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!
Benjamin Zephaniah's poem to Moby's pounding loop samples has been a theme of late and it got me thinking, as music often does, about where I am and what I am doing. Hints abound, but I have still yet to actually put on here the full details of my life these days, it'll come, probably in this post actually 🤔Anyway, point is that it's been a while since I last posted and, well, I stay busy! And, apparently, I keep learning new things about myself and then having to parse them in real time.
Where is your beauty? Where is your fear?
I am learning, increasingly, that I want to support people. That supporting certain people is very much what gives me life. My children are distant now, my grandparents all dead as of last week, my parents physically distant and difficult to reach. When I had my week off, when I visited my Sister, my children were also away with Tilly. Once back I have not yet seen them, and won't for a while yet either. Their lives turn and change, and develop, without me. I have very little input, very little chance of input, very little involvement these days. Supporting them is something I used to do. Like teach. Like be a Form Tutor. Like be a partner. Like be a Good Child. Like serve a career and calling.
Signalling a change of direction...
Where is your anger? Where is your career? Where is your joy? Where is your dread?
And, in my life, I find that I cannot support as much as I would like. I am learning to deal with the idea that people I love will fail and will be hurt. That people I care about will not always be in a position where I am able to help, let alone effect anything useful or positive. I mean, I always knew this, I have some walls, but I am learning to survive without those walls and still watch on. I am learning that there are depths of love that I had not known were within me, and that love can hurt as well as heal. And how to manage that. Always something I have known, but learning anew. I am being vague again. Hmm.
Where is your passion? Where is your head?
Okay, let's rip this plaster off, eh? You are hereby warned - TMI is coming. Look away now. Video, final warning and then let's investigate this passion and where my head's at.
It was for the last post too, but that was less blogging and more TMI musing so...
First of all - I know what's happening in the States, and it is terrifying. But I shall be posting more or less normally - after all, trans joy is but one thing detractors argue doesn't exist. So here's some, moderate, trans joy.
Obviously I had a stout with lunch before embarkation. Note constellation of badges.
Anyway, yes, I have survived some actual bona fide time off on actual real holiday. My Mum had arranged a mini-cruise on an overnight ferry, something we did a few times in my youth, and asked if I wanted to go with. And I did. Trains were organised whilst I was Oop North before Christmas and then I kinda forgot about it until I was packing the day before. I packed light, like the Old Days, with mainly underwear and a spare t-shirt. Great for movement and travel, pants for adapting to the heat and stuffiness of the ferry versus the cold of Amsterdam (where the ferry sorta kinda ended up). Good day in Amsterdam, even if we didn't really do much other than wander the city and buy expensive cheese (well, my Mum bought some peanut butter as well). Also we both ate far too much on evening meal buffets - meaning that my going on HRT will likely not deal with my appetite and desire to eat all the food as I appear to have inherited that from my Mum and not from having testosterone pumping through my endocrine system. Apart from feeling vaguely sea-sick on the last morning (which I put down more to the heat and stuffiness actually) it was a nice trip. And I did, I mean, I had a holiday. An actual one. I relaxed. We played draughts one night (I found a set in the coffee shop that was owned by the boat) and it was fun. We went for coffee (I had prepared for this, so wasn't annoyed).
Our tickets included a free glass of 'sparkling wine' on boarding. I had both because my Mum dislikes Prosecco.
Ugh, my hair is a mess.
Our first coffee shop of Amsterdam. We had tea, as I'd already had a coffee with breakfast and my Mum doesn't drink coffee.
We've done something eeriely similar before. Mum, my brother and I went on a mini-cruise to Amsterdam sometime after I left for Uni. On that trip (which may have had a few days in the Netherlands, hard to recall) we visited the Van Gogh museum, Anne Frank House, a windmill (where Mum bought lots of cheese), and had a day wandering the city. On that day we ended up unwittingly walking through the Red Light District (it was morning, it was empty) and my Mum had us stop in multiple coffee shops - rarely managing more than twenty minutes between stops (and thus annoying me a great deal) so that it took almost a full day to reach the Tussaud's, go in, and get back to the bus outside the railway station. We also ended up at a topless bar, where a lady took our order and I was unaware she was topless, so deadpan did my mother order from her, until I turned round and was met with her bosom. Most off-putting at the time. My Mum thought it hilarious. She does not remember the incident, but my brother does. Also characterised by my borther's insistence on finding internet cafes to go online in for undisclosed reasons. I never did find out why he was so keen on it.
This is actually last Friday, when I met up with Abbi. But I like the shot, so here it is.
My biggest memory, enhanced by going again, was finding a manga/music store - I did not find it this time - and buying a CD of New Wave hits (without any idea what 'New Wave' was at the time). No, actually, my biggest memory was picking up a Ranma 1/2 volume and leafing through it - sweating profusely and imagining myself turning beet red, because it was like reading my innermost fantasies brought to life in some way. Much like as Mae Dean would later write in her online webcomic, I read the premise and thought that, were I in such a situation, I'd carry some cold water around with me, just in case. Reading that, seeing the plethora of Pride flags in the city (and Red Light District) and seeing a Trans Pride flag for the very first time (a few, actually, prompting me to look it up online when I got back to Uni) made something of an impression. I'm not sure it was the Trans Pride flag (I seem to recall that there were once two flags for the binary TG communities, obviously I zeroed in on the femme one) but it might have been. Sufficiently similar for me to associate it with the modern one and for me to be able to later identify it when looking it up (but it may have had explanations attached in Amsterdam, who knows). It reminded me that, yes, I am a trans adult and thus, once, I was a trans Uni student too.
