Big things and Little things

It's been a while.

The exam meeting finished some four 
hours earlier than anticipated. 

I spent those watching MLP:FiM and 
colouring. Don't look too closely. 

I've had a bit going on, frankly. And now examinations have hit. But, in a suprise twist: this year I actually have a life and so have been not as keen to get stuck in. So it is that I have given backword on four of the five I took on before they began. One remains. My favourite. My oldest. I intend to give it a good go, but I am not so certain that I want to sacrifice all of my time to examinaing this year, I have new things occupying my attention.

There will, of course, be a line break.

In the meantime the rising tide of right wing nuttery has been felt. Pinched at times too. There are people at work dislike how I do feminity - I rub their faces in my trans-ness, I was told when I asked - and they have started making noises when I use the loos. Given the wider context of changing guidance, of passed down discrimination subtle enough to make my Mum ring me to share the good news of it including stipulations to say public spaces must provide somewhere for me to pee, I can see the way the wind is blowing. Wars and rumours of wars. But you shall not know the time or the date of my coming and going. Increasing numbers of people feel safe enough to snigger, to comment, to insult, to throw abuse. Never said I was going to pass. But I can spy how the waters are churning. I lack the courage and the will to leave. The time is approaching though. And my choices are already half made. One way or another, I doubt this will end prettily. Collect your own Godwin medal on the way out.

And that's before the furore over zombies migrants and how we need protection and how the hordes are coming to somehow get us. Roads are for cars and Road Tax (that hasn't been a thing as long as I've been aware enough to know of things) does not cover cycle paths or pavements. These are the preserve of non-citizens, it would appear. Never before has idle chatter by people I know in the breakroom seemed so virulent, so hostile, so ill-informed and base and dangerous. It's okay, though, they all have black friends so they can't be racist. 😑🙄

I lose things by degrees.

As I found it when I came downstairs.

Sis has a habit of leaving me things to
find when she comes to visit.

My last time with my Youngest was at a fast food restaurant. It was ten minutes before he started kicking up a stink about where I was sat, not near enough the centre of the bench opposite and then with too much food on show, and then after twenty he got up and sat at another table, back to me. Within another ten he had kicked off about the toilets and then serviettes. It was at this point that Tilly finally took action and said I was going to leave if he didn't behave. He got worse. I left. I shared my sadness. Tilly suggested a break for a while. I said that was a bad idea. It has been nearly three weeks. Tilly always gets what she wants in the end. Speaking of which, I had an e-mail about finances that I had asked to talk about over a year ago. She said she won't budge, but with more words and paid for legal advice 🙄 But, truth is, I can't afford to keep going so... I sent an e-mail back. That was two weeks ago. She said she's 'processing'. I'm sure.

I have continued to get laser. Had a session Wednesday. There were tears. That's how you know it's working. 🤭I'm on the top ups now. Not as effective as electrolysis, does nothing for white or grey hairs. Turns some hair white or grey too. But something. Had a letter sent to me by the GIC (no link in the e-mail that said to click the link, so no idea what it said) but a text said there was an appointment and I had to ring to move that cos it was on a day I was unable to get off work. The lady was really strange about it. She insisted on "writing up the notes" whilst I was on the line when I said I couldn't get the time off and asked if she wanted any days I would be available. She said "no, thank you, but you can send us an e-mail if you like." Right. Okay. They then called when I was at work and driving and left no message. I rang back to be met with an automated message telling me they'd call back. They have not.

Speaking of losing things by degrees. Last Friday someone reported me for using my smartwatch at a timing stop. I mean, I probably checked the time, yes. But that involves swiping. It counts. I was lucky the last time, it cannot hold. I suspect, this time, it is the end. So. I am suspended again. Oh well. Not paranoid enough, as always.

Line break: it is here:

Grab-Bag: all keywords/categories

There's a 3 in the morning. 

And the snow is virginal. 

It was actually okay to drive in. 

Life's administration tasks can sometimes be galling. Take getting this passport as an example of how I (fail to) deal with things in a timely manner! Still, I managed to get to the GP and he asked me to essentially dictate his letter to him, which he then printed out and signed and stamped in front of me before handing over. Lovely man, very supportive, he was shocked when I told him I hadn't yet started HRT and amazed that, though he knew he couldn't prescribe HRT on the NHS himself, I hadn't got a prescription from the GIC or gone private already. He was under the impression that I would have had surgery or something by now via the GIC. I mean, I know the general public are blissfully unaware of the delays and animosity in the system against minorities generally (and trans people specifically in this case) but I wasn't expecting the same blinkered awareness coupled with a positive attitude from someone theoretically in the know. I guess that's how things like this get to carry on though, the vast majority of people can convince themselves it's not actually as bad as that and more in line with their own genuine warm and fuzzies for minorities.

Planes never fly like this, not that she's seen.

The fact that 'chemtrails' are also laid by aircraft,
she claimed, appears not to have made an iota of
difference to what she claims.

Speaking of which, some colleagues were bemoaning that we don't have a Trump in the UK - say what you like about his sexual assaults and unfitness for office generally, they intoned (not in so many words), he was right to talk about mass deportations. After all, countries with low immigration didn't have terrorism. And immigrants bring terrorism. I, shamefully, did not challenge this because of numbers and because of another odd interaction earlier that day. Someone mentioned that snow was rare in the UK these days compared to our youth and I agreed, citing climate change. Oh, said she, that's an interesting opinion. She wasn't a conspiracy theorist, she claimed, but 'they' have been using chemtrails to alter the weather for years, it's not climate change. I asked who 'they' were and she ignored me and offered to show me photos of chemtrails she'd taken. I assured her there was no need. She then claimed to have watched clouds form, and isn't that proof of weather control? I changed the subject. She retaliated: "I think it's really suspicious that you got so defensive when I offered to show you photos!" and then asked why I'd called her an egg. Uh... what? She demanded to know what I meant by 'egg' and it was only later I realised she'd misheard my 'who are 'they'?' question. Thus I was already feeling a bit concerned by the time the Trump conversation was happening near me. I'm no slouch, in 'chemtrail' communities 'they' is code for Jewish billionaires and it's not much of a leap to include the TERF talking points of big pharma (run by conveniently Jewish rich people) and trans people being involved in the 'Deep State' - thanks Kemi Badenoch (no, really, this is a thing she's on record as believing).

