Lonesome

This weekend, my wife and I were invited to the birthday celebrations of an old friend of hers, up in Scotland. We could only afford for one of us to go, so I encouraged her to book flights and get on up there and have fun. I've actually been looking forward to it: the munchkin is away too, so I am getting my first 100% solo weekend since E and I first got serious, and my first nights alone in a bed since we moved in together in September 2011.

I won't say I haven't enjoyed some solo time, because I have. I've watched things that E won't watch with me (LotR, yay!) and got a heap of stuff done around the house that is just easier with no one else underfoot. Plus, loooong uninterrupted bath, exercising with no one around to see, and so on. A break from people is good.

But now I'm starting to feel a little lonely, and more significantly, I'm channelling the deep, disturbing loneliness of so many solitary hours in my 20s.

I get what I call 'location flashbacks' all the time. There is usually no rhyme or reason to these: as in, I'll be fishing my travel card out of my purse and suddenly an image of the intersection of Roe Highway and Kalamunda Road will pop into my head. These images never make any sense or have any discernible trigger, so I generally ignore them.

Today, however, all of the images have been of my house in Goomalling or my flat in Sydney. The two places where I spent the longest, loneliest hours of my life so far. The two had a lot in common: removed from my family and existing friends, struggling to make new friends in a new place, very uncertain about myself and my life.

In both of those places, I was surrounded by silence. I remember it well... long empty day after long empty day. I pottered about, frittering away time, lost in my depression and confusion and ennui and need. I told myself I enjoyed the quiet, that I could never stand living with a housemate, but in the end it was a comforting lie. I did not like being alone, and it was not good for me.

I've learned a lot since then - about myself, about how to make friends, about how to meet my own needs and not fear them. But for some reason today's empty, silent house has really thrown me.

It's a good reminder, I think. Even though the two members of my little family, with all their quirks, may sometimes drive me to long for silence... I don't really want it. Not a return to the long, empty solitude and the deep sadness that went with it. My life now is full, happy and satisfying, and I'm very grateful for that. The years of loneliness are gone, and I don't need to fear them any more.

Typing all this out has helped me process what I've been feeling this evening, and I'm not feeling maudlin and desperate like I was at the beginning. But I'm posting it nonetheless... to remind me why people are a good thing!

Sharing My Workout...

I started off two weeks ago with a workout 20 minutes long and using 680g weights. I've crept it up to 30 minutes now and 1.13kg weights, and I plan to keep creeping... an hour is my length goal, and once I've conquered the 2.27kg dumbells lurking in the back of the cupboard I'll look at investing in something heavier. It's baby steps, but they feel awesome. I'm getting in a session on Mondays, Wednesdays and either Friday or Saturday each week depending on energy & privacy levels on those days. It's working!

One of the things I set out to counter with this particular exercise routine was my peculiar hatred of counting repetitions. Ask me to do twenty situps and I'll get annoyed with the counting by about 5. My brain does a lot of drifting when I exercise, and I think I need that to keep going, so counting brings me back to the physical activity in a way that actually makes the activity harder. To deal with this, I've used songs with distinct patterns, and I use those patterns instead of counting: e.g. I do star jumps for the whole of this verse, then switch to weight curls for the chorus, then situps for the next verse, etc. I'm cramming in a lot of different exercises targeting different muscle groups, and I can already feel it making a difference. I have more energy, stamina and strength, and I no longer ache post-workout or feel like I can't walk the next day. I've not exercised this frequently since I was a teenager, and it's really quite a remarkable feeling. I might even be becoming someone who craves exercise. Fancy that!!

I thought I'd share the 8 songs that currently make up my 30-minute workout. They're all songs in which I find the tune uplifting and moving; a couple of them have lyrics that also lift my spirit. The last one always leaves me with its eponymous emotion, even at the end of a hard workout, and the buzz I get from finishing on that high note always leaves me feeling I could go that little bit further.

1. Celtic Woman: Granuaile's Dance

2. Voices of Ireland: Star of the County Down

3. Enya: The River Sings

4. Celtic Woman: Mo Ghile Mear

5. Mediaeval Baebes: Return of the Birds

6. John Parr: St Elmo's Fire

7. Celtic Woman: The Sky and the Dawn and the Sun

8. Loreen: Euphoria

Enjoy!

PS: In story news, I am currently sitting on 12,957 words, with today's writing session yet to come. Pretty much double my expected total for this point. Oh, yes.

A Year of Living Christinely

Back in November, I tried for the umpteenth time to do NaNoWriMo. And, like most years, Stuff happened. It seemed to happen with particular vigour this time: a chest infection, an OFSTED inspection and the winter vomiting bug , all in a row. By the time the crises were over, I was too far behind to catch up. Again.

But finally it dawned on me that writing a set amount each day until it's done is what a lot of real authors do anyway. They just don't try to cram it into one manic month. I knew this, but I didn't, too. I guess it finally sank in!

I mulled this over in the last couple of weeks of the year, then in the last few days after Christmas knuckled down and chose a plot and sorted out my characters, and on the first of January the words started to flow. In the first five days I've already written around 2750 words - which is more than I've managed in some NaNoWriMo attempts!

My target for each day is a mere 250 words. That's less than this blog post will be by the time it's finished. At that rate, I should finish the first draft sometime in October. With 9 weeks of holiday between now and then, and with the potential for days when inspiration comes thick and fast, it could be sooner.

Now, it's not speedy and it's surely not as much as I'm capable of, but it's doable no matter what happens. If the munchkin gets chicken pox or we all have gastro for the third time this winter or the boiler breaks or whatever... I can still crank out a measly 250 words every. single. day.