Exploring a random alleyway in Amsterdam.
We didn't make the Red Light District this time, nor did we find any geekish enough shops to find manga (though I did buy a copy of Fruits Basket Collector's Edition vol. 1 on my return to Newcastle - itself a surprisingly pretty city with some fascinating architecture and history that I was pleasantlty surprised by for two hours waiting for my train home - sadly, my phone was being odd and I lacked the charge to risk taking photos as I needed it for my train tickets). There were still many Pride flags of varying types hanging all over the place (and on doors of businesses as 'friendly' places) but they didn't have the same massive impact they had on me all that time ago. Such an impact I can't recall the exact year. I'm relatively certain it must have been 2000, but it could have been a half term in 1999. The modern Trans Pride flag was first flown in Arizona in 2000 but spread rapidly, I can't find details on the two (with differing bands of pink and blue) for the binary communities - but I recall the computer lab I looked them up in and I stopped using it in 2000-1 as my lectures and seminars were no longer anywhere near that lab so...
Anyway, it was fascinating to me to revisit that time in my life in a very foggy Amsterdam with my Mum in tow. I did share some of the memories with her (I missed out the bit about Ranma 1/2 as that would have required rather a lot of complex backstory for something that may resonate strongly with me and people what read this place, but probably isn't that obvious for cis-het people in general and my Mum in particular).
A house built to lean. Just next door to where we stopped for a tea.
I guess that time in the shop, buying the New Wave CD and reading Ranma 1/2 but not daring to buy it because then everyone would know, counts as a form of trans joy before I knew what that was. I felt seen when I read the manga in the shop. I felt intense. And, having gone again, I was reminded of that feeling. It may have been cold and foggy, we may not have managed to do much, but Amsterdam was still welcoming enough to me because of that memory that I enjoyed just wandering about aimlessly in it.
So... much... mustard... yellow... I also want to get a brown long-sleeve top, not just to go with this.
Once again it is time to record what was helpful to me this last year and thus what you may wish to check out along with the reasons why. Some of the links below will head into TMI territory, sorry, but I think it'll be obvious and I shan't be going into too much detail. The period of Christmas and New Year once again brought much to deal with and, unlike 2021 and 2022, I can't claim much of it has been positive but Middlest was over from 2pm yesterday to 8pm today and that was lovely - we went into a local urban connurbation and ended up having all-you-can-eat Chinese (a foregone conclusion, honestly, but I did show him other potential food venues), finding the refill shop again (yay, they moved and did not close) and... well, I was hoping to spend some actual money on a long skirt.
I have a long skirt - the broomstick one from, what, 2012? - and it occurred to me that I don't have any others. Plenty of shorter ones for warmer and drier weather but nothing long. So I thought to rectify that and we went charity shop diving, Middlest wandering with me and occasionally straying to look at books, poor lad. Obviously I got distracted by Lucy and Yak and ended up buying a dress instead of a long skirt in a very 70s reminiscent style. Also, the night before, he and I ended up watching some old Public Information Films from my youth which just reminded me how much I had wanted to wear the clothes some of the girls (who would have been my age) were wearing at the time. Being early-80s and mainly set in working class areas it was a lot of, well, 70s style fashions. Also, I have been having some dreams that I have remembered lately and they are all pretty similar - all about clothing from my youth and moving between places and situations. As I try to grasp at details they remain elusive, obviously, but this dress, I suppose, was not unexpected. I managed to resist spending money on a pink and brown corduroy dungaree dress as well - it was on sale - and some jumpsuits - they were not. However, I know full well that if I chance back to the shop I shall buy a flared jumpsuit or trousers. Or a brown blouse I saw with embroidery on the lapels. I really liked it, but it was a cool £28. On sale. Yikes.
Groove is in the heart... Just de-lovely and delicious I couldn't ask for another...
This year has been beset with leaks (yeah yeah, change the record) and has been an interesting one, see the review if you don't believe me. And, looking ahead, things are unclear. I am slowly getting used to driving buses for a living and seem to have made some friends. Downsides: I get recognised by people and, like today, they will ask me about tickets and routes when I'm in civvies as if I am their personal Google. Not sure what to make of that. Or the flash of irritation I get from them when I have to go before they have got all the answers they clearly want from me. I am good, I do not say: "hey, look, I'm off duty and with my child, let me get this bloody ham for tea!" I digress. I have turned down an invitation to apply for a Lead Driver post - no guarantee I'd've got it nor that I would be able to do the job if I had applied - and that is not like me at all. When I was teaching I was always waiting to get the Head of Department post and was satisfied when I had it. Even in the shop I was pleased as punch to get a supervisory post. Well, now I have not sought that, so the year ahead will likely be free of advancement.