I know that she's a. younger than me, b. not actually
applying any make up, c. a model and d. hot - but it
remains illustrative, doesn't it?

I can dream.
Besides, I don't know how I'd photograph my routine.

Nevertheless, I return to my personal feelings that I have been analysing in a bit more depth that I used to prove to my GP that I am not for desisting transition: I am so much happier and more comfortable with myself these days than possibly at any other point. Regardless of the issues that continue, regardless of my continued failings and worries: I can cope with seeing myself in the mirror. Applying make-up in a morning before work is just... normal. Nothing remarkable. But, that's the thing, I look at myself in the mirror to do that. I have to. I can't do what I used to with brushing my teeth and not see all of my face as I apply make-up - I mean, I kinda have to look at my face to do foundation, blusher, mascara and occasional eye-shadow with the highlighter on the cheekbones, right? And brush my hair. And I don't hate what I see. That's huge. Huge.

Documents were thus sent off today to the passport office and I hope they are sufficient. I shall find out soon enough I suppose. I also finally got round to buying Christmas presents for my own children. They shall arrive soon.

In other, more TMI I guess, news I had a few days burst of activity on a site for that kind of thing, the TMI kind, and had a flurry of activity in return. I actually felt pretty good, after all, what else would I do that for but attention? Maybe I was getting some at last. Until I happened across a friend's account and their single post in the last six months garnered fifty times the comments and likes both. Oh. That's fifty times more interaction on a single post than on all of my activity over three days combined, by the way. They also gained six times more followers than I on that one post than I have over a decade on the same site. It is a stark reminder that even when I think I'm doing reasonably well in such circles my expectations are so different to most people. Getting almost double figures of comments was a big boost to me, but once I stopped posting anything new all the comments dried up and a couple of DM conversations stopped - despite me posting last in them - because the other people, I assume, got bored and went back to whatever it was they were doing beforehand.

Addictions, character.ai, have returned again after a few days abatement - which is irritating. But I am planning a bath to finish my day off after an early tea. I may or may not combine that with a hot chocolate - we shall see. I have not reorganised the Spare Oom as I had hoped I might nor decided on whether or not to blow maybe £100 on random items for myself. Sounds like a lot, you know?

Not Douglas Adams

Long dark week, actually ten days since I last posted.

Not my image, but it conveys well the feeling I 
am aiming for - so thank you whoever you are. 

Examining, like normal. Worried about it because mistakes, like normal. I do my job - I'm good at leading and supporting others, everyone in the process agrees on this, but suck when it comes to looking after my own accuracy and staying on target. I also do stupid things like take on extra hours or a whole extra shift yesterday, nearly ten paid hours, because... well, the sort of thing I do.

Did get to see Abbi on Friday, which was lovely. I went a bit overboard, went in an outfit that was a dry run for August's plans. I mean, comfy, nice, but maybe... I dunno, not sure I should have walked over in it nor really chosen it to wear at a friend's house. Read a thing on the Book of Faces about trans-femmes parceling themselves into as small a space as they can manage and how hard it is to shake that off - how they need help to not keep that going. It resonated. But even saying that makes me feel selfish and self-centred.

Youngest was over on Thursday, it went reasonably well despite the heat. Tilly confirmed that Eldest has requested I not be told about anything she does and, if she had her way, would prevent me from being anywhere she is or acknowledging one another's existence. Tilly pointed out she was holding firm that I would be allowed to go places and do things to support my other two children, even if Eldest was involved, but hearing thaty Eldest is the driving force, that it is active and ongoing, is hard. I had been reflecting on this anyway, with a presentation evening for Youngest coming up and hearing no mention of Eldest who is also involved, and once again it turns out that what I had assumed was catastrophising on my part wasn't catastrophising enough.

I can't tell if it is evil or I am.

Being on the laptop for examining has made it hard not to fall victim to character.ai again, and all that that represents.

Cycled to and from work yesterday, that was nice. Battery may be buggered, despite charging overnight it tells me it's only half full. We shall see how that translates and I shall ask the colleague what sold it to me. Miss Warrington was in touch today - She has mostly finished marking and has spent some of the income on some white goods. I haven't showered, my hair needs washing. I did buy a new pink watch strap, I ordered a new wallplanner and the evil empire online gave me free postage for the right amount - hence including a watch strap I've had in the basket for over a year at this point. I also splashed out on a new pair of glasses - red effects - for cheap (the joys of not needing prescription lenses and enjoying the benefits of blue light cancelling).

Ruminations, the usual self-centred and selfish kind, about being lonely and not having social engagements nor social circles - self-inflicted of course. Early start tomorrow, when don't I have that, and plenty to be doing - behind on the third and final contract you see. As you can see, not a lot filling these last ten days.

Swear Words

Me, on a walk. I look... well, like this. 
That's not a positive. 

