Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Who Doesn't Know?

A couple of weeks ago I blogged about telling someone new, which happens to be someone who was also on tour in Ireland. I like the crossover of different people coming into different areas in my life, I genuinely enjoy the feeling of opening up and letting people in, and that particular episode descended into a rambling drunken 4am conversation about lipstick. But it hasn't always been that way, and even now I wouldn't say I'm all that good at it. It's a matter of record that with the exception of my only sibling, whom I love dearly, none of my family knows how to get hold of me, never mind where I am and what I'm doing, and that's my choice. I've lost absolutely nothing where there was nothing to lose in the first place, but of course that sort of stuff inevitably comes at some sort of cost. Look me up on friends reunited, and you'll see there's no information there. But you can only trust me when I say that, because of course you don't know my surname either. I choose not to let the past blight my future, but I know there's only so much control I can have over that, so I still felt somewhat exposed, vulnerable and unhappy when a distant relative came within touching distance on saturday. I'm not prepared to allow things that belong left that far behind to get in the way of the happy life I've carved out for myself, but I'd prefer not to be reminded of it at all where possible, so I still won't be laying out a great big trail of information that leads back to where and who I am now. And that would still be the case if I'd never owned a single lipstick in my life.

Who Knows?

You read my blog, therefore I consider you my friend. And thereby you get closer to knowing, because you get to read exactly what I'm saying, and often further explanations as to exactly what I mean(t), and why that matters. There's some stuff that really matters, some that sort of matters and some that doesn't. There's various things, beside the obvious, that is up for discussion in certain circles, and doesn't even exist in others. My colleagues know I had a couple of days off recently, but they don't know that I spent them in Ireland, or indeed what I was doing there. Why? They don't need to know. I was on tour because I like going on tour, it's one of the things that I do, but I do it for me, not so I can discuss it with everyone. There's a bunch of people who I spend a lot of time around, almost none of whom have ever seen me cook meat (despite lots of seeing me cook), but almost all of whom have been out in restaurants where I've eaten meat, or seen me scavenge meaty leftovers off someone else's plate for that matter. Being thought to be vegetarian or not is of no importance - I'm used to it, and when it comes up I correct them with a weary resignation. I don't remotely care if someone thinks I'm vegetarian, and I don't expect anyone to care about whether I am or not. I only care that someone is telling factually incorrect information about me. And I'm especially bored with that particular one! On the other hand, none of those people have ever knowingly seen me drink alcohol, and it's a damn sight easier to go along with the assumed no alcohol ever line on the exceptionally rare occasion the subject arises. Because I just can't be arsed to explain that I do in fact have the odd glass, and infrequent bottle of wine at home, but I'm not in the habit of drinking outside my home (*with certain sparkly special occasion exceptions) because I'm usually driving, and no, that means I don't have a medical condition that prevents me from drinking, and yes, I never started drinking when my friends did for a variety of reasons, all of which are still my own business, and no, thanks for asking I really don't want a beer right now, and that's right, it's certainly not a religious thing, and so on and on and on. I don't feel sidelined, marginalised or left out. I do feel left to get on with whatever else I'm doing without feeling forced to justify it, and that's the way I like it.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

The Word Is...

Verifiable. I've had enough of the spamming muppetry, so to add a comment you'll now have to make a slightly greater effort to leave your comments. All comments are greatly appreciated - it makes a big difference, whether it's having my views challenged and having to be certain that what I've said is what I really meant, or finding that someone else sees something in a way that gives me a change of perspective. Thank you.

Friday, August 26, 2005

On Which Note...

