Journal Entries
There seems...
Posted Nov 25, 2007
to be a lot of palava going on about this site lately. Edited Guide, Alternative Writing, Underguide, etc etc
One crowd is telling us if we don't all write an entry a month and get the Edited Guide a bit of fresh blood in the BBC will have to shut the site down, so like a good little H2-er I've shifted myself and written (together with another H2-er, who's a student doctor, and therefore has the "right" sort of knowledge I need) a subjective account of the medical procedure I had a couple of weeks ago.
Its not going to set the world alight, but I guess it shows willing.
But it also confirms to me just how complicated it all is. If I could just write a "Guide" in nice simple English, put it into Peer Review, listen to the feedback and alter it if necessary, well and good. But no. The "Edited Guides" have to be written to a formula of sorts, and also - and this is my biggest gripe in HMTL, which I know without my co-author I wouldn't have a clue as to how to go about.
The procedure is complicated, as well; so far, we're at the "Here's my version, see what you think and do any alterations you think we'll need" bit, and I've got test pages and duplicate entries coming out of my ears already.
I've been a member of this site for over 4 years - getting into the Guide (which isn't a big ambition of mine, I admit, but I've contributed poems and hopefully fairly entertaining journal entried, and taken part on conversations when I've felt I've had anything worthwhile to contribute) is like finding the Holy ruddy Grail
I've found the instructions, such as they are, complicated to say the least, the mysteries of HTML inponderable, and when I have looked at Peer Review, there's lots and lots of humourless comments, which invariably degenerates into splitting into factions as to where a comma should go. There is no guidence as to once an entry has been OK'd - or the author gives up in despair and their entry goes to the Flea Market - as to What to Do Next.
There seems to be a clique in every official bit of this Site - and obviously, the charactor of each clique permeates the style and type of entries - The Alternitive Writing Crowd go for abstract but possibly beautifully written prose, which I'm afraid bores the nadgers off've me (I can recognise "good" writing, but I don't have to enjoy it, after all), The Edited Guide Crowd tend to be terribly serious, earnest and devoid of fun. Anything remotely levitous or skewed in presentation gets so much tut-tut-tutting so doesn't surprise methere's loads in Flea Market and few people contribute generally.
- Someone cited SWL as a good example of how to write excellent entries on non mainstream subjects (Mellified Man and How to Skina Cat, are just two that come to mind) He writes incrediably good entries about amazing subjects - but then, he also was a jouralist, so he knows how to play the writing game; not many of us on this site *are professional writers, or have been, either. Most of us are wannabes with pretentions toward writing. Or in some cases, editing and non constructive critisism.
Then there's Subs, Miners, Scouts Aces, and probably a group representing little green pixies for all I know.
More committees, more little clubs...and inevitably more little cliques, as similar mindset meets and recognises similar mindsets.
I thought Douglas Adams description of his own HitchHikers Guide to the Galaxy says something to the effect that the guide may well be confused, inaccurate or at the least wildly apocryphical, it has the advantage over its nearest arrival in that it has the words "Don't Panic" in large friendly letters on its cover, and, two, it is cheaper.
My own intereptation of that is that it's a Fun Guide. It doesn't have to be boringly encyclopedic - there's plenty of "serious" entries, and very interesting some of them are, too. But there're loads of em that...well... probably beautifuly researched, but ..sorry lads... I reckon they're boring. I can feel myself propping my eyelids up, hoping against hope I can get to the end of the entry so I can -possibly -be educated, or even, make an intelligent comment. I don't expect to find *every subject interesting, but come on!
But they're written to the correct formula, the authors can write in HTML.
They also seem to know their way around the site - which is more than I do.
A site map might be a good idea - something nice and simple, that doesn't assume that we're all into committees, formulae and want to belong to clubs or societies.
Why arn't there more entries such as the excellent "Retread; the desparate cigarette A6671973? Its a scenario that all smokers and ex smokers can relate to, and even if you arn't a smoker, it certainly gives you an insight into a nicotine addicts' mind set.
