Birthdays

Sometimes the best way to start a post is just to start it and get on with what you want to say.

One of my presents from Sis. 

It is perhaps the most special of them 
all. 

My birthday happened. It came and it went. And I knew that Abbi and Sis were coming to help me celebrate it but I had not got times of arrival and leaving from Sis, which is highly unusual. So, when I got a message at the end of my shift the day before she was due telling me I needed to get in touch I knew something was up. Turns out she had hoped to get to my house, she has a key, earlier on and surprise me by doing some cleaning (the minx) and then have time together. Unfortunately, for her, she got trapped by the heatwave and buckling rails. However, this was perfect for me, I had the opportunity to go and meet her off the train and walk home with her in tow. I could help her with her bags, avoid having her clean and just have time being sisters. It was wonderful.

I got all flustered trying to sort out where she would sleep - I hadn't planned that far ahead assuming it was a day visit - because of the heatwave aforementioned. Her usual spot on the top bunk was out as far too hot. In the end we resolved it to both of our satisfaction and had a lovely sleepover. Come morning I was able to supply breakfast, again unplanned, in the form of my usual granola with yoghurt and fresh blueberries, and we sat in companionable contemplation chatting and texting Mummy. I managed to shower without a huge flid-fit this time and then found that Sis had decorated my living room for my birthday. She got video of my genuine surprise and happiness, sending it to Abbi and Mummy - the former confirming that she'd never seen me look so happy - and then we had a good giggle together as I opened presents.

My representation of Mummy in craft form.

Yes, I know. No, I don't care.

Sis and I then attended to some other matters, like getting her hair washed and brushed; getting her dressed and sorted for the day and then I gathered lunch together in time for Abbi to join us. We watched some My Little Pony and the Trolls movie (the sing a long one, not the horror film from Finland) and coloured some craft items and then ate lunch and then coloured some more. Just sharing space and company and being happy. It was glorious. I loved it. I haven't had as happy a birthday for long enough that this seemed very unusual indeed, very different, very special. Then Abbi had to go and Sis and I spent some more time just being together. No pressure. No need to do anything, just enjoying the moments. And Mummy, although not physically there, was very much there in spirit as we both of us kept in contact.

We finished with some more matters to attend to, then I helped her pack and walked her to the station in plenty of time for her train. We hugged. She left. I did my cutomary run alongside the train as it gathered speed, making her blush more than ever and hide her face as she giggled.

And I lived off the high for the next day at work. Yes, my house felt extra empty. I said it last time, but it's true. When Sis and Abbi are over I actually want to decorate and tidy up. I want to make the place more comfortable. I want to get proper furniture, sort the yards out. Like when my children would visit regularly. And when Sis has gone I feel the house return to being a house, to fade from the warmth and colour of having Sis in it. Of having home bloom and grow in her joy and guileless good humour, her happiness, her trust and feelings of safety. Well, there's a post.

Tempus Fugit

Tuesday was wonderful this week.

Posh togs for the day! 

I know, right? Been ages. 

Little Sis was unexpectedly able to visit and so she came over. I had arranged for some new friends to join us too and was super excited. Sis arrived early and we assumed company was arriving midday so got on with things we couldn't so very well do if I was entertaining, just cos timings as much as anything else, but company arrived early. Sis and I finished what we were doing, but were absent a good 45 minutes, and then I tried to get things back on track. I do not feel like it went to my new friends' tastes and we rapidly ended up split into two bubbles. Food did not help matters, they had not been able to check the menu I sent in advance and I assumed they had. I slipped up, big time, and then things spiralled. They left, I thought still happy but trying to hit another appointment, and would later learn that that had not been the case. They are now... not friends, not new friends. But, that has now been firmly put to bed, there's nothing more I can do.

