Archive for Cheese sammich

This post is intentionally meta

I want to write more, and the only way to do that is to start typing. I’ve been reading old posts, rediscovering happy memories and half-way decent writing. It’s nice to have this archive to look back on, and I think so far I’ve painted a fair picture of the good and bad bits.

I’d like to carry on with the documentation, but the impetus has gone. I used to have ideas queuing up in my head, waiting for me to give them words. Now I have to trawl my brain for suitable topics. There are two things that have probably contributed to this change.

One is facebook. When I write stuff now it goes up there and I don’t tend to cross-post (maybe I should?). But I wonder whether sticking to a forum that includes captive family members (many of them minors) means I pull my punches and put edgier topics aside. Maybe, but at quite a subconscious level if so, because it’s not even like there are dark and stormy things I mean to write about but don’t find the time to address.

Hence the other reason; I think my life is just pretty boring these days. Our poly relationship functions smoothly, I’m not scared of getting married, or moving to a new country. I’m not depressed, and I’m no longer terrified of being a mother. I just am. I do lots of things that make me happy without challenging me – yoga, work, bike rides with Isaac. None of it warrants much examination.

That said, I think motherhood had wrought some changes, and I’m struggling to put my finger on how and why. Maybe there’s some meat there. Why did it take 32 years and a son to call myself a feminist? How can I have so much money compared to most of the world and still sometimes feel poor?  The emergence of my social conscious probably does warrant examination, but even that doesn’t feel like it would be interesting to write about.

Maybe I should stick to porn.



Received wisdom says you don’t tell people you’re pregnant during the first three months, because the chance of miscarriage is highest during this time (~80% of miscarriages occur during the first trimester).

This is psychological advice, of course, although people treat it like it has mystical, medical relevance. I understand that if I post on facebook or tell everyone in my office I may find I have to respond to countless congratulations with an awkward “Actually, we lost it.” That would be unpleasant so I’m choosing not to share yet in those settings.

But I also realise that facing pain and social awkwardness is my decision, not something a doctor can prescribe against. In simple terms, the post below is supported by the fact that if I do miscarry, writing here will be one of the first things I do to figure out my feelings.

Hopefully it won’t come to that, although I’ve been freaking myself out googling fertility stats. For my age group, 1 in 5 confirmed pregnancies fail. Gulp. That’s much higher than I expected. In my favour: I not skinny, I’m not obese, I must’ve stopped smoking the minute I conceived (because it made me feel sick, our bodies are smart!) and for every 20 balls of cells that don’t make it, 80 go on to grow fingers and toes and force their way into the outside world.

Of course, all that forcing comes with its own set of worries… *frantically does kegels*


A journey of a thousand miles…

…begins with two blue lines.

Two blue lines that I am staring at in the toilets at work, half jumping around, half panicking about what to do next. They aren’t the first lines – there were two earlier, pink ones.

The second pink one was so faint I hadn’t really believed it was there, and sort of hadn’t wanted to believe. But I checked the pack insert and it said however pale, consider yourself pregnant.

That hadn’t felt great, oddly. I’d been angry, sad, frustrated about the idea of leaving an amazing job 10 months after starting. Resentful that J would never have to make that career choice, or stop drinking, or completely remodel his body for the sake of a babe.

But then I took the second test, and despite all that initial negativity I found myself thinking “Please say yes, please say yes,” while I waited for the lines to appear.

And here we are. Two of us. Except the second of us is less than 1mm long and looks like this:

Neurulation at about 16 days post ovulation

Oddly enough, having erroneously declared myself pregnant countless times before, it blindsided me when it happened for real. I think I’ve previously grouped together a set of signs, and associated those with being pregnant. Even though I was wrong each time it still reinforced the signs I thought I was looking for.

In reality it was less like bad PMS than I’d been expecting. Some of the signs were similar – my boobs have been insanely sore and I’ve felt bloated – but the things that stood out to other people were stuffing myself with carbs, being oddly edgy, and feeling hungover without drinking. Based on those both M and J called it earlier in the week, but I didn’t believe either of them.

