Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Monday, 25 February 2013

A little help

I feel a bit odd asking this. Please note that I have worked hard to keep this blog honest but totally anonymous - there are no links twixt it and my 'real' life beyond me. Indeed, no one that I know from work or family or friends even knows this blog (or my alter-ego on Google+) exists. I say this because of the details that follow. They are, I hope, anonymous enough to maintain this distance. Also, to reassure people given my request.

I think I've mentioned, ad nauseam, the fact that I'm a teacher. Well, I teach at a school that covers 11 to 18 year olds. It turns out that we are to receive a student that is MtF next September and, being in the cross-dressing TG box myself, my ears pricked up and I wanted to be involved.

Now, the rest of this post is probably quite sensitive. If you already feel like you know too much, I won't be offended if you let me know and ask that I put the break below a little higher in the post!


Saturday, 23 February 2013

To this day

Watch the video first. The rest of the post can wait.


I've spoken about this whole thing before, back in 2011 I think, and repeatedly. I have spoken about bullying and about my own feelings of being disconnected. I was a natural victim.

And this video, the one I opened with, makes me cry now. Openly.

Dammit.

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

Narratives and subplots

It is a sad thing to realise that your central narrative rates as little more than a sub-sub-plot of someone else's. That's what happened to me when reading something my mad-ex posted the other day. In it she went through her previous relationships to end on a tribute to her husband. Of course I didn't feature at all, which is fine in one way, but when I think of the tumultuous effect it had on me (check out the posts on her) then I feel a bit short-changed.

I was also going to do something creative tonight, what with Tilly out watching Les Miserables again with the friend she met on NaNo, but so far I have listened to some shit music and... that's it for the last two hours. It's a bit pants even for someone like me who is used to finding nothing to fill time with so that nothing ever gets done. Quite apart from the fact that I could have been doing actual work and thus granting myself some free time to do something when I felt more motivated in the future. Heck, I'm not even taking the opportunity to cross-dress, which is ridiculous considering how little I get to do it.  No, I post something on my other blog from a section of random prose I wrote back in 2005 and then... what?

Then I open powerpoint, of all things, and create... this.


It's a bit... staid? Stereotypical? Pants? They all count.

So, I guess, what would I do to improve this a bit?

Sunday, 17 February 2013

The return of the Mack: this time it's personal!

Yeah, after a bottle of beer or two I'm pretty much
anybody's.
Last night I had a couple of beers and tried very hard to write something useful and worthwhile here. It has been a very long time since I really blogged properly and I spent a good long while staring at the white space of an empty page. When I finally got round to typing anything I was very tipsy and finished with a badly juxtaposed image that I had stolen from another site.

This got me thinking: is it right that I download images from other sites at all? I mean, I know that the copyright issue is fraught to begin with when it comes to captioned images in general, let alone with the TG world, but there is a certain element of creativity in the caption that I think is very much owned by their creators. Quite apart from the moral implications of viewing such images (that isn't the same moral issue for everyone, by the way, just me at this point) and using them to, well, get myself going. It is one thing to do this very much in private, visiting other sites and posting comments now and again, and quite another, I feel, to post someone else's well-crafted caption here.

Pretty much my reaction when I saw the stats that
yesterday's post brought. Mind you, my last post before
that brought the highest level of views too.
Why is this something I'm posting about? Well, the wonderful image that I finished my last post with was from a wonderful creator, to whom I go if I need to get myself going, so to speak, and I posted it because there was no other image for the post and I didn't really want a wall of text to be my returning post. Also there was the fact that it was late and I didn't really want to spend my usual amount of time looking for relevant and helpful images after having failed to write a bunch of reviews about the beer I've drunk since... Actually, since before Christmas and last night. And I got massive amounts of hits. I mean truly massive. Not for the post itself, for the blog. I have never known anything like it - high into three figures! So, I find myself mulling over the moralities of it all.

How I've been feeling, in amongst
the massive exhaustion, about
life lately. I wish I could look
that good in that blouse.
Also, it's been a long absence and, like I said, I find it hard to come back here and post anything very much. I have kept a weather-eye on my usual haunts, keeping up with other people who I find myself listing more and more as people I care about, but have been largely unable to do much else. Since the end of the holidays there has been the inevitable kick-off at work, where my own stupidity led me to spend about two weeks marking everything I had up to date. This doesn't sound like a big deal until you look at the stats. In any case, coupling that with the Boy's fracture, that may not have been a fracture, and several visits to the fracture clinic into the late evening, on top of the marking, and then the recent School Inspection and you have a recipe for me to have been living most of the last three or four weeks almost entirely in my head. Even when I had finished the lion's share of the work on Wednesday night last week I ended up so exhausted that I fell asleep and then there was Thursday and then I fell asleep Friday as well. Last night was the first night that I actually felt awake enough to do, well, anything other than work or sleep.

Not that it's been all unremittingly awful, you understand, just really hard to cope with for someone who has grown somewhat fond of being generally lazy.