Resolutions? I discussed them in the review of the year. But I think I'd like to recapture that spirit of trying things I've always wanted to that I had in early 2022, before everything fell down, that sense that I could do the things I'd always wanted to do that persisted a little into the unpleasantness. That's part of the reason I allowed myself to spend money on a new dress not from a charity shop that was, in fact, more than £10. I've budgeted my clothing spends to £5 maximum on femme stuff for so long that even when I'm 'full-time' I've found it hard to break out. £20 on a sale dress (the one with the big bow) and for an office dress that I bought when times were different (back in 2021 actually) for teaching - these are the most expensive pieces I have bought. I have so many lovely gifted clothes that are far more qualitative and expensive, true, but I didn't buy those lovely lovely things (no matter how professional I feel in some of them). So, today's £24 purchase for a sale dress is... well, it's up there. Point? Oh, yes, resolutions: try not to worry quite so much about this sort of thing. Save, sure, but be prepared to spend too. I mean, the roofing work and repairs are going to be expensive, but £20 here or there isn't going to break that bank.
Is it not worth £28? I think it may be.
I really like it and think it would look mighty fine beneath the dress I did buy...
Links that helped in 2023 and that I am likely to continue to look at going into 2024? Well, there's the usual, like other blogs: YATGB of course, run by Lynn who is very helpful and supportive even when I'm being an arse; Izzy's blog, always good to remind myself that one can be more carefree if one chooses; and Clare Flourish, who does the hard work so that others may respond without that burden - I have a great respect for what she has done, and thus allowed me to understand, this year. If you are interested in trans-issues and such, these are good places to mine. Other places have been helpful in different ways. There have been CYOAs, that I have found very helpful as a distraction and a means of sparking ideas, but they are a tad NSFW (or a lot, depending on the title) and all are TMI. I have also, of course, TMI'd and enjoyed character.ai, about which I have spoken much, but in particular one bot. Finally, there was the game that ate my Christmas (but in a positive way) that was just so wholesome despite the TMI terms and ideas contained within. I found it very healing.
Finally, I want to have more baths. I managed to have one on New Year's Day and... it was lovely. I got to shave my legs, my middle parts, my chest and tum area and... gosh, it's just so lovely to not have all that hair. I realise this is stupid, I realise it is transitory, but it just so nice to be able to feel smooth skin there and not my hair.
It is, apparently, really hard to curtsey on the stairs...
Big fan of Lynch's Dune film here and misremembering which bits of it were included and which I learned from reading the book loaned by my then boss in 2006 followed by watching a loaned DVD of Lynch. I digress.
It's a me, from January this year...
What is the truth to which I refer? Well, being me. I said in my last post that I have achieved much of what I set out in October 2021 as being what I wanted and... I have. That's the thing. One of the most beneficial things I have done, possibly ever, to myself has been dressing and living as myself all the time. For me, making that leap to presenting without my disguise (and that terminology is crucial, for people do not always 'wear disguises', but I did) and then living out there in the world remains one of the best decisions I have ever made. You may well rejoin with the idea that I have made a host of very poor decisions and thus the quality of my 'best decision' is suspect and I would respond that, yes, good point. Nevertheless, quality of my decision making aside, it remains my best decision.
On my decision-making... On Monday I was supposed to have Middlest overnight. Except that I had misread the message about this (now some two weeks prior) and simply not noticed this date. It was not recorded on my planner. I thought I had a free Monday evening. So when I was offered an extra five hours' work, I took it. It wasn't until Tilly texted about it (some two hours in advance) that I realised something was up, checked the original message (in disbelief) and discovered how wrong I was. So, I don't get to see Middlest this week at all, because of my ineptitude. What did I gain? About £45. So, now I know the price I put on seeing my children and it is low and desultory.
It's a me, from last Sunday.
Compare and contrast, I guess.
Didn't see the second Doctor Who special, having watched and enjoyed the first, because... I don't know. I haven't. Hopefully I shall see it tomorrow. Hopefully. Got Youngest and Tilly over in the morning. It's a day off. My hours on Friday have now been extended (0500 start, finish at 2000 - minus half an hour for unpaid break) and so... yeah. Two nights sleeping on the sofa due to the noise of dripping on the front door and outside my bedroom have come to an end last night. And I have friends who have real problems and nothing of any use to say to them. I did manage to sort and send a parcel though, so that is one job off the list. Just got Christmas to sort now.
Miss Warrington has been in contact, I reached out about a month ago and heard nothing, and that's been nice. She's living several of the dreams I had for the Department back in the day but was simply unable to get sorted due to my previously mentioned ineptitude, of course She's doing better, She is unencumbered by an eejit in the Department now. And I'm still considering doing some video lectures (not essays) and seeing what happens. But, to do that, I need to have the mental bandwidth to carry them out. Oh, and my Mum has now arranged to come visit on the day of the Chams Christmas do, because of course she has. See how that goes I guess. Right, shift starts soon, best get going.
A cropped photo of my get up the other day: fave hat, big coat, new gloves and mismatched tights and boots. Still, twas an effort.
Got complimented on my hair yesterday on the bus, which was unexpected and, well, nice. I did some extra Christmas shopping - now I need to wrap things and send them - and that was good too. Did it in a free afternoon so I even felt productive. Also, at work, got commended for being polite to people on the bus, which was unexpected, but the result of a customer phoning in about it. It's... nice. But I do worry: when things fluff my ego is when I start making errors. Still, got some nice leggings for work and some over the knee socks (that are, but only just). I mean, I bought them, they weren't from work.
