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Was listening to the news this morning and was unsettled by discussion related to the current proposal to further the ban on violent porn.
Where does one draw the line between consensual and wrong? This is something that pops into my head from time to time and to which I find no easy answer. What defines harm? And what about individual rights?
Today's news story reminds me of a case not so long ago arguing about the persecution of virtual child pornography. As well as the Spanner Case which was a test case helping to set the law in the UK in regards to violent pornography and acts of consensual sexual violence.
There are certain things that people can agree upon, but then, the lines get very hazy. Child pornography? Wrong. So wrong. Completely, totally and utterly wrong. So then what about all the porn sites that portray 'young' models? Or of age women who dress (and may have the body appearance of) a child. Should that be banned?
What if you remove the sexuality aspect? What about things like pro-anorexia sites. Or people who self-harm? Generally those are agreed upon as wrong. But then.... what about violent sexual acts? By default is that also harm or is it exempt because it's something else?
I suppose what worries me is the mystery line on what is deemed 'violent'. I have seen violent porn that has not in any way appealed. I have also just seen disgusting porn that did not in any way appeal. But who gets to make the determination? What if you like things I don't? And what about when everyone involved is a consenting adult. What are your rights over your own body?
Difficult questions these. Without easy answers. But worrisome. Very worrisome when people want to 'ban' things that other people do as consenting adults that don't harm anyone other than themselves, if it even harms them at all.
I wish that I could look forward to my trip.
The truth is, because of my phobia, I will not be able to believe in my trip, to mentally accept it, or enjoy it, until I am there. Because in order to keep myself sane, I deal with my phobia by making myself forget that I am about to get on a plane.
This has an unfortunate knock-on affect of disturbing the rest of my day to day living, as though I am not really here. I suppose because you cannot shut down just part of your brain, without shutting down a bunch more as well.
Maybe it would be different if things here were not so static. It was good fun to go shopping with T yesterday. And today I went into Islington with C which was also nice. But I have had this strange sense all three days of the long weekend, of being intensely alone.
It doesn't help that Mr.Aloof is MIA. I assume he's gone to Wales, not that he confirmed it. It just would have been nice to have distraction, not a heightening of my aloneness.
What I need to go do now is pack my bag. In this way, I will have tomorrow night mostly open in case Mr.Aloof does a last minute show. He did say he would meet up with me before I left. And tomorrow night is the only chance. Thing is, I don't really expect to meet up with him, but if it wasn't possible because I had to pack or get ready, I wouldn't forgive myself.
If I don't post again for a bit, it's because I took off to Italy without having a chance to write here before I left. Think good plane thoughts for me.
Today I did something that I rarely do, and that was, give some space in my life to my inner girl. Not too much space mind you, but enough to drop over three hundred pounds on girlie things.
On Wednesday, S and I are off to Sienna for N and J's wedding. I have been putting off buying clothes for this wedding, though to be fair, I desperately needed some. I kept meaning to go every weekend, but in true master procrastinator form, I left it until this weekend, just a few days before the flight, to attempt to purchase an outfit or two.
In order to facilitate this rare occurrence, T agreed to join me and make sure I actually bought something flattering as opposed to something not, which to be fair, left to my own devices, I would likely pick. Though also to be fair, I have been getting better at making good clothing choices when out shopping, but wedding clothes? I definitely needed help.
First we went to Dorothy Perkins and while I didn't find anything particularly wedding suitable there, I did find two cardigan tops for fall/winter which made me very happy as one is orange and the other is kingfisher. Colors. Now there's a more recent change. I like wearing colors. Ever since having mine done. But that's another girlie blog for another day perhaps. Too much girlie information and my blog might self destruct.
Anyway, with no wedding clothes bought, we headed to the department stores. First stop John Lewis- really just because it was before Debenhams. We wandered around for a while, and it was tricky, because all of the fall clothes are out and not much left for summer. But in Italy it will be hot, and long sleeves and wool are just not going to do. I was getting very discouraged and felt like we were just walking in circles of the same clothes, when we did manage to pick up a thing or two here and there to try on.
And wouldn't you know it, I found wedding clothes!
A lovely brown dress with beads and blue stitching detail that gets revealed when you walk and is hidden in the folds when standing still. To go with the dress, an amazing brown beaded shawl thing that is very swish. And a slightly more casual but still pretty nice matching green skirt and half sweater. I also managed to pick up a fabulous pair of brown sandal wedges to complete both outfits, as well as the ones I was harboring at home- mainly my two brown skirts with various top arrangements. Heck I even bought some earrings. Madness.
Then had to pop into Marks to get a simple white top to go with the green set, and a bodysuit sucker-innie thing to wear under the dress. Never tried one of those on before. I understand the point, but damn. Seriously. But I suppose my inner girl is willing to suffer for fashion.
So that was my day. Very, very girlie. And now I have pretty clothes and shoes. Just in time to hop on a plane for Wednesday. How the heck I'm going to fit all this crap in my rucksack, is another matter entirely.
On a completely unrelated note, I've been addicted to TMF's Pimp My Ride marathon this weekend. Still, I didn't see a pimped up subaru station wagon. Clearly, they know nothing.
Earlier this week we all received our annual pay adjustment slips in our mailboxes. Now reviews were a while ago, and mine went alright. Reviews are a tricky business. We only have them once a year here. And ostensibly, you are supposed to discuss your thoughts on your performance and on the operations of the business. The reality is, it is your only chance to pipe up about your low pay and appalling working conditions (find that quote origin).
Now honestly, I hate the concept of arguing for salary. I tend to believe in a just world where everyone should behave in a fair and correct manner. So it really galls me to have to dig in and whinge about what I get paid. The truth is, because I choose to live in a country other than my own, I am somewhat relegated to earning less than I would be had I stayed in the States. It doesn't matter that London is more expensive to live in than any American city, that's just how it is. Another difference between working here and working there is that I do not get paid overtime. Or for that matter, get any sort of reasonable compensation for the extra hours I work. This also irritates me but is par for the course. I choose to live here, so I will accept the rules, no matter how annoying I think they may be.
But the hard part is, is that even with all of these factors, I am still earning even less than I should be. The truth is, most people in this office are earning less than they should be, and it's often a topic for general grumbling and discussions. The reason we all stay of course, is that we like working with each other. The office, despite it's deplorable management has an excellent atmosphere generally, and the work is also interesting and good. So it's only that much more distressing that the management is so poor.
