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!

Sunday, 12 March 2017

Address in a Dress

It has pockets! What's not to love?

Specifically, something like the dress above. It's like a status update but with more cursing. We'll live like Kings, damn Hell-ass kings!

Saw this ages back and have no excuse to post it
except for the fact that I think it lovely.
First of all, cross-dressing. With a small child on the way and with things the way they are (my wardrobe is in a box atop the actual wardrobe in the bedroom where Tilly will be spending more and more time) I suspect that this will finally not only drop from the top spot but will likely disappear altogether very soon. There is also the fact that the whole affair will get rarer again, when the last child was small there was a long wait. This blog opened, in 2011, with a tale about me having gone out walking in high heels in October of that year. It was a week after I had managed to grab a moment in the morning before work to do something in a dress which, in turn, was about two and a half years since I'd last done it before Tilly was pregnant with the first of our children. In short, children seem to put a brake on things. And there is definitely a brake on cross-dressing at the moment. So, there's that point.

Also the fact that I know I look nothing like I would like to look in a dress. To whit, either of the dresses shown so far would not look nearly as lovely on me.

This is lovely too. I love the way the skirt-line works on this
one and the boots just set the whole thing off.

Am I shallow and skin-deep on looking at this? Yes, yes I am.

Those heels though.
Second, there is the stuff at work. Been at my new place as long as I've ever managed to stay at one place of work so far and my flaws are catching up with me. The Head has decided that I might have to make a sideways move, ostensibly to ensure we don't lose talent in my Department but both he and my immediate boss have mentioned the fact that I shan't "have to worry about" results in GCSE too much for it to be coincidence. It is truth that my results are not good and that I have not managed to arrest the bottoming out for the last four years. In truth I despair of doing so - I do not do well when students have to be spoon-fed as I encourage more independent approaches and work better with students who are enthusiastic. Alas, that is not what is required in the educational establishments that I have worked in so far. I'm sure they are still out there but I am equally sure that I don't interview well enough to work at such places and my track record with results is poor - as evidenced, and thus I am trapped for the moment until they find a way to remove me from the productive flow. We shall see. In the meantime I feel pretty bad. Possibly down to autism.

Yes, this is often how I feel I relate to the world. Or, rather, how the interface
with the day to day stuff feels like when reviewing it.

I'm not sure how to explain why this matches how I feel.

It is the visual equivalent of my last post on here, actually, yes, that.
Ah, yes, autism. Some years ago we had issues with the Girlie blowing up like a lunatic and I got a nice e-mail that correctly identified many autistic traits on display. I pooh-poohed it. I was wrong. The Boy has now been diagnosed and he is autistic, very Aspergic, and the chances are that the Girlie is too. Quelle surprise. If there was any doubt remaining about me then I would argue that this dispels it. On that note, the issues I highlighted when researching this seem undiminished. I am at peace with the idea that I and my children are Aspergic. I quite like what it allows me to do and who it allows me to be. However, it does not do well in relationships and it certainly does not do well in the relationship in which I find myself. For illustrative purposes, we had our doula over this weekend, apparently to include me in proceedings. With the Boy, the meeting with the doula was the part where I felt I was able to get involved and help. This time... well, this time the doula is also a friend of Tilly's and so much of the time was spent discussing anecdotes and, well, friend things. My presence was entirely superfluous and, because I am Aspergic, I zoned out entirely which further encouraged my isolation. Oh, and the doula was unaware that I was Aspergic. So... that went well.

Would that we could all look as if we
were enjoying ourselves that much
when feeling trapped.

Emotions trap differently though.
Moving on. My mother's husband has incurable cancer. He was up with her this weekend and I think it all went rather well, truth be told, the children mobbed my mother and she felt that was right and proper. So, good. I took him out to my favourite local pub and he was pleasantly surprised, I don't know what it was that he had been expecting but this was not it and he was mightily impressed. He left saying that he was planning a trip there with some mates - without me - because it was so nice. Okay, it was tactfully put and I wholly support that (means it was genuinely somewhere he liked) but there is that realisation that I'm not terribly good at this making friends part.

On that, yes, sixthly, there's been some of that at work. Several of my colleagues have formed networks in the last year with my new newb and my former newb making a network of people that are gaming geeks but I'm not part of that. New newb also happens to play football, penetrating that group within a week and then going on two holidays with them so far and counting. Harry has been taken in to the main group at work too, having now several networks on which to rely whilst Alice luxuriates in the status of new parent and takes part in that gaming geek world that I would love to be part of but have been carefully not invited to anything so far. In short, I don't seem to penetrate friendship groups terribly well. Except that...

Because University, that's why.
A good friend of mine from University has been undergoing a torrid time lately that I have only been semi-aware of until recently. They had been reading Perry Grayson's Descent of Man which is quite something given that the book hasn't been out that long. I digress. Suffice to say that, because I have AS, I was a bit shit at being supportive and initially went for the positive approach. Which is not only singularly unhelpful, it also kind of sounds shit to the person who needs a rant. I finally got round to responding a little more helpfully and then was blindsided by the fact that this friend of mine had been struck by the need to form more lasting friendships. In hindsight I ought to have pointed out that the reason for this sudden need was an unusual one and not at all indicative of my friend, as the main reason was something of an outlier case and my friend was something less than a normal (as in average or normative) case of that sub-set anyway. I did not because I was still trying to work out how to respond to being called a friend in that rather more intimate setting and situation (online mind you). AS, ain't it grand?

Society discourages male friendships, sure, but sometimes
it's down to the bloke being shit at fitting in after the initial
honeymoon period.

Add it to AS and there is a heady brew, methinks.
Speaking of that whole thing, I was reminded that I tend to fail rather hard only after I have been welcomed into a community. I am good at the early stuff, the grand gestures and the big swing of the inclusive arm. However, I suck later on because I'm still gesturing grandly whilst other people are becoming more intimate and nice and helpful and, well, like normal people. I never seem to progress that point because I'm not entirely sure how it works nor why people seem to rate that so much more highly. Also, yes, I get bored of people all up in your face (this is at work with Harry) and I can come back round to that when I'm not struggling through work and having a rushed lunch with a youtube video. It'll get back to normal, I know it will, but in the meantime I guess I must look rather rude and ineffective.

Which is probably how I seem to Rhiannon lately, who really needs support and good feelings. I can offer her no advice on how to deal with her current crises, which is fine as it's not about me, but I am at a loss as to how to express my support for her and all who are with her. Other people find some excellent and very supportive and helpful ways of saying this. I don't seem to be able to do that. I can't even transmit to Terri any kind of support and cheerleading as she gets her groove on in many ways and worries over changes elsewhere. I haven't even been commenting at Dee's place simply because I never know what to say and others say it better. Mind you, I've been out of practice, having not written here in an age either.

All of which brings me to the final point of this post: my beer blog is now updated for a long time yet. There is a baby coming. My evenings are about to get a whole lot more full and that means that I shall probably be back here more rather than watching videos and drinking beer.


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All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!