But Abbi then turned up and the three of us, Sis, Abbi and I, had a lovely time watching Nimona and Matilda: the musical and ordering Chinese food and just being in the same room. It was truly, truly glorious. I felt genuinely blessed and happy and home. I wish I could wax more lyrical, go into more depth and detail (and I no doubt could) but the main fact, the important thing, is just how lovely it all was. How natural. How warm. How comfortable. For all of us. Living in the moments. The afternoon flew by but felt like it was forever. Abbi went home. Sis and I stayed together a bit longer before I walked her to her train home, that we didn't miss this time, and it was just a lovely, lovely time. The house felt... feels empty without her and Abbi. Without that warmth and love and companionship. When they were both there... when it was just Sis and I... that was home. Truly. More than I've ever known. And, as regular readers will know, I have felt home a few times. Honestly, the high of this afternoon is still felt. It is a series of wonderful happy memories that won't quickly fade. Added to others of a similar calibre: Easter, the day trip to see Sis, Easter LLI, June LLI, February weekend, Sis stopping overnight... And more to come.

Got a bit stressed if this damage to my
thumb from picking is anything to go by.

I then had the appeal the day after. Short meeting. Hour or so walk there, about five minutes, wait for Union Rep to leave meeting (40 mins) and then about an hour or so walk back. Got some marking done. Middlest was over the day afterwards. We had a walk, watched Nimona (I seem to be doing that a lot, keeps making me cry), and they enjoyed it and remarked how on the nose it was to their experience and how much they seemed to have missed when they saw it. Then, as I prepared food, I learned the appeal had been successful and that I have my job back. This is good news, if entirely unexpected, it meant starting work at 0310 the following day! Bit of a change of plans, to be honest.

Yesterday I went back to work, took on extra hours like an eejit, failed to use the time wisely afterward, went to see the new Minions film (don't) with my youngest and then flopped home. Yes, the whole time was just the film, no extra. To give an indication of how long it's been, I got my only father's day card at this point. It was nice to spend even a little time with Youngest, even if he had a mini strop (again) as we walked home.

Back on at work today. Plenty to do. One drawback of living in the moment is that, sometimes, the moments aren't that interesting. Makes the times they are really stand out though.

Explosions

Joanna keeps busy.

Not a real bedroom. 
Not yet. 

Yes, she does. And I have been.

My life continues to explode. It continues to expand rapidly with excess heat and light. And, like explosions, it can be dangerous too.

I find that I am, quite literally, having the time of my life. I am fully engaged. I have things I enjoy doing and that I look forward to whilst I am working. I have things that I calendar in and look forward to meeting. I have people I love and people who love me back in ways I can feel. It's not without complications and pain, but that's part of love, feeling sadness and pain when others are sad and in pain. Just as feeling joy and happiness when others are joyful or happy is also part of love.

The Statesian Little and I get on. I flatter myself that I am helping and helpful to her. Maybe I am. Maybe I am not. But I enjoy using my time to speak to her, to discuss her issues and joys and trials and tribulations and to read books to her. My relationship with Mummy has developed. Firstly we simply talked more and then I realised why and moved to help in return because now I have the tools and consent to make that kind of offer and it went well. I flatter myself that I am helping and helpful to her. Maybe I am. Maybe I am not. But I enjoy using my time to discuss things with her and support her goals and offer counsel when she needs to have an outlet. I enjoy being able to have the sort of conversation that simply cannot happen outside of the niche we have colonised here in the real world. Topics that simply don't get raised in normal conversation are perfectly acceptable there and can be openly turned over and talked about without fear or favour. And, in both cases, the kink aspects thrive and are the spark that kindles the flames of the fire in our conversations. An incredibly small part of our interactions and yet nevertheless important.

But, most of all, I love my little sister.

It is intense. And I can't always help. But when I sit with her for hours and listen. When she rages. When she is quiet. When she struggles. When she is happy and chattering. When she is keen. When she is happy. When she is sad. I consider it an honour and privilege to be there with her. But it is intense. And sometimes I struggle. Because she struggles. I got my own demons. And sometimes I am finding that I cannot walk away when I fail to help.

