perfect hair forever

It stormed this afternoon, powerfully. Floods, hailstones as large as golfballs, roofs collapsing…terrible stuff, terrifying stuff. And as usual, because the vein of luck I mine to facilitate my miraculous everyday life runs deep, I wasn’t affected by any of it. My little cottage is fine, and my car is fine and my cat is traumatised because of the storms but otherwise fine. In fact, apart from the fact I’m twenty-seven thousand dollars poorer than I was yesterday and beginning to sweat bullets over the decision from my private health fund as to whether a sex change is an unnecessary, aesthetic cosmetic surgery or not (you would think it is a cut and dry question, but health funds are run by fucking robots apparently) I am doing totally a-okay right now. Couldn’t be better.

I ate too much food for dinner and baked some cookies I don’t really want or like and now I’m literally laying on the living room floor like a huge slug and feeling sorry for myself and the pain I have forced upon my fragile mortal shell. Every cheat day is like this, I swear – I tell myself I’m gonna go easy, that I don’t have to go cray-cray because I can, and then end up going cray-cray-cray-cray anyway and regretting every decision that brought me to that point not long after. I have been feeling really tired lately and just want to sleep and this obnoxiously full belly is just exacerbating that desire but for the usual reasons I cannot just go to bed early and instead have to suffer. At least my hair has looked great lately. Silver linings.

Short Stuff

It feels like a lot of renewal is happening at the moment. I’m breaking a lot of old habits, and bits and pieces of my life that have existed since the Before Times are spontaneously going away or refreshing and if the timing on it all isn’t cosmically perfect then I don’t know what is. Kismet, I think they call it. Obviously this shit was all meant to be.

Miss Ive

I got a new phone! I didn’t intend to but yesterday I noticed that the motherfucking screen was starting to fall out of my iPhone 5 (probably after a dodgy repair that time I smashed the screen in) so I sucked it up and bought a 6. I was out of contract anyway, and they gave me some free shit to sweeten the pot but I don’t know, apart from the fingerprint touch thingy it seems like same old shit, but bigger. Which is fine! I like the same old shit, I think iPhone’s are the bee’s motherfucking knees, but I am feeling buyer’s remorse at the moment because I was neither then nor now craving a larger phone in my life. Ar least it has the fingerprint thingy? That seems like a genuine step up.

Also I had to go out of my way to cancel a service I didn’t ask for that I was signed up for when I upgraded the phone so that has definitely left the taste of bitter ashes in my mouth.

Been playing a lot of Pokémon, attempting to fill the Pokédex this time around in the what must be the first time in almost twenty years. My feelings on the game have softened but my heart is still hard in other areas (I want my pretty dresses back dammit) but I’ve had the game more than three days and still haven’t finished it and I’m not sure if this is because I am legitimately enjoying myself or because I’m taking it easy, or maybe even both. Filing the Pokédex is made much simpler by one of the new systems they have implemented so that could be part of my new and foreign lust for monsters in my pocket. Also the plot was a lot more fun than I gave it credit for in the the early days! But still, mandatory HMs. They’re still they’re, they’re still a fucking thing. Denial has not yet made them go away. My life is hell.

it’s the final countdown

It’s so hot, disgustingly hot. Days like this seem to feel hotter when I’m not at work and I think that is because of the obvious lack of air conditioning in my little post-war cottage. Needless to say, today I’m not dealing well at all. Heat just seems to be collecting in every nook and cranny it can; behind my knees and in my elbows and trapped close to my scalp by the fucking blanket of hair I have grown over the last two and a bit years. Operation: Lay in the Cold Bathtub is starting to sound very inviting but I am not sure I am ready to commit to that level of complete and utter inaction. The day is almost over, and then it will be night and the lack of cloud cover means that a beautiful, cool drop in temperature won’t be far behind. I can do this. I can make it. I can make it or I can melt and die.

There does not seem to be any middle ground that I am aware of.