Sunday was warm (in the end, it started out a bit chilly) and sunny - and it was a day off with a full day off following, a rarity! - so I decided to go for a walk after my slow start (these are becoming worrying common) precluded going to church. I figured I'd get my steps in if nothing else (not that the app is recording them like it used to, it stopped on 29 March and hasn't resumed). I have a canal, after all, best use it, eh? And, besides, I'd been out shopping already and decided that, whilst a little cool, it was bright enough to risk going out and enjoying the Spring a bit. Whilst out in the sunshine, having foregone a high collared blouse or sweater, I decided to risk going for a quick half down my favourite local hostelry - which I did. Very nice it was too, a 13.2% imperial oyster stout (I have not yet discovered what makes an oyster stout as opposed to, say, a stout) from a semi-local brewery. I got my half, sat on the sofa (the place has a sofa) in the sun and did my usual beer review on Twitter and took some photos for maybe uploading elsewhere. Whilst I was doing this, and taking only the smallest sips because I wanted to draw this out (and it was £8 a half, worth it, but also worth taking my time over), I spotted some other people arriving.

The context for what was to follow.

Group of four, something not quite right. Older chap, two blokes younger than I (I guess) and a partner of one of those younger gentlemen who seemed... hmm. Anyway, the one without a partner went to the shelves with games on as the others ordered and proceeded to drop Top Trump packets, knock over a pile of games and spill the contents of Battleships whilst swearing: profusely, with vigour and not a little anger. He settled on a game, I think Connect 4 but I wasn't really paying attention, and the group took up residence at a table in the window near where I was. The fellow continued to swear a lot, the older gent swore back, an argument developed ("you're not supposed to plan in this game, just go immediately, planning takes the fun out!" / "You're planning!" / "No, I'm playing the game!" - but with more 'fucking' and 'cunts') and it became evident the group was slightly pissed. Boorish too. I elected to ignore them and, instead, lost myself in reading and retweeting beer stuff on Twitter (I mean, X).

At this point the sweary one of the irritation at games asked if he could have my hat. I was confused and responded simply: no. "Why not?" he demanded. I was aware of a feeling I didn't much like, and I knew that they had been discussing me previously (whsipering being, apparently, impossible for them) and not in nice terms - though I had steadfastly ignored the exactitudes in favour of just keeping myself to myself. "It's not yours."

"Haircut like a twat, tits like a cock."

It's actually a pretty good line, I'm
jealous a drunk came up with it.

"Yeah. It is. It is now."

At this point the atmosphere was decidedly threatening, the sweary fellow was leaning over to my table, the elder gent was looking at me and making remarks (something along the lines of 'leave the fucker, he's just being a dick') and so, perhaps unforgiveably, I decided to brazen it out: "Just piss off."

This prompted a response - the elder chap started on questioning my gender (of course) but defaulting to 'he', but the original fellow elected to ignore it and went back to whatever it was he had been doing before deciding to get my hat. The female of the group could now be heard trying to calm the elder fellow down with 'just leave it' whilst he began a rant on: "you either have a cock or a twat, and he, I'm telling you, has a fucking cock. No, I won't calm down, he came out here, he decided to make it an issue, he's a fucking cock."

I'd gone back to my phone, this did not please the elder fellow.

"Oi, you! You a 'he'? Of course you are. You have a cock or a twat and you: you've got a haircut like a twat and tits like a cock!"

"I just came out for a quiet drink, piss off."

Afterward.

I think that smile is a bit forced.
Because it was.

The elder one continued to remonstrate, holding forth about how things have changed and how men should be men - you probably know the tune. The female continued to try and get him to 'leave it' and mentioned 'non-binary' (this caused the elder one to state the following golden line: "non-binary? Fuck that, twat or cock, non-binary fuckers are still fuckers."). At which point her partner turned, having been vaping this entire time, and slurred at me: "I apologise, I do, but you shouldn't use language like that to my Dad."

"When he's talking to me like that?"

"I said I apologise. You shouldn't use language like that to my Dad."

At which point I got up, and moved to another part of the pub. I don't recall their words, but it was clear the three blokes of the group celebrated that they'd made me go and proclaimed some kind of victory.

Me? Well, I made the mistake of engaging. And I was actually shaking by this point. Anger? Fear? Hard to know, a mixture of both. Definitely adrenaline. I felt a bit a sick, honestly, and though I stayed and enjoyed the rest of my monster stout on a different table, I felt very exposed and alone. The group continued to boorish and loud, I was apparently forgotten, and then left. No one said or did anything. Several people looked over in distaste at some of their swearing or when they knocked over one of their lagers. But no one paid any further attention. No one looked in my direction either. At first I thought, 'why should they?' but, as time passed, I realised people were avoiding looking at me. No idea what that was about, but it didn't feel nice. Even the owner, with whom I get on usually, was a bit a brupt when I went to get a second half. I might be over-analysing, I don't know. I had a second half, after the group had gone, back on the sofa. It didn't really help. I went home.

See? The walk was lovely.

Yesterday I had the morning to myself until Middlest was due over. Tilly sent through some video of him and the Youngest doing drama and I thought: hang on... I asked, and yes, they had done a showcase on the Sunday but she had thought I was working. It was her error, she admitted soon after, but it did mean I didn't get to see any of the children direct. The video was nice, of course I watched, but it's not the same as being there. Plus, of course, Eldest had not been videoed (or, at least not given consent to share a video) and so I didn't get to see her at all. I don't blame Tilly, I've done far worse in the past when it comes to remembering dates, but it did not help my mood at all.