So anyway, earlier this week we got our slips which told us how much our increase was. And I wasn't pleased. So I asked one of the directors if I could have a quick word. Which I did. The upshot is I will have another salary review in December, after T is gone and my position is supposed to 'shift' into one of more responsibility. Because there is no way that what they quoted me is going to float if they expect me to manage projects. So four months. I suppose that's alright.
I don't know. Does it really matter? Money does matter, don't get me wrong. But would I want to be like S, so miserable all the time just for some extra cash? Do I live a life that is uncomfortable or lacking? Not really. Maybe this is part of the reason I dislike discussing money so much. Because in reality, I don't think I'm doing that badly with what I have now- and I just can't seem to muster up that much energy to argue about what I may be worth. On the other hand, it's an attitude like that which keeps me where I am, on the salary I'm on.
And don't even get me started on the fact that I am fairly sure most of the men in the office are doing better than the women. It's completely true about women and business. We don't approach interactions the same way, and higher-ups in business often take advantage of this fact by paying a woman less. But it's not entirely the fault of the women either, because I would tend to additionally argue that women are treated differently in these negotiations because they are expected to behave differently and so it's a viscous cycle.
I think I'm just glad I said anything at all. And will have another review in December. I may not be that bothered about my quality of life on my current salary, but it is important to make sure that I am compensated fairly for what I do. After all, no one else is going to do it if I don't. And if you don't value yourself, others won't value you either. Lesson of the day.
It's not that summer is actually over, but today is the first day that truly spells out the wonders of autumn. The sky is a crisp blue with not a cloud in it. The air is cool. And the wind was coming from the opposite direction that it normally does. I could have not come into work today and just sat outside absorbing the incoming autumn.
It is my favorite season after all.
Thank you Urban Junkies. This really made my day (The image, not the doll.)
Someone in my office has found this blog. T says it wasn't her looking up posts, so it had to be someone else. That's right, I track. Which means, I know you were here, I can see which links you took. And I know you got here via my profile. That's the only part I find odd. What linked you to my profile? At any rate, I don't really care- as long as you don't go sharing with everyone else in the office. I'd be sad to lose this outlet of mine. But I would delete it if it became public knowledge, and that would suck. So since I know you were here, you could always let me know who you are, or at least that you will keep my confidence...
Things are settled for the time being with Mr.Aloof. He's having a work crisis, in relation to the work that was supposed to recently be finished, but isn't. Or was, and then there were complications.
And his behavior was crap. And it's not really excusable. And chances are high he will do it again.
But, I suppose, I'm waiting to see what happens for a while. At the moment, the positive potential outweighs the negative, to me. So. That's where that's at. I'm sticking with it for now, and everyone can say 'I told you so' later.
A week from Wednesday S and I are going to Sienna. I should be looking forward to this but oddly I'm not. I find it hard to get excited about things that aren't happening right now. It could be that there is just too much up in the air about the trip. We are going to the wedding of my friend N. While I know there are lots of wedding things planned from Wednesday through Friday, we haven't quite gotten an itinerary yet, or information about how we will get from point A to point B, and I find that sort of worry enough to diminish thoughts of future enjoyment.
Plus it's going to be hot. And I don't like hot weather.
And I need to go clothes shopping this weekend because I really don't have much to wear to this wedding and other events and that's not good at all.
See, plenty of reasons it seems more a burden than a vacation.
But once I'm heading out, on my way, I'm going to be loving every second and thinking it's a fantastic adventure.
Funny how that works.
Anyway, I've had enough of being disgruntled and annoyed and upset. I need good things coming my way. Even if good things mean the work week ending and the long weekend coming and just being a spaz. I feel a huge spaz mood coming on.
(Probably also due in small part to the passing of the evil hormones.)
(I know, you didn't really want to know that)
Good thing I didn't decide to stop by Sommerfield last night on the way home, I wouldn't have been able to buy anything...
Last night I was really just tired and wanting to crash out. Ended up passing out on my sofa with not much of interest on the television except this boy with some horrible disease that made his bones grow all gargantuan like.
S called and woke me up to tell me about hooking up with some Italian boi in his office toilet. He is so breaking up with T as soon as he gets his new place. And good riddance.
After the phone call, I motivated myself to move from sofa to bed. I slept the sleep of the dead, even after having napped on the couch. Obviously my brain hates me and just wants to hibernate until all the drama is passed. Not that I'm complaining. I like sleep, sleep is nice. In fact, I wish I were asleep now. Hm.....
Anyway, this morning as I was getting my bag ready to go to work I discovered my wallet was missing. I checked everywhere and started to worry. It's not like I work in the best area in London. Did I still have my wallet after lunch? Had I left it in my pocket? Had it fallen out on the street? Had some jerk found it and now charged thousands of dollars to my two cards, draining my bank account and sending me into debt? And what was I going to do without my wallet and with all my accounts frozen when I go to Italy for N's wedding in a week, OH MY GOD!
...
Of course my wallet was at work, buried under a pile of papers, on my desk, where I'd left it.
Stupid wallet.
Well, you knew it was coming, didn't you?
Friends serve a vital purpose. Mainly they are there to watch your back. Friends are supposed to look out for your best interests and point things out to you, when you may not see it yourself, even when you may not want to see it yourself.
I have just spent the weekend being yelled at by two friends and tsked at by a handful of others. All because of Mr.Aloof. The problem all stems from the fact that he made plans for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday- the Friday plans supposed to be going through to Sunday.
As previously expanded on, Wednesday and Thursday went very well indeed. However. Friday morning when Mr.Aloof took me to the tube I said, "So are we still having dinner?" and he said we were. Original plans were for 7:30 in Clapham. So just before 5, when we were having to turn off all of our computers at work I asked if we were still on. He said he was running late, that I should head home and that he'd call me.
Needless to say....
There was no call. No message. No text. No e-mail. No instant message. My flatmate C was surprised to see me at home. "He's running late and we are pushing back plans." I said. Thought spinning darkly.
I tried calling him around ten, his phone was off.
Eventually I went to bed. Woke up around 8. Still no call. No message. No text. No e-mail. No instant message. I ripped off a rather pissed off email. This is becoming habit with him and it is completely unacceptable. I didn't make the plans for the week. In point of fact, had we just had plans to meet Wednesday and Thursday, that would have been brilliant. But HE made the plans for Friday and then didn't have the courtesy to just tell me they were off. I mean for fucks sake!
