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.