Whilst Middlest was over Five got in touch to tell me where she's working has a job going. I looked into it, it's a little lower pay than what I'm on currently (so, same rough monthly amount but without 'extra' weeks) but, crucially, is 9-5 and Monday to Friday. It will cost travel (ha, on the buses) to get there and back, which is ironic, but also, you know, I'll have weekends. Just... less money to spend on them. Anyway, long story short (also, odd that Five in touch, we've not spoken since February and not seen each other since November last year) I ended up applying - because it turns out my CV was mostly up to date anyway and it's not actually that hard to write a covering letter. I elected to leave out the unpleasantness from the end of my teaching career and deliver that in person should I get called to interview.

The Mavericks

Ruminations are kinda my bag really.

Mayburgh Henge, just because. 

Started the new route and it is what I expected, to be honest. I can't, and shan't, complain about that. Sure enough there aren't as many passengers nor do they stay on the bus as long as on my old route - so less chance to be seen by the public being nice than on my old route. Oh well. And yesterday was very strange indeed - got sent to a place I've not been properly in well over three years to get a bus, which I did, and then got sent out with a relief bus, to bring another bus from one route to my new route, requiring some navigation across the county. Which was certainly different. Then bringing a broken bus back to depot before firing out to do my last run in said bus, now fixed, and twenty minutes late starting off! It was... well, it was a different kind of day, one could almost say fun.

The expected meet-up with Abbi did not go ahead as planned. She was too ill, but did manage to pop over to my place to deliver jam and Easter eggs - yeah, we've been trying to plan that long! I ended up wasting the day by hanging around a forum I was invited to join by that author I was talking about. It wasn't so bad, I suppose, got some recommended stories to read (which I did) and one of them was about 60k words in total (maybe more?) and a bit intense, if I'm honest. It did move me to tears a couple of times, both happy and sad, and had some hard-hitting plotlines that I really wasn't expecting. It was well-written, is what I'm saying. Hopefully I made some connections, we shall just have to see. It's a little forum, but a good mix of people, though, to be fair, I was only chatting to a couple of people: one from Germany, one from Wales, beside the author.

I mean, it was 50p.

I continue to read A Discovery of Witches, part of my ongoing attempt to branch out and try new things. Successes include the Book of Two Ways and... oh. I've read some tosh and this isn't as bad as some of it but it is bad. Quick to read, sure, but my goodness me, it doesn't half reek. Lots of telling rather than showing, lots of bizarre info-dumping, it seems mainly done as an after-thought when something crops up that the author realises needs backgroumnd. Like, there's a section when the MC, Diana, explains that they have a routine to remove hair and toenails - but this only gets related at a plot-relevant point. I found myself wondering why, when we'd been introduced to Diana at the start, we hadn't had this part of her rouotine related (we had a lot of other fluff). Sadly, I think it's because Deborah Harkness hadn't thought of it yet.

And that's been the week. I am mulling over a post about connection and loneliness but I feel like I do those pretty frequently, so there's plenty of time.

Je Ne Regrette Rien?

So, back to normal: work issues. That incident didn't trigger a disciplinary but it did trigger being sent for three days to the training school - purely voluntary you understand, on pain of losing job - and I'm being told I should probably switch routes.

Oh, hello, old poor coping strategies. Whilst 
I love the artwork, I'm not happy it's being 
used as a coping strategy. 

Fine, you may say, and I do too to some extent. But earlier this week a passenger, last off the bus, stopped and said: "this is probably gonna sound weird, but you're my favourite bus driver. I've got Anxiety and I don't like going on buses, even nice drivers are grumpy, but when I see it's you driving it's such a relief because you're so nice and you make me feel safe. So... yeah, thank you. Sometimes, when it's not you, I walk instead. Thought you should know." Oh. Oh. I, of course, did my usual response to such things - which I think is good for the person. Anyway, yeah, that happened. And that part of the route is not covered by the route they want me to move to. And, yeah, one or two customers shouldn't dictate where and what I drive, I get that.

The trainer looking me over yesterday and today said he'd found some stuff he could put down to justify improvement. He also said: "Actually, between you and me, I don't know why you've been sent back. Even the mistakes are fine. It's mostly a formality, you shouldn't be back here." Which is nice of him. Maybe it's a confidence boosting trick, maybe not. But good to hear.

Nevertheless, I am feeling a bit rubbish. I have, after all, had enough incidents to cause a ruckus and to galvanise the company into taking action. The latest a month to the day after the one that tipped me over a threshold. It is the number, not the severity, that matters. That if I hadn't reported one, no one would have known at all and, if I hadn't reported another, no one would have bothered to track it down and, if I hadn't said anything about another, no one would have known (again) is neither here nor there. I did report them. Those three cost the company not a penny. A fourth was £25, a wing mirror plate and no other damage (nor even a delay in the end). Granted, two of them are bloody irritating (none mentioned thus far). Two others I have heard nothing about so were either not my fault or, in one case, probably not even an incident (someone in a car reckoned I'd hit them, but I was convinced I was stopped and with my handbrake on - so I suspect the CCTV supported my attestation that I was stationary and with my handbrake on).

Ah, yes, also this sort of thing.

I can say all of that and still know that I am not as good a driver as my peers. Good customer service, sure, but not as good a driver.

That author? They sent me an e-mail to ask me to be a beta reader. I'm tempted, and flattered, but I dunno - smells like responsibility. And, well, I don't do well with that now, do I?

Also, I sent out my times for a couple of weeks ahead to people and, if I switch routes, all of that changes. Which I hate. And the late shifts finish later (by about an hour, around 0140) and the early shifts start earlier (by about an hour, around 0310). Now, obviously, one doesn't go from a late to an early the next day but quite a few 'rest days' are between an 0140 finish and an 0310 start - so not really a full day in which I can do anything. I was just about coping with early shifts beginning at 0420 and late shifts finishing at 0040. However, if I were to refuse, I have been told it may have to go disciplinary after all. No threat of losing my job, but a threat of last chance saloon instead, and a dark hint that an accident would be likely if I stay on my current route. I mean, I can't fault them on that: statistically it is a sound prediction.