And that's been my life. It is richly rewarding and fraught with balancing acts and failures and problems and issues. But I wouldn't exchange it for the world.

Words

Been a bit of a while.

Basically, life has remained busy and I have struggled to find time. First there was the post I really enjoyed writing and may be my best yet "Where is your Pride?" and then there was some really good times. I felt like things were intensifying. And then, as I hinted, Mummy disappeared. We now know why and we have some details. Not much, but enough and enough to know that it was hard. I stepped up, I chose to do so with all my heart. Because I genuinely want to be able to look after Sis and, if I can, provide a support for Mummy. It happened around the same time as I finally took on a Little to help and I take that seriously too. So, for a while there, I had lots on. Lots of emotional labour and little support I could access.

But, honestly, looking after Sis provides me with energy and life. It really does. She came to visit, the day we heard from Mummy again, and it was amazing. I haven't said much about it - we did Easter things. She had a bath. We watched DVDs. It was amazing. Powerful. We went to the Event again on the weekend and that was... magical. I didn't leave her side the whole day practically and... I'm not sure I have the vocabulary to explain. I'm not sure I ever will. I'm not sure words would be enough even if they existed. And, through all of that, I was becoming increasingly valued and trusted by my Little.

I mentioned reading to them both. It really was and is an honour to be able to do that. And I am beginning to understand a bit more about what people get out of this side of things - the being Big and Domme, I guess - which I never used to understand. I'm not sure I can explain it beyond saying that it is way more fulfilling than I had given credit. And so, when Mummy was able to set up a family call at long last, I went in knowing a little better what she was getting from it all and being less... self conscious as a result. I was able to just enjoy the experience and not worry about 'getting it right', if that makes sense.

And so I have had nearly a fortnight of a new routine. Chat on text to my Little and Sis in the evenings, video call or voice chat with my Little on waking for their bedtime; chat and video if time allows to Sis; get ready for work. Work. Video call with Sis in the afternoon. Repeat. Being given a trusted position on the Server has also been interesting. I find that I can listen to more people, provide them some of what they want sometimes and that is also a powerful feeling. There has been some politics and I nearly let myself get sucked in and beaten down but for being reminded why I do what I do and why I have to be in the game and not fighting imaginary demons. Has it been easy? Oh, no, not at all. It has been hard. But I choose to do this. With all my heart.

And that's where I have been all this time. That's what my life has been. And, you know? I love it. I've never felt so free. I continue to be able to be more me. I keep finding new ways to add to that. New ways to be myself. And it's fun. Yeah, it can be hard, but there's so much fun. So much joy.

I want to wax more lyrical, to pontificate further, but I don't actually know what I would say. I am honoured to be able to do what I do, privileged to have the access I do with the Little and Sis and Mummy and the Server that I have made my online home. I've been allowed in by so many people so that I can support and help and... it's like teaching but with stuff that, rightly, would never be allowed in a school or with people too young to give informed consent in the arena in which I find myself. And, in all of this, I find myself sticking to the Little and/or Middle mindset I have talked about before. See, in many ways, I am still that 14 year old whose Dad just left and trying so hard to plug the gaps left for others. This time I am cognisant that the more I do for others, the more I step up and provide the support, the less I am able to access support for myself. It is the nature of things. BUT there is an important caveat. Part of the support I need is, actually, being provided by being able to care for and support Little Sis and the Little. More the former than the latter. The fact that she has let me in to her world. Allowed me to do the things I do. It's empowering. An honour.

And that's it. Not a lot to share but, at the same time, more than I can put into words.

Where is your pride?

Where is your love?
Where is your faith?

Where is your hope?
Where is your place?

Yes, still posting these. 

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.

Breathing in the Dark

Okay.