Plus, it's fun.
This is becoming a Geeks site for Geeks. Its not much fun any more. I chat to a few friends mainly, and go to the Meets (and they're far less well attended now than they used to be, which is a shame, because actually they're quite good fun)
Now one I could possibly remedy - I *could learn HTML, but do I really want to? The answer is No - I've got better things to do.
I suppose I *could contribute more to the Conversation and Debate threads - but invariably we all go over the same tired old grounds, and the debate becomes predictable. Sorry, I can't be arsed.
Given the fact that most of this is a moan, with one constructive suggestion, perhaps its time I took a break from H2? It's an internet site, is all; it's not a large part of my life. I utilise the journal spaces, mainly for my own benefit - it's always a bonus if anyone replies. I'll dip into the conversations; it's nice to see how people live, how people think. Its pleasant to witness complete strangers triumphs and failiures, hopes, thoughts and occasionally shattered dreams. H2 is my own private little soap opera with charactors I'm interested in.
But if I were asked "is it so important to you that you'd learn HTML and submit an entry every month in order to keep it going" my answer would be a firm No.
I'd willingly pay a fiver a month subs to keep it going independently though.
Discuss this Journal entry [27]
Latest reply: Nov 25, 2007
Stuff Generally
Posted Nov 9, 2007
B*gger me, what a way to start my 2nd half century
Well, not quite yet, but near enough.
Frankly, I'm scared rigid. Not because I'm hitting 50 - though that in itself is a bit of a biggie. Not because for some reasen that one day I'll no doubt justify I've somehow gone along with the students at the Hairdressing college rescuing my hair dye failiure - though it looked effing superbe when it was done, two shades of auburn and a blonde streak, by turning the whole lot a sort of Sharon Osborne Red.
Apparently I have non porous hair; which is in one way great, because its strong and smooth and "good" hair. In another it's a tad of a nuisence - it also means that my hair won't accept dye -unless the colour is bleached out, the hair quality down graded and then re coloured.
Anyway, I'm Sharon Osborne Red and thats an end to it. I didn't set out to write about the colour of my hair.
I set out to write about my fears.
Yes... I'm 50 this week(ish) I've a party that very few are coming to, not because I don't know people, but the people I know have lives, and their own dramas and loads of them can't come. Hopefully the few that are coming will bring friends, or we'll abscond people from off the street to join in, because I want to rock, not celebrate reservedly and politely.
As I type this, I'm hearing The Stones, Led Zep, Deep Purple, Dr Feelgood blaring out the speakers; a mix that Wendy downloaded for me, in one of her brief visits to reality. She's finding life without her husband very complicated, very hard. She's either suicidal _ I spent Monday Night over at hers, with her sleeping tablets under my pillow, "just incase" - or up in the clouds; she hasn't found a balance yet from her grief.
I know how she feels - it took me the best part of 2 years to find the will to live after Smirnoff and I split, and frankly, even nearly 4 years on, I can safely say there isn't a day I don't wish I could be with him. The fact that he doesn't think of me as anything other than an understanding ex lover and all round Good Egg, who copes wonderfully, and all the rest of it is neither here nor there. I want, and he doesn't. I'll respect the decision, I'll not pester. But the feeling is still there.
So I know how Wendy might feel. Life has some lumps that are just very very difficult to want to chew. Some are just plain indigestable. And some could be solved, if only I had closure; an explanation, an acknowledgment. for all I know, he feels the same and lacks the courage to speak out. But he's scared or indifferent, or oblivious, and I won't give him pressure.
Ah well. I digress.
Whats new?
