|This is, in fact, the laptop I'm working on. Okay, not|
exactly but one very much like it.
Anyway, the laptop is now safe from snooping again and I am free to access sites and what not. I'm mulling over the issues at Rachel's Haven too. As I'll explain later I'm not cash-rich but... As part of a community there are certain obligations. I don't have long and they need the support.
Also there are people who are more in need than I. People who need support and sympathy and the like far more than me. I shall be moaning, be aware, but if you'd prefer not to wade through it then find some way of helping lovely people like Leslie, Elle and Steffi - who appear to be having times of things. Different reasons and different depths, but still in need of support and knowing how awesome they are. For real or no, I'm not in a position to give that support, perhaps you are?
Now the big questions are all money related. It seems that I can't ever get a financial safety net up and running these days enough to invest in stuff. Back in the day, before I had a mortgage, I was saving about £400 to £600 a month from my wage packet. After my car exploded and I had a mortgage and Tilly had moved in I was managing £800 a month, but this was spent on our wedding. Now... Now we're about a grand short each year. This means I have to take extra marking on each year. Last year, as I've said on here before, I was about a grand down on the finances after earning about a grand that way. This year I decided to take on two sets of external marking and not go mad during the summer. We have reined in our spending considerably and looked set to gain about £800 in the year. Ha!
My car failed a whole bunch of stuff on the MOT and set us back nearly a full thousand pounds. We're in the black at the end of the year still, but only by removing day trips and replacing them with park visits and free museums. Also, we've had to dial back on visiting friends that I haven't seen for a few years and simply avoid eating out. It sucks. I'm also mulling spending about £7 on Pet Shop Boys digital tracks. I could buy the CDs but they won't arrive before we go on holiday on Friday. Oh noes! First World Issues! Wouldn't be so bad but I'm also stressing about a whole host of other things.
The first of these is sleeping with the Boy. I've waxed lyrical about the parenting choices being made by both Tilly and I before. However, they were made with a number of provisos, including ones about me getting enough done work-wise. I can't complain about lack of time for work. Or rather, I find it harder to justify because Tilly makes a point of 'giving me time'. I mean, it doesn't matter if I'm not in the mood to work when there's time or in the mood when there isn't (say I fancy working on a Tuesday but we've arranged for me to work on the Wednesday for example), I have been given the time and so Tilly makes it clear that I cannot complain about lack of time. I guess I defence-mechanism (can I neologise that into a verb?) and tell myself that I can't really complain when what I mean is that I want to complain very much. Digression. Point is, if the Boy naps then I can kiss goodbye to an evening. From about 4pm childcare is down to me for both offspring until the daughter sleeps (around 7pm) and then with the Boy until he sleeps. This is usually around 8pm but he's napped a few times and then all bets are off - it can be as late as 10pm.
We have a holiday coming up with my father and my brother. Neither of them, nor their respective spouses, share our ideas on parenting nor our rhythms. They are very much mainstream. Now, if that were all, that would be fine. But it isn't. They find it quite alright to criticise, and I mean criticise, what we do. I do not criticise them. Not even my father. My brother is also a parent. But they find it quite alright to judge what we have chosen to do. Inevitably the Boy will nap on holiday and inevitably I will be out of action for much of the evening. Inevitably they will judge us for that. And I'm not very good at being judged. I get angry and frustrated. I have an urge to conform and I have an urge to please others. It's not pretty. I'm not looking forward to it.
Then there's my work. I've managed to organise my room properly, only took four years to get round to it, and even got started printing shit for the first few weeks. Nice. But there's so much more to do. And, as usual when faced with lots of stuff, I have avoided it. I don't work terribly well when there's a deadline and shitloads where I don't even know where to start. In the old days I could simply stare at it for four weeks then do something about it. I no longer have that luxury. And I seem incapable of change. So, expect moaning from me about support programmes and workplace unfairness well into the new year.
Then there's my stash. I should explain. In an effort to keep things private I've been storing images and captions and stuff, especially the things that people have gone to the time and trouble to make for me, on a particular memory stick. It was an old one, dating from 2004, and a small one. In this way I could be reasonably certain that no one would go snooping on it. Well, it died and with it has gone pretty much all my images and stories. Most of them I'm sure I can find again online or in my e-mails but there were three of me en femme taken by Catherine. I'm not sure, given my wife's proclivities, whether I can ask for another copy of these, I'd done a good job of removing them from everywhere else. I didn't even know I was attached to them if I'm honest, such is the way of things.
What follows is some random musing on stuff that's... well, not my usual league. It gets pretty personal. I've included what I hope is a break so you don't have to read on if you don't want to.
My rash decision to chuck out my wardrobe is another one of these things. I've gained nothing from it in terms of anything from Tilly and it hasn't made the compulsion to dress any less insistent. It's shifted it though, I've always been rather fascinated with nappies and infantilism (before I knew it had a name - there are references to this as early as 1998 in my coded diary), and so I've been looking at that.
Looking up Tena Lady and stuff like that, no, I have no clue why it should be feminine nappies either. It did mean, as I posted last time, that I managed to find a sample pack of tampons and try one of those for all of about thirty seconds. I have no idea what I was hoping to get out of that experience except chalking up that I've done it. Back when I went for the psychotherapy gubbins the bloke suggested that I was obsessed by differences rather than fetishising the clothing - something about the fact that I was unable to recall with clarity what I last wore when cross-dressed. In fairness, I did get confused, but that's because I fear getting things wrong I think rather than a lack of caring what I'm wearing. I've already said that the lack of sexual fantasies was less a reflection of the fact that I have none and more a reflection on my nervousness with a stranger. I digress.
The sample pack also contained sanitary towels. I ran out of boxer shorts on Monday and so I wore knickers (yellow, as it happens: my favourite feminine colour) and a sanitary towel. Why? God only knows, because I don't. It had two effects:
1. My butt didn't itch like it normally does all the gorram time, which was nice and
2. The knickers didn't keep spilling my junk.
They turned out to be pretty absorbent too (yes, I tested that, but while on an actual toilet). Again, I have no idea why and won't judge you if you didn't wish to know that. I'm not sure I do either.
I have long had a fascination for wetting oneself and losing control somehow. I know better authors than I have already considered such things as hypnotism being the 'magic pill' required to remove guilt from compulsions. There is something about 'losing control' that appeals in that way. That, if one were forced to carry out compulsions and desires then one can no longer be held fully responsible for the acts associated with it. It's certainly why I have been interested in forced feminisation and hypnosis. It's also why I started looking at the relevant story links in fictionmania and what drew me to mcstories. In that sense it is pretty clear where this urge to infantilise has come from - if one were treated that way then the choice, the blame, would be removed. I realise that this is as much fantasy as anything else, in the final reckoning I would have to take responsibility for my actions. Following orders didn't work for the SS in the Camps and it won't work for a cross-dresser who'd love to know what it felt like to wet himself either.
Okay, and now Blogger has done that stupid thing where I can't add captions to the images. I think it's telling me to stop typing. Bastard.