To continue from the previous post and comments, it goes something like this... The me I feel like when I'm fully dressed and made up is a me I can't quite get to dressed as a bloke. If I could, the whole TV thing just wouldn't be required. There's a whole load of theories about exactly where that sort of stuff begins, and as ever I have my own take on it. Which only means I know myself and where I come from better than anybody else - it's virtually certain that what applies to me does not apply to anyone else in exactly the same way. But it's definitely not about an outfit that Vivienne Westwood and Barbara Cartland would consider a bit over the top. It's just about how I feel about myself. Last week I was out almost every night, with people I consider good friends of mine and who know me pretty well, wearing more make up as the 'normal' me than ever, especially having never worn make up around those people. And I've bought a skirt in the same way thousands of women buy bloke clothes every day. As far as I'm concerned, that puts me closer to the middle ground between the two halves of my wardrobe than I've ever found myself yet. And while I'm not yet at the point where I don't even think about it, it's now mostly a case of think about it, do it, and bollocks to anybody who might have anything to say about it. Those same friends (and many others) may still be under the impression that I don't drink alcohol - and I've blogged enough about my occasional drinking that you shouldn't be in any doubt whatsoever - but I already spend enough time telling people I'm not vegetarian either, despite the firmly held views of people who really ought to know better. While I have failed to make my point sufficiently clear at times, I've never said anything that isn't the truth here. It's not skirt or trousers? in the same simple way it could be brown trainers or black trainers?, and it probably never will be. But it is now a choice of several skirts of varying styles rather than the only skirt there is. In fact, I probably need to stop buying skirts for a while. As for my most recent houseguest, I'm guilty of being taken by surprise that someone on the end of a twelve hour working day could go on to talk about work in great depth for another three hours. It's only work, after all. But we're not the same people we were when we were 11 or 16, and neither should we be. And while it's a bittersweet thing to find my oldest friend and I don't have a huge amount other than history in common, what it has done is remind me about other current relationships which have much more left in them, and to which I should devote more time and attention. There has to be an upside. And I'm finding plenty at the moment. Which is why it matters to try and explain whatever progress I can see to my friends (which includes all my readers) where I know they may not immediately see it for themselves.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Show And Tell? Don't Ask!

I mentioned before that I was facing the prospect of non-aware houseguests. The first has been and gone, and in the mix of late nights home from gigs and not being hugely busy beyond drinking tea, it never came up. But it occurred to me at some point on my travels that it would be just as likely or probably more so that we might be having the 'why do you have eight bottles of wine in your kitchen when you don't ever drink alcohol ever?' conversation as the 'whose make up is all this then?' one.

And I should note that having previously been instructed that I should try Guinness in Dublin, this time I did so. So that's another thing I don't need to do again.

Recent weeks have see the office 'Summer Party' (read 'fancy minimalist meal and truckloads of booze') take place. I wasn't there for a number of reasons, but looking at the photos circulating around the office, I'm torn between wishing I'd had the opportunity to put on a nice frock and go out for the evening again, and feeling that in terms of coming out to colleagues, it ain't ever gonna happen in this job. And I like this job and I have no plans to go anywhere.

More than anything, it makes me feel that whatever emotional fallout came with it, I'm really glad I did take the S***y opportunity when it came up. And I can say that whatever difficulties that involved, it was infinitely easier than doing it in trousers which simply wouldn't have been possible.

As for my houseguest arriving today, well we've only seen each other once in about the last ten years, so I rather think we'll have plenty to talk about already.


Tuesday, August 23, 2005

North/South Divides

I wanted to mention this before I forget. I'm entirely familiar with the N/S divide in the country I come from, and I've got a pretty good idea how that concept sits in the country where I live. So I suppose it should not really have been a surprise, but all the same I wasn't quite expecting what I saw either. Last week I took a bus from Dublin to Belfast, and one going the other way the following day. I'm on record as saying I don't have a lot of time for the pursuit of nationhood, and I find it difficult to accept that a lot of the stuff the human race has done as one nation to another has been mutually beneficial in equal measure, so my reaction would be rather predictable. Seeing nothing to specifically mark the border, the first point I remembered that there was a border was seeing a number of money changed here signs, and the speed limit signs changing between kilometres and miles per hour. And the clusters of flags on lamp posts, and the political slogans and notices at the side of the road. And in a curious quirk of timing, the fact I was able to make that journey without a more intrusive border presence has plenty to do with Mo Mowlam, whose work in banging heads together and making people compromise should not be forgotten. Cheers Mo!

Miles Away (In Facts And Mostly Figures)

I know, I haven't been updating this quite as regularly as usual. Here's why...

* tuesday, fly to Dublin, bus to Belfast, gig in Belfast * wednesday, bus to Dublin, gig in Dublin * thursday, fly home, go to work for the afternoon * friday, work and drive to the midlands for gig in Dudley, drive home again * saturday, drive to Devon for all day festival gig, drive home again * sunday, drive to Kingston for gig, drive home again

In summary, that makes for six days spent doing a mere 750 miles of driving, eight hours on a bus, seven airport/flight hours, five gigs in three countries, and only two and a half days off my annual leave allocation. But while I could theoretically fit in ten weeks like that over the course of the year, thankfully touring bands' schedules don't make that quite so possible.

I've just worked out that the travel, the accommmodation, and the tickets where I bought one all add up to just over two hundred quid, less if you take off the petrol money from a friend whom I drove some of the way. And the beauty of the driving home again is that I'm nowhere near as sleep-deprived as I might otherwise be, though I'm still a little tired.