No, whats really worrying me is this forthcoming examination I have up in Whitechapel It involves a hell of a lot of tests, all involving my backside; I've finally had to face the absolute horror (to me) of rectal examinations, to findout whats obstructing the lower bowel, and causing me severe problems "generally"
Which is odd, because I can flash my female bits around to any medico you care to name,discuss vaginal problems, hormonal problems, etc etc without so much as a blush. Well, not from my side, anyway. I've made a few doctors blush with my forthrightness and general lack of embarrassment though
Its the down pipe I've hassles with. The thought of being medically examined "there" makes me heave. Not because I'm embarrassed about crapping, or any prissy ideas. (Show me anyone who doesn't use the downpipe for evacuation, and I'll introduce you to someone full of sh*te)
It's because I've got to lie on my left side *WITH MY BACK TO THEM* to be examined; I can't see what they're doing. I can't control my environment.
No big deal, till you learn I was anally raped years ago - by a long ago partner, who I trusted implicity, up until then. It bloody hurt, I was in pain, I bled for days afterwards, and I couldn't face pressing charges, nor getting checked up medically. Its about the only time I ever hid from a situation, as well. And I've hidden from it quite well for about 25 years; but I can't continue to pretend the end results, if you'll pardon the pun , don't affect the quality of my life.
Whatever damage was done is interfering with the basic simple stuff in life like digesting food and eliminating it, and I can't adapt much more than I have done, out of habit for very much longer. It's time to face the final horror, and frankly I'm dreading it. If I was under sedation, then yeah, I could cope. I don't have to know whats been done, merely wince and make a joke, ask for pain relief and put on a brave front.
This time I simply don't have that luxury
I am also weary of not being able to trust any partner totally since. God knows, I wanted to trust Smirnoff, I really tried hard; I could cope with the "normal" rapes, (I've had more councelling for child sexual abuse and adult traumas than you really would want to know about. Honestly.) and was getting over them with his help and understanding. But he ran off thru some totally unrelated thing *he couldn't cope with, and I haven't really had the heart, or the desire to even try to learn to trust anyone much really.
In one way, it's bearable. No intimacy, no danger, no fear.
In the other, it's unbearable. No closeness, no desire, no feeling.
I must admit, when I read of what's referred to between hetrosexual couples as "botty fun" here, I've physically heaved; but I reckon whatever floats your boat is OK for you - just please, don't expect me to join in; and that's fair enough I reckon. Homosexual activities don't worry me atall. It's an informed choiice, it makes them happy, an frankly, since thats 50% of the orifices availiable, then I can't see a problem. Blunt, possibly simplistic but hopefully acceptable.
But no matter how I try to be impartial or detatched or reasonable, no matter how much I tell myself it's all in the past, it was a one off, they're trained professional medical bods, etcetera etcetera and once they've had a clamber around with their horrible robotic instruments to measure muscular tone, structure and state, it's pretty unlikely I'll ever have to go thru another diagonstic again.
Beause I know from previous (abortive manual) examinations it hurts like hell - not because I can''t force myself to physically relax and breath deeply, but because whatever it it that's causing me the grief (bunched up scar tissue?) is so sodding painful that I yell as soon as they get within "looking distance" And believe you me, I'm pretty tough, with a pain threshold that's high enough not to ask for even gas thru out childbirth - and that's pretty tough.
And what's even worse is that I have to adopt a passive feotal position. I don't have the comfort of being able to defend myself/hit out/run.
I have to face being totally defenceless a day after I hit 50. It'll just be for about half an hour. No time really. Not in the scheme of things generally.
The two facts are totally unrelated.
I can face the latter, and I have Wendy to come with me to the hospital there and back for the former. No doubt there will be retail therapy and a lot of distraction on the day too. After all, its only half an hour or so and with a bit of luck they'll be able to fix the down pipe without recourse to anything complicated. Eventually. The oporation and recovery period will be ...erm... challenging and slightly musical hall in its connatations (A bum deal ho ho ho) but I've coped with worse. More or less.
I don't fear some dire diagnosis. It's damage that needs repairing as far as I'm concerned, not a disease I need to worry about. And if its a disease, then I can learn about it, and come to terms and fight it.