My life is perfectly normal and not at all TMI these days. Of course. So, far from having nothing to talk about, I am struggling with how to talk about it on here - which remains my place to be true and honest. Fully. So, let's start with some headlines, I guess, and then the details can be hidden beyond a line break? Or at least warned about for people that don't wanna have that all up in their faces? Small mercies.

It me 😳🫣

The Boudoir photo shoot. Yeah, no, that happened on Tuesday and... I went in not expecting much. It was a favour to Abbi that I went and, also, to see what it was like. I fully expected to walk in, be utterly overwhelmed and then scry through what they managed to take to find the one that was least worst, and safe for work, and then frame it and send it to my Mum who has been badgering me for an up to date photo. Boom, baby, nice face shot in make up under studio lighting. The rest? The rest I expected to look like... well, not great, you know? Maybe have a bit of fun, maybe not. Enjoy the free lunch, have a lovely chat with Abbi, leave.

However. That wasn't how it went. I let the make up artist do her thing, and she was stoked to have that freedom and permission to do what worked, genuinely, and she went in directions I honestly did not see coming. Then the photo shoot - and that was more what I expected, to be honest, lots of being told how to pose and false sounding compliments. Not cos the lady was mean, but because professionalism - game recognises game. When it came to the viewing I had to decide black and white or colour for each shot and... I was sold. No hard sell, nor soft sell, was required. I didn't expect to be presented with what I was presented with. Images will adorn this post. I even got one for my wall printed off.

I got a picture of me for my wall.

Dramatic lighting!
Still me 🫣😬

Before that I also seem to have taken on another Little on the Discord server thing I'm on. I say 'taken on' - that's not entirely true. I am the New Thing at the moment cos of how much I'm helping out with Little Sis and so that generated a fair bit of attention. And, well... I also contacted my tutor and restarted that whole shebang. Been a bit of a busy week though, so I shan't get round to that til tomorrow now for reasons I'll get to in a moment. Anyway, Little Sis and I had a live video call (hard to explain, trust me, it makes sense) which was brilliant fun on the Sunday last - we wrote lines. That's it. And had a blast.

Hmm, running up against self imposed walls.

I also went to visit her yesterday on a day trip and it was so good. Brilliant. I was, again, not prepared for just how powerful it would be to be there again in person, to just... I dunno, to be sisters I guess and be able to hang out together. We went for a walk, we had a picnic, giggled like loons and waded through mud a number of times. We sat on a bench to eat food, have a can of gin each to toast Mummy in spirit with spirits, and then looked at the time and realised we'd been out for five hours and we ought to probably head back to hers for an evening meal. It was wonderful. I got to see a fun bookshop, mooch round her local B&M, cause a future stir where she works by turning up and being trans, and pick up a parcel with her before meeting the boyf and making a packed lunch for the picnic. She took me on one of her favourite local walks in the glorious sunshine and at literally no point did either of us run out of things to say nor have to force the conversation. Neither of us took over either. It was just... wonderful.

I guess that's the headlines? 🤔 Yeah.

If you don't wanna know more than that, and I can totes see why you wouldn't, here's your warning. Apparently my 'line break' does nothing. So, instead: here's a warning, I'll pop a music video below and then give the final warnings before going full TMI.

And now the obligatory warnings. This is gonna go so much more TMI than any previous post in this here blog. You are hereby warned that you may not wish to see that. You may not wish to know.

Leading the Derby

Goodness, I've been remiss lately. Nearly the end of September and just four entries?

Partly due to a lack of things to say, I suppose.

All the busy roads are gone!

Today I met up with my Mum in a place I used to live and study in the Before Times. I got side-tracked, for my train arrived an hour or two before hers, and went to visit the library I used to study in. I had completely forgotten what it was like, several dreamscapes that I had assumed were either made-up or from my BA turned out to be there. It was like being assaulted by memories, getting mugged as I walked through various slightly changed (no smoking sheds, more green, less traffic) areas of the campus and city. My Mum arrived, we had a curry (not terribly authentic, but nice enough and flavoursome) and then mooched around the local art gallery - which was very nice and diverting. It reminded me of a modern art exhibition I saw there and would later try to explain to the elder two of my children. I recall taking one or both to the 'art room' where one is encouraged to make one's own art.