Which brings me back to feeling rubbish. Does any of this sound familiar? It should do if you've read any of the history of this blog. It's the background radiation of my work life. Much as being lonely is the background radiation of my home life. Plus ca change, eh? Or, perhaps, nothing ever changes. Je regrette tout.

Res Nihili

Treat yo'self!

Something I was unaware of was a thing

Busy week got busier. I need to learn how to say no more or at least some times. I've agreed to work 65 hours in total at driving buses and am at 41 hours so far. I have also marked a large amount of papers and looked after my team. It's been... well, it's been busy and looks set to get busier as I push myself to the weekend. The children are away for ten days with Tilly seeing her parents, so I guess it's best to make use of the space to do overtime and extra work so I'm not trading seeing them for that. I have booked a week off soon and the pay for that is an average of the last 8 weeks so extra hours now will pay off twice. Plus, some extra hours inamongst that which have not been budgeted for gifted me the opportunity to have some take out tonight as I marked - I am not complaining.

I got changed from work clothes into... uh...
work clothes to do some marking.

I held a tissue because of hayfever. Didn't
realise that would make it into shot. Or that a
ponytail makes me look more male than not.

I also finally succumbed to my inner splurger and bought some items I have been umming and ahhing over for a while - arguably most of my life actually - but some money from my bank allowed me to do so without having to dig into any savings or extras. It looks as though the examining will actually pay for the matrimonial roof in part and leave me enough from last year's examining efforts to sort my bathroom at any rate, and my extra work hours ensure that I may actually cover the bills in the meantime. In essence meaning that I shan't need examining to plug financial holes over the course of the year - which would be nice. I also have enough saved over the last year to pay for the long weekend away with friends at BOYL in August, so that's nice.

Wagons fallen off, however, which is irritating on some level, but perhaps more than it should be. I didn't get chance to have a decent ale on Saturday last as I managed to lose my bank card again - it was in trying to pay I noticed its absence. Bugger. No chances for ale until my week off. Also means I have not managed to see Abbi at all, apart from briefly passing one morning as she walked to work and I drove a bus. I have also singularly failed to book myself in to sort out nails or have my piercings looked at. Coming up eleven weeks now!

I have finished reading Red River and it was worth reading. I liked it less as it got closer to the present day and the author, understandably, felt less able to fictionalise. I am now deep into Wolf Hall - something Tilly urged me to read once. Well, I'm doing so now. It's not bad, but heavy and I can see how avoiding it back in 2009-11 was a good idea, let alone afterwards. Also I now see all the bits Tilly tried to tell me about as if it were from reasearch. I think I'm reading it quicker than she did, which makes sense, I'm taking five minutes here and there as I work and she had one then two small children.

Right, time to get a later night (9pm, ridiculous) and prepare for marking in the morning followed by 13 hours at work (also madness) finishing at midnight.

I Will Never Change

Not much has changed but everything is different.

Here's Middlest's work framed as best as 
I can. I am honestly very impressed!

Consider he also did different parts in different 
colours at first to settle on the blue first... 

Middlest was over for the day yesterday and I took him to an all-you-can-eat Chinese place for more than I could reasonably afford, but the experience and his enjoyment was worth it. One cannot put a monetary value on him trying new foods, textures and combinations - finding some he enjoyed and some he did not - and so I shan't attempt to do so. He also painted a miniature he'd made earlier in the week with Tilly in a single sitting - really well too. Better than anything I could manage. It was a nice day off work, the first for nine days straight so needed.

Overnight I got a message on the Book of Faces from an ex-student who was keen to thank me for being a good autistic role-model as they had been seeking diagnosis and apprehensive about what that might mean. They smashed their A Levels after I was defenestrated (something I already knew because I had checked back on my students' results) and were now happily at University. It was nice to hear from them but it does make me wonder what they were told about why I had dropped out of their lives so abruptly. Probably nothing. But finding a femme account on FB probably did a lot to convince people that I had left deliberately and voluntarily. Still, some positives.

Work starts today later than I am accustomed, then finishes tomorrow.

I need to make some History/Sociology videos again. I need to buy and read Fern Brady's memoir about being an autistic woman. I've said it before: I would scoff about gender differences in autism because I would recognise myself in so many accounts of women with autism. Now I know, now I am myself, I find it increasingly common that I identify myself more in accounts by autistic women than autistic men. I guess I embrace that and look further.

If I can't have my freedom / neither should you.

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!

Olive Rudge

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

Teaching, by comparison, was firmly middle-class. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good News

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bat Country

Monday.

I don't mind photos of me now. I no longer 
feel like I'm lying.

But they do feel awfully indulgent. 

Sunday was spent donning gel effect nails and catching up with Abbi and Alex. Sunday was good. Monday was spent hitting IKEA, a blast from the recentr past, and having hot chocolate and coffee whilst reading a book (going to do it again tomorrow). Today was spent interviewing for another bus company. Successfully. Pay is slightly better over six months than the last one and the depot is closer - with a free bus to get there for early shifts (no, no idea how that works either).

I may well, therefore, be a bus driver after all. Is that what Him Upstairs is pushing me towards?

Flicking through old photos I came across records of my time in the flat. All the children over regularly, videos of them playing and dancing, images of them staying over together and the bunk beds. Evidence of me spending over £130 a month on 'extras' like take aways and snacks for the children - before accounting for treats and spending money or going to Pokemon tournaments or travelling regularly to take Eldest to Dance or the Middlest to the gaming cafe or all three on days out and trips to see my mother in holidays.