But crucially, I had a bloody good time, saw a load of my friends, some interesting places and some great shows. And I can't think of much more I could have asked for, although the urge to buy pretty shoes seems to be stirring again!


Thursday, August 18, 2005

Home Again

Well that was fun. I'm now just clinging on to wakefulness - I was crossing the Liffey in lovely grim rain at a quarter to seven this morning after about three hours' sleep, flew home via a little airport shopping to get collected and delivered home. Didn't trust myself to try and catch up on half an hour's sleep and still get up again, so I went to work for the afternoon in a fairly sleep-deprived state. Tonight's my only night at home before monday, and I have plenty to do. On which note, I have a minor quandary. Over the next week I shall have a couple of houseguests - and nobody's stayed with me since I moved here. I don't like feeling I should tidy all my make up and clothes out of the way, and I'm not going to a lot of effort to hide absolutely everything. But I'm still not sure it's a conversation I'm desperate to have. Especially with my second guest next week, someone I first met at school about twenty four years ago. Ah, we'll see what happens...

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

This Is Rock N Roll

Got up, flew to another country, jumped on a coach to a third country and found a bunch of my friends in a pub. Lots of pub time, sausage and chips, return to hotel room and watched Mastermind for a brief respite from the endless hedonism. Saw my favourite band, watched a three piece drums/double bass/acoustic guitar doing groovy jazz/skiffle covers of popular songs, and now it's time for bed.

This is the life, but sweet crikey it's tiring!


Sunday, August 14, 2005

Home, Home On The Range

I was talking about a pleasant hour's seaside walk I had on tuesday, back where I come from - this is where I was. It's one of my favourite places, and close to my heart for a number of different reasons, to the point that I've half an idea it's somewhere I'd like my ashes scattered.
Hengistbury Head long view, facing east.
And from shore level.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Picking Up The Pieces

This evening I've had a good half an hour on the phone with someone. It's funny that it was helped by the fact I'm tired enough to react by picking up the phone rather than stopping to think things through, but now I feel utterly shattered. The dust has settled enough in the meantime that the conversation revisited the whole Savoy experience, but talking about it still had me in tears. I could never have predicted that the effect, both on the day and subsequently, would have been as extreme as it has. For all the occasion meant to me at the time, if I'd known then what I know now, I would certainly have thought twice. There's a lot of stuff that's come with hindsight that I really wish I'd realised at the time, and there's undoubtedly more to come on this subject. While it's ironically amusing that my -ism is somewhat underpinned by various difficulties in relating to people, it makes it doubly frustrating that those same difficulties have complicated my relationships with a group of people I'd fooled myself I was communicating with. So where does this leave me? After twenty-odd years where I never found the outlet to take the subject out of the back of the wardrobe, never mind discuss freely, I'm not prepared to turn away from the best thing that's ever happened to me on that front, even if I'm acutely aware that I still have a whole load of making up to do. But for now, I need to sleep.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Hoist By My Own Petard

Yeah I know, you may have seen. But I'm taking it as a good sign that my intention of appearing a bit less uptight, highly strung and generally difficult is having the desired effect if someone unhesitatingly takes the opportunity to gently tease me when I make what Eugene Big Brother would undoubtedly call a 'schoolboy error'. It's a fair cop, and I asked for that. Possibly in more ways than I may have realised at the time.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

At Home I'm A Tourist

What a great day! Only my second visit in over three months to my 'home' town, and possibly the first time I've had time to spare there on a sunny august day in a number of years. And so for once I saw it a bit more through a visitor's eyes, and even had time for an hour of my favourite seaside walking.

It's been suggested that the past is no place to live, and I'm happy to agree, but for once it was merely a warm feeling of recognition coming round familiar corners and being confronted by certain places. And it is a good sign that if it happens at all now, it's entirely by chance rather than by design.

I saw a heron on the way there, and had what I took to be a roe deer fawn emerge from a hedge in the middle of nowhere on my way home. Even late at night after a long day, I'm pleased to report my reflexes work, and I was in no danger of killing Bambi once Bambi had decided that racing across the road in front of me was not a good idea,

It took me less than a minute to remove the offending component from my bike wheel, and the football was good for its own sake, but while that's undoubtedly evidence for the Y chromosome prosecution, it's not all one way. I had to visit a friend of mine who is a motor mechanic with his own business to sort out the wheel problem. As is traditionally the case for such environments, the garage and workshop have a number of trade calendars featuring big glossy pictures of women wearing 'too much make up and nowhere near enough clothes' for my taste. I've nothing at all to say about people earning a living in any way that suits them, but if I end up in front of one of those pictures, my only thoughts are along the lines of 'that lip colour looks a little ill-advised, but I *do* like those shoes'.