He did reply on Saturday and we had a bit of a chat, but he was back at work and had to go. And of course, this was the last I heard from him. No other word. And now it's Monday noon.
Back to my friends. They are royally pissed off on my behalf. They are clamoring at me to demand retribution. Or to drop him altogether. To think more of myself. To stand up for myself. To not let myself be treated this way.
It's rather nightmarish. Why did he make plans for Friday? Why couldn't he just let me know? Why do I have the sinking suspicion that part of what my friends are saying is completely correct? What am I supposed to do?
I am tired of working on projects other than my own. Particularly when it means sitting on a Sunday doing fussy work on a model that no one else appears to have the skills to do. *Grumble*
Just came across this one on We Make Money Not Art. The work of Patricia Waller. Needless to say, I love it. I shall add it to my list...
Trouble brewing. Perhaps. But instead of dwelling on the negativity or what's wrong, I'll instead tell you a story about what went right.
Wednesday night Mr.Aloof and I met up in Camden after my softball game. We didn't meet until 10, so it wasn't as though we were going to have lots of time. In fact, I was in bed by midnight, so we probably only met up for an hour, though it seemed in some ways much longer. It had been almost six weeks. It was good just to catch up. To reacquaint. To set the scene for Thursday.
There is in south London, a large Victorian warehouse- five stories, just recently vacated when the business that was in it moved to a new building further south. Mr.Aloof told me he would be working in the building. Mr.Aloof said he did not wish to be disturbed. He also mentioned that though the gates were chained shut, there was enough room for a person to squeeze through, and that somewhere in the abandoned building was a key on a blue scarf.
At nine I arrived at the building, it was getting dark. There were lights on in various rooms on various floors. I squeezed through the gate. The front door was locked. I went around the side. I saw Mr.Aloof in the kitchen window briefly. My heart stopped. I went around the back. Most of the service doors were shut and locked, but I could see the last one was open.
I was coming around the large shipping containers when I saw Mr.Aloof approaching, so I ran back. Perhaps he saw me. Perhaps he saw me from the kitchen. But he was playing the game as well, and if he did, was willing to give me another chance. So I couldn't go in that way. I looked up and saw one of the doors on the fire escape ajar, so I went up that way.
I left my bag on the fourth floor where I came in (for clarity, I'm using American floors here, first is ground) and started exploring. I wished I'd brought a flashlight. Random bits of things strewn about everywhere. Abandoned desks and paper. Cardboard boxes and packing material. Creaky floors and sounds from everywhere. How did I get myself into this? I hate games like this! My heart raced continuously. My hands shook. I managed to explore all the upper floors. There was no key. On the first floor the lights were blazing. Mr.Aloof was prowling. I knew I had to get down there. I don't know how I did it. I don't know where I went first. The first floor had more stuff than the upper floors. More smaller rooms and divisions and dead ends, all with Mr.Aloof just around the corner. I managed to see a bit of blue scarf in the last place I looked, tucked half under a newspaper. Tied to a key. I grabbed it and went back upstairs. I was unsure what to do next.
Having accomplished my task, the only thing I could think to do was to interrupt. Which of course would mean retribution. And I thought I was scared before. Going back downstairs I stalked Mr.Aloof. I tried throwing some worker gloves at him but threw so far off the mark they didn't even make it into the other room. That was pathetic actually. So I opted for the direct approach. Standing where I knew I had two routes of exit I waited for him to turn around where he would clearly be able to see me. "You work too much!" I exclaimed while throwing my remaining stolen worker gloves at him. "What are you doing here?!", he bellowed and charged.
I ran. Slamming one of the doors I passed through behind me gave enough of a lag time to squeeze ahead out of view where I ducked into one of the smaller empty and unlit rooms. He rushed past. All I could hear was my breathing, echoing loudly on everything. My blood was pounding. Surely he could hear it too? He passed a couple times and I decided to come back out. He saw me and the chase was on again. I was doing fine until I tripped and went crashing to the ground. He was on me in a flash.
"What are you doing here? I told you not to come!" He said, punctuating every word with the sort of action that is only acceptable between two consenting adults. I twisted and writhed trying to get out of his grasp or reach of his swinging arm. I went still and he got up, leaving, I ran again and hid. I heard him return. He was saying he would find me. I was completely out of breath. Flushed. Charged. High on adrenaline. Of course it's not my building and I am not as familiar with the twists and turns. I ended up in a horrible spot, with no good place to hide and visible from three different places. I was made. He was on me again. Pinned to the floor. I tried to throw him. He told me I wasn't much of a challenge and dragged me up by my shirt. I struggled out of it and ran, leaving him holding the shirt. This time I made it up the stairs. I bolted up three flights and onto the floor that was filled with desks. It was also one of the creakier floors. I had to find cover fast. I ducked under one of the nearest desks, expecting him to be behind me. Wedged under the desk as I was, I realized I was too visible so I moved from one to another thinking I'd found a good spot. I waited. I could hear him on the floor below. I could hear him on the floor above. I thought perhaps he wouldn't look for me when I heard someone on the stairs and then the creak of his footsteps on the same floor I had bolted across.
Too late I realized that I had positioned myself on a desk by a window. A black window, with lights on inside, as I could see the reflection of the room, so would I be seen in my tiny cubby under the desk. When he came into view I hoped he wasn't looking in the window and that hope vanished when he vaulted over the desk and started to pull it apart. He pulled the L off the desk and I was left under one small bit. He was no longer empty handed and had his whip. "Get out!" He demanded, after he tried tugging my leg while I scraped and held onto the bottom of the desk. "GET OUT!" he said louder, this time brandishing the whip. I shrank back as far as I could and the whip came down. Hard. After three strikes I yelped that I would come out. I crawled out, staying low and he grabbed me by the hair. Leaning over me, he undid my bra and slid it off my shoulders. I stayed huddled. He moved away and I stood up.
"Strip."
Instead I ran. He chased me a bit around the desks but then abruptly turned and went for the door. He turned off the light and I was afraid he was locking me in. I started to go towards the door when he came back now with the whip, and a large fire extinguisher.
"It isn't so hard K. And I'm sure this is going to be cold."
