Yes, I said ‘not.’

I’ve thought of all sorts of quirky things to write here, and then forget them by the time I have access to a computer. Am currently at work, living in dread that a homeless gay kid/adult is going to come back. We don’t work with people over the age of 19, but he was 20 and looked so sad I couldn’t turn him away. Fuck, I hate housing. In this country, once you’re 18 or older you stand little to no chance of getting social housing.

I don’t know what the solution is. On one hand, I can see that it would be impossible to live in a world with more social housing than private; it’s just not practical. But then you have these real, live people living rough on the streets. Because I am not a government bigwig, I am not in a position to pass laws without reallyunderstanding the impact they have on local people and communities. I am in a position where I am meeting these people face-to-face every day, hearing terrible stories of suffering, abuse, hardship. Joy, too, but that is much rarer.

In other news, two nights ago I had a dream about Boy I Almost Married. Last night I had a dream about Boy Who Was My First True Love. Apparently I am being treated to top ten list of past lovers/boyfriends/girlfriends. Except I don’t think there will be any ex-girlfriend dreams. I’ve only properly dated one girl before I got with TMD, and she was not exactly serious relationship material. As TMD always points out, I once shouted, ‘I don’t even like you as a PERSON!’ when I was breaking up with her.

TMD was sat on the balcony of our apartment during the post-breakup weirdness/warfare, and she actually wrote in her journal something like, ‘I would NEVER date Existere.’ Thanks, hon.

Okay, not sure where this is going now. Sexuality is just a big topic politically and personally at the moment. Corporate T stayed over on the weekend and starting talking about ‘that one scale of sexuality.’ I assumed he meant the Kinsey Scale and offered up a piece of education. 0=straight as an arrow, 3=bisexual glory, 6=gayer than gay. Then all the other numbers are in between.

When I offered up the piece of information that I was probably a four, he was a wee bit shocked. Still, I’ve got to carry out the bisexual lesbian pride! In case you are not hip to my lingo (which is very old and stolen from stickers the bisexual pride people put up when I was in university), it means my core identity is lesbian, but with a bit of bisexual flavouring.

Ah, from homelessness to being queer. What a political activist I am turning into.

Not.

Longish house update. (aka ‘I could be painting’)

I love the new house so much. It’s funny how quickly I seem to have turned into an adult, especially after all the years of really disliking the way my family are about their homes. We spent the weekend with Corporate T redoing the bedroom, and I actually enjoyed it.

Who would think? Had a bit of a mini meltdown when painting some wooden shelves, but hey – at least it means I’ve ovultated!

I am both tired and excited when thinking about the amount of work left to do. The flat is lovely and in really good condition, but we just want to freshen things up. Hoping to have a new bathroom in the next two weeks, but we’ll see. In the meantime, TMD has to figure out how to work the stove.

Everything seems to be going as smoothly as possible – I admit we had no water when we moved in and had to call a plumber, but things were completely sorted very quickly. Marmite also disappeared into an alarmingly large hole behind the kitchen counters, but she is now back from Blair Witch territory and said hole is closed off.

I think it will just take a month or so to really settle in – understand how everything works, what needs to be updated, etc. We have a lot of things we need to purchase, but my Crisp Linen Yankee Candle purchase this morning should trick us into believing we have done some fresh laundering since moving in.

I’m really excited about the whole thing. On the way in to work today, I was thinking about how we have been building toward this moment for months – years, really. And now I feel like I’ve stepped into the future, into the place we want to be – and it’s so nice I’ll STAY here rather than immediately jumping into the next dream.

Everyone keeps asking if I’m pregnant because on Facebook it shows that a friend has joined a pregnant/mommies group in our new city. I point out quickly I was barred entry until we moved and got knocked up, though I don’t know who else could be triggering these alerts. We ARE trying to get everyone we know to move to Our Green Village of Wonder, but so far people are only looking and no one is pregnant.

Still awaiting internet access at home; I think we’re changing providers because we also need to buy cable. So updates from work for this week, and then properly stranded. I see the flair board was a tremendous failure. Oh well. Try, try again.

Last thing – I feel really upset that I am currently in a building between two movie theatres. Why am I at work instead of watching Sex and the City? I suspect the answer is that I am a good wife who wants to wait to see it with TMD….I don’t know why, though. She betrayed me. Would you believe the world premiere was in our city (well, ex-city now) and she KNEW and she didn’t tell me? I would have totally gone down and gaped at the stars.

Signing out,
Miranda-stalker

TIME FOR SOME FLAIR-PARTICIPATION!

Look, we can pretend it’s university all over again and I’ve got this hanging on the outside of my door. I think it would be oh-so-exciting (I am not joking) for you guys to leave comments with flair (copy and paste from facebook, the cheater’s way to avoid using online storage), little random notes, etc.

Of course, I can’t ever be cool enough to virtually attach them to my bare little corkboard, but we can pretend.

And if you feel all crazy from the frantic amount of pictures, poems, flair, abusive language, recipes, jokes, political sermons, random factoids, website links, book reviews, etc that you are posting, you can always be anonymous. One thing I am not is an anonymous discriminator. Now please do leave something, otherwise I’ll look like some fucking lunatic who is talking to herself.

Thanks!

See you in a week or so…..*mwah* (Oh, and just because – you can always check back and LEAVE ANOTHER COMMENT. Ha. Or talk to each other. Or find yourself a new girlfriend/boyfriend. Or…)

Dare I say it?

