So, I’m sitting at work today and I get that feeling. You know, that feeling that you get right before your body decides to expel the very tissue it created? That’s right, ladies. I’m talking about that feeling you get right before you start your period. I don’t know how many other women out there know the instant they start menstruating, but I am one of them. And even though I took the last active pill of my pill packet two days ago, guess who was unprepared for this event? Me. Of all days.. *sigh*

So, I tried to beg an early finish off my boss. “No way,” he says, “I have clients coming in and I need you to witness a will.” I, of course, freak out. I know most of you are probably thinking, ‘This is nothing. I once got my period while I was tapdancing in front of the Queen over a pool of sharks in a white skirt.’ but the thing is, to me it is a huge thing. I have never really gotten over the fact that I have to go through menstruation once a month for the rest of my life, practically. From the morning of my 13th birthday, to right now as I type this, I hate my period. The only reason I can tolerate it is because it means I am (hopefully) capable of having children.

Anyway. So I freak out. My boss goes back to his office and I start thinking of ways to either get out of work or get some type of sanitary pad in here, on the double! Finally, I remember when Belle used to work here, a drawer that she stocked with pads. When I see it, labeled ‘Personal’, I could almost cry in relief. But wait, what if there isn’t anything in there? I actually hold my breath as I open it - I am not kidding. When I open the drawer though, my mind is temporarily confused. What are these large, brickish type things? Oh. My. God. The horror! I can’t believe how much the design and technology of sanitary napkins, of all things, has progressed over the years.

I suppose the moral of this story is never be unprepared when Tom (Time Of the Month) is due to come calling. Oh, and don’t read your sister’s blog if you don’t want to be grossed out. =P

When I opened Thunderbird today, I noticed that AVG’s e-mail scanner was doing something really strange - scanning e-mails! I never get e-mail, so I was (understandably) pretty excited. Then, even better, Thunderbird informed me that it was all in my TF mail account! “Yippee,” I squealed, “I have mail from my adoring fans!”

Imagine my disappointment when I realised the adoring fans wanted to enlarge my (non-existent) penis and sell me cheap (and probably virus-ridden) software. So, yep. That’s how you know you’ve hit the bigtime: you get spam via your website contact form. Not only that, you get promises of “she will love you more than any other guy”. Now THAT is so worth my money.

If you’ll excuse me I need to go and waste a few hours trying to submit a form (that was supposed to be submitted yesterday, but guess what DIDN’T come in the mail..?) so I will get paid.

The two girls stroll up to the bus door, ignoring the queue lined up to board as they chat to one another. One of them hovers around the side of the door, hesitant, until the other hisses, “Go on!” and shoves her forward, in front of a woman and her partner. The woman now standing behind them glares at their backs and shakes her head at the man next to her.

“You know, next time it might be polite to ask before you push in.” The two girls turn and gawk at the woman behind them.
“Um..”
“It’s called manners. I would have let you on if you’d asked.” They grin nervously at one another, then look back at the woman.
“Can we.. um.. can we go in front of you?”
“Sure, go ahead,” the woman smiles. “I have no problem with it. Just ask next time. Like I said, manners.”

Giggling nervously, the girls board the bus and head up to the back seat. Their backs are turned when the woman lowers herself into a bus seat abruptly, her knees trembling from nerves. It is the first time she has stood up to the age group that terrifies her so much. She smiles at her partner as he sits beside her. It is a big step; hopefully not the last.

I bought a new desk on Tuesday, just a small, cheap one from The Warehouse. I don’t buy expensive stuff because I am incredibly clumsy, and I know that even if this desk was crafted from the strongest, toughest wood ever? It will only last a year, if it’s lucky. I run into things, I drop stuff, I spill everything and if it is scratchable, it shall be scratched. Oh, I made up a word. Clever me. Here is my new desk:

And another shot, different angle:

Yesterday, I mailed off an application for part-time work at a shop in Northland, because I need to work more hours. When I spoke to the guy on the phone, he seemed pretty keen, so I’m hopeful about my chances. I still have to find three more jobs to apply for to satisfy Centrelink, though. *sigh* Plus, I now have to physically take my form in every fortnight. Bleh. I hate Centrelink sometimes.

NaNoWriMo is in another week, and unfortunately I think I will have to give it a miss this year. It really sucks that it is held in November, because it’s so busy over here then. Still, there’s no harm in trying.. I just haven’t decided whether I will or not yet. I guess if I can get a fair amount of planning done this week, I will give it a shot. We shall see.

I have finally found another job! There has been much rejoicing. About two weeks ago, I applied for a job at the local video store (they were looking for casual and part-time staff), and on Saturday, the boss called me and asked if I could go and meet him. Of course, I agreed.