And he blasted me. It was cold, and I ran. He sprayed me as I went, I was getting drenched in slimy fire extinguisher goo. I ended up in a corner with a large bunch of desks between us, I figured I could run left or right. Instead he leapt onto the desk and blasted me completely.
"Okay, okay!" I shrieked. He put the fire extinguisher down and grabbed me by the wrist, dragging me behind him up one floor, which is the one I entered on, which is the one he lives on. I could twist my slimed wrist in his grasp but he held firm, and I followed. He left me there, heading downstairs and I made to the bathroom to get fire goo out of my eye where some had gotten in and was stinging. I decided to stay hidden in the bathroom. I heard him come up the stairs, walk slowly past, then, he banged the door open. He had gone to get a bunch of cloths. "Clean yourself up" He said, tossing the cloths at me. And I did. My jeans were soaked through, I left them on. I could see in the mirror I had a splatter of marks where the whip had hit me when I hid under the desk. Cleaned up, I came out and he was not around, so I went to the window to look out over the neighborhood and get a cool breeze. He returned and turned me to face him. "Close your eyes," he said "and put your hands in front of you."
I did and felt my own leather cuffs being placed on my wrists. He had found them in my bag. As requested. He tied them together with rope and told me to keep my eyes closed. Then tugged the rope. I did follow without looking for a bit, but curiosity overcame and I peeked. He led me to the stair, up the stair, into the attic. This time the attic was dark. No candles. No sign of inhabitation. He led me to the back by the large window, threw the rope over the rafter and tied it off. Then he walked back out and left.
I leaned on the rope and determined I could slide it along the rafter and then undo it. It's not that I really wanted to, it was more the principle at the time. So I undid the rope, but didn't hide. Just to show that I could. He returned and I started to feel bad about undoing the rope. He had brought up my matching leather collar and put it on. He undid the rope from the cuffs and reattached it to a single one and connected my one arm up more purposefully. "Get those clothes off." I tried balancing, with one hand tied, of course my sneaker lace knotted and I was having trouble. He smirked and released my tied hand so I could finish, and left again. Nude, aside from collar and wrist cuffs, I waited. He returned and retightened my one arm, then gave the other the same treatment on an opposite column. I was not going to get out of that one.
And so it went. He gave me water from a cup he held in between the attention from his hands and his whip. He would leave occasionally and return sometimes with something, sometimes with nothing. At some point he put my ankle cuffs on, completing the ensemble. I still wasn't able to give up completely. I wouldn't say what he wanted to hear. Not until the end. And we were both tired and he threatened me with putting me in a cage all night and I acquiesced.
So he led me back downstairs to his floor, and with a quick bathroom stop, into his bedroom, to a palette at the foot of the bed with chain coiled. He had me kneel there and ran the chain through the collar, securing it. Then he left to get ready for bed. My skin stung in places and my feet went slightly numb, still I waited patiently. It had been a long evening. He came back eventually and got into bed. Lay there for a while, then indicated I should join him. And so I did, chain dragging behind.
We did the general sorts of things people would do in a bed, after a night like ours. Well, sort of. No sex. Still no sex I should say. Nudity, yes, touching, yes, sex, no. Too late, too tired, too unsure. I don't know. It does seem to me a bit odd, but I'm not complaining. I was not lacking in satisfaction. We slept there together, entwined. At some point in the night he removed the chain. At some later point the collar. I didn't sleep well, but it was a new person, a new place, and so that also didn't matter. It was nice.
In the morning I surveyed the marks on my body, the soreness in my muscles, the bruise on my hand from falling to the floor, the sleeping form next to mine.
It made me smile.
I had a difficult conversation with my good friend S yesterday. S hates her job. And I don't mean that S doesn't enjoy her job, what I mean, is that S's job has led to what amounts to a clinical depression. And this has been going on for -years-.
Before you ask, I'll just get out of the way that S is a lawyer (sorry Jen). A turgent profession. Especially in the states. Her undergraduate degree was in French literature. S is frighteningly intelligent. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, and seeing as how there were some lawyers in the family and she 'didn't have any plans' she applied for and got into law school. The day she was supposed to go, she realized she didn't want to. She thought about deferring for a year. Her parents sat her down and told her unless she knew what she wanted to do with her life, she was getting in the car and going to school. I should point out here that S's parents weren't -paying- for law school, a terribly expensive commitment. But anyway, off she went.
From there on it's been a series of misfortune, bad decisions, and cumulative misery. And I guess a large part of this is S's personality as much as anything else. She's so caught up in prestige and merit. She hates what she does but refuses to consider any job where she would take a paycut. She's hampered by a large portion of her $100k in student loans yet to be repayed and yet bought an apartment because 'that's what everyone is doing' and so is additionally penned in by a mortgage. She gets snotty about having a 'doctorate' degree and so will not take a job that's 'beneath' her and yet in the same breath recognizes she has no skills in anything else in particular.
And so years trickle on. S tells me she goes home and cries to herself all night. I meet someone passing through London who S had recently met and it was abundantly clear to me the reason he dropped her like a hot potato is because she came across as miserable and hating her job and unhappy. And she wonders why she's not meeting anyone.
What is a friend supposed to do? When not miserable, which seems to be less and less and less as the years pass, S is an exuberant, witty, fantastic girl. When she's 'on' she is the life of the party, a force to be reckoned with. But her misery is just as palpable. It pushes everyone and everything else away and is an ugly self fulfilling prophecy. I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until her head snaps. Money and prestige aren't worth jack shit if you are that fucking miserable all the fucking goddamn time!
*sigh*
I refuse to believe certain things until they are poking me in the eyeball.
Mr.Aloof's time of insane work has come to an end. Instead of the three weeks of silence, as I had anticipated, there was actually two. The past week (and a half) he has been popping online at least once daily just to say hello, even though very busy. Occasionally a string of more coherent chatter came along.
In between all of this he asked for my upcoming schedule- which I sent.
And I received back the request (well, demand? request?.... given the nature of our relationship I'd stick with demand perhaps, but not in a negative way) that we are to meet up tonight, tomorrow night, and Friday night- which will go, I have been informed, until Sunday.
I'm a bit taken a back.
Not at the imposition, but rather with the sudden overwhelming quality of it. He's been absent for so long.