Okay, guess this is goodbye for a couple of days. We’re moving tomorrow, and we won’t have broadband for a week or so. TMD is packing like a hurricane at the moment, and I’m here sending flair to people on Facebook. I’m just totally wiped out – don’t remember the last time I was this tired.

As tested today, I can update from work….that being said, I don’t know when I’ll next be at work. Shh. Don’t tell. I will be next Thursday for definite, and possibly Wednesday as well. So I won’t be updating. I’ll miss it, but perhaps the lack of an internet connection will give me the opportunity to put this laptop to the use it was bought for – novel writing. Wish me luck!

Sharing our life with you!

Marmite is all packed and ready to go:

Our new garden:

The side of our garden:

Part of the AMAZING park by our house (not the park we live on, which is behind the garden, but a different one. I KNOW. That’s a whole lotta parkland.):

Check baby, check baby, one two three four.

Ohmygod. I’m updating from work. I’m waiting for the sky to fall.

Making up for the deprivation.

I wonder if I am one of God’s chosen people. Right where earlocks would be, my hair grows in perfect spiral curls.

English, an ever evolving language.

Tetrising (verb) : the act of placing oddly shaped items into a limited area, trying to waste as little space as possible.

‘Pajama drawer has been packed, so it is now going in with bedding and white cardigans.’ -TMD

Dear god, the internet has been crazy like a little bitch, which is why I’ve not been here much. While it’s working, I figure I’d better cram in a week’s worth of information while I can. It’s a shame, as I actually have loads to say. Strap in.

1. As of 9:30 am this morning, we have purchased our first home. We just have to go pick up the keys! Today we’re going to be moving up Things That Should Not Get Packed – ie fragile things, pictures, plants, and possibly whatever loose crap we can fit in the car. We officially move on Friday (thanks in advance to Aussie!). We have not yet informed our broadband provider that we are moving – I know, don’t judge – so I’m not sure when I’ll be back online. If I go to work (notice the ‘if’) I’ve got access there, but feel a bit worried about updating my diary on public and shared computers. We’ll see.

2. Weight Loss Wednesday – stayed the same this week. Was the same most of the week, and finally lost a pound. Then came yesterday. I was actually in pain from being hungry, and I’d had waaaaaay more to eat than is strictly necessary. Has anyone ever had this? I’d call it The Hunger. The day ended with a late and heavy meal, which is reflected on the scales this morning. Am I disappointed? Sure. But really, with the way I’ve been packing on the pounds lately, it still seems miraculous to stay the same.

3. Yesterday on the train back from my counselling gig, I was just thinking about how much I love TMD. I have been so happy lately – and I would also say WE have been happier than ever lately. I was thinking that I feel more in love than I did at the beginning, and wasn’t that just unexpected and marvellous. I think there is something to be said for sharing a life together for approaching eight years – and all the good and bad that is contained in that. To be fair, we haven’t had too much bad….but a couple of periods of general not-so-happy-ness.

We’ve seen each other in every possible light, in every possible emotion, and I love her more because of it. I think this is where the happiness comes from. It feels quite unconditional, and I can’t imagine TMD ever purposefully hurting me. I never thought I would have this level of trust for another human being, ever.

4. This is slightly related to #3. One of my adult clients said they don’t think ANY relationship exists where at least one partner has not cheated on the other, and that they doubt it is possible to have a relationship genuinely based on honesty.

I love you, TMD.

5. I’m leaving Day Job, and I got this fantastic email from a young woman I’ve been working with for about three years, maybe a bit longer. One highlight of my job is that I can now read text speak at almost the same speed as normal typing. That aside, she wrote one line that really touched me – ‘Thank you for simply doing your job, but changing my life.’

That is the power of Day Job, and indeed of every job I’ve had. Because I work with people, there is such huge potential to change my own life and help other people change theirs. By just doing what I’m getting paid for – rather spectacularly, though, if I do say so myself – this girl thinks I have changed her life. And she is probably right.

I feel so sad that I will not be able to stay in touch with her. I have really struggled with managing my own emotions about this situation, and have also questioned whether or not to give her my personal email when I know that is TOTALLY inappropriate. So I haven’t done it.

The girl said she hopes she bumps into me on the bus one day, and I have to say I hope so too.

—-

Okay. Can’t think of anything else I really wanted to say at this point, and it’s probably better if I go and join TMD in her packing efforts. I’m hearing a lot of exaggerated sighs, so I suspect my blog time is limited anyway.

Love to you all, on this marvellous Wednesday.

Ways to entertain yourself: #112.

Oh! Before I got going about discriminatory organisations and my inability to throw things away, I meant to initiate you into the next level of awesome. I like singing/rapping/yodelling in the shower. Usually I make up my own tunes, but this morning I found myself somehow singing something from ages ago.

Here’s what you do. You put on your most British accent – Mr. Belvedere, kids – and you speak the chorus of that No Scrubs song in beat with the music (in your head). So:

I don’t want no scrubs.
A scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me.
Hanging out the passenger side
of his best friend’s ride
trying to holla at me.

Spoken with the right tone of haughtiness, this shit is funny. I promise.

No, I don’t want your numba.
No, I don’t want to give you mine.
No, I don’t want to meet you nowhere.
No, I don’t want none of your time.