*WO-OOP WO-OOP WO-OOP* the povvo alarm is wooping loud and clear at the moment, and I doubt I’m the only one who can hear it. After a year of extravagent indulgance I find that despite being salaried I am not actually rich. It’s a shock that comes to many in their first real grown-up jobs when the lustre of regular payment wears off to reveal the truth of the matter.
This month I’ve given up my personal luxuries. Recently I’ve been a bit lazy/naughty/indulgent and bought a few lunches – that’s definitely off the menu. I’ve switched from sexy muesli to bran flakes. Co-op has again earned my love for creating their own smoothies which are not only almost half the price of Innocent but also fair trade. I’ve decided to forgo buying new trousers to replace the ones that aggravate my eczema.
Partner and I have also reached a “it’s time to regain control over our eating habits and cook properly” stage again. It happens about once every three months. He made the most beautiful cottage pie. Tonight I’m going to try to recreate it.
Other poverty prevension ideas I’ve had include: hand-making a christmas present for my mum, never leaving my house ever again, writing stories for magazines. Finding it difficult to do the writing part but I think something is forming in my mind.
Ill again, regular service will resume tomorrow.
Goddamn. Random emotional turmoil is for teenagers. It would be so much easier to be emotionally dead. I’ve been thrown off since an emotional sex session when I looked into his eyes as he was coming but when it was my turn he shut his eyes and I couldn’t speak. I’ve been exposed and vulnerable since. I find myself trying to take responsibility for every bad thing that happens to him, pretending to myself that it was in my power to have prevented it and feeling bad for not doing.
Totally irrational. Completely unfounded. Really friggin irritating. I’m trying not to let it bring me down.
Aside from this I’ve had a good weekend with friends. We went to the awesome Cafe Soya and did meditations together. My spirit animal is a ladybird and it took me to stand in a blue fire. I have a guide that’s really tiny and easy to lose track of: what does that say about me? I also found it by falling flat out into some brambles (in the meditation). I think this symbolises how difficult I perceive it to be to get useful things out of my head. I make things hard for myself.
Also really friggin irritating.
I might start a page to make a list of bisexual icons. The biggest regret of my life was caused by not knowing that sexuality wasn’t a binary, and that liking boys didn’t have to get in the way of kissing a really amazing girl who was probably the first person I ever loved and who I probably really hurt with my unfounded rejection.
My other regret (anything else has apparently been forgotten or healed by time) was caused by alcohol. I offered to lend the same book to two people – poaching from the first person to give to the second who then disappeared with it forever. It was a couple of years ago but it still bothers me. I’m going to redress it by buying a new copy and giving it to the person I should have left it with in the first place.
It is so hard to work with a head full of smut. I’ve been researching since I heard a certain women’s magazine takes open submissions for sex stories. After a fasle start I’m almost ready to start writing. You can appreciate how hard that makes it to concentrate on consultancy services.
I’m also excited because my friends are coming to stay for the weekend *yay*
…About the government. Today’s educational topic brings you a list of laws enacted by the UK government in which they sold our freedoms for “security” that can be used fuck over any person they so choose. It’s like someone read Kafka’s The Trial and thought “Hey, that’s a great idea, by putting people on trial without charges we can keep them out the way and if we’re really lucky psychologically destroy them until they die”.
Like I said before: politics scares me. Monsterbeasts. Everywhere.
– The government can ban any groups it labels ‘terrorist’ – even my book club.
(Terrorism Act 2000)
– The government can monitor any and all private communication – no more phone sex for me.
(Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000)
– Armed forces can be deployed domestically in peacetime – is terrified the same as terrorised? Because that’s how I feel when I see automatic rifles in the train station.
(Civil Contingencies Act 2004)
– Property and assets can be seized without warning or compensation – and it’s easy to get legal representation when you’re homeless.
(Civil Contingencies Act 2004)
– Spontaneous protest illegal around Parliament – so if you’re about to do something horrendous we, the electorate, can’t let you know how we feel about it?
(Serious Organised Crime and Police Act 2005)
– Indefinite detention of foriegn citizens – everyone’s foreign somewhere; how would you feel in a foreign jail?
(Anti-Terrorism Crime and Security Act 2001)
– Without trial, any British citizen can be tagged, put under house arrest and banned from using the telephone or internet – I’m so much safer in my cage, left to brood over what I could possibly have done. 5 Kafka points for this one.
(Prevention of Terrorism Act 2005)
– Any citizen can be imprisoned without charge for 28 days (42 days has passed the house of commons) – no where else in the world does this because, strangely enough, you need evidence of a crime before you can arrest someone.
(Terrorism Act 2006)
– It is illegal to ‘glorify terrorism’ – and if my book club was labeled terrorist I guess I’d be going down for this too.
(Terrorism Act 2006)
– The executive can change any current legislation without consulting Parliament, with very few exceptions – dictatorship anyone? Cause they always work out well, especially for the general populous. They also stay in place for years, decades, despite the whole world knowing what’s going on *ahemMugabe* so don’t expect anyone to bust in and rescue you.
(Legislative and Regulatory Reform Act 2006)
– Arbitrary punishments with no legal precedents can be issued with little legal recourse, based on hearsay evidence – my brother’sgirlfriend’scousin said you like children, so you’re not allowed in the park any more.
(Anti-Social Behaviour Act 2003)
– British citizens can be extradicted to the United States with no evidence presented – free holiday! Oh no wait…
(Extradition Act 2003)
– Compulsory identification for all British citizens, with an unlimited amount of details stored in a database, which the private sector will have some access to – you know why this sucks, but the whole corporate access part really fucks me off because that is all we’re likely to see of this scheme: masses of fucking targeted advertising and the inability to get a job because of a typo.
(Identity Cards Act 2006)
– Upon arrest the police have claim to your DNA, even if you are released without charge – if the government isn’t allowed to own my organs they sure as hell shouldn’t have my DNA.
(Criminal Justice Act 2003)
Credit to Queer Pagan for sending me the list
You know things are bad when Rammstein is lulling you toward a desknap. Time for a caffeinated beverage – and not one of the gross fizzy variety…
My tickets for the upcoming Amanda Palmer gig arrived. This pleases me. I expect other postal prizes too. All is well, apart from my bank balance.
I should write out a thousand lines saying: I must not be a consumer whore.
Do events come under that catagory? Seeing a smallish gig by a punky non-conformist musician/performance artist can’t be that bad for my ethical centre*, can it?
*We’ll not use the word “soul” while in adult company.
I had another really vivid dream last night. This time I dreamed I was pregnant, including random details like how pissed off my dad was that I was ruining my career at this vital age and having to find a new house because where I live now doesn’t allow children. Then I found out it was twins and that one of them might have Downs. Which was sad, but also though that twins would be smaller and easier to push out.
I was very confused when I woke up.
The F Word has a great blog post today about something that has been on my mind regarding the ole feminism. When you join the feminist club part of the membership package includes a high powered snark cannon with a lasersight that reveals potential sexism everywhere. It’s easy to fire it off at every little thing you see but you might as well be shooting gnomes in your garden for all the good it will do. Yes, you’ll have significantly improved your own garden but what have you actually achieved for the greater good?
I don’t actually know the answer to that. I do feel better for not sweating the small stuff and stressing over things that aren’t important to me. For example, I don’t wear makeup because I’m lazy and it annoys me, not because I’m making some sort of feminist stand. But feminism defends my right not/to wear makeup if I want to, and supports my right to autonomy in all things. Now that I’ve shot that gnome I don’t need to think about it or debate it any more; it’s just not that relevant.