Tonight I imagine we are just catching up and remembering what it is like to be in each other's presence. I can't quite get around the fact that the last time I saw this man, he saw me naked. Did that really happen? I've erased it from my current memories.
Tomorrow I have been summoned to the building again for 9pm, with further instructions to follow. And I anticipate, it may be similar to the last time.
And Friday... he says we are to have dinner, that he wants me to bring my green leather, and no other information has been forthcoming, except that I will likely return home on Sunday.
I do love the mystery and the anticipation.
But I'm still holding onto a margin of skepticism. In case he disappoints. In case it all falls through.
If I wasn't, I'm sure I would be completely freaking out.
Today, I am 31. This means I am cleanly in my 30's now, there is no going back. The thing is, I don't feel like I'm that old. I suppose, to me now, it doesn't seem old, but to me ten years ago it seemed full of mystery and adult-hood. I do not see myself as any more of an 'adult' than I did five years ago. I don't get the impression people think that I'm as old as I am, I don't think I look as old as I am, and yet, it is my age.
When you are younger, you have ideas about 'what you will do by the time you are'. I think my first boyfriend and I had a marriage pact for 30. Funny, I haven't heard from him this past year. Or the previous seven years for that matter. Most of my female friends are not married. A couple are, but most aren't. It can be a bit of a catch, married people do tend to hang around with other couples and married people- so maybe it's not so strange that my friends are not coupled up. On the other hand, some of my friends I met while they were coupled up, and some of my friends have had and lost their long standing relationships during the time of our friendship and it could have gone either way.
Before I left the states there seemed to be all this media frenzy about women letting themselves get 'too old' before starting families. It was on every channel, every talk show- as if the powers that be were trying to push women back to the home or something. But it does make you wonder sometimes. Will I ever settle down? Have a child? (Of course, this does not include the SHOULD I have a child question more clearly illustrated here and here). I think I want those things, but sometimes I'm not sure. I only want those things if they enhance my life. I refuse to settle for something less than what I want because it's somehow the dictate of society that it's something I ought to be doing.
So maybe I won't get married, or ever have a child. Would that be the worst thing? In the meantime I am living my life. I mean, there is always the constant nag of the 'grass is always greener', but the truth is, I am in the midst of having a pretty fulfilling life. Doing things that could be classified as exciting.
I usually use my birthday as a time of reflection for the past year and for future years. And I try to have a fair outlook as opposed to my usual pessimistic or snarky one.
This past year has been pretty good. I have made huge personal progress in regards to relationships or comfort with myself. Professionally things are good- and I have started taking my exams which while won't be finished this year, but is a really good push forwards. I'm a homeowner which is pretty cool, and I live in a foreign country which I still find lots of fun and exciting on a regular basis.
And this next year? I want to keep making progress on personal issues and relationships. It would be great to actually see someone for a while, and I think given the current state of things that's both possible and likely. I'd like to keep moving forwards professionally, even if I don't always find it comfortable or lack motivation, I should keep it up. I want to take more advantage of the city I live in, and the other countries and places close by. Basically, I want to just keep doing mostly what I'm doing and if I can manage that, then it will be a pretty good year.
Happy Birthday to me.
I have recently gotten caught up in another online community where someone wanted a 'politics' thread for the sole purpose (as he stated it) of 'American baiting'. Usually I would just let such things be, but I was feeling particularly aggressive, or masochistic, I'm still not sure which.
I am not adverse to light anti-American banter. But generally, I find the rabid anti-American agenda not only overwhelming but exceedingly unintelligent in it's nature. It is impossible and irresponsible to lump together all 'Americans' into any singular describable character. There are 295,734,134 people in the US compared to 60,441,457 in the UK. That's almost five times as many people. The US is 9,161,923 sq km compared to the UK which is only 241,590 sq km. For those of you without calculators that means the US is about 38 times as big in area.
The United States is geographically isolated in a way that most other countries (save places like Australia) are not. It is unfair to criticize 'Americans' for not getting out to see the world more. First of all, most Americans only get 10 vacation days a year. Some of those days will automatically be earmarked for Christmas and Thanksgiving. So the reality is, most Americans have less than 10 usable vacation days a year. These are often then broken into small bits tacked onto weekends, because if you used it all for one trip, you would have no other vacation for the entire year. So, if you only had 4 days to go on vacation, would you spend eight hours in a plane each way? Or would you spend a couple hours in a plane, or just drive yourself to the beach, the mountains, the desert, the swamp, or another major metropolitan center you've never been to before? Because you can do all those things without leaving America- and it's wrong to criticize people for it.
People seem to get caught up in Americans seeming lack of global interest. On the other hand, aside from being more educated, I don't see issues of 'global interest' running most countries political decisions (although it's fair to say the UK involvement in the Iraq war had a detrimental affect on the most recent vote, it still didn't kick Labor out of power, did it?). People vote about issues that they see as affecting them. Taxes. Jobs. And perhaps unfortunately, moral issues. Because when it comes down to it, most people (American, European or otherwise) are self-interested. It's not wrong to be self interested. It is wrong however, to throw stones at glass houses.
A friend of mine S imparted a Belgian saying to me recently, "The tallest trees get the most wind". I understand that America is an easy target, and people dislike what they see as globalization and the exportation of American values and corporations. My argument? If there was no market for such things, they would not make it. If people didn't desire the things they professed to hate, there would not be the continual demand that fuels the corporate economy. Things like Starbucks and McDonalds.
The current global power structure and economy is not a simple thing. It is wrong to call a country 'expansionist' and then 'isolationist' in the same breath. It would be better to get the story straight. If the criticism is towards the US government, fine- I'm sure you'll find that 50% of the American public probably agree with your view. If the criticism is towards multi-national corporations and conglomerates, then fine, do your part to not purchase those products and reduce the demand for the things you don't agree with. But leave the American people alone. Every country has it's share of retarded backwater cousins. They don't represent the sum total of the population, and for every five of mine, I'm sure I can find at least one of yours.
What a fucked up week. Tomorrow is my birthday party. I was supposed to prepare stuff this week so I wouldn't be running around like a maniac tomorrow. Did this happen? Lets think about that one.....
So tonight and tomorrow are going to be mad busy.
I am loving my new phone. It's so swell.