The night before I went out with an old work colleague for some beers in a local urban conurbation and that was nice. He was much less gruff and bitter than he used to be, much more at home with potentially being autistic, happier, actually. It was a good night, though I struggled to follow a good deal of the gossip he provided about people I used to know. I have, it seems, forgotten many of the people I used to work with. Miss Warrington was upset with him over the phone for giving Her only short notice we were meeting up, or else She would also have attended - something he shared with me (and, according to the texts he flashed my way, at Her behest). I'll admit to feeling a little buoyed by that.

Hello treble chin my old friend...

Before my old colleague arrived.

I even managed to attend a Chams meeting the night before that after a slightly later and longer shift than billed (I allowed the change because extra money and a later start than 0310 is always nice). I cycled there (and thus, of course, back) and was very glad of the battery assist that Penny (I have named my bike, so sue me) provided. I did do my usual in that I button-holed a new attendee (trans-masc enby-leaning) and got a bit too excited about some of the topics of conversation we shared. Still, nice to have been able to go, even if I did what is now traditional and failed to properly chat in person to Izzy (I can manage perfectly well online, mind you) and only managed a brief catch up with Lynn.

Thanks to a recommendation (and a blog post) from Susie I have acquired a copy of A Book of Spells by Sara Maitland and am hooked by it. A compendium of short stories, each one demands my attention and most have had me pause at the end to just think a while before moving on. For example, Seal-Self had me pause almost a full day to fully parse what I had read. I don't necessarily agree with Maitland's portrayal of the main character (seems to be a stand-in for trans-femmes generally) in that the moment where he is not a woman enough to be seen as so by Seal Woman is when he looks up. She rolls on top of Seal Child, who plays with her penis, but he looks up - and then his thoughts turn to violence (he wouldn't have to enact the violence if they but accepted him as a woman - hmmmmmmMMMM) afterward. This theme, male violence and female responses to it, runs through nearly all of the stories I have thus far read - and its use in Seal-Self I find, well, not challenging so much as disappointing, maybe? Maitland is a bloody good writer, a deep thinker, attuned to a great depth of emotion; and so I am troubled by the implications in Seal-Self about trans-femmes. Or, rather, by what her perceptions of trans-femmes appear to be based on that story and the context in which it is presented. However, a mark of her quality is that I continue to mull on it and read on with more stories.

I am such a child.
*snickers like a naughty schoolgirl*

This is rather a bitty post, I shall step back for now - maybe I shall have more developed thoughts later.

Home

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

It has unicorns on it. 

It's famous.

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

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

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

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

Expansive hand gestures!

I am a child.

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

Emperor Palpatine's takeaway as executed...

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

I see the truth of it

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.

Getting What I Want

Me, in the snow. 
I am returning from grocery shopping. 
You may notice that hoodie, you may 
not. But, also, the hat. I love this hat. 
Thanks Catherine, again, for the hat! 
It got a compliment as I walked out, by 
the way, from a lady that wanted one 
like it. Because it is an amazing hat. 

Oh, yeah, lighter foundation, elf rather 
than Estee Lauder. 

First of all: snow. Yes. We had some. Second of all, yes, that does mean that meltwater is rushing down the front of my house and from the guttering the roofers fucked up when they came last time. I have now learned (thank you Izzy) the proper term for what they should have been using to avoid this (ladder stand off brackets). Why, yes, I am a bit panicked by the noise of the water dripping down my front door. It's loud and constant and more than a little concerning given this house and leaks and damp. Oh, and yes, the water is almost exactly aligned with the damp patch in my bedroom, indicating the problems are indeed connected as I suspected. the roofers were in contact yesterday, being angry that I wasn't in when they tooled up unannounced yesterday just before my shift started. As they were being shitty with me on the phone about it they suddenly paused and added "oh, maybe we didn't tell you." You think? No shit, Sherlock! So, I shall be phoning again tomorrow to try and arrange a time when I may be in for them to come and fix the problems they have left and/or caused. Tossers. I may also have spent £10 so far today on power. It's been cold. My Dad and his wife did not visit because, you know, the snow and ice and bad road conditions and them being old and stuff. It's meant I have managed to shop for food and make a hotpot (still cooking as I type).

