes out of my time which was sorely needed, to be honest, and... yeah, hard to relax after that (even if I felt it went well enough, my boss semi-disagrees - may favourite part was the quibble about me having access to a program that I told the team I didn't have, because my boss may have arranged it a month ago but didn't tell me until that Tuesday morning. It went like this: "Oh, yeah, you do have access to that, I set it up a month ago but haven't got round to telling you. I wish you'd told them that last night." I mean, okay, but how?).
Here's another blast from the past: a selfie on my sofa of an evening.
No use of FaceApp filters here, though, just me. I am, in fact supremely comfortable with this photo.
But then Tuesday began. I had a bath, prepared to do battle with HMRC's hold system and settled down. Took the automated message fifteen minutes to tell me all the things I didn't need to phone about and then it rang once and was immediately answered by a fellow who told me the mix-up was down to my workplace not supplying information (but then told me they had) or my workplace using the wrong tax code (before then admitting that, no, that had been applied by them) but the wrong tax code, from HMRC, had triggered the immediate response and tax arrears. He said it was sorted now. And that was that. Oh. Okay then. So I went round to Abbi's about three hours earlier than planned. Got to watch some of Friendship is Witchcraft (yay!) but almost nodded off around 1pm - then had a second wind and had a lovely time all round. One of the reasons I forgot what I got so excited about on Monday!
Evening was round Tilly's to chat with my Eldest. She didn't say much, wanted me to say what I remembered, which I did, and then went to her room. The end. Okay. I'm not holding out much hope, if I'm honest. Tilly is reluctant to push too much or prod too much, it's a thing our Eldest has to work through and she's there just to keep an eye on it. Well, okay then.
Walking several miles in my 3" heel boots was fun, but not the best mode of transportation. My boots are waterproof (why I wore them) but yeah.
Today I had a shower, got ready, and then went to see Five - paying for the bus to get there (I should have walked) - and then... we went to a furnishings store and Five got all excited about decorating idea and lamps and things and asked my input - which got surprisingly easy for me to do. I have Opinions about this sort of thing and having someone genuinely ask my opinion was, honestly, quite lovely. Plus their enthusiasm is infectious so it was a lovely trip, if a little odd. Got to meet their son properly, and he apparently seemed quite taken with me (though asked why I had so much hair on my arms and why my voice wasn't as girly as I looked, he's five). Five ordered take away, which we ate with their ex-husband and son, then we watched creepy videos on YouTube. It was nice. But I was very nervous going (obviously). OH! Yes, Five presented me with a necklace they'd made for me (it is gorgrous!) and some earrings. I have never really thought much about getting my ears pierced, but I might have to because these are just... I mean... Yeah, suffice to say I may have to get my ears pierced in order to wear them.
I am actually reasonably proud of my eye-liner work here, and the eye-shadow (grey on the lids, pink to the eyebrows). Now the necklace (also in the last shot) makes a bit more sense, right?
I am actually thinking I may pay for my ears being pierced. Like, that was never a consideration before today.
Five, ex-husband and son brought me home for 8pm. And that's the other reason I can't recall what I was getting excited about on Monday, because my nervousness for today was bulging and then sort of hung around. I mean, I wore my collar and everything. Not the new one, still not delivered, but one of my old ones (and Five did smile a predatory smile on seeing it, complimenting me on my outfit whilst looking only at the collar when opening the door to their house). I also appear to have left my umbrella there. Whoops.
I have literally no idea what is happening with Five. Not complaining, just pointing out my utter lack of experience. It's why being friends with Abbi has been such a big thing - I have never not known what is going on there and I love it and it's such a nice thing (the friendship) and we bounce ideas all over the place. Five? I mean, predatory smile, then home furnishings, then chat about photographs and frames, take-out in a family setting ("Do you want to sleep over?" asked the son, "Not yet," says Five, "We haven't decorated the spare room yet."), then creepy YouTube videos. I... confess, it was all lovely and I enjoyed it, but I have no experience upon which to draw here.
Odd week ahead. 9am start at work tomorrow, until 10pm. Friday is 6am to 6pm. Saturday 2pm to 10pm. Sunday 6am to 3pm. Monday 2pm to 10pm. Usual days off are Tuesdays and Saturdays. Oh, I did have a gin last night, may explain some of the emotion of today. Maybe.
Yeah, yeah, a bit of a cliche and especially a trans-femme one from what I understand. So sue me. It's nearly 16" around so it should be below most collars on t-shirts and the like.
Basically, the sort of thing that this blog havers on about pretty regularly, but obliquely and without focus. Like the Mona Lisa through greasy glasses - as my writing style was once described.
Never did work out if that were a compliment or a critique.
Lots to talk about. I received one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever been given (ranking up there with surprise nail polish and The Flowers) not long after posting about going dark from Abbi - for which I remain truly grateful. It was a friendship bracelet style choker and, though I want to wear it as tight as it will go, it works better when a little loose. It was surprisingly, or not, comforting that night and since.