Pokémon Alpha Sapphire has committed a cardinal sin of Pokégaming by reintroduce the disgusting, out-dated mechanic of the mandatory HM move. This is a shitty, bullshit mechanic that has been absent since Generation IV, but this is a remake of a Generation III game (and a lazy one at that) so of course it’s back in there, making life difficult and shitty and mainly just very annoying. When they remade Gold and Silver back at the tail end of Generation IV they redid everything, in remaking Generation III they have just slapped on a lick of paint, inserted some cutscenes and Mega Evolutions and called it a day. Literally nothing else has changed. I know that this is a desperate cash grab for the fucked-in-the-head generation of people who feel real, heaving nostalgia for Pokémon Ruby and Sapphire but I am not of that generation, my Pokémon career started with the original games, almost twenty years ago and I am cognisant enough of their weaknesses that I never go back to play them and risk destroying that nostalgia. I bought this game out of some twisted loyalty to Nintendo combined with a desperate need for new Pokémon experiences and I have been disappointed…and yet despite this it seems to have taken over all my gaming energies anyway, pushing WoW to the back of the queue until it is done. I hate it and I hate myself and yet I just can’t stop. Pokémon X may be a perfect realisation of the modern Pokémon game, but one can only dine on truffles for so long. I feast on this swill only to make me relish and savour the moments when I can embrace perfection once more.

Soon, Molly. Soon.

17 days to go, but whose counting? A lot can go wrong between now and then, but I’m sure I will be fine. My father has entered this state of complete and utter denial over the whole thing which is disheartening, but I’m way past the point where capitulating to his insecurities matters even a little bit to me. The other day he even insinuated that he would be fine if I was ‘just gay’! The idea of me converting my useless, hated penis to a functional, much more (aesthetically and mentally) pleasing vagina terrifies him, maybe even sicks him. He has never been in my corner through this process, not really, but now it is all becoming devastatingly real for him and he is having to learn how to deal with that in a very short space of time. Will he make it in time? Who knows! Sounds like a dad problem.

Mum on the other hand is freaking out about how I will not have anyone to look after me immediately after I am released from hospital, which seems to be a concern of like, most of the people it seems. I am not worried of course because neither being alone nor dealing with bullshit pain and horror and crap while alone are things that bother me or scare me; I live a life that is made up of very long stretches of solitude (self-imposed and otherwise) interspersed by social engagements that I choose to interact with strictly on my own limited terms. I just don’t feel the need to have somebody else around, and the independent side of me also finds the idea of being beholden to another person – even when recovering from surgery (especially when recovering from surgery) – disgusting. I’ll be fine, whether someone can make their way down or not, of this I have total faith. Flights are booked, hotels are ready, cats are housed. Only thinhs left to do now is lodge the forms for AHM and wait.


Alpha Crapphire

I went into work early as hell to pick up a thing I needed and was promptly encouraged to get the fuck out of there because it was busy as hell and if I wasn’t working I wasn’t welcome. Which was fine! I’m not about to take it personally, I wasn’t rostered to be there and I was not interested in being there any longer than necessary, I just had shit to do and picking up the thing was number one on that list. I feel kind of guilty though (because of course I do, I’m wired for guilt) that I was out for the day while everyone else was shortening their lives through toxic over-exposure to cortisol but I had a lot of shit to do and quickly so having the day off was in my best interests. Anyway.

After the work thing I signed Pimmy up at the pet hotel she will be staying at while I am gone, collected a not-insignificant sum of money off of my mother and then proceeded to dump all of that into my bank account as soon as I could because I’m just not to be fucking trusted with cash. I have already spent most of it but only on the shit it was always intended for: serviced apartments and plane flights and surviving money and taxi money. It has all been neatly divided and earmarked and put away, all in waiting for what will prove to be the biggest day of my life. Sharryn says it will be like a second birthday but I feel like that’s kind of over dramatic; it will be a big deal though, that is not at all in dispute. Birthday though? Mmmmm. Not convinced.

I bought the new Pokemon, or should I say the old Pokemon, tarted up with new graphics. It is punishing and it is brutal, no loaves and honey here, just plagues and motherfucking pillars of salt. Cashflow is far too low, trainers are far too sparse, and all the character customisation options have been stripped out seemingly to make space for fucking Pikachu customisation options which is just fucking heinous for multiple reasons not worth going into here. But I’m still playing it. It bothers me and it annoys me and I don’t know why but I’m playing it and hating it and yet loving it all at once. It’s the Madonna/Whore dichotomy or something comparatively high brow sounding of Pokemon games. I’ll finish it once and never pick it up again and it will be the best day of my life.

© 2014 Molly Speechley