What? Oh! The title? Yeah, so, back in October 2021 I posted about what I wanted in the future and, well, that's been murbling about in the back of my brain recently. Part of why I found the last few days so hard, actually, was because I have had this semi-formulated thought in my mind and wanted to get it out, onto here.

So, I said I wanted to wear a skirt out there in the world sometimes and, well, I have more than achieved this goal. I go to work most days and my work uniform is a skirt and blouse. Like, that's just what I wear. In public. All day. And it... it is everything I hoped for and also, in a very good way, a total nothing. It's done without fanfare and it is gloriously normal. I no longer wear a persona, I am just... me. Admittedly I miss being able to perform and front like I used to but it is nice at the moment that I can just be myself and get on. I go to work, I come home and... that's it. I have stresses (side-eye to the house in general but leaks and roof in particular) but mostly I don't. I can muddle through on most days and just be me, dress the way I want and no one cares.

It's freaking cold.
This is midday!

Like, today I am wearing jeans (because it's freaking cold) and it's the first time I haven't worn a skirt in over a month. Or dresses I guess. The point stands. When I went bowling with the boys, at the last minute I ditched the idea of wearing a hoodie and added a skirt over my thick leggings - which was good, Tilly was wearing a hoodie and thick leggings - and I felt perfectly normal doing that. Goodness, it was such a nice feeling to bowl in a skirt: so much easier than I ever remember bowling being (and I enjoy bowling a lot). I wear make-up now as standard: at work someone commented on a photo of me (for the commendation I got) and pointed out that I looked different in real life because I had a rosier nose - I pointed out that I was blowing my nose a bit and didn't wear foundation over it and the interlocutor was surprised and said, I shit ye not: "well, it works for you, it's a good look." This from a woman several years my superior whose make up game is pretty good. Like, I am coding mostly feminine.

I am not now, nor shall I ever be, the girliest girl ever to girl. But, well, I've said before and I shall reiterate: if I had been lucky enough to have been born in a way that everyone went: "yup, girl" from the start I'd likely have been mostly a tomboy anyway. Well, not entirely girly at any rate. I stand by that and, I would argue, seem to be tacking mostly there. It is how people seem to be interacting with me at work at any rate (passengers don't count in this instance, it's hard to know in the seconds we have exactly how nuanced the treatment is, mostly I'm just gratified that some automatically read me as a woman - by no means most).

Also, I watched a video essay by the Leftist Cooks about guilt and self-care and justice and apologies and... Thought-provoking stuff. I am not good at apologising. Maybe it's the ASD, maybe it's my upbringing, maybe I'm just a bad person: but I struggle with acknowledging the hurt I cause people in a way that allows them to know their hurt is acknowledged. Thus I cannot offer the apology that they need from from me that would allow me to help in their healing. I remain, forever, outside of that process. Not just Tilly, but mostly Tilly. Equally, my own readiness and willingness to offer the gift of forgiveness when people hurt me does not, in any way, encourage reciprocity because that's not how gifts work. Is it unfair? Well, no, when read in that way, it is simply the consequence of being ready to forgive in a world that requires a little more from perpetrators to recognise the hurt they caused. And I cannot do that work terribly well.

Chams Christmas looms and I have even booked the day off beforehand and afterward, ostensibly to attend. But I'm not sure I can. Everyone there would welcome me, would be lovely. But I am not sure I can.