The original purpose of the post where this latest bout of shock and horror kicked off was to talk turkey about collars, believe it or not. An experiment in being me. Well, I gathered some spare monies from the previous couple of months in a bank account, in case of emergency, break wind, style. And, well, if I lose my job a couple of quid here and there makes no difference. So I did some due diligence and pulled the trigger on something I have been mulling for at least seven years - just now it has a physical form and I shopped around to find the best price for the design I was after. We'll see whether or not I have done the right thing there or not soon, I suppose, when it is delivered.
The answer is yes.
Lost my main bank card on Thursday - didn't notice until the following day - and thought nothing of it beyond berating myself for being so dense as to lose it. When I finally phoned the bank on Friday to cancel it they informed me that it had been used to buy over £40 worth of goods in the meantime. Of course. Luckily, they have refunded me, but still. On Tuesday evening, after a day doing nothing (well, I was reading old writing projects to get in the mood for writing that night) I went out to get some garnish for my planned burger meal. This included a beer as it happens. Anyway, I lost my credit card as I left the supermarket - probably being dense again and it fell out of my handbag (taken to prevent exactly this) - and only realised when my bank got in touch to check whether an attempted payment to EA Online for £143 was me. It was, of course, not. My bank, a different one to the first card, have been rather less forward about refunds so I may have to phone them again. Poop.
People were very nice when I announced this on the Book of Faces. But it is mainly my own ineptitude. With my version of ASD I am hyper-competent until, well, I'm not. It is frustrating and confusing to others because I do it on simple stuff I've done thousands of times before and have no good excuse. Because there is no good excuse. Like what happened at work. That will wrap up, for good or ill, this Friday.
Onward.
This one.
My Dad came to visit yesterday and... it was fine. He was trying really hard (still referred to me as "he" in public which was... a thing, got a few stares which he didn't notice but I did, hard to not wince). It was good to see him again, it's been a while, but he looks good and is definitely better after [redacted]. I do that out of habit, he has spoken to my Mum and they now both know she knows as well so who, exactly, I am doing that for is unclear. Anyway, yes, it was nice to have a chat and, well, I wore one of my accoutrements whilst he was here under the high roll-neck sweater. It felt nice. Comforting. Bit annoyed by the dangly bit (however nice it is) so I shan't be wearing that more full-time so to speak. I realise there are connections here I'm not making, hold on...
I'd arranged to pop round to give Five some housewarming gifts (scented candle and something with rose quartz or amethyst, not got the second part yet) on Sunday. But the twin realisations about bank cards and the fact that I have a Middlest stopping overnight meant I had to cancel there. Along with doing so to a good friend who gave me a lift to my last Chams for Friday morning, see earlier point, and I rearranged to go round on the Wednesday. I told this to Gary who then gave me one of the most enjoyable teasings I can recall having. Honestly, it was nice to be teased about it like that, reminded me that we are still friends and... well, I felt surprisingly comfortable. A bit like when we went to BOYL - when I was teased but as a woman. Was it always that simple? Is that what I have been chasing all this time? Is that all it was? Was that what it was? Was that what it was? Sorry, Pet Shop Boys reference, it's a B-side, I am nothing if not incomprehensible. Anyway, yes, that whole exchange ended up with me spontaneously using an honorific, which Five said was fine and even seemed to enjoy. Obviously I am now obsessing a bit about that. It means nothing, of course, I am planting a new friendship and nothing more. I've been to the pub with them once and will thus visit their house once.
Spoke to another good friend online too, well a couple actually, Izzy was very helpful about some of my murblings and offered good, sane and logical breaks to my otherwise frenzied flights of fancy from frustration and fear. The other friend? They offered (in return to my awe at how they've dealt with some pretty awful shit recently) that they were in awe of me being able to cope with losing my identity as a teacher, looking for work in the current climate and dealing with the stress in the cost of living crisis as all my plans are nuked from orbit. Except... I haven't coped, I've ignored it. Made me get a bit of The Fear, did that, luckily dispelled by my dad's visit and then work yesterday. I haven't analysed it, I shan't.
Mesolithic society.
Been reading some of my old writing too, I am minded to listen to Caston's whispers once more but there is an insistent tug from the Prehistoric tale too. Gary shared how much he'd read of Reality/Shifts and Abbi said she was disappointed that it stopped where it did and was never again picked up. Maybe I should start trying again. I had done a couple of thousand words to get myself back into writing - experiments in using pronouns in the third person (sparingly in one case, so not at all; and in the other case a deliberate mixing to try and describe things in a new way). Alas, I had a coffee after midday yesterday and then couldn't fall asleep until gone 1am so was unable to write then and certainly been unable today. Work again soon, another late night - then Youngest with Tilly tomorrow morning, the end of the current affair, another late shift. Day with Middlest on Saturday, looking forward to that, early shift Sunday, afternoon and evening with Middlest (yay) and then a late on Monday. Five on Wednesday. Got a free day Tuesday, we shall see how I spend that. Probably not well. Wednesday is in return for doing a colleague a favour on the following Saturday (so late then early Sunday again) - assuming I am still employed, of course.
In the meantime, I wear my friendship choker(?) and eat lunch.
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