I went for my first training session on Sunday, then worked Monday in the afternoon, and I think the job is pretty much mine. Provided of course that I can handle the fast paced, oh so challenging ‘proper’ shifts. *cough* I’m sorry, I’ll stop being sarcastic now. It’s just that this job is possibly even easier than my current one. It doesn’t exactly have a steep learning curve.

I still have to go around and apply for jobs, though, because Centrelink have decided that I need to work more hours. That may change after the Job Capacity Assessment, though. The guy I spoke to (His name was Kendall. Just stop and have sympathy for the poor guy for a minute.) said they would probably lower the required number of job applications per fortnight, and the number of hours I would need to work.

I almost said that I didn’t need any special treatment, but I stopped myself. The truth is, I am still struggling. Even now, I am still sometimes overwhelmed when there are a lot of people around. Or when I have to go to the shopping centre. Or when I have to answer the phone, or call someone. Those things are still hard for me fairly frequently. So I said nothing, and if they want to lower the requirements for me, I’m going to let them.

I went to the city today with Mum and Dwain so we could get Dwain’s birth certificate. He needed to get it today so he can go for his learner’s test tomorrow. Scary stuff. Once he is on his learner’s, I think I can pretty much kiss my driving lessons goodbye; Mum won’t have time to teach us both. I’m just going to start putting money aside so I can go for my test, anyway. Then I’ll have my probationary license and I can start saving for a car.

In a perfect world, anyway. The real world unfortunately, is far from perfect. I think I’ll be stuck with public transport for a while yet. To be honest though, that’s fine by me. Insurance, registration, petrol, tune-ups, new tyres, accidents - who needs a car? Despite the convenience, I can’t get a car right now. Financially, it really isn’t a possibility. I’d never be able to drive it, anyway. I would either have no money for fuel, or it would have something wrong with it, and I wouldn’t be able to afford to have it fixed. I don’t need the hassle of a car.

Lately, no matter what I try, I have not been able to write. Not one single word. I pick up the pen, I play with it, I doodle on the paper. I whisper lovingly in it’s little pen ear, stroke it’s silky smooth skin, to no avail. I have not been able to critique other people’s work properly, or work on my poetry, or write down this damn story that keeps whining at me from inside my head. It’s gnawing on my brain right now, driving me insane. I read something today however, that made me realise how trivial it is that I can’t write a stupid poem.

There are a few blogs that I read every day, and I care about the people who write them. I care about what is happening in their lives, how their children are growing up, what they have planned for the weekend. Granted, I may never speak to them; our only communication may be unanswered e-mails. Still, I feel for them, and I read about their lives and I am touched by them. Heather, a woman who has on countless occasions made me laugh to the point of nearly wetting myself, today posted that she had suffered a miscarriage.

I am unable to find the words to express how deeply I feel for her and Jon, but I e-mailed her today anyway, offering my condolences and a reminder that she is brave, and courageous, and has graceful composure. She is one of my favourite writers, and a very entertaining woman, and I know that her e-mail inbox is probably flooded with messages right now. For that, I am grateful. I’m thankful that she and her husband have the support of people all over the world at a time like this. I cried for her today, and this will be on my mind for weeks to come.

I know that I have never met her, or her family, that we’re not friends or even really acquaintances. I still feel for her, though. I read about her life everyday and I feel for the heartbreak, and the anguish, and the grief that her and Jon must be feeling right now. I admire her courage when posting that entry, her composure while she spoke of it, and her hopeful determination that was still present, despite the situation.

Directly after reading Heather’s post, I went to check if Becca had updated. She had.. and I started crying again. She posted about taking a pregnancy test, and not wanting to be pregnant. I think she probably is (*jinxes her*), but that isn’t the point. The point is, here we have one woman mourning the loss of a child that never was, and another praying that the child will never be. The unfairness of it all.. I know life isn’t fair, but sometimes it seems very cruel.

I’m having trouble sleeping at the moment, and I’m not entirely sure why. At first I thought it was just that my pattern kind of got thrown off over the holidays, but no. I get drowsy at around 7pm, and then by 8pm I’m wide awake again. Then, about 4.30am, I get drowsy. If I stay up until 6.00am and have a shower, I’m wide awake again. I need to seriously discipline my body clock. Harshly, with a cricket bat.

Ciao. xox

To the person who clicked on the link to Kitta’s blog and got taken to ‘Confessions of a Bi-Guy’ blog instead: I apologise most sincerely.

It is fixed now. Please don’t think badly of me; I don’t read that blog (much) anymore. =P