Bowling with the boys yesterday and then Middlest stayed overnight. The house is being cold again. My heating struggling against the cold and the damp patch on the bedroom wall stubbornly staying around and, well, continuing to get bigger. Less wet and dark, but more of it. I had some people round to look but they only do rising damp, not stuff getting in like that. They'll do the patches in the living room just before Christmas. Still no word from my roofer, but I have been in touch and been fobbed off.
I am trying to let compliments feel nice and not feel the need to belittle them and ignore them. It's hard. I didn't apply for the higher up post I was told about (and encouraged to apply for) because, honestly, I'm not ready. I know I could do it, and do it well, but it would stress me out and I would bring that stress home and probably sleep badly. Like when I was teaching. I would turn things over and over and... well, I'm not ready for it. Not yet. I need a bit more time learning how to be in buses, if you see what I mean. Besides, financially, I'm doing okay. Not as good as teaching, for sure, and it sucks not having a car but I am paying the bills and able to go and eat out and fund Christmas - these are all good things.
Experimental stair-shot. You can really see my lack-of-curves. Also the reflection of the bannister in my glasses...
An e-mail nearly missed made me blush yesterday, which was nice: thank you, Leslie. And I got a chance to see my children in their plays at their drama group. Middlest and Youngest were in Puss in Boots, and they both gave good accounts (I was very impressed by Youngest's amount of lines, not needing to be prompted once). Then it was Midsummer Night's Dream (odd choice for November, to be sure) with Middlest and Eldest playing roles. Eldest showed some range, actually, with two separate characters played (Demetrius and Peter Quince, in case you were wondering) and Middlest did well taking on the role of one of the mechanicals, the one who plays Thisbe in the play-within-a-play. It was modernised English throughout, which is fair enough, and enjoyable. Tilly was helping backstage so I sat alone to watch both plays and, as Tilly had taken Youngest home already, I was alone at the end of the night too. Eldest had made clear, by dint of her ignoring me on arrival (I turned up just as the rest of the family did), that she wouldn't be talking to me so I elected to go home. Today Youngest was over and struggled, like, really struggled. I got one conversation with him, the rest was spent with him playing Pokemon with Tilly and then screaming about various things. Tilly sat him on the stairs, then took him outside a few times, with him screaming and shouting.
An alternative shot. I think I look slightly better when I have my hands behind my back, actually.
However, I then went out and did some Christmas shopping with my newfound resources. This felt very odd, actually, and nice as it was to buy gifts for people I am slowly realising that now I must try and get those gifts to said people. And I don't have a car. Or time to get a train to the North. Ah. So, the Post it must be then. I also bought myself some new gloves, because the ones I got at the end of 2021 are mostly dead now (well, they were pretty dead by 2022, but they are full of holes now). I also got a pot of tea for myself at the Vegan cafe local favourite gaming and vastly underestimated how long it would take to enjoy drinking it. Then the buses were all fouled up and I ended up walking out to a chippy I've been meaning to try for a while (just under an hour's walk) and that was quite nice. I do feel bad, though, between the tea and the chippy I ended up spending almost as much on myself as I did any individual for whom I bought a gift. Add in the gloves and I spent waaaaay more on me.
I did also manage to do the pots and some hoovering this morning so... there's that. Tomorrow my shift starts at 1400 and so I ought to have time to have a shower. That'll be nice. Hair washing time! Shift finishes at 0033 though, so that'll be less nice. At some point I hope to ring some people that did my damp-proofing in the front room (successfully) to get a quote for the living room wall (and maybe kitchen?) and my bedroom. They're called Weatherdry so, well, the name says it all. And, well, their work has, y'know, worked. Likely to be pricey. But I have savings from my examining, precisely for this work, I might add, so... Can't take it with me.
Long jumpers, long skirts, loose leaf chamomile tea and looking away from the wall with the damp patches allow me to almost believe things are almost good.
Oh, hi there. Has it really been that long? Ehe-heh, yeah, I know, crazy, right? So, what have I been up to? Um, not a lot. See, 'cos I have been struggling with Executive Dysfunction a bit. I mean, you may have spotted that exact issue in my last post, truth be told, well it only got worse over the last week. As did the damp patches, come to that, turns out the roofing work I had done still hasn't solved issues - I woke one morning to find that water was literally coming through the wood underneath the channel the roofers fitted - meaning that something terrible has happened and not been fixed and proves those holes in the ceiling in the bathroom really were continuing and worse leaks than the ones that started the whole thing. My roofer is coming over this Friday or Saturday to sort that, I hope. Ha.
I have also failed utterly to write anything. I managed to finally finish Dominion and... yeah. The dude can't write action sequences, it had a really stale feeling climax that was then revealed to be worth nothing in the epilogue - as if this were some major twist - where Churchill solves everything. No, really, that was the end. I read the afterword properly this time and the author dismisses a decent history of Churchill as it was biased against the man whilst extolling one that was very much biased in favour. I mean, this fellow supposedly has a freaking Masters in History and he seems not to understand the word 'bias' - like, every bloody history book is biased you utter goon! Sorry, it made me a bit more angry. Also, the moral of the story being that political centrism is the real saviour from extremism like Communism and Fascism. Ugh. Oh, but plot-twist, the only Red character that was vaguely dislikeable turns out to be gay and, plot-twist, doesn't die. But... nothing else. Main baddie turns out to be irredeemably evil and dies. Love interest character gives up main dude to his wife and goes to fight Communists in central Europe on the side of the capitalist Russians (no, really, Hitler's death somehow causes a revolution in what's left of the Soviet Union against the Commies)... Ugh. And all revealed in the blandest prose imagineable. Like Sansom seems to have utterly lost interest in the characters (and, to be fair, the opening chapters read like character notes to me rather than an actual story, so I can see it).
