Ok, so how best to begin… I think it’s important to have a plan. I like plans; plans are good. I like plans so much so that I even went so far as to make one. You may (or may not) remember me writing in a blog post during the summer that I was planning on doing an MLitt, well I decided not to, at least not for a year. The thought of having to spend the next year and half writing essays was exhausting. I decided I give myself a break. The plan then became take a break from education for a year and find a fulltime job that paid semi decent money. The kind of job that was a steady nine to five, something I could switch off from when I got home. It was a good solid plan, which as perusal I completely ignored. I have a job and it is not a nine to five, and I doubt something I’ll be able to switch off from at the end of the day. I am going to spend the next nine months (at least) being a roaming fundraiser, which basically means I’ll be travelling around the UK raising money for various charities. That’s right folks, I’m going to be off helping to cure cancer and fighting child poverty; and who knows maybe I’ll find true love along the way and more importantly maybe even myself. It’s all very noble; I won’t bore you with the details.
Also I have never been more terrified in my life – and I say this as person who has contemplated telling friends and family that I want to be a girl. – Little known fact about me, I’m not great at people. I tend to not have that instinct that goes ‘yeah you shouldn’t say that’ until about three seconds after it has came out of my mouth. Take for example what recently happened to me at my current job (and this is something I feel 60% bad about and 40% proud). This pudgy little 12 year old with a diamond stud in his ear was in the shop with his friend. They were mucking around, nothing too bad, just kids being kids, you know showing off, being “lads” (god I fucking hate that word) so I didn’t do anything. Anywho this pudgy little 12 year old comes to the till and keeps saying the word ‘dildo’ to his friend. Below is the conversation, verbatim.
PUDGY LITTLE 12 YEAR OLD
Something, something, something, dildo. Something, something dildo, dildo.
Hey, come on now. Language.
PUDGY LITTLE 12 YEAR OLD
Dildo’s ma favourite word.
Yeah, it’s probably your mums’ too.
PUDGY LITTLE 12 YEAR OLD
Ma Mum died six years ago.
It’s probably not then.
Thus began the most awkward 1-minute of my life as I finished serving the kid, while his friend looked on in uncomfortable silence as none of us said anything. I hope to god he was lying, the only thing that makes me think he wasn’t, is that he didn’t say anything else after, and just how uncomfortable his friend looked.
Anyway my point to the story was is that I’m kind of worried I’m not going to be able to control my mouth while trying to convince the public to donate. The job is obviously target based and I terrified I’m going to be bad at it, not meet my targets, then get fired, be without a job and not be able to pay my rent and end up in debt. Then of course there’s this other part of me that’s like ‘meh’ it’ll be an adventure and it will hopefully make me better at socialising with people. Plus I’ve been so incredibly bored with my life lately that I think this will be a really good way to mix it up. You know, meet new people and get some of that life experience that people are always going on about… oh yeah and help some charities along the way.
All this of course means that the whole transgender/transsexual thing is going to have to go on the back burner (cough, cough – you really shouldn’t read to much into me traveling around the UK for nine months. It’s totally not me running away from my issues. That would be ridiculous). So yeah in my last post I was contemplating cancelling my psychologist appointment for a job interview. I did, then got offered the job, which I promptly turned down as the idea of having to cold call people asking if they wanted to buy double glazing made me want to figuratively slit my wrists. Anywho I got my appointment with the psychologist changed to a date in January, which I’m now going to have to cancel as I have to idea what so ever which part of the UK I’m going to be in.
In other news, I’m getting bolder, I’ve now started wearing very little/light makeup out and about, basically everyday. It’s nothing to get overly excited about it’s has only been the clear mascara and a bit of concealer, but hey I’ve been enjoying it, it makes me feel good. Oh and no one has seemed to notice, if they have they haven’t said anything.
I have the entire weekend off; this will be the second time this has happened since the beginning of June. This is extra good news since my flatmate is going home to see his family until Tuesday. So I get the flat to myself, huzza! This is extra, extra good news as I got paid today and worked a load of overtime this month and have thus treated myself to a few things, the most exciting being the dress I’ve wanted for a while, which was on sale (probably because it’s now out of season). So yay, it arrives tomorrow. The next few days are going to be all Keira and they could potentially her last few days for a while and I intend to make the most of them.
Smaller titbits – Sort of addicted to Taylor Swifts new album.
Watched the film Her, it’s excellent.
And because I referenced it in the title of this post here’s some Otis Redding for yo face.
So, to some up this post – Buy pretty dresses.
Say horribly inappropriate things to pudgy little 12 year olds.
Make a plan and then completely ignore it.
People seemingly don’t notice when I wear light makeup.
Got job making the world a better place.