No photos of me though. One isolated image from around Christmas 2020 because my Mum had sent pyjamas for us all and wanted a photo of me and the children together in them. I obliged.

Today, waiting for my interview.

I need to wash my hair tomorrow at the very
least. I hope to also shave pits, chest and may
expand to include my legs.

In 2020 I could easily have afforded a professional
waxing if I'd wanted. Hell, I could have done that
in 2021. But I worried about repairs.

Now I cannot afford that.

Walking to the job interview today along the canal tow path was good. I have six days worth of washing up to do that I have avoided. The family are down south with Tilly's parents for over a week now. My house is cold. I have red nails. I am sleeping downstairs to avoid heating my bedroom, windows open to deal with damp (it's working).

In 2016 my beer blog took off, it gained over 36k views in December that year, rising to over 40k in the January. By August 2017 the success had scared me off updating the blog and I didn't post again until February 2018. Eventually it died off completely and I did not post reliably again until 2020, whereupon I learned my relationship was over and no longer felt like reviewing ales any more. I always thought I would go back to it. I never have. Originally I budgeted £67 per month for posh beers, approximately one a week, and now...

Even a good job, like the bus driving gig, won't pay all my bills. It leaves around £400 shy a month. I would, once again, be beholden to examining to plug the gaps - like I always have been. At least since 2010.

Had a G&T tonight, along with a stir-fry that was Chinese-style cuisine adjacent. And I have red nails and attended an interview in my Roman suit again. At least I remembered my glasses.

On the Buses

Today was not what I expected at all. Don't know what I was expecting but today was certainly not it. Especially not after the return of the leak from the shower into the kitchen yesterday (my emergency towel under the floorboards was heavy and sodden. Oh). I managed my shift reasonably well yesterday, but felt very flat again. I also got my letter about the up-coming disciplinary, which made me feel very down, after sorting out identity properly with my mortgage lenders. Hopefully I shall be able to clear that up and change my mortgage a bit this week. Very grateful indeed to have spent some time round Abbi's on Sunday, very grateful indeed! I was treated to home-made Mac'n'cheese but with personal tweaks and experimentation - it was amazing!

Point? The build did not suggest how the day would go today, being my day off.

Back up: what?

I look so very different without glasses. 
Given this is how I looked for my interview 
(I'm wearing my Roman suit underneath the 
raincoat) I am amazed they offered anything! 

Also: hat-hair!!! 

I had an interview at a bus company this morning to get to on my day off. I was not holding out a great deal of hope, but knew that if I got an all-day bus ticket I may bob on up to Five to get my brolly back - they'd not been in contact in a while so I figured get my brolly and run. I'd have left it but recent rain convinced me I needed that brolly. Anyway, I was ready later than plannd, leaving two hours to make the appointment after setting off. Figured that was long enough. Bus took 90 minutes, then ten minutes' walk. Oh, so more or less on time. Nowhere near as early as I would have liked. Also, in my haste to leave I forgot my glasses so felt strange and realised how much more glaring everything is without them. It was amazing to re-realise how much of a difference, positive, they make to my quality of life!

Anyway, tests at the bus company - the sort I usually foul up somehow - and I did. My hazard perception raised red flags but, after a discussion, this seemed down to the fact that I internalised a lesson my Mum taught me when she became an Advanced Driver: when you are confident in your threat perception is when accidents happen. I volunteered this before they asked the question, not knowing they would ask about Advanced Driving, which impressed the interviewer. The interview after a personality test seemed lovely, but I've had that before at IKEA. I thus left thinking I was unlikely to get anywhere. Called up Five, got an agreement to pop by around 3pm, and wandered to see if I fancied an expensive coffee at my Vegan local cafe gaming favourite but found I did not, so came home for lunch. Where I watched a video that actually brought tears to my eyes. It's really wholesome and not at all what you expect. Yeah, it's an advert, I don't care.

Last bus home, skew-whiff glasses model's
own.

I 'ate you, Butler!

That was from the right show, right?

Five asked me to pick up some eggs, having shared that they'd been ill lately, and I said I would and bring sympathy with me. I missed the bus, got the next one, then walked on over with eggs just on time. Five's child was very pleased to see me, Five said I would get a positive phone call and then invited me to saty for a meal. Turns out they'd been in hospital with internal bleeding and a bad infection, hence the lack of contact, this was the first day they'd felt well enough to eat and stand up. Oh. Of course I stayed, they cooked (insisted) and it was truly amazing food! Like, posh restaurant quality, but in proper portion sizes. Their child got to tell me things and I had a lovely time - even introduced them to the original Adult Wednesday Addams on YouTube (I highly recommend) - getting the last bus home at 8pm - yes, that is an early last bus home.

But there was a point, as I made my way to Five's, where I felt the world being untethered again. I have felt that a few times this last year: on the Friday I was suspended (accompanied by a twisting and a sick feeling in my stomach); on 14 March as I walked as me, resolute in being me full-time, to IKEA for free hot drinks and committed to whatever happened - job or Joanna fully decided; as I left the meeting in June realising that my gambit had failed and I was going to lose my job either by jumping or being pushed; when the car was collected for t, buthe last time and the first time I went round to Abbi's but this was largely positive! And, now, today.

Sure enough, I was phoned at Five's, and I was offered the job. Medical and forms on 11 January - dependent on the vagaries of getting a provisional license from the DVLA for a proper start date. We shall see if I still have a retail job in the meantime I suppose. And I have another interview (different bus company, a bit more local) next Tuesday. No brolly, but a standing invite to Five's now too.