But by gawd, I fear my own unresolved reactions enough to discuss them at long last, firstly privately with close friends, (and that took some doing, believe me) and finally in this entry.
I'd welcome sensible feedback, if anyone wants to offer it- but until I've got the hang of it, no jokes please? Not right now, anyway.
And no ever so "there there there" - I don't want platitudes thanks, I shall growl and probably regret it later.
A hug is lovely, but it's no practical use. But feel free to hug. I probably need a hug if I'm honest.
I need someone to offer me a different sense of proportion, or a coherant idea to work with. I'm tired of being told I can cope, and I'll be alright. Even superhumans have their vulnerabilities, and although some see me as bloody superwoman, I've never been stupid enough to believe I look good with my bra and knickers over my vest and tights.
I probably will be alright, when push comes to shove, It doesn't alter the fact that right now I don't know how to be.
And now the big question I've been putting off.
Do I post this?
Discuss this Journal entry [17]
Latest reply: Nov 9, 2007
Autumn Meet 2007 London
Posted Oct 22, 2007
It was a small meet; small and beautifully formed though and a pretty good day, once I'd got to Victoria on the 9.10 coach. Having said that, it took me a mere 2 hours
to get from Victoria to Temple, what with queueing for one of those magic Zones 1 and 2 cards, and 
well, OK, I admit it, losing Somerset House.
Once I'd found it, then of course, there was the Mystery of the Missing Entrance to solve; filming was taking place, and I was sent from one entrance to another for the best part of three quarters of an hour.
It was all a tad frustrating.
Finally, in desparation I texted MMF, who finally got back to me - no fault of his, my phone was set to silent, and I'm jiggered if I know how to get it to noisy - and gave Evade proof instructions as to how to find him and Bald Bloke, who were waiting for the rest of us to arrive, on the terrace, sipping leisurely cups of coffee.
I eventually got there, said the helloes and settled down to a well earned beverage and chatted until GB and Wilma arrived a little later on.
Somerset House is pretty damned impressive; plenty to look at and exclaim upon, and we aimed for the Josephine Bonapart collection - a showpiece of the house Napoleon gave to her upon their divorce (she couldn't have children with him, and he needed to found a dynasty) called Malmaison.
There were lots and lots of gold plated platters, one of her dresses, a muslin creation heavilly embroidered with gold thread, and a pair of her slippers - about a size 3 narrow fit. Obviously a very small, slender lady. I think I'd have disliked her on principal
But she was a big patroness of the Arts for all that, and the exhibition, although small, had plenty to occupy us for a while.
We adjourned for another coffee, shared a lancashire tea loaf and did the obligatory photo thingy, as you do, and then slowly meandered around town, where we got sidetracked by an incongruously old building, which turned out to be the site of John of Gaunt's properties, which were trashed during the Peasants Revolt 'way way back. Its now the current Queen's personal chapel, but she wasn't there when we called. Another time, maybe?
We then meandered over to St Clement's Church, which has some delightful archtectural features, and the Curate was an enthusiastic guide. I wasn't overly gone on Gibb's designs personally, but I could have stood and gazed for hours at the modern (well, post WW2, so fairly modern) stained glass windows - such wonderful colours to lose myself in
Sadly, we had to say our goodbyes to Wilma early
but hopefully we'll see other other again at future meets. A lovely lady, in both appearance and personality.
Thats the beauty of these Meets though - there's always someone new there to meet, as well as catching up with the more familiar faces' doings.
TALKING of which, we were expertly navigated thru the labarynths of the Underground and arrived at Holborn to arrive at the Shakespeare's Head where 2 Legs and Roymondo were already supping diligently with Azathoth... so what else could we do but join in? 
Which we did with gusto, and in my case several pints of Bombadier. Oh yes, and GB ad I took advantage of the "2 for £7.99" Meal Deal and mopped some of the beer up with a decent cottage pie. I was good though, and donated the chips served up with it to the common cause.