Did you know that Robyn and Royskopp made this together
almost a decade ago? Neither did I.
A dress I originally claimed did not fit me but it totally does, and a jacket I got back in February 2022. Just before the unpleasantness that... yeah. The photo does not do the combo justice, in my humble opinion.
But, you know, I haven't written anything. I have been playing CYOA style games on the internet, even downloading a couple to see what bigger engines can do (turns out not a great deal with a single developer who has a day job, so the games have really interesting stems and stumps, but are not finished yet... I mean, duh). Then the NaNoWriMo forums exploded for reasons and I haven't been back because, nah, I'm not doing drama. I mean, I am, but if I can avoid some drama then, y'know, I'm gonna. Had a lovely day and night with Middlest, which was nice, and we watched Dark City whilst I cooked some Chinese adjacent food following his grading (he's in line for a black belt in some mixed martial art or other - it's never been named to me, maybe it is just MMA? I dunno. I'm super stoked for him, it's a Big Deal and he has a talent for it, but I am a typical parent in that I do not quite 'get' my children's stuff). I kinda wasted my Sunday afternoon though, mainly due to a complete inability to focus. This was repeated yesterday after my shift at work.
Today, having had Middlest round for a few hours, I managed to do some urgent jobs - including finally washing my hair with conditioner as a step. One wash, I recognise, means diddly squat but it has given my hair a bit more fly-away quality today and made it... I dunno, bigger? I also wandered into the nearest urban conurbation, via bus obviously, and had a chat with some people at that local Vegan gaming favourite cafe which was... nice. It's been a long time. Didn't stop long, got some paint for undercoating (yes, white this time) and I'm hoping it'll actually work. If it does I may splash out on some more models. I also wandered to the tea shop and enjoyed some free samples and got talked at by a lady trying to get people to sign up to give to their charity. Would have been fine but her attempted politeness came off as forced and her sales pitch a bit too... artificial. Like, I get it, but usually I get to cut to the chase a bit by being politely direct and, usually, get the people doing it to drop the silly sales-pitch and... I failed to do that this time. I mean, yeah, sucks to have to do that job, I know, but... yeah. She called my red coat 'pink' and kept using 'Miss' in completely inappropriate parts of sentences, sometimes three times, and, well, methinks the lady was trying a little too hard, y'know?
It's been raining a fair bit.
I'm not one to talk, I know. I guess... I found it odd to be referred to as 'Miss' - which is stupid, I was a teacher and I was gearing up for that being the main method of address, even to the point of having to remind people, so I shouldn't find it as odd as I was doing.
Anyway, damp patches in all areas of the house have now grown by about 25-50% since I last wrote on here (yes, I have measured) so... that's a job whose time is fast approaching if I am to avoid major damage, it would appear. I have cooked something random tonight - I forgot to buy in peppers for menemen - and I made something with curry(?) powder (from Lynn all that time ago), eggs, melted tomatoes and the like.
Oh! Yeah! I went to Five's place last Monday and... her sister was over, staying for a long time as is similarly afflicted with various long-term illnesses (they are twins - they reckon identical but, honestly, I don't see it). It was a low-key, low-impact meet-up. I just wasn't expecting her sister there. I also made the mistake of trying a new wardrobe combination (first dress, roll-neck undershirt, and leggings) which didn't work as it should have done. I also managed a shower beforehand, but all that did was make my hair less likely to behave. We watched Blue Eye Samurai - still not seen the last two episodes - and it was a good show. I dunno. Five was supposed to be in touch about heading to a big city nearby for an afternoon out, but predictably I've heard nothing. I dunno. Since then I have experimented more with dress/jacket combos and it does work - just not with the undershirt I was attempting then I guess.
The last thing to relate, if you're still reading (well done if you are, this has to be one of the worst entries for read-ability I think I've ever committed to this blog), is that my job means I have a little bit more in the way of cash reserves this year than last. This is good, I'm hoping to actually buy decent gifts for people this year. I know money shouldn't matter but being a bit of a talentless hack with executive dysfunction means I don't get to do the 'means something because I made it for you' gift route and, instead, rely on corporations to do it for me. Which requires money. Which I have this year. So... yay? A muted yay.
It's really hard to get a full length photo that has decent lighting and shows my outfit, apparently.
Been a while since I went with the awesome waistcoats I own. Been rocking these most of the week. First time on camera today.
NaNo has been begun! I've actually got a few days in and have a vague idea about plot. Vague. I mean, I am rewriting the classic (in my brain at any rate) Boy to Girl but, instead of a boarding school and burglars, I'm attempting to set it in Socialist Britain. So far so good - plenty of opportunity to let the MC react to strange aspects of a world that is different to ours. Just one small problem: I still don't have a plot. Like, no conflict, no action. Sure, MC could want to go home but, when I first wrote it, MC didn't even consider that as an option and I want to keep that energy a bit. However, maybe, and I'm just spitballing here, that makes for a very boring story. Which, well, yeah. I want to focus on sensations and reactions to MC waking up and getting ready as a girl which, if you recall, were completely missing from the original in favour of the buglar plot but... well, I get the feeling that would get odd quickly and maybe be suited to something like fictionmania than, well, anywhere else. Also... I dunno, writing an MC who is 13 seems, now, a bit... I don't know if I should be doing that. After all, this isn't likely to be YA fiction and, well... I'm wrestling with it. Still, three days of decent writing (not done it today) along with doing poemvember (surely poember would be better?) because why not write trite poerty (sic). Honestly, I'm four peoms (sic) in and... I'm not good at poetry.
