Just returned from a conference for trans issues in the workplace. Light refreshments provided, lots of networking, and many, many transmen and women to share experiences and advice with. Still buzzing!
Some of my stories touched on child abuse and rape. I will spare my comments here, linking to a BBC report on organised grooming, but I will make one comment, in response to a man interviewed on the programme. His point was that the girls should not be out at that time of night, so it is the fault of the parents. Perhaps I am a little naive...but when did raping a child become the fault of anyone other than the rapist?
I received a criticism of sorts a while ago because I apparently used words that did not fit within the North American experience. Of course, the world is a larger place....but I am at the moment trying to write a very different idiom, that of Geordie. I have been trawling through youtube to find some examples, so I hope this helps. One thing I did find was a whole series of videos by a voice coach, but the one he did for geordie was actually, er, crap. So... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PNMbbo5je_0&feature=related
Christmas. I know it is a month and a half away, but already it raises its head. I am not on top form at the moment, with the PTSD making inroads into my daily thoughts, and the usual feelings of 'unreal' and 'fraud' sitting laughing at me. As I came home today, the boss was pushing me to come out on the team Christmas do next month, and it was all I could do not to cry in front of him. He is a good friend, but he deserves better from me.
Not a good time at the moment, so whatever I write may suffer. Sorry.
Nancy's current story sent me back to reread one or two of my own, which is an odd feeling. It was brought about by one of my male colleagues, who wanted to read some of my stuff. That brought back my thoughts as I wrote it, and I went looking for some of my memories on the net.
For years and years and years I have been receiving spam. Interesting, sometimes, especially when I realise exactly how many beloved friends I have in West Africa, and how astoundingly generous they are. However, so much of the mail has been woefully misdirected.
Gambling: I don't gamble.
Job offers in the USA: bit far to commute.
Become a driving instructor: I have never, ever owned a car.
Laser eye surgery: I have 20/20 vision.
Beautiful girls wanting marriage in Foreign: er, yeah, a bit off target.
Herbal or counterfeit viagra: REALLY off target.
Well, here it comes again. I shall be away for a while this weekend at the festival that features so strongly in my stories. I shall have instruments with me...but I shall not be writing.
My inner bitch came out today, as I loaded my grocery shopping ready to ride home. A very obvious M2F woman, of mature years, pushed her trolley past me, wearing a dress that was far, far too short. Out came my canine, snarling and sneering in my mind.
Then I thought more reasonably. Here is a girl who has had the courage to get to where she has always wanted to be, to be who she should have been, and if she wants to wear a not-so-slinky* black knitted minidress, who am I to deny her?
The Daily Mail, also known as the Hate Mail or Wail, is often referred to disparagingly by UK members of this site. For very good reasons, as the link will show. Even for the Mail, they plumbed new depths of opportunistic nastiness with this one. For those of you outside the UK, this is why it is so badly thought of.
The story is as tied up as I intended to make it. Healing is in progress, the back story is revealed, all of the rest is dressing and side dishes. The dramatic tension is resolved. I intended to stop the story there, though I may be tempted to write a set-piece for nuptials, or similar events.
Those competitions...I am ploughing ahead with an entry for the 'Summer Romance' one, and OF COURSE it involves bikes and forn parts. At the same time I am writing Annie's story, so if there are delays, or if Annie suddenly changes her character completely, aye, blame nobody but me.
This question is the result of my evening out with the 'original' Ginny and Kate last night. They are involved with a 'Reclaim the Night' group, and had a question that I would be interested in hearing some responses to.
I was out today, on the bike, walking around a nature reserve with friends, and for the first time ever we were able to discuss the elephant in the room. I was, I am, in such a position that I needed reassurance, and to talk my life over.Now, I know they are friends, and they know about me, but for the first time I was reminded why I write supportive characters. As 'normal' as can be, married, two kids, they were totally without reservations in supporting me, and I realise I am actually blessed. Don't want to go into too much rambling, but I am now smiling.
I shall be heading up to see my mother, an invalid, in two days and spending about five days in total with her, for her 77th birthday. I am hoping my brother may come out for the meal, but as he hasn't spoken to me in years those hopes are a bit feeble. As a result I will have no time or link to put up any more of Annie's story for a few days after this weekend.
To state 'the bleeding obvious', I am not going to discuss my employment in detail here, so please think before you reply to this. I have an issue at work regarding what is called an equality assessment. Under UK law, changes in working practices or conditions require an equality impact assessment. This is ostensibly a way of seeing whether a change adversely affects a particular group, such as the disabled, married folk, or TLGB (MY turn to choose the order of the initials)
People....as a computer illiterate I have somehow managed to disable comments to Chapter 20. I have mailed admin for a fix, but until then, please feel free to abuse me here
That is it for Sweat and Tears, Dear Readers. My muse is dormant now, as she has been screaming at me for the last few months and has felt the need for a rest. Thank you for staying the course, those of you who could. I knwo there are some who couldn't get past the unpleasantness, but I trust all understand it wasn't written for any salacious reason. I wanted that part of the story to be as brutal as I could manage while keeping at least some restraint and tact.
I was greeted this morning with the blue screen of death. All unbacked up work, including two and a half chapters of Sweat and Tears, down the pan. Sorry.
From Chapter 14 onward this will be getting extremely dark and very nasty. I will, as is my normal style, not be going into unnecessarily graphic detail as I feel that what happens to young Stevie should be seen as shadows on a wall and not a slow motion porn film. I put some detail into his teenaged fumbling with Emily because I felt that certain aspects of that were essential to the plot, but I will not do that for other bits. Such detail is unnecessary.
Well, there I am after a week's shifts, and listening to music...and what comes onto my stereo is Loreena Mckennitt's adaptation of Tennyson's Lady of Shalott. Now... a better analogy, I can't imagine.
Well, it was a big one. I have, like so many people, a long list of old e-mals on my system, from years ago in many cases, where I have swapped with people I met on training courses, or at college, and so on. Yesterday, one of them came up as 'on line' on my instant message system,and there was a rather surprising change of name, from a clearly masculine one to an absolutely female one.
I have e-mailed the person concerned, but if by any chance they are on here, and what I think is going on is actually happening, welcome and best wishes.
Bailey Summers' story 'Bridges' is one i have been following and enjoying, and the PTSD stuff has hit a few targets in me. I posted about Jefferson Airplane's track 'Triad', and as one must, I dug out 'Crown of Creation', then 'After Bathing...' and then 'Surrealistic Pillow'
So, here I am, a geriatric tart in a Wales rugby shirt, headphones on as I listen to the music of the childhood I wish I hadn't had, a glass of wine and its friends beside me.
I can't decide if this is good or bad. I'll put some 'Country Joe' on next and drift away....sod it, I think I need to get drunk.
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