Yesterday showed a flurry of communication from Mr.Aloof. Well, flurry as it applies to Mr.Aloof. By any other standards it would have been basic contact. But that's not really the point. His stressful time of working is coming to a close and he seems eager to meet up. Next week. Our exchange of thought was quite dark in this respect. Part of what has made him so busy is that his company is moving buildings. This happens to result in the large imposing Victorian warehouse building his company currently occupied becoming instead his personal playground. All five floors and the various rooms with random remnants of office and industrial uses. It is like the stuff of movies, with infinite possibility. So that's lurking ominously right around the corner.... *shiver*
So back to this party. I am not at all sure who will actually show up, or when they will show up. Or how my house is going to transform from the tip it currently is to presentable for guests. I still have a bunch of stuff to buy. A bunch of stuff to make. I am so fucked. Should be interesting. Hopefully it will be fun. There is so very much to do between now and then.
Temple?
Machine?
Gift?
Curse?
I have been thinking today about bodies. How they work. Reminded of people who do seemingly impossible things. Slow their heart rates to an almost stop. Learn to breath with one lung in order to let the other heal. We take so much of our body functions for granted. It's almost like our consciousness is sitting at the helm of some massive factory that we know actually know very little about it's daily goings on.
Of course, what brought all this to mind was two rather disgusting thoughts that even you, my gentle readers, will very much appreciate my not sharing.
*smirk*
I just got an email from Urban Junkies today about this new game. Puzzle game, card game, web sleuthing game. If I wasn't well aware of my addiction tendencies I would so buy some cards. Instead, I will simply note it here as something I find fan-fucking-tastic. If I had a team of players to share the winnings and expenditures, I might have considered it... no, bad K, stay away!
Now there's a phrase that most British people don't seem to be familiar with. 'Hump' as in, getting over the mid-point hump. Wednesday is the hump day of the week you see, the midpoint- the transition from half empty to half full.
Of course, to be fair, it doesn't really happen until lunch and so now, early in the morning, it's still half empty time.
I'm trying to figure out if I should take my sneakers into work today. Wednesday is office softball day. Yesterday, an informal straw pole indicated that we did not have enough players for a team. This was seriously hampered by the fact that office email was down. But it seemed that we were not going to have enough people to play. Of course, we didn't get around to asking everyone, and it's possible that there may just squeak by enough players to make a team, in which case, I would be one of them. So I would need my sneakers. But I don't really feel like carrying them in if I don't need them either. Though it's obviously the correct solution. I'm just lazy.
C is bringing in a phone today that I may buy off her boyfriend. I don't really need a new phone, but I love the Motorola Razr and this one is basically unused and 1/3 the retail price. And it IS my birthday in less than a weeks time. I currently have a Motorola phone, which I like. So it won't be a difficult transition to the new phone. At any rate, I'm allowed to 'test drive' it over the weekend and pay for it on Monday if I love it. I might as well write the check today.
I did end up working at home last night, and making lamb stew. The lamb was good, though I did burn it a bit. I still can't quite get my head around oven temperature conversions and the whole fan setting thing. Still, I caught it early enough that it wasn't ruined, and it was awfully tasty. I ended up working until almost midnight and not getting nearly as far as I would have liked. Without explaining too much, the reason my work is taking a long time is because the person who drew the original drawings that I am building the model off of was not as precise as they should have been with measurements. This may look fine in a plan, but when you are building a 3D model, these miniscule differences fuck up the whole thing. So I spent ages trying to figure out where the problems were and trying to fix them. Even though I worked and worked, I probably did just under half the work I had anticipated doing by the end of yesterday, so that was crappy. Hopefully today will go better. If the office computers are fixed.
I had a really strange dream last night that woke me up at half five this morning. It involved Mr.Aloof. It was very odd. As usual, I didn't write it down in time and so now the bits I remember now don't make any sense together, though I know it all connected in the dream. I did finally open my eyes around half six and wrote in my paper journal instead. Then I did a crossword for a while.
I have the feeling today is going to be an exceptionally long day.
It's been computer hell all day at work today. Something is wrong with our network. In ten minutes I am going to be kicked off most functions that I need to actually do my work (along with everyone else). The only thing that makes sense is to go home and work from there seeing as how I have SketchUp on my laptop. This also means I will be able to cook my lamb stew for dinner. Yum. I have been trying to work all day and I feel that things have been very slow. The computer HAS been very slow which is half the problem. My complete and utter lack of focus is the other.
I will go home and I will do some work. This is what I will do. Yes I will.
C had an interview in Leeds today. I wonder if she will get the job...
Today is my mother's birthday. I was actually due on her birthday, but instead had to be cut out eight days after. We are exactly 30 years apart in age, except for a mere eight days a year.
August birthdays are less than exciting. Everyone is always on vacation. When I was a child, I would spend the summer with my father in Virginia. So not only was everyone on vacation, but all of my friends lived in New York. I never had big parties or celebrations. Birthdays have never been very important to me.
In the past bunch of years, my mother has gotten obsessive about any event or holiday where she thinks she is 'due' something. I think this is the root of the problem exactly, 'due'. No one is 'due' anything on their birthday. If those who like and love you choose to wish you good tidings or give you gifts you should be grateful, not expectant.
My mother on the other hand will have a screaming crying shouting fit if I haven't wished her 'Happy Birthday' by noon. This is the same for Mother's Day as well. I have patiently tried to explain to her that I actually have the entire day to wish her a happy birthday and give her a gift, but by then she's usually so irrational and screaming at me that I end up getting exasperated and shouting back that clearly what she wants is to be miserable on her birthday since she goes out of her way to be so, ergo, I gave her exactly the present she most wants, an excuse to feel sorry for herself.
Needless to say, that doesn't go over very well.
This year I have already ordered a nice flower arrangement to be delivered. I had intended on calling and waking her sorry ass up before I left for work, that way I would have made sure I got her early! Of course, I had -intended- to do this, but only remembered once I got to my office. So now I have a conundrum. I could give her a call on my mobile in a bit, but this will reinforce her belief that I should call first thing in her morning, even though it's hugely inconvenient for me. Or I could wait until I get home, knowing the flowers should be delivered by then and it should mitigate any tantrum she's building up to have.
I wish I'd remembered to call her at 3am her time.. that would have been so much better.
