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!

Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Failure to Work

Struggling to work this evening and then I thought "fuck it" and stopped trying to work. I seem to be losing my evenings increasingly to getting tired and grumpy and watching youtube. I haven't even written up the beer blog post about my recent weekend and the ales that I was able to try (some lovely dessert stout on the Saturday along with a velvety smooth humdinger of a stout on the Friday, thanks for asking). Instead I watch gaming videos. Last night I shared some videos from Sia with the Girlie and made-believe that I can do that without any comeback. One of the videos was a fan-made one (I think) to accompany one of her songs featured, I believe, in some film or other. This one:


To add colour.

Love the watch there though. And the
dress looks rather lovely and comfortable.

Comforting?
Did you spot the sequence where there's a burned cot and it is heavily implied a baby died in it? Girlie did and has spent the day following anxious about it to the point where her incessant talking about it has sparked the Boy into feeling sad and being unable to get the idea out of his head. Great. Honestly, I shouldn't really be allowed to sit and share things with my obviously vulnerable children. Further evidence, I feel, that I am a bit broken when it comes to socialisation. Maybe that's just me, maybe it's medical, maybe it's something to do with my own upbringing or some mutant combination of the three but, whatever, it's my responsibility and, as I have said here before quite a lot, responsibility means blame.

The time draws nearer. The Boy has been struggling to sleep and he's spent a couple of nights in with us in bed, which is fine. Tilly's mania has translated into cleaning, usually a sign of impending birth, and I have been finding it harder to get out of bed in a morning again. Part of this is dreams that I'm having again. Not just the Holocaust kind or the End of the Third Reich dreams. No, we're back to gender-flipping and finding scenes in webcomics hard-hitting again. For example, you may remember me banging on about Misfile as being one of those comics that match the interests of the vast majority of people that would visit this blog. Here's one of the latest strips:

There's the page before as well.

I don't know about you, but that seems awfully pertinent to many people's struggles and, well, oddly hard-hitting following on from the dream sequence I shared the last time I mentioned it. Is that not what being genderqueer is on some level as well? I can't claim the pain of GID but I can claim that my gender identity is somewhat unsettled and confused.


Aw Hell yeah!
In my dreams I find that I am often sexless, in the sense that my genitalia is not really a major part of the dream or the feelings that are associated with it. Instead I find myself in male and female clothing and with feelings of dislocation and confusion in both sets of clothing but also feelings of intense contentment - if such a thing can be described in such a manner - again in both sets of clothing. There is an element of dominance in there, both by and over me, which usually lends itself to me becoming aware of the dream and then starting my usual more conscious take-over of the plot points. Soon after I wake up. However, the dominant (or submissive) role that is not me is played by a female, some faceless and formless combination of my Mad-Ex and various tropes from sites like Fictionmania and BoundLife. I have no great insight there, just sharing the information.

I really don't think I am in any way alone in having this kind
of 'sexy thought' about handcuffs and wearing them for
protracted periods, but I do rather feel that the chance to
indulge those thoughts is pretty vanishingly rare.

And, having got that chance to indulge them, I ended up
denuding the experience of any kind of 'sexy thought'
accompaniment and actively subvert what my Mad Ex
was trying to do. Something that I am still unable to fathom.

That is, my action and what she was trying to do.

Is that stupidity or is it treas- no, wait, I'm not Milyukov or
Nicholas II. Basically, am I stupid or is this down to my oft-
quoted but as yet undiagnosed AS?
I also keep returning to that night, or day, when I was handcuffed by my Mad-Ex and then needed the toilet. If you recall, and I'm sure you do with crystal clarity because why wouldn't you (that was sarcasm), she then asked if I needed any help when I was in the bathroom. I said no. Later she would claim that she had lost the keys to the handcuffs when she came to help me in the bathroom. Bear in mind she had never been in the bathroom. I always wonder what would have happened had she come to 'help' and if she would have indeed 'lost' the keys. Then what? Why did I turn her down? What about the 'help' she offered - I highly doubt it was 'help' as in helping me go to the toilet. I turned her down. Not for the first nor the last time either. And I wonder what would have happened had I embraced her attempt to embrace my cross-dressing and how different my life would have been. That has been back on my mind lately. Probably down to the fact that Tilly is more obviously pregnant and clearly due to give birth any time now.

Which is terrifying. What if number three is autistic as well? What if it isn't?

And  brought to mind a house I once viewed before I bought the one that ended up being such a horrible sink of money. A year earlier than that I viewed a back-to-back house with two bedrooms and two rooms downstairs. This house had a door in the bathroom that looked like a cupboard door that led to a 'spare bedroom' - boarded loft area with carpet and a skylight, some insulation on the rafters and a bed - but you had to stand in the bath to get through the door. If Tilly had moved in there would I have told her about the extra room? Would I have used it to cross-dress on my own in the evenings (yes) and then continued to use it after meeting Tilly (harder to say)? This musing brought up in my head on the way back from getting some bread tonight. Having supermarkets within walking distance is bad for my girth.


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