Mainly Roymondo
It was a great buzz for me to discover us social lepers of smokers out numbered the healthy souls 5 to two - so a lot of the conversations I had took place outside the pub whilst Roy, 2 Legs, Az, Bald Bloke and myself polluted our lungs. When we came back in, we found Radox the Green had arrived all the way from Somerset, so yet another new face to meet
From what I could glean from the resumes so far written, some one else arrived after I'd gone - I'm sorry I missed them, whoever they were.
Sadly (for me, anyway) I had to leave the thong - sorry, throng- around 7.30 in order to catch the last coach home from Victoria, which I *just managed to catch by the skin of my teeth and a sharp rap on the side of the coach with my walking stick 
The Tubes were being a bit mardy this particular weekend, and its really not safe for me to be let loose without "L" and "R" stamped firmly on the appropriate hand at the best of times, let alone after a few pints
So all in all a good day - new faces met, good craic had by all, and a decent ale to round off the day
Here's to the next one
Discuss this Journal entry [20]
Latest reply: Oct 22, 2007
I think I've Discovered.....
Posted Sep 24, 2007
The point of having daughters.
Having given birth to two sons, I've learnt to love, cherish and pull my hair out at their slobbiness around the house, the intermittant flatluence, the constant stream of rather strange appearing friends they've gathered over the years, the beer cans, and the big teenagerly hugs I get given from them when they think their brother isn't looking.
I can see the point of sons - they're someone to argue intelligently with - rather than just screech and cry at,....and 90% of the time my make up is used only by me - as are any nice soaps, bath foams and body lotions. And I've always got a spare pair of stockings that haven't been "borrowed" and returned with ladders in them.
But today I figured out the point of having a daughter or two as well.
I went out with the intent of buying a coat/jackety garment at the local Monsoon; I didn't need one, but it was good price and I liked the look of it; I'd tried it on, on Saturday, wasn't absolutely certain, so decided to try again today; could I find a girlfriend to come with me to give me an honest assessment?
Could I hell as like!
So I went on me jack, and ventured into Monsoon - tried the jackety thing on, and asked the assistant her honest opinion.
I didn't expect to get one, but I was pleasantly surprised; she told me, very politely and tactfully it wasn't really "me"
"Thats the problem with not having daughters" I said "I haven't much of a clue whats right for me in the way of clothes"
She asked a few questions about the sort of stuff I did like, bundled me into the changing room with a basic skirt (which I actually *do need) and proceeded to offer more Trinny and Susannah type advice about "shapes" of clothes, etc etc, than I knew existed
And as I tend towards the hippy, the baggy and occaisionally, the downright eccentric in the way of clothing as a rule, this was all a bit of a revalation
3 Hours
(- I mean... 3 hours!!! I've usually done a full week's food shop, tuned the car up and organised dinners for the month for the freezer in less time than that -)
later I sashayed out of Monsoon with...
A basic, classic skirt (brownish with flecks of bluey green and bronze)
A soft bluey-green tunic that works with the skirt, and will also work with several pairs of trousers I've already got
A jade green top that covers a huge multitude of sins between my bust and backside and makes me look really rather slim from the appropriate angle, which'll work with a lot of other stuff I've already got. It certainly shows off a rather superbe decollage I didn't realise I still possess
A really funky primary blue tunic (linen mixture, if you please!) I can wear over leggings around the house until I pluck up the courage to go out into the streets in it (Herne Bay is not really Haute Couture Central)
And best of all, an absolutely magnificent silk wrap over dress, chocolate brown and teal. The sort of thing you could wear absolutely anywhere, feel fantastic in, and I don't care if Monsoon *don't do bespoke, I'm going to believe it was designed and made for me, because it looks fantastic on. I feel like a million dollars in it.