The strangest thing I’ve noticed is that I smell different. Not different as in bad – just that we each have our own scent (hence a perfume will suit one person but not another) but normally we don’t notice it cos we are exposed to it permanently. But a small change is enough that we can become aware of it again. For the past two weeks I’ve noticed the smell of warm skin moving around – weird and likely related.

$64,000 question – is it gonna affect our lifestyle? As long as people still want to fuck an edgy married pregnant lady, this edgy married pregnant lady is still gonna fuck. 🙂

Imitating life and art.

So around the time I was asked the question below, I was (briefly) living it. A very desirable and pleasingly feasible third party rocked up and stuck around for five days, half of which while the Boy was out of town, the rest after the Boy returned.

(Perhaps I should come up with some fun but non-identifying handles for people, but the reason J and I used our own names at swingers parties wasn’t to make a bold lifestyle statement, it was just paucity of imagination. So Boy = J, other boy = old friend.)

Read the rest of this entry »

Super-quick work update

Last week the guy who sacked me casually confirmed me as a permanent employee.

I casually thanked him and went back to my desk.

I’m not sure this reflects particularly well on either of us, but I’m happy.

36% of my waking life

New job… hum.

I wrote the post below last Thursday, and I’m now feeling way better about the situation. The simple act of putting my thoughts on paper helped me see things more calmly, as did talking it through with J.

He pointed out that this is the first time I’ve NOT gone into a company as the bright young thing, so proving myself is gonna feel harder but should be a good process to go through.

Plus, I finally have some work to do; not much and not very engaging, but it’s at least a chance to get to grips with standard operating procedures.

The main issues:

I’m bored!!! I’m frustrated!!!

Bored because there is very little work to do. Frustrated because when work comes in, it seems pretty unlikely that any of it will be creative. The way the company is structured, I’m not sure creative work would even come my way; I think it might be cross-charged to the guys downstairs.

I did a lot of promo work in my last job – sales aids, websites, conference stands – but that was the boring bit. The fun bit was working on new concepts, and I did a reasonable amount of that too. I never did any med ed (the really, really boring stuff where you write monographs and key opinion leader slides).

But I’m worried that here med ed is gonna be the bread and butter, and the promo work is gonna be *sigh* the fun bit.

I’m trying to be grown-up about this. I know that sulking because the job isn’t what I expected isn’t going to help me, and it certainly isn’t going to encourage anyone here to help me. Complaining about what I don’t have is the perfect way to miss what’s under my nose, and I think this job could offer some great experience, just nowt creative.

I need to be proactive and create a system I’m happy to work within, but I’m not very good at that. Plus the junior writer, who joined two months ago from uni, is awesome at everything. This is great for the company, and she’s a lovely person, but it’s making me feel threatened.

The fact that she is so young, already so good at her job, and so freakin’ smart makes me feel like a charlatan. Like maybe I’ve been lucky so far, but next to her it’ll be obvious that I’m not that great.

So, positive, sanity-affirming plan of action:

Stay open-minded
Throw myself into stuff
Be proactive
Be humble
Let people teach me
Look for/create projects that involve concept work
Reassess portfolio in six months’ time

If I haven’t done any work I’m proud of by then, or alternatively grown into a position where doing creative isn’t so important, it’ll be time to hit the classifieds


What better way to start the new year than finding yourself at 0630 in the local cop shop, saucer-eyed and gurning, trying to explain that the police have requisitioned access to your building. Try even saying requisitioned with that many drugs inside you.

It turns out there was a fire. Until 0005 on 01.01.09, there was a launderette on the ground floor. Now there is just a big hole and a lot of soot.

It’s a great testament to Edwardian architecture that the rest of the building is still structurally sound, and fortunately the place was empty so no one was hurt.

But there is smoke damage, water damage and post hoc structural damage (where the fire brigade gained entry to each floor).

There is also no power – the meters are melted to a wall somewhere. It’s likely to stay that way for at least a week (a third of the days we have left in the UK) so I can’t see us letting the place anytime soon.

Happy new year!