I don't know what got into me today. Yesterday I bought all these things to cook a lamb stew. I haven't actually made the lamb stew, all the nice ingredients are still sitting in my fridge. Today I went to Tesco's so that I could start to pick up necessities for next weekend's party. Looking through my personal cookbook I came upon a cake recipe that my old advisor had given me after I ate some at her house. It's a simple cake you make in a pie dish. I became obsessed with the idea of making it with some plums I have had sitting in the fridge. You're supposed to make it with apples or pears, but I figured plums would be fine. I knew if I didn't make anything with the plums, I'd be throwing them out sometime soon. So.........
So I had to make it west across town to make it to the 02 center. I got on the silverlink only to find out it wasn't running between Camden road and Kilburn. Luckily they made the announcement at Highbury and Islington so I jumped off the train to switch to the tube. It was good then, that I had decided to purchase a ticket for the train, because I didn't have my Oyster Card on me. If I had my card, I wouldn't have had the ticket. Instead, I used my cheap train ticket to get the tube staff to pass me through the gates with the magic phrase 'replacement bus' and a flash of my ticket. Kick ass.
Met up with B and S and settled down to watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Now, I'd seen lots of reviews of this movie, most saying that Tim Burton does reality very well, but the chocolate factory portion was less entertaining. All I have to say is, I have never seen a movie that so completely simulated the effects of being high in my life. Right when it was starting, during the previews I think, S who was on my left asked B for some of her sweet popcorn (sweet popcorn? blech. disgusting. the topic for another post someday.) So B reaches across me with the tub and proceeds to flip it into the air in slow motion, spraying popcorn everywhere. That was funny.
Then, I said to B and S that I was sure some child would be crying before the end of the movie. Sure enough, about halfway through the shrill sound of crying echoed throughout the theater, and I laughed at that for a bit.
I'm not even sure I remember which parts I thought were so funny. Maybe it was Willy Wonka saying "good morning starshine, the earth says hello" which was then stuck in my head for the rest of the evening. Maybe it was the whipped cream cow. Maybe it was the way Veruca Salt said "squirrel" Maybe it was the freakish oompa loompas and their seriously fucked up dance routines. Whatever it was, I adored this film because it was keyed in precisely to my brand of humor. That alone should be disturbing. I think I'll have to buy it.
After the movie we went to China Red, a new restaurant in the O2 center that wasn't there when I lived there. Another ex-flatmate joined us, H. H and S got tiger beer and B got a glass of white wine. I ordered some sake and the hijinks continued. I don't remember how it happened, all I know is I went to take a sip of sake and someone said something funny at which point I choked/spit/laughed/sprayed sake everywhere. All I have to say is, that shit burns when it gets in your eye! S almost spit later in the evening and B managed to spit back into her glass even later still. I'm telling you, we were in a right state. Only H managed to avoid spitting or almost spitting a beverage. B got nervous at one point I was saying rude things too loudly at which point I said less loudly it wasn't like I was saying 'anal fisting' really loudly or anything truly obscene. We all had a really good time. Until T showed up.
T is S's boyfriend. And I don't really like T. Well, it's not that I don't like T necessarily, but I think he's horrible with S. And S was being cool until T showed up and then he turned into someone else. And then they got into an argument. So that put a damper on things. We decided to wander over to Walkabout because it was the closest place to drink, and the evening never quite picked up again. First of all, Walkabout is a shit place, it was too loud and the people were foul. On the other hand, it was entertaining to make fun of them, but there's only so much of that one can take. We only stayed for two drinks when I noticed it was almost midnight and I was going to have a bitch of a time getting home. Took three tubes and a bus, but I finally made it, and aside from the very end bit, have extremely fond memories of an evening well spent.
Now I'm being bad because I was supposed to go shopping for clothes today but I couldn't manage to get myself to Oxford Street. I hate how shops don't open until noon a Sunday. What the fuck is that all about? I think I'll try for late night Thursday instead.
A productive morning so far, and there is still half a day to go. I've done one load of laundry so far which was initiated by my desire to change the sheets on my bed. I also decided it was time to turn the mattress around, so I did that as well (damn it's heavy). I went through the pile of clothes in the corner to give to charity and managed to bag up four bags worth. I took two of the bags with me when I went out and put them in the charity clothes box by the recycling bins. I did all of this before my weekly sojourn to Broadway Market where I scoped out food for the party next Saturday. I had pie and mash for breakfast/lunch which I'd not had for a couple of weeks. There was a new stall of exotic mushrooms which looked promising for future cooking experiments. I also bumped into S and C and a friend of theirs on my way out of the market so had a quick chat.
I came home with challah and lots of berries. I have a plan to make challah french toast which is my favorite kind. And I'm debating making a berry tart this week. I also bought diced lamb and potatoes and carrots and I think I'll make a stew. Yummy things to look forward to.
So now I'm home for a few hours before S comes over and we head over to meet B to see the movie.
Yesterday I got a few texts from Mr.Aloof. Seems he's been in Italy with his kids. He's still busy, but it was nice to hear from him.
I'm looking forward to my party. I wasn't sure I was, but as it gets closer, I find I'm getting excited. When I had the party last year, I didn't really have any furniture as I had just moved into my flat. Now my little flat is packed full of stuff, at least I have a bunch of chairs now! I was thinking it will be funny to see who ends up finding the shelf and a half of erotica I have on the bookshelf. I've never believed in hiding the porn. I put it up on the top shelf, so that if a child were to come over, it wouldn't be accessible, but I don't feel the need to hide it under a bed or up in my bedroom. Anyway, there are too many books. I have always kept my erotica on the shelf, and on the shelf it will remain.
Once I caught someone at a party of mine standing in front of the shelf staring at it for a good ten minutes. Not taking anything down, but not looking at the spines of any of the other books either. I didn't call them out on it, but I did think it was funny. I'm sure it would have been much funnier had they opened any of them up and gleaned the topic of most of the stories.
Well, mood's broken. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
C just asked me if I was drunk. I'm not. But I'm in some sort of spazzy mood. I went down to talk to T this morning who is working hard on a deadline, and she made me paranoid that I had bad breath so I came up and asked C for some gum, because C always has gum. The thing is, I don't chew gum. I don't like it. But paranoia overtook gum aversion. So I chewed the gum for a while, then I decided I really didn't like chewing gum and C thought I was nuts. Well that and she thought I was asking her for a gun originally.
hahahahahaha
Bug bites are still itching.