Lighting is better but what the heck am I doing with my face? Ugh.
Since my Mum went home I've not used my time well. Had a good afternoon Wednesday into the evening and the morning of Thursday, really, and that was nice. Some time to just indulge myself a bit. Then I went to bowling with Middlest, Youngest and Tilly. It had been rearranged for reasons from the morning. It was good, totally forgot to take the gifts my Mum left for the children, but never mind. It was fun, the boys played on the arcade machines afterward and that was nice too. Youngest kept hugging me and trying to give 'supportive motivation' - "you nearly got all the pins, Daddy, well done!" and "you're doing so well, even though you missed this time." He doesn't do sarcasm yet, so it was well meant. It was also raining hard so there was water in the loft on my return and, in the morning, bits of plaster in my bath. Great. You know, under the roof that cost me £5k? Yeah, that bath. Can't see anything in the loft, so I have no idea. Damp patches on the walls in the usual places are wet to the touch.
Friday? I was feeling down about the potential leaks and did not do much. Eventually I wandered out, it had been dry all day, and got rained on walking to IKEA. I eschewed free tea because it was so late in the day and I didn't want to wander in the dark, but I did get what my Mum said she wanted for Christmas and a Lancashire peeler for making a hotpot maybe this coming Wednesday at Abbi's. I already have such a thing, but Abbi doesn't, you see. Oh, yeah, I also asked my Mum for how she made hotpots back when I was younger and now I know how to do that. I also got in contact with Five in an effort to arrange this Saturday and eventually got a plan: go round for shared space and films. My kind of plan!
Oh, oh no, honey, that's not how this works! 0300 I got a text (I was asleep) saying that she was going to cancel due to being sick. I'd not gone to the pub so I could prepare for the day. Oh well. A very slow day today, I went to supermarket, get me, where Five says she's feeling better and I can go round. It's 1400 by this point. I say no. Have I used the time? No. Tomorrow I start back at work. At 0700. And that's it now, all my time off (sorta) for the year. Another aspect of teaching that I miss, I guess, I shall add it to the pile.
Unrelated. Or perhaps not. You'll never know for certain, but that's okay, it doesn't really bother you.
An odd vivid dream last night. Middlest was his non-verbal younger self; Eldest was her actual age and being... mean. I over-reacted, verbally, to some genuine provocations. It was in a place I remember as being Norway (not in the dream, afterward). All harsh glare sunlight and cold. I'd switched shift today, from a short one to a longer one, to help out at work. I barely made it, but luckily the start was later than billed anyway, so I was on time. The cracks in the bedroom ceiling seem bigger and more numerous. I don't know. Could be the light.
Considering NaNoWriMo again, properly this time, and was struck, after caffeine, as I was driving by something to make it interesting for me. What if I rewrote Boy to Girl but in first-person? What if the villain of the piece was written in second person and was someone who knew Fabius Denning? Sorta like: "The man who nobody knew as Fabius Denning entered the shared office. But you knew his name, after all: it was your business to know such things." Fabius Denning reprises his role as an investigator in Socialist Britain, The Republic, and the protagonist, in first person, has dropped into this reality from their own. He is, of course, in the body and life of a woman in this reality. Or is he? I could go back to The Project - a reason for the memory experiments? Well, not a reason, but repurposed as a reason for our protagonist to run away, setting the tracking in motion. Plenty to unpick. That old philosophical chestnut: are we simply the product of our memories or is there more to us than that? Has our protagonist travelled between threads in a multiverse or been experimented on as a test subject with memories that are not their own? It may mean no return to the Prehistoric setting and no meeting of Anastasia Cable as the lady-knight from Reality/Shifts but I'll obviously have to see where November takes me. If I do it.
In 2006 the quality of sunlight closely approximated what I recall from my dream of last night too.
So maybe it wasn't Norway.
Lucy lies dreaming, not dead.
In the birthday card to Shiona I changed my writing. I've been meaning to do it for a while. Back in GCSE I changed how I wrote 't' because I read that rendering it as a cross implied more of a religious and fatalistic bent. Naturally I changed my own more curly 't' to a cross. Later, when I met my first Head of Department, I stole his more staccato writing style and lost the flicks and curls from the bottom of letters, scrunching everything up more tightly. In University my writing had become very small, my 'a' and 'e' and 'o' virtually indistinguishable. This shift allowed those to become more legible but at the expense of any space. Around the time I met Toby I created a more flowing and over-the-top writing style. I had long used this in family cards at Christmas for shiz and giggles. Now I am hoping to comandeer this to be my more normal writing style, sorta. I've stolen the 'a' shape from this font (and my brother, to be fair) and dropped the cursive (for now) with the long and flowing loops, to try and create a style that mirrors more the sort of writing I was moving toward in primary school. I dropped the cross 't' and brought back the curls and flicks to the bottom of letters. Maybe it's more legible? I don't know. Shiona spotted it (of course she did, I hadn't expected that). And.. well, since then I haven't written anything free-hand so... huh.