In other news, I like the idea of having my myvirtualmodel on more obvious display, and from a certain suspended belief perspective I'm still happy with the likeness, but I'm not sure I want it attached to every comment I leave on any other blog, so I'm going to do something about that later.


Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Customer Service - whassat?

On two different fronts, I feel an outbreak of warth in the near future, and like Vesuvius, I'm incapable of mild warth, which is one of the reasons why generally my warth levels are pretty low. On one front, there's absolutely nothing I can do except accept that the bargain deal I got was not quite the bargain it seemed at the time due to the use of the cheapest possible component in a rather crucial place, which is somewhat ill-advised. A proper component I could just have whipped off, even if it may have required getting yet another toy for the toolbox, and I have a replacement component sat here ready to use. But I can't do that as the extra fifty pence a proper component would cost was saved, and the one fitted is non-removable, except under destructively brute force. The replacement part I shall fit tomorrow (once I've destroyed this one to get it off) cost about eight quid. So it's a really, really dumb way to ensure a complete lack of repeat business at any point. And on the other front, I shall be needing the season ticket I paid for months ago but am unable to collect in person until it is required tomorrow, so I shall be queueing in the grand old traditional style, ready to get very, very cross indeed if the difficulties I have been led to expect do materialise. That's right, it's the start of the football season and that heady mix of despair and heartbreak shot through with occasional fleeting glimpses of virtually unfulfillable hope will be giving my blood pressure levels a thorough workout once again. In other news, I have reason to be gently pleased about something (the details of which will remain undisclosed), but it's important enough for me to note the fact. There's always good news somewhere!

Sunday, August 07, 2005

In Vino Veritas

Last night I told someone. Not someone where it would really matter if there was an adverse reaction, but all the same there's still a tiny risk involved. So it's always lovely to find that somebody sober can take what somebody drunk is saying and deal with it. By the time that bottle was empty, we were discussing forthcoming shopping possibilities, and I was offering my brush and applicator wielding skills for a mildly important social occasion in the near future. To say nothing of trying to talk myself into making a sparkly appearance somewhere I would love to do so but would have considered it unthinkable until pretty recently. It's been a little while since I told somebody new, but with a single scenario-specific exception, it only ever gets easier. And that's nothing to do with wine consumption. Since I last posted here, I've made a small change of the turning over a new leaf sort. One of the benefits of being away over the last couple of weeks is that I've had some time and space away from this machine which helps as I can easily overthink and overtalk things sometimes. And that can make me hard to be around, and not a lot of fun. While I can't undo what's already done, I hope to try and follow some new improved sparkly me resolutions as follows. * to lighten up a bit * to be a bit more fearless about sparkly going out * to do more in person sparkly shopping (and less on the web)

Friday, August 05, 2005

A Slow Return to Sparklitude

After my first day back at work, a very long bath and a few glasses of wine were just the thing. Even if there's piles of washing everywhere, three big bags of gear still in the boot of the car and a few hours worth of putting stuff away and tidying the house in my near future.

The temptation to spend money on sparkly things lost out to the opportunity to buy in a small stock of chocolate of the not largely vegetable fats variety, and the ferry's limited choice of sparkly options was ignored in favour of a great deal on half a dozen bottles of a particular wine which is no stranger to my local bottle bank. An especially easy choice in the sure and certain knowledge I'll be in an airport I know to have a far greater selection of sparkly wonders in the next couple of weeks anyway.

It may have helped ensure a full night's sleep, but even that small quantity of wine on a school night when I'm already a little sleep deprived is not a habit for the long term. But after the sparkly privations of the better part of two weeks under canvas, facing a weekend largely to myself with no real need to go anywhere, I feel some industrial strength sparkling and a new outfit coming on while I wait for my fingernails to regain their normal length.


Thursday, August 04, 2005

So Good To Be Back Home Again

Just got in, after barely 700 miles of motorways today.

Now winding down over a cup of tea, this isn't really to say much more than that some days I really love my life, and tuesday 2nd august was definitely one of those.

I've had a great time, but I'm pleased to come back home. I spent one day reading in the sunshine, and otherwise I've been working hard to get the most out of the trip and in giving my muscles a bit of work, maybe I've given my thinking muscle a bit of a break.

Whatever, I feel good. I hope the same is true for you.


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