Because Tilly like pink roses and I like buying
her flowers.
No, Thursday night was a positive one. I had made my mind up to be a bit romantic with Tilly come what may. So I bought her some Rose wine (can't seem to do accents here); chocolates and some pink roses. I'd already got her a nice card. She was genuinely pleased to receive these in a way that I wasn't expecting. In all honesty, I was expecting the usual response to any romantic gestures of a smile and a worry about what I might want in return. This time she was positive. We had takeout - my choice for a change - and then we settled down to watch a series that I'd got for Christmas from my father. More on that another time.

However, despite the success of the gifts and the romance that even Tilly admitted was present, that was the end of it. We watched on separate chairs and she had her laptop from the beginning. I suggested sitting together and was shot down, politely but firmly, and that has been the way of things. I suppose I shouldn't complain, there have been a few more hugs initiated by Tilly over the last few days than normal, in that there are any hugs initiated by Tilly, and we are talking more. But the strain remains and there is still a gulf of distance to be crossed that I don't see being bridged any time soon.

A look I wish I could pull
off.
On the other fronts: the Boy has been successfully moved back into his bed after his fracture-sparked sojourn in the Big Bed (something about having a nine foot wide bed means we can afford to spread out there, useful when a Boy breaks something) and so Tilly and I ought to share a bed tonight. Of course, this will likely mean nothing - we have separate duvets and pillows and bedding, so it's really more two single beds pushed up against one another but without the reasoning behind it - but the principle is there.

Oh, I'm definitely back, aren't I, really long post of random information!

Right, so, something else. Terri has been posting some of the stories that have touched her in the past and so I thought I'd steal another idea and do the same. Tonight, I shall post about a favourite from a very long time ago, shorter than I remembered it, that really used to make me come back to keep reading over and over again. It wasn't my first story from fictionmania (where else?), as that appears to have completely disappeared (a slightly furry tale of a man being sent to work as a fox, yes you read that correctly, on a farm), and it isn't the best hypnosis story (which I shall post about another time) but it is one that may be of interest. Without further ado: Heart Shaped Box. Enjoy, or not. I do not believe that another part was ever added, which is a shame, I would have liked to see where the story went next. Something about the complexity forced on the central male, and the type of complexity, I've always found to be of interest. I have no idea why that should be the case, but perhaps I am not alone.

Saturday, 16 February 2013

And the cat came back

It's been a mad mad month or so. There was the work pants kicking off, which robbed me of evenings quite effectively for a long time, hence my absence. Then there was the madness of a school inspection - during which I went to bed incredibly late and got up incredibly early.

Now, now I am able to have some time. The School Inspection was long and arduous, I was not observed, despite there being a strong hint that I would be coupled with massive pressure from my boss (asking to see my lesson plans, my lesson resources, my marking and so on, to make sure they were 'outstanding' - this pressure is called 'support') and so I do not even have that to support me going forward. However, I do have In the Thick of It that Tilly and I have watched tonight and on Valentine's Day, which was nice. I have had two beers, count them, two. And I have been back on Google+ with my alter ego and it has felt good.

Because I can and I'm tipsy. Go and see Friedoline's
blog, now now now now own wonw nwonw!
So, now tipsy and feeling feminine I shall post here again, and hope that I shall be back again over the next week or so.

Sunday, 3 February 2013

Unforced Errors

...lead to enforced hiatus.

I called it, happiness always comes before a fall. It's as sure as listening to the drops in dubstep, actually, and mine are pretty damn' big.

Long story short, I am in work-Hell attempting to catch up and fulfill the latest round of demands on my time and person. I'd love to claim that I am hard done to, but we all know the truth by now. If that were the case then, by now, it would all be over and I would be on an even keel. My new manager is not my old and, if they were, then the extra shit must be my fault.

I have not had time to do much of anything - even see my children - over the last week. I have just had to wear my patented hang-dog expression again, because I made a boo boo and can't fix it.

You lovely people have my apologies for the lack of content on here lately and the lack of comments on other blogs. It will be a while yet before I have time again. Heh, I still have a beer I bought for Christmas sitting undrunk in the kitchen.

O me miseram. If I'm using Latin I am being heavily sarcastic.

Right, it's bedtime. There are four lessons need creating from scratch by Wednesday (one by Tuesday); 32 books to mark up to date at half an hour a book for Wednesday; 30 of the same for Friday and another 31 to mark homework for at about five minutes a pop. Oh, and 32 essays at fifteen minutes a pop to do by the end of tomorrow.

And three schemes of work to plan in advance. With full resources and specific homework tasks. By the end of tomorrow.

I spent nine hours marking 32 books this weekend and eight hours making six lessons from scratch on top of all of that.

Like Tilly says: "You complain about all of this and then take evenings off because you're too tired, well boo-hoo!" She's stretched to breaking point looking after the children alone at the moment. I wasn't home before 6pm any night last week and had a parents' evening on Thursday from 4pm to 8.30pm. No, I did take Thursday evening off.

Did I mention I planned a whole day off timetable for 1,400 students and approximately 100 staff last week too? And marked 28 books at half an hour a book. And planned eight lessons from scratch. And wrote two schemes of work. But only washed the pots twice and barely saw my children at all. No. No I didn't.

Well, shucks, I am employed to do this. What do I want? A bloody medal? I get paid, thousands do not.

Plus ca change.