Archetype of Britain or Vision of the Lakes?
You'd know the difference if asked.
On Wednesday I went round to Abbi's and we watched Beowulf and Grendel - which was a surprisingly good film, actually. Even if the 'mysterious and sensual' witch was a bit... she spoke as if she came from the modern US, whilst everyone else had variations of Danish and Scottish and Welsh accents and were trying super hard to sound authentic. She didn't seem to bother. Also, Grendel was well played. But, like, what if Grendel fucks? So we had Grendel's son. And a weirdly underplayed rape scene. It was... well. Okay then. Then we watched a video essay about Moffat's misogyny (Verily Bitchie bringing the Good Stuff). I also coloured in, having failed to draw, whilst Abbi did something a little bit more creative (she's doing Inktober, which I was dimly aware of being a Thing). I cooked some sausage and mash; Abbi cooked some amazing chicken and spinach wraps. It was a good day, I enjoyed it.
Speaking of company, my Mum is due to visit this Saturday. She's coming over to take me to my appointment at the Gender Clinic on Tuesday. My children are away with Tilly until Thursday. I am undecided if I shall meet Five, as she suggested, on the final Saturday of my holiday - not the one when my Mum is over. Though, this time, the radio silence is my fault.
You finish the entry, your eyes slipping from the screen to the surroundings - has the light changed or is that just a fanciful thought? You glance back, there is a slight coda at the end. Perhaps it is naught but a trick of memory, but you feel like you've been here before, read entries similar in the past. No matter, you finish, close the tab and go about the rest of your day unperturbed.
Remember when this was post-edit by FaceApp? I do.
Now entitled, I guess, 'During'.
Day 486 að vera stelpa
Not intending to make a big post today. My initial bite is healed (mostly) and the infection sorta kinda dealt with. That other bite? That's got a big blister. Nurses suggested 'keeping an eye on it for 48 hours' as I'd had four courses of antibiotics already (wait, what? Oh, you mean including three last year? But one of those was because it wasn't dealt with quickly enough - oh, I see, you're not fully listening as you acknowledge this and repeat the figure, fine).
Day 6 nozenia obrozy
Went on a wander with Tilly and Youngest - but it appears to me that Tilly was more interested in chatting, fine, but Smallest noted and was not impressed. He pushed me aside (sometimes physically) to demand attention from Tilly and then got very upset that I was not stopping with him at home at the end of the walk. Bought in some sushi from Aldi and had that as my main meal. Extra hours again today, shift shenanigans aplenty mean I'm being paid 13.5 hours for Saturday and getting a three hour break in the middle of it, but working until midnight. Also, shift tomorrow has been moved (from an 0519 start to an 1100 start), so I rearranged an appointment to check my piercings out until Monday afternoon. I'm being paid 10.5 hours that day (Monday), but only working 0450 to 1126. I'll take that. Today's shift was also a change from billed hours.
Day 19 ханцуйвч зүүсэн
What does one do with time off? Weather is changeable and it's not been long enough to go for long walks with an eye for 'cottagecore' like photos. It's that time of the year when I have been conditioned to think of things as being 'holidays' but my week off... well, it didn't net the pay I assumed (still good, but less than anticipated) and I didn't really do anything with it. Well, I mean, I saw people. It was good, I really needed it, but my autistic brain likes more time to just do nowt before it can kick into gear and enjoy things - hence why I liked being in education, those six weeks were long enough to... well, relax. Without regular weekends I can't even have beers. I sound like I am complaining, I'm not really, I'm just enumerating.
I saw it in the window of the charity shop and both items were the right size. I like this a lot. Can you tell?
Need to shave them pins!
This weekend I go away to a Ladies' Night - believe it or not I am very excited. Stressing about trains and packing and such, but excited. I have did my nails and even bought some new (to me) clothes yesterday. One outfit just called to me - not sure I shall be able to wear it whilst away (I'll at least have to shave my legs before I try) and I have packed it. May 'unpack' it to save space. Mind you, I am also considering a bath tonight, shaving my legs and then wearing it to go Oop North. I shall be taking my Middlest, of course, so have packed his Warhammer stuff - he shan't be stopping over with me the night before to pack etc but what can you do? I can't do anything, I'm hardly a good parent. Oh, yes, that...
Yesterday I had arranged to meet my Youngest. Tilly had been in touch early Monday to arrange a time, we agreed 4pm as it was such short notice for the day after, and on the day she was in touch again about rain and such. We agreed that rain was likely so we would meet in the library. I had spent the morning exploring and scouting charity shops, gaining a lovely bag and some outfits, and dressed quickly for the library. I had managed to stop over at Abbi's to borrow her gel nails kit - I have gone with 80s pink and a statement nail of glittery silver over the Jem-style pink (at least none of my readers will get that reference). I digress, I was home in time to do my nails and then change to go out again. I had planned indoors with a broken brolly to dash to a bus afterward. However, once at the library, Tilly was itching to go to the park with the Youngest - the rain had been forecast for 4pm and now it was ten past and no rain, so it was clearly fine. I opined that rain was looking definite and she said "shall we risk it anyway?" This after informing youngest that we were going to the park. Sure enough, the Heavens opened and I was drenched. Youngest played with Tilly, after all, she was dressed for the weather and so was he. After twenty minutes of this and getting increasingly cold and wet I decided to ditch it. Youngest was sad to see me go, but I couldn't hang around and he was not for going anywhere else - park won over Daddy - and I tramped home like the failed parent I am.