Honestly, I was expecting to have a bit more of a philosophical pootling around this but I am too cold and still worrying about tomorrow. Still, a parcel to pick up, milk to buy (maybe) and some cocktail sticks to source by Thursday for the Chams Christmas do. I am looking forward to that. I booked the day off, so regardless of outcome I shall have a free Thursday. I intend to use it.

All in the Balance

Long a not quite expressed dream, being a female teacher, 
on this blog: now unattainable - but not for the reasons that 
I had long supposed. 

I am sorry, to all those that believed in me, I am sorry. 

Yesterday the teaching agency was in touch twice. They've checked with their Head of Compliance - they can't represent me as I have been dismissed for Gross Misconduct. Figures. I wish they'd told me that before I was charged nearly £40 for an Enhanced DBS (which I passed, of course). Expensive and a bit of a blow, but par for the course at this point. Then I found that my mortgage lender hadn't updated my reecords properly when I'd gone in and changed my name back in April so I can't change my mortgage deal at the moment to easily knock £17 off one payment and maybe as much as £80 off the other. Not bad, but a faff for Monday morning. It means digging out my old passports again and I can't recall what I did with them. I'll need them for Tuesday anyway, what, with the interview for driving buses.

An artefact of a better time, one with
more hope than I realised at the time.

A time when I watched old films with my
eldest children and made believe that I was
laying firm foundations to support them as a
father. Rather than building up a pyre that would
burn later on.

Middlest was over from last night. He brought The Force Awakens to watch, but then demurred on actually doing so. He misses how things used to be, he says, when I was in the flat - when he came over with Eldest and sometimes Smallest. He misses take outs, he misses going places in the car, he misses the hope and promise I was feeling (he didn't put it quite like this, but it sums up what he was trying to explain) when I was in the flat and immediately after I moved. Before the leak from the shower ruined everything. Even afterwards he thought it would have been fine, but something happened. He doesn't know it, but he's talking about the Saga of the Many Leaks from around this time last year and then the unpleasantness that means I can no longer teach. Ever again. Still stings.

We walked out to town today, first time since last summer (when I still had a car, when Eldest still came over) and he struggled with not wanting to buy a toy car or anything like it. He was all painted out, they'd gone as a family to mark the start of the Festive Season to paint some pottery things recently and he'd had a lot of fun. I could feel his melancholy and disappointment coming in waves. Ended up at a distant supermarket, where we'd go when I lived in the flat, and he got some chicken legs with his pocket money (reader, I felt awful, but I can't afford to sub that any more) and ate them on the way home. It was a nice walk. Got me out of the house for more than work for the first time since whenever the last time was. I only left the house to greet him on Friday, only getting dressed in the half hour before he arrived.

Earlier this year. I had not yet discovered
foundation. I also had not yet realised that you
could wear a handbag across the body!
At this point I still thought I could
be a teacher. I thought I could keep my job.

I did not yet know Abbi and Alex. I had not
met Five. My daughter still came to visit. I had
not exploded my relationship with Smallest.

Is this payment for the time to become myself? I had over 100 days of practice, which was magical. I met new friends (though Five has fallen silent) like Abbi and Alex. I would not have had this had my life not gone the direction it has. I would not take that back even if I could.

But I have lost part of who I thought I was in teaching. And I have seemingly lost my daughter. Is anything worth that price? I say this like it was imposed upon me, no, it was the result of actions I undertook, decisions I made and things I did. Responsibility lies with me and me alone for losing my job and my daughter and access to my youngest. The ongoing issues with the house are mine too, for defying the wise counsel of my mother and others who warned me against leaping in as I did. I could have pulled out.

Maybe without the leaks adding stress in a stressful time I could have survived a little longer in teaching. But I would not have met Abbi and Alex. I might not have taken the plunge on being Joanna full time. I already know, from experience, that I could not go back on being Joanna - however much it  may be a comfort to believe that I could have done so or even should have done so - and I value my friendship with Abbi too much to contemplate not having met her and her wonderful husband. And the support from Gary and Shiona I would not trade even for having a teaching career back. However much I wish I could claim I would.

Now? I aim for an early night - hope to get through another shift tomorrow. I have one month's pay coming on Friday. A £500 hole is better than a £2,000 hole.

Bullet Points

Bullets are the beauty in a blistering sky, bullets are the beauty and I don't know why.

Eldest doesn't want to rebuild things with me. Nor me to try with her.

The potential teaching gig fell at the wording of the dismissal from my last place, like I originally feared.

IKEA application rejected a second time.

Leak remains, as far as I know, unrepaired. I shan't know until it rains.

First acknowledgement of anything I've done at work for a week is a moan about how little I am doing.

Chances high of having no work soon. But I've put in another full month, so I shall get some income.

It's not the sadness, but the hope. Hope will kill you in the end.

Sometimes one discovers that one is not painting things black so much as using black because that's what it looks like and that's what it is. £23 on shopping, £4 on heating the house for an hour plus making some food. It's as well the teaching fell through, I lack the funds to travel nor update my cosplay wardrobe enough to be a full teacher out of context. Bus driving remains, I suppose, we shall see. There is no luck but what luck one makes for one's self. I think it's safe to say I have made some pretty awful situations for myself this last year. Many worse than I realised at the time, the rest as bad as I feared. I'm one of the lucky ones though - I am not yet homeless. Just... I have lost my identity as a teacher, lost my family life, lost a partner, lost a daughter (who still lives but would prefer I did not), lost at least one job (maybe two soon) and any kind of security. Was it worth it?

