ssshhh.. sleeping Princess..
Seeing rain forecast all day is easing the July depression. I don't think he has had a birthday yet when I haven't had to be really faking it and forcing ourself and the effort of the fakery and exhaustion at living with it all when it's warm and beautiful and sweet and fresh smelling outside means that we can usually forget about August bringing much of break. Fairly organised this year present bought and wrapped, food shop arriving the day before with plenty time to get whatever is unavailable. There's a good start on the uniform organising and making sure he gets school meals to. All this time without the awfulness of the before school mornings, it not being a big deal if we don't get to sleep until six a.m. Hoping when we go back to that we have had enough of a break from it that won't hurt so much. Sleep overnight wouldn't be any easier or possible but.
Happy that we can enjoy more stuff though, years of being aware that podcasts are not only a thing but a thing we might be able to find some laughs, comfort and humanness from but those are the reasons we couldn't go neither. If we don't build ourself up they can't cut us down. Need a break from fighting or will never be able to fight again and can learn and realise a lot about fighting when not fighting. Most stuff is very much not for us but we can still get nuggets here and there and move on the rest of the time (I'm a feminist but woman talking about regular arse crack waxing inspires machine gun mass femicide fantasies).
The notice for season three of Good Girls came up when we had already starting rewatching the first two. It's season three of something about people falling into organised crime so lovely people would die and the humour will be unavoidably farcical, sinister and ironic because of it. Decent casting still seriously. Always thought the trans kid was wonderful and no let down there. Hope it runs like it's male counterpart for years and years even if we always worry about child actors and no it's going get harder and harder watch violence wise. Think it ended up being what would make us go back to Breaking Bad and to Soprano was the kids. There is some chance for them to take the best from both of the externaly conflicting worlds and survive and grow into something awesome beyond knowing deeply and permanently that it's the exact same fucking world and they have to make their own if they wont any genuine peace of mind and quality of life.
Still hitting MSNBC hard, to anxious when it's not on levels. Been witchering and reading aswell though so it's a definite mental and possible ongoing or immentent physical health danger sign. There's definite difficulties with silence when not reading. Pepperharrow currently. Fuck yeah we splashed out on the hardback rather than wait for the paper. Season three of this involving more threat and violence to. The brain injury helping some brain injury nightame along, probably in nightmare involving teeth falling out roots included and some times can just place them back in knowing they will just come out again because they are teeth whose roots are not attached and its not liking they could grow back anyway but espically since I need my mouth for eating, drinking smoking and no one else is physically caring for us. We keep coming back to being so distanced from whatever roots we have had. And everybody and everything comes from something.
Are we exploring the clarivogence and who that would likely be treated by powerful nation states and actors? Other than mentioning it as themes in stories we are reading? Not so much.
The buzzing curiosities about those DNA ancestry sites often get as annoying as that fly that kept landing on my arm and face a few hours after eventualy falling into day one sleep. It's not the time for that. There might ever be a safe time for that but if there ever will be this isn't it. On another hand we are coming round the second name. World is populated with billions of people who have family names they are just stuck with. It was been a while now 2004/2005. I guess we are not quite embracing as much as acknowledging and beginning to accept it as we currently are, Rosa Stuart.. Distance from the family means we would like 'Louise' in the middle currently.
After his birthday and after the birthday pink gin and we had some time by the fire at night and he's feeling sick from too much cake, we have getting slightly nauseous too much Disney plus we are not so sure if we would want Louise as a middle name. It's turns up in the anxiety dreams almost as much as the teeth falling out. It's always horrible, sometimes we can pretend we didn't notice or show we are angry and say it's not our name. Our times we don't and we know it's because slavers have us surrounded and might not survive. I think the old nightmare routines are disrupted when we hear 'Rosa' in ways 'Julia' never could. We forced them into calling us that knowing of course that would have no idea how much it would help us bring us round gives a pretty good look at around it all. Then we walk away, associated, resigned and strong.
The whole vacuum cynlinder old tech thing with the wires under skin one that puts in and one that takes away is the waking nightmare of the last few days. The white dots on my arms and inner thighs showing up. The basic but effective familiar technology in the hospital bay. The knowing even if we had any control over our consciousness she was not going to be letting us know. The only thing closet to any certainty was that 'I' was a plural had been a long hard fought battle to retain but was worth more. The only certainty other than being in extreme mortal danger. That was the oldest part of it, the part that had been there the most. We were prepared though, we had to not get distracted by anything triggered especially if it looked like it was the answer to something we spent along time wishing we could remember. It always feels like a guess that starts looking like it might be right as soon as we wonder. There's a youngish rich white guy with a public profile and a local girl/woman by own age usually from Scottish rings that had us a lot in the 80's and nineties and beyond. Sometimes there is others and they are not usually in the same room. I go from one to the other. There has often been murders or child abuse to greet me as I am taken from one room to another. In Stratheden I remembering walking one through the reception area with the summer evening light coming through the big windows and glass doors and appreciating it. I was really clean to and I remember appreciating that before mentally preparing whatever was behind the door. There was some relief when I did, I remember not instantly becoming unclean or not okay at least after one door.
After that the doors there was the meeting of the guy working for the organisers who we had to tell everything that had just happened and everything that would happen after because of it. The weather was still nice, fresh especially after indoors and the fluorescent lights. We saw him. Truly for what he was and let it slowly occur that we were past the point where we had to stay very focused. We were no longer in extreme mortal danger and we were already on the other side of the locked ward. Have a sense we bullshited him just to see what would happen for a bit. He just went along with it not matter how unlikely and then impossible the shit we were making up was until we got bored of that game and remembered we wouldn't be able stay on the outside of the locked ward for long and there was important serious tedious shit some which would be disgustingly messy we had to do because no one less was going to keep me and Pablo safe.
Maybe it's the 'worst is over' when we saw that cylinder thing was no longer there exploding sense that we would be better served trying to focus on rather than the what the fuck exactly were those things and what exactly did they do people and was it an all people thing or were the right when they said it only worked because we are 'special'. Or if it's not a literal truth thing how did those images become an underlying theme and what specifically are they hiding? It was the real horror and power of the worst of the Brits and Scottish. It was what Fife was the best at, the best place for it work, had the most of for the longest?
We know us, we could accept that we would always much prefer to know or be able to know the exact specifics or at least carry a vague understanding of what the fuck.. We might not ever get that but we also need to consider what it would do to us if we did know.