I also spent the morning watching the latest hbomberguy video and it was, as always, very much worth my time but he also referenced Kaz Rowe (whom I am indebted to Abbi for introducing me to) and that was a nice link. But it also raised another thing, like: I used to make videos and I guess I'm a creator as a consequence. A creator who is, well, trans and thus, you know, part of the QUILTBAG+ community. So, like, maybe I should indulge that part of myself that has been musing over the last week or so about recording my old Russian history course as a series of videos and, well, lean into them being more... youtube essay things rather than lessons. I mean, I have the resources, I have my stories and anecdotes and... Maybe I have something useful to say. I dunno. That's what narcissists think too.

Either We All Go Home...

Recently I watched a retrospective on Sabrina the Teenage Witch - the TV show, I'm not Statesian so Archie comics means nothing to me - and it...

No, no 90s stylings here, just a selfie because 
I liked my outfit. First time pairing this blouse 
with my favourite dress (which I have two of). 

Dig around on here enough and you'll find me mooning over what I term '90s fashion' but without any real thought about where that came from besides some minor thoughts that maybe it was from girls I saw at school. And, well, yes. But, and this is important, the retrospective had a clip from Clarissa Explains it All and, suddenly, it clicked into place. The female-centric show, the "Hi, Sam" and the clothing. I never had a crush on Melissa Joan Hart but I do recall being enamoured in some way because watching this show, and later Sabrina, was a guilty pleasure of mine. Turns out it was on CBBC and thus in my wheelhouse, for most of the time I was at secondary school. MJH wears big watches, colourful tights, dusters, etc - all the things that I have previously talked about and... yeah. My half-formed (and very fragile) feminism of the time probably also stems from those programmes too - the idea of sisterhood, of good male allyship being respectfully silent when women were talking rather than inserting themselves into the narrative, of men not always wanted to get in women's pants (Harvey and Sam both, even if Harvey eventually did in Sabrina, it was long after I stopped watching it). I had seen a couple of DVDs of Clarissa for sale in a cafe a few weeks ago and so, obviously, I went out and bought them. I was going to watch them today, but I haven't yet. They exist at the moment in a superposition of excitement and dread. I barely remember it, the ladder "Hi, Sam" guitar sting aside... I don't know what I'm going to find here. Bit like all my old school stuff I guess.

Would a matriarchy have 'great women inventors' or not? If history had been less patriarchal would there even be a 'Great Man' theory of history? The sisterhood concept of early Sabrina suggests maybe... not? Language would be very different indeed, riffing on concepts from Native Tongue that I read in 2021-2, for example and many different things woukd take forefront in the development of parlance and patois. This blog would have fewer first person references, that's for certain.

Oh goodness: the watch, the dresses...

You ought to recognise this path by now,
it has accompanied so many of my selfies
it is practically a cast member.

Hair is very frizzy.

This morning I took my electric razor to my legs - the hair was bad, really bad. Thick and dark and black and it gummed up my bath plug. Way more than even I thought there was. My legs are far from smooth or even mostly clear of hair, but goodness it feels nice to be able to 'risk' not wearing tights again. In the build up to BOYL it's made me realise that I do appreciate the freedom to wear skirts and dresses rather than jeans. I did last year, of course, and loved it but... well, this year I may lean more toward dresses than skirts. Structural determinants suggest that collars and blouses may have to be more heavily utilised than t-shirts, at least for a bit, and so dresses work better with that aesthetic than do skirts. With some actual disposable income lying around as well, my power company refunded me £60 for some reason for example (they've sent me some accounting info to say why but I really don't think I paid that £60 in, still - their info says I did so... okay then), I am seriously thinking about maybe buying my own models for to paint. So far so good, they can fit into the slivers of time I have off work and I can still watch youtube videos but be active whilst doing so. But what would I collect? Tyranids? Not orcs, or Orkz... The Imperium of Man feels a bit, well, on the nose. Adeptus Sororitas? A bit 80s punk Jem aesthetic, not really me. I dunno.

