Towards the east it was all fluffy and pink and blue skies. Towards the west it was all grumbling, low, heavy clouds and dark and foreboding. Suits my mood.
Work is again treating me like crap. Now head office have re-done all the pages I sweated over the other week, assuming I'm too stuid to implement the css du jour myself. Thanks, really. Just fucking sack me already and put me out of misery. Taking the site away from me, page by page, because you think I'm too stupid to update the pages the way you want under my own steam, it's hurtful and insulting. Oh, fuck it, whatever. You do what you want, I'll just go surfing for pictures of pretty boys then, shall I?
I mean, I could go make fancy wizzbang demo pages for my own amusement, but I'm just too bloody demoralised. When you're told you're a stupid fat c*nt so many times a day, you believe it. You become it.
Much the same at home, with AP over-supervising and micro-managing and doubting my ability to do anything useful at all when I've been cleaning that damn house since I was 4. Although I haven't had a chance to clean it since December, working 6-8 as I usually do, so I can't even get three rooms free of vermin and disease, let alone the rest which could be used to convict and instutionalise me they're so bad. I try, but there are never enough hours in the day.
So I worked and then I came home and I worked. Then I went to bed. That was it. I put on SVU but I fell asleep so I didn't even get a Meloni fix. Such is my life. Slept right through Angel. Bugger (but I'd seen it already).
Oh yeah, the bus driver this morning went nuts and went off all over the place at varying speeds from super fast to are we going backwards? I had plans for this morning but I had to just sit there and meekly submit to the demented will of another, as usual. So I got in super late with time only to run off a couple of scans, nothing else. I didn't even fill and boil the kettle, so all the chaps who arrive at 8am all glared at me and waited for me to play mother. Ack. No one ever says thankyou, I just get a bollocking if I don't do it perfectly everytime, on time. I hate them all.
I wish I could write. That'd take some of the sting away, like vinegar. Please, muse, help me.
At least Salvation Army guy was my salvation. He said not to mind folks who give themselves airs, as they're never the ones who matter, and the worse they are they more shrivelled they are inside. As an example, we swapped Evil Aunt present stories, you know, the ones where nothing would have been better. I won, and the story about her being so mean as to not even pick me up a postcard at the departure lounge had him doubled over laughing and crying. So it's not just me, my rellies really do suck. Anyway, he cheered me up a bit. This man is a real Christian, and a credit to his faith, not like Dubya, the Anti-Christ. And not like Evil Aunt, the non postcard sender (well, she promised, and it was such a small promise to keep).
Btw, I still have all the postcards my Dad used to send me on his travels. I should pull out the album again and flick through them, as some a quite lovely, and evoke exotic places and times gone by, like the swinging late 60s Hong Kong skyline, or all the ones from Holland and Tunisia in the early 70s. Neat.
Ever want to know where my postcard collection and need to see faraway places comes from? Yup. I used to paw through the album he made for me (as I was only a grubby pre-schooler at the time) over and over. And over and over.
Give me my fucking VR now so I can blow it all on a round the world ticket, you bastards.
Speaking of faraway places, here are some photos, some ye olde scans of ye olde analog actual film prints of photos taken of a place I'll probably sadly never see again, which is sad, but the state of play if they're going to be more isolationalist than 17thC Japan. Ah, well.
The year was 1996, and it wasn't the best year of my life, but nor was it the worst. Worked sucked, my so called friends had deserted me, but I'd made new friends, and, somehow, for some reason, I finally blew my savings on that big trip overseas.
This was my first ever trip overseas, my first time on a plane, the whole deal. I took way too much luggage, but UA solved that by losing some of it for me, and I was so green and clueless I missed out on some stuff I should have done or seen. But never mind that, I saw all the stuff I'd wanted to see, the museums, the people, the locales - hell, NYPD Blue even filmed on my friend's doorstep one day.
It was the Best Holiday Ever, and it was a magical Indian summer. Everything was orange, the trees, the hills, the pumpkins, the doughnuts. It was Halloween, my first and only. Dear, wonderful friends took me Halloween parties and pumpkin farms with 'haunted houses', which was nothing more than an old shed with sheet drapped pumpkins, it was all so twee but I was absolutely delighted.
I was in San Francisco for Halloween proper and everyone was dressed up, including the hotel porter who was done up as a crazed Nam vet with a string of ears dangling from his person. Okaaaay. I'd been in SF, what, an hour or two before I saw a pack of rollerblading Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, or whatever they're called there. Whoo, local colour! It was just the best.
I'd like another adventure just like it, please. I know what I did wrong last time, I planned it too much. It was so much more fun when I was just a clueless babe in wonderland who just let it happen.</p>And, oh yeah, it looked just like it does on tv! :D</p>
Finally, my friend has noticed that Jack/Sam always means the destruction of life as we know it, just from the canon, ie all those au Jack/Sams that went boom, and 2010. Heh.
Orlando: Vanity Fair #523 March 2004 UK
Jude: Vanity Fair #523 March 2004 UK
Colin: Vanity Fair #523 March 2004 UK