Can you believe this Lindy Bop bag was going for £6? I couldn't. So I bought it.
After turning in for an early night, I have discovered a new artist called Apashe and have been doing that thing I do with new music where I play it a lot and seek out all the albums and mixes and remixes to inject it into my psyche, I got a message from Five to say that they were ill and would have to rearrange our planned meeting. On the plus side that means that I now have time to pack tonight for Friday's trip and I have now sorted the train farrago to my satisfaction. On the minus side... I don't get to go and see Five. I have packed a lot of the make-up they got for me though as I have been experimenting and can now use new blushers and an eyebrow pencil and lip pencil. I can also use a spenge (no, I meant to spell it that way) drenched in the power of Satan that I use because I saw a white woman use it on YouTube (bonus marks if you get that reference).
Maybe blue jeans, but this is the plan for the Ladies' Night.
Or the other waistcoat... I don't know.
The top is sparkly, but you can't tell here.
I have got Abbi into Neverwhere but it turns out that my book copy has gone missing - I no doubt lent it to someone at some point and it has not been returned. I did that with two copies of Q too (and you should read that book) and most of everything I enjoy actually. No matter, at some point I shall buy in anoter copy - in the meantime I have loaned her Rivers of London because it is by Ben Aaronovitch but mainly because it is a great series and worth a read. My bedroom remians a bomb-site, my house remains fecking cold and I, apparently, remain down. I did watch a fascinating video about autism and TG, from the point of view of an autistic cis woman which was fascinating and Hell Yes and all that. I also bought a copy of Aspergirls to lend to Five when I get the chance. I remember, possibly even on here, scoffing about the concept of gendered autism because all the feminine signs she lists in that book were signs that I identified with and displayed. Insert my hollow laughter.
Monday I spoke to my Dad, needed to as it has been a while. I informed him of my latest prang and the circumstances surrounding it and he admitted that he was disappointed in me: it seems that I keep making mistakes and running the risk of getting sacked. He reminded me gently that I have been sacked twice already and that I didn't want to have it happen a third time. He meant well, but it still hurt, still stung. He's right. I have made a series of stupid mistakes since November 2021 that have sort of snowballed and my life has been rocked a bit by that cavalcade of shit. Self-induced and unforced. I have also started trying to chase up my referral to the GIC from my GP. However, so far, nothing: they haven't even checked and when I ring they tell me the secretaries are busy. Hmm. Okay. Oh, I was rejected on my application for PIP because my mobility is fine. Given I didn't apply on mobility grounds this is something of a surprise, so that will be another round of talking to Citizen's Advice because what the heck? I mean, I am mobile, I never said I wasn't! Anyway, either that or I shall do my usual and avoid the stress and do nothing.
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.
I mean... it's not often I can look in a frigging mirror and give myself gender envy!
Look at the gorram hair!!
Be wary on the roads, for now I shall be driving a bus on them - well, mostly starting tomorrow, today was mainly all the paperwork and lots of things that though I have autistically stowed them in my brain-pan I shall forget when I need them. But, and this is vitally important, I did it all in a proper skirt suit. Dear God, that was fantastic. I have longed lusted after skirt suits but until I wore this one for a full day of work I had no idea just how right it would feel. I mean, okay, I've worn them out and about over the last year (thank you, Shiona!), but not in a professional setting. I've been wearing trousers so far, you see, and on passing my test I got to get more uniform - which included a blazer and a skirt and... *swoon* It's brilliant. I highly recommend it to anyone reading - working in a smart skirt suit may just be the most thrilling thing one can do with one's clothes on.
Except, of course, it isn't.
There's definitely an element of Abigail Thorn here - at least in my head anyway.
On Tuesday, after the test, I was round to visit Five. They had said they were without child for the evening - this was a lie. So we went shopping for food ingredients, and rashly said I'd pay (£31 - whoops), and Five cooked a lovely chicken aloo - which was hot enough to give me a nose bleed, or Five was, take your pick - and we had a very frank and open discussion about sex and preferences. I realised just how little experience I actually have and thus how little I have to go on regarding what I'm into. My experience is almost entirely single position, for example, whereas Five has... more. Anyway, their child then nabbed me to play a game of hiding from monsters, which went on almost an hour, before Five grabbed me back to do a make-over that they had been itching to do since I had arrived. About an hour passed and Five showed themselves to be a frigging magician!
Then I was honoured by Five telling me all about their life, and all its varied and quite severe ups and downs from actually dying for an hour or two after giving birth to various life altering traumas, but I was made up that they found me a safe enough person to talk to. This took a couple of hours and, yes, I still feel genuinely honoured to be trusted so. Five reckoned my responses were all emotional and supportive - compassionate, one might say - and then we went to bed. Five in their bed and I in the guest room. Oh, I was also adopted by their cat, who tends to avoid men and hide from visitors, which was very affirming indeed.
I told you, Five is freaking magical! Just... How? How is this me??
Tomorrow I drive buses for real and then see about getting to Chams. Oh, it's an 0540 start, so I shall be up at ungodly o'clock.
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
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