Adding honey to herbal tea brewing? That's my advice from this last week. Along with my stupidity: I shan't work overtime beyond a 10 hour extra shift, says I to myself, and then I end up working 65 hours (22 hours over my timetabled hours, in case you were wondering) anyway.

Right, best go watch some Clarissa Explains It All.

Torquem manacle aequet (sic)

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...

Holding Places

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.

Raspberry Pavlova

It was darker and not here, but you get 
a feel for where it happened.

An eventful first day at work - scraping my vehicle 'gainst another will do that - led to some very supportive things being said and actions by the lovely people I work for. I'm not sure I share their view of events, I have had this happen many times before (though it tends to take longer than first day) - whereby people are lovely and supportive because they think I am halfway decent, only later to have people realise with horror that I am actually not. It's a curse of being autistic, I think, in that I appear to be significantly more competent than I am in small doses.

Anyway, new route, new learning. I spent a day, almost, learning the route and taking mental notes on my mentor's driving - I mean, obviously - so that I could emulate when let loose. It helped. My mentor's style is very close to my instincts: wait if unsure, don't squeeze, go slower when space is tight, avoid pot-holes, wait for passengers to sit etc. I like it. It's slow, I like slow. Yesterday I drove a bit more and found that I have sorta semi-learned the route now - though parts of it are on an ad-hoc basis, being that I'll know the junction when I reach it but can't plan for it until I'm there because it's not in my head yet. Still, it meant that there were no real mistakes, though I did need to be reminded about the location of a couple of bus stops and missed someone waiting at a zebra crossing. However, I am improving, I think, and the passengers I took were comfortable and safe - can't really ask for more than that. I did that thing I do where I turn on my full beam at people and that, I think, goes a long way. My acceleration and braking are smooth, as is my cornering and stopping. Still sometimes needing a taxi to the kerb (4-6 inches) rather than hovering over it, but that is getting better too.

Yes, this sort of thing.

Last night, a little girl gave me a drawing she'd made
on the bus - to say thank you to the 'bus lady'. I wasn't
even driving at the time, just route-learning cos it was
dark and we were pushed for time.

Am I enjoying it? Yes. I am. I fear the realisation on the part of the lovely people that help me that I am nowhere near as competent as I appear.

A side-note: driving in a skirt. Why does no one talk more about this? I love it! It's so much easier than in trousers! I have been out and bought nine more pairs of tights (3 x 80, 3 x 60 and 3 x 30 denier) so that I can wear my work skirt every day if I want. It's just so much more comfortable and forgiving when driving. Just generally actually. I think I may transfer more into skrits and dresses than I was already - I seem to be so much more comfortable and happy when wearing a skirt. Even with the panic and fear and shame of my issue on the first day of proper driving, wearing a skirt was just... well, it helped immeasurably and I cannot adequately put into words why or how, it just was.

Chams! Ah yes, I went on Thursday and was made up by some gifted spices (not yet used). However, I was also a bit shaken up by the events of the day, so I was poor company. I needed to go, I needed to be there, but I wasn't my usual self. My friend got a lot from being there, so that was nice, and there was an old face (unknown to me) who was there and enjoyed herself. Lynn was looking fab, as usual, as were some others. A friend of Izzy's was there too, and seemed to enjoy being the centre of conversation, with someone else, and that was good. Another night I would have been less hunched and more attentive, but I was tired and nearly fell asleep a few times, frowning at my phone and looking at the internets rather than taking part. Conversation reminded me that I do really want to go on hormones, every testamonial just makes me even more certain I want to try. If skirts can make such a massive difference to my mental health, imagine what HRT could do!

There's always a new way to Heaven

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

- Paninaro, Pet Shop Boys

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

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

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

I mean, also: unicorns. Fucking Unicorns!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Fugitive, Pet Shop Boys

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

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

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

- After the Event, Pet Shop Boys