And it was all down to this little assistant! No hard sell, just enthusiasm, interest and a lot of giggling and fun. A real girly morning, with no pressure, no pointedly looking at watches and absolutely no mention of how boring shops are. Nothing seemed to be too much trouble for her, and every item I tried on I got a professional assessment.
And the cost?
£75.00 for the lot.
Oh. Did I not mention they had a Sale on?
So now I can see why women say they're glad they have daughters.
Its great having sons, but sometimes.....
Well, their enthusiasm for clothes and all things girly, does leave a bit to be desired.
Discuss this Journal entry [4]
Latest reply: Sep 24, 2007
Postcard
Posted Jul 7, 2007
Like most postcards from them whats on holiday, this one arrives after the person has got home
Some things are just too conventional not to do
Well - Cyprus was great - average temperature was in the 40s, apart from the first couple of days that scored a meagre 38 degrees on the heatometer. I went to Nicosia, Kyrenia via Turkish Passport control, up mountains (Cyrprus has lots of them) and swam in the Mediterranean every day.
I scrumped oranges off the trees, helped harvest fresh almonds, had a dabble in Aphrodites Bath (form a queue gentlemen please, apparently, I am now officially and blessedly irristable
and I attracted a large amount of the cats that roam freely around.
The pocketful of carefully purchased Whiskas Munchie Crunchie things may have had something to do with that, tho
I've gone on one of those Jeep Safari trips, and held a Boa Constrictor (OK, it was a little one, but I thought I was pretty brave), fallen over Giant Tortoises, I've been on a couple of day cruises and seen where the Turtles lay their eggs, and discovered a rather good Russian Vodka for under £7.00 a litre. I also investigated Metaxa, a very potent local orange liqueur and decided that Cyprian red wine is rather jolly good, as well
And yes, I got disgustingly tanned
But the highlight was learning the local version of Backgammon one evening, playing it, and finding out afterwards that I'd beaten the local champion, much to his embarrassment, and my complete amazement.
It was brilliant.
I had 11 days of complete and utter relaxation and great fun. Which was just as well, as I had to spend the best part of a week straight after my return staying with, and keeping an eye on The Mother, whilst she had a cataract op.
Its routine enough a thing to have done (albeit scary for the person concerned) but of course, no-one had ever had it as bad as her, nor was anyone else's operation as complicated or dramatic... etc etc. She was in viper mode for most of the time - who the hell did I think *I* was swanning off to Cyprus, I never came to see her, the boys were hopeless and never thought of anyone but themselves, and I'm a rottern daughter. I never do anything for her.
(Slap wrist)
And apparently I didn't like her dog much either.
(Well, at the time, I wasn't particually happy with the animal in question as she had snuck into my room, snaffled my michigan splint that I use to stop me grinding my teeth at nights, and chewed the wretched thing to within an inch of its life - it looked like a dead jelly baby when I discovered it It'll cost over a hundred quid to replace it, which I could well do without!
As I remarked, I couldn't eat a whole one at the best of times, especially particuarlly chewy dogs.
Anyway, the operation was a success, and I left her this morning complaining the sunlight was too bright and why didn't we get *proper* summers like we did when *she was young? (She's 76 btw,not that old, really; at least, I don't consider it to be particually old)
Arrived home to have the door flung open by son number one, (son number two is at work until the early hours) and after a load of hugs from him and the girlfriend, I distributed presents and alcohol and showed off the photoes and all the other stuff you do when you've come back from hollyiers. The house greeted me clean and tidy and organised, the washing machine finally fixed; supper had been cooked for me, and now, sipping some duty free Jack and coke I'm slipping back into the inevitable day to day routine I left 3 weeks ago
On Monday I start saving for my next holiday And organise a serious diet and a manageable exercise regime. There's a lot of me tanned; I'm not complaining about the colour, I'd just prefer an intenser colour on just a tad less body for the next jaunt
Discuss this Journal entry [4]
Latest reply: Jul 7, 2007
Moving On
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