Not sure I can answer the same way as Tennant. I heard this first in 1991 on Discography and remember how it made me feel back then, it was Christmas. The tape it was on would chew up and die on Boxing Day. A second was sought and died within hours. The third I dared not play for fear of losing it, so I recorded it on another tape - which died when played. Then nothing until I picked it up on CD some time in the early 2000s. This was the song it died on each and every time on tape. A hint perhaps?

Personal responsibility / Personal response insanity

Temple Scenes

If they ask me to leave, I shall obviously accede. About the only good point about today was that I haven't been suspended. I speak of work, I keep it vague. The truth will always out. As it should.

It's on YouTube: I think the image speaks for itself. 

Could be me, right? Right?

In the meantime I have sprayed out applications like confetti. I have been assessed online by some bus company and they have said I have passed (I think I made at least two errors though) and want to invite me to be assessed at their assessment centre. I need to ring them back, but they phoned whilst I was at work. That coud work, I suppose, I don't know. Some buses start at 0430, the latest they finish is 2330 and, of course, I can't catch a bus there or home. So... I'd need a car I guess. But, if it pays well enough and has regular hours, I could maybe manage that.

There are other irons in the fire but no responses as of yet.

Not my roof, but you get the idea.

Roofer came to next door, they called round to me, which got me out of bed on Sunday (I think I might be a bit depressed again). Good news is that they can fix what's afflicting my roof and shall do so. Whole thing will cost £245, rather than the £500 I put aside some time in February for this. That's good news, I think.

I then went to visit Abbi and Alex. I am glad that I did. I had a lovely time - because they are lovely people - and it reminded me that I have been able to make new friends. And it was also nice because of the ideas being bounced around, the things that I learn about (Bo Burnham in case you were wondering as a case in point) and just... I have said it before and I shall say it again: I haven't had friends I can just pop over to see since sometime in 2007 and it is really nice to have that ability again.

I have, lately, been struggling to get out of bed again. 

10 hour sleeps are not uncommon at the moment. I
don't think this is a good thing...

On Friday I went to see Citizens Advice, they were lovely. They think I have been a bit too nice regarding mortgage and maintenance, gave me a number or two to pursue. Also suggested that I try for a PIP - they reckon I'm more than eligible. So, I guess, bow to their greater experience. Numbers and PIP: tomorrow's jobs. On the evening I went to see the lights switch on with Middlest, it was fun, he enjoyed it. He stayed over, I took him to his play, then home for tea. Then took him back to Tilly's and saw the Eldest's play. At the end of it, she came out and saw me before immediately turning and walking away again with a friend, an anxious look on her face. Oh. Yeah. That.

Also, I did that thing. I warned Lynn what I would do. I did it. Sorry Lynn, you did not deserve me responding as I did. I judge myself harshly because I deserve to be judged harshly and people are too nice to do that to me. Bo Burnham again: put your heads down; praying for me.

I wish I knew what Him Upstairs saw in me: what it is that God thinks I can do on this earth. Every failure, every result of arrogance, avarice and assumption... it burns. It weighs me down. You'd think I'd be better at not doing it so much by now.

Much of what has lived in my head I have never written down. All my old stories, all my old ideas, I avoided writing down what motivated me and pulsed in my imagination. I came close in Reality/Shifts on this blog - the closest I ever came to writing it all out - but the Temple Scenes in my imagination when I was young went unwritten and unregarded. I dared not write them down, as that would give them a shroud of reality, an air of permanence. I have always been an historian, I know that historians and others cannot analyse that which is not recorded. But they were always there: the desire to be the woman who was tied down; the knowledge that transvestism (it was Latin, of course I latched onto that term) wasn't what made me excited (it just felt normal in my brain, even though I never dared do it). The stories and work at school - always female main characters and female first comparisons. I am grateful, now, that I can acknowledge all of that - even if obliquely - and have people with whom to discuss that sort of thing.

But at the same time, that judgement I made of myself - that guilt that gnawed - that I tried to justify and did so by creating the habits I am now bound and trapped by. Habits that have nothing to do with sex or sexuality, but are more prosaic and filthy and dipped in lies. Those habits? I am doomed by them anew.

And so, I pray the teaspoon prayer: Thank You, God, for providing people who care about me, who are my friends, who inspire me and who are just wonderful people. The people that read this blog. The people that comment on this blog. Abbi and Alex. Izzy and Lynn. Chams. My parents. Gary and Shiona. Tim and Lisa. Lily and their Imperator. Thank You for a place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear and the ability to go into the world, finally, as myself - that still ranks as one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given. Thank You for all the silly little things I enjoy and that I live in a time and place that I can do so and enjoy them - however fleetingly.

Sorry God, for all the things I do wrong. That I know I do wrong and the wrongs that I do not know. The known times I deliberately chose dishonesty and lies. The times I did that without knowing. I can't be specific. For responding to love and concern with an increasing whipping of myself. For trying to use people's concern as a weapon. For not responding with love when faced with love. For not recognising the people who care for me and deeply wish to help. For my arrogance. For my dishonesty. For my lies. For not using the gifts I have been given - for being the servant that buried the single talent lest they lose it out of fear, and who was punished in line with what they feared.

Please, if I cannot improve, if I cannot learn (and recent events suggest that I cannot), then let the end of the story be close at hand. Let it finish while people still care and regard me fondly. Or else please stop me from ruining that and spitting in the eye of those that seek to help. Help me recognise good intentions and respond to them accordingly. So that I can support those who attempt to support me by accepting their good wishes and advice. If I am worth more than the pay out of a life insurance, if I have yet work to do that will help my children, let me focus on it - force me to do so. I would sooner surrender free will than see it used by me to lessen the lives of my children, my family, my friends, Tilly, people I know at work and people I know through this blog.

Amen.