It's Friiiiiiiiiday.
C has a job interview today for a registrar number, then she's off to Amsterdam to be with the boy, leaving me my flat to myself. Naked weekend here I come! Just kidding.
Meeting up with S and B tomorrow to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by my old hood at the O2 center on Finchley Road. I am very tempted to stop in the Japanese grocery store first, but I won't be able to buy anything that needs refridgeration if I go -before- the movie and then we'll have dinner. But I have to go before, because they'll be closed when I'm done. This sort of blows because the one thing I miss about my old hood is the Japanese grocery store. And I have no Japanese grocery supplies left really. Wah!
I'm doing monkey work today but I don't really care. I'm coloring in little boxes. How silly is that. Color color color. I suppose I'm old enough, they trust me to stay in the lines!
Spaz attack spaz attack spaz attack
I love when a funk breaks. Energy just pours out of nowhere and the world becomes crystalline.
*bounceboncebouncebounce*
This is what someone said last night out in Regents Park. Not on our team, and not the team we were playing against. Just something I heard, carrying across the expanse.
Softball was a bit surreal yesterday. We played on the newly done up field just past the fountain from Gloucester Gate. It was deceptively large. I looked at this wide open field with lots of groups dotted across it playing. The sky was brilliantly blue, the sun was dropping and the grass was a bright green surrounded by the darker green of the trees and shrubs. It wasn't too hot, the ground was relatively flat. When you started to walk onto the field, you realized how large it actually was. There was plenty of room for many games to be held simultaneously without getting into anyone's way. It was strangely quiet for how many people were there, but it was the distance. Though occasionally, a shout would carry across the wind. It was fun, although we lost.
After softball at the pub, I was talking to H about buying or not buying a property in London or in the Netherlands. He isn't sure how long he is going to stay so is unsure where to buy. I said, at least in London you can always rent your place out if you were to leave, easily. Then I added, that if I were to leave, that's probably what I would do.
This was said in idle conversation and had no intention of being any more significant. But then I thought about it later. I started to feel, in my current frame of unreferenced mind, that maybe I should move on. That there is little holding me here to London. Nothing really, no more than any other place I've been. That maybe I've been in my job long enough. That maybe it was time to uproot and start over.
It's only been two years- and my more typical current movement pattern has been 3 years. But I started to wonder, why am I here? Maybe I was actually thinking about this earlier in the week as I trudged through Dalston. Looking at the cars, the trash cans, the city fabric. Why here? Why not someplace else? Is this what I really want? My mind has picked up this little ball and is currently juggling it along with everything else.
I'm not actually serious about moving. It's just been a recent thought.
That and I'm not amused by the mysterious bugs that are biting me in the night. I was awoken at 5 this morning by three huge madly itching welts on the back of my hand. Those are gone but instead of I have a bunch of others that are burning terribly. I need to go at lunch and invest in bug repellent to go to sleep it would seem. How un-fucking-amusing. But these bugs, they need to be stopped!
I am having the worst time concentrating. I really only need to be at work another 45 minutes and I have tons to do. I just can't find the motivation. I can't, I can't, I can't.
Sunday is when it all changed. Saturday was great. But Sunday the world shifted as I sat on my couch and I found myself just left of center from where I think I should be. This entire week has been strange. My mood is strange. My attention span is off. I'm completely unfocused. It's ridiculous.
Like all phases, I'm well aware that this will pass. It's just a blip in the timeline. I just wish it would hurry on along. I'm sick of it.
It's like feeling emotionless. Nothing affects me. I think perhaps I have an undercurrent of stress. Well, that makes sense, as this is a typical example of what happens to me when I'm stressed. On the other hand, I don't really have anything to be stressed about.
Or maybe I do. I don't know. I can't find the focus to even figure that out. Just can't be bothered.
Could be work.
Could be trip to Sienna.
Could be exam preparation and thinking of scheduling tests and flights home.
Could be the absence of Mr.Aloof.
Could be the preparation for my party the weekend after next. It's my birthday in a couple weeks on the 16th. I'll be 31. I told Mr.Ball who then told me that 31 was his favorite year because of the image in the numbers. I'll let you figure that one out.
This is what T made for my party... *grin*
I've found work very difficult to concentrate on so far this week. I have lots of work to do, and as usual, the more I find I have to do, the more I lack the motivation to do much of anything at all.
Which I suppose isn't entirely true. I channel my energy from what I probably should be doing into something else. In this weeks case, I have started to concentrate on my upcoming exams in November/December.
I am not sure I mentioned before that I am in the process of taking my architectural licensing exams. I don't try to dwell on it because it showcases my more nerdy side which I like to keep hidden.
I took my first exam in March. It was really stressful and I thought for sure I had failed. I hadn't, but the exam was seriously tough. And I took what is generally accepted as being the easiest one. Only eight more to go. It's a huge pain because I can only take the exams in the States. There are also no local study groups or help available which makes it twice as hard.
Now I'm setting up to take one of the hardest, and one that is supposedly not so bad. Each will take at least a month to study for. At least. Blah.
I hate children who end up carrying around a tatty nasty stinky smelly ugly piece of ratty old blanket. I have no compassion for the 'binkie' attachment. Perhaps because I never had one myself. Instead, I had my one and only stuffed animal (I know, here in the UK you say 'soft toy', which sounds wrong) which was a standard brown bear. For as long as I can remember, I have concluded that any child of mine will not have a binkie fetish, but it would be okay for them to have a stuffed animal fetish.
Over the years, I have developed this ideology. Stuffed animals are fine, so long as they are not wimpy cutesy prancy shmancy animals.
I think any stuffed animal a future child of mine should have, will be strange, bizarre, and freakish.
There are many examples of weird things made into stuffed animals. Every time I come across one, I think to myself, "That would be perfect for a future child of mine." and strengthen my resolve to carry through with this plan.
I suppose what makes this experiment interesting is that children relate to dolls as they see themselves. So when one gives a child a doll that generally has the features of a recognizable form, the child relates well to it. So if a child was surrounded by the abnormal, how would this impact their view of themselves in the world?
It makes me think of a line from one of my favorite movies, "Live people ignore the strange and unusual. I myself am strange and unusual."
(Note: The images I've picked represent a diversity of typologies of bizarre stuffed animals I've come across over the years. There are many more I have seen and admire. I assume you get the idea however.)