This book is getting written, damn it!

I'm trying to make a few little lifestyle changes alongside the writing effort, too. This year looks to be an astonishingly stable one for me: job, house and relationship are all firmly set and highly unlikely to change. This year should be a bit of a breather, a chance to put things in place and get into a routine with the certainty of (hopefully!) knowing what's coming next. We're finding ways to take a more structured approach to managing the household, and I'm looking at a routine to work on my fitness without costing us any money and with minimal time loss in our already-hectic schedule. Small steps, but good ones.

I'm not making any resolutions, except to stick to the goals I've got: get fitter, write book, maintain house, teach well, love my family and enjoy myself.

Happy New Year!

Yes yes, the wedding!

Ok, so it's seriously flaky to fail to blog about one's own wedding for two whole months, but in my defence they've been pretty busy months.

Married life is treating us pretty wonderfully so far. I've started a new (and much nicer) job, and the munchkin has started his full-time schooling career. Big changes for all, but we're managing well enough.

And now I'll stop waffling and Show You The Pretty.

We expected to have pretty decent weather, given that we held our wedding in the middle of July. Unfortunately it was in fact the wettest July for a century. *sigh* Our wedding day was a little drizzly in the morning, but fined up just enough to allow outside photographs after the ceremony.

My mum arrived in Hertfordshire the day before the wedding. I hadn't seen her for more than two years and it was overwhelming and wonderful to have her there. She also kept us *just* this side of sane as various things went inevitably awry at critical moments!

On the morning of the wedding we went over to the reception venue and got it all set up with the help of Ellie's wonderful brother and sister-in-law. That all went off smoothly, and despite unexpected traffic we still got back to the house in time to meet the hairdresser. We got all dolled up and then dodged the drizzle to climb into a car with *no back doors* (yes that was quite a feat in those dresses!) and get down to the ceremony venue.

We got married at The Bury, Hemel Hempstead’s registry office:
http://www.hertsdirect.org/statweb/movingeye/hemel.html

Here we are waiting nervously in the small ceremony room before the ceremony, with my mum, the munchkin, and our flower girl:

More waiting:























A note on my jewellery - the crystal earrings and necklace were a gift from my maternal grandfather to my mother, decades ago. She's had them in reserve for me for years, and I'd always intended to wear them on my wedding day.

We walked down the aisle (such as it was - very short as we had to come in a side door instead of the main door due to some light rain!) to "Forever" by Debra Arlyn:



The song was one Ellie found on a youtube video of a German lesbian couple's wedding, and it struck both of us as just so perfect.

The ceremony was short but sweet. We only had one reading, and it will forever make us slightly cross but resigned that the woman who read it (not our lovely celebrant in the picture, but another registry official) flubbed the last line and changed the meaning entirely. Thankfully most people heard it the right way around anyway!

“Love is a temporary madness; it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of eternal passion. That is just being in love, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love have roots that grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.”

For anyone listening closely, there was a little gasp in the background. My lovely artist friend Sarah had, all unknowing, created a painting for us as a wedding gift... of two intertwined trees. She couldn't have chosen a more perfect subject!

Here we are moments after Ellie put my ring on my finger:

During the signing of the register, we listened to "Flora's Secret" by Enya.  It's one of my favourite Enya songs (and Enya is one of my favourite musical entities), and I played it for Ellie pretty early on in our relationship.



The signing mockup photo (we'd already done the actual signing when facing the other way!):

First kiss:

We processed out to "Feeling Good" by Nina Simone. This one was Ellie's idea as I wasn't familiar with it; but as soon as she played it I knew it was right. Civil marriage & partnership ceremonies cannot contain any religious messages or references, but to me (as a nature-loving pagan) this is practically a hymn.



Various set shots from the garden…

Me and my mum :)

One day when we were starting to think about ordering wedding rings, Ellie said "I think what I really want is a rose gold wedding ring." I'd never considered anything other than white gold, but again she was right. They are beautiful (and comfortable!) and I have only taken mine off once since the wedding day.

Our simple but happy-making décor at the reception:

We had home-made favours (bulk chocolates wrapped in baking foil and tied up in mesh bags, secured with a wired rose) and I printed the table numbers and labels at home, just as I did all of the other stationery.

The cake was one of the aforementioned 'awry' moments. We were planning to get our names and decals to match the stationery printed on a large sheet cake, but the cake printing machines at both local stores broke and it was too late to get to anywhere else, so we improvised. The crystal hearts were the only remnant of the original plan; they are napkin rings that were given to my paternal grandmother on her wedding day.

Our reception was just lovely. I had set up a slideshow of images juxtaposing my childhood with Ellie's - matching first days of school, awkward high school pictures, and so forth. It made for a great conversation piece and icebreaker, as well as allowing for nostalgia on the part of our families. It was also a way to ensure that our absent fathers (in Australia on my part, deceased on Ellie's) were there with us.

A good friend of mine read out a letter from my Dad, and my two maternal uncles also sent 'telegrams' that were read by my Mum during her speech. Ellie's brother made a speech too which brought the house down. He talked about Ellie as a child: "I remember her kind of as a giant book with curly hair and little feet. She'd come running after me... 'Matt! Matt! Matt! Did you know...' and I'd just know I was going to miss Dangermouse." We laughed until we cried. It was everything a big brother's speech should be.

I made a bit of a speech too, and I think I was fairly coherent if a little rambly from nervousness. Luckily when I was running out of things to say the munchkin came up to me and said "Christine, do you know what? I can see a CAKE." and that gave me the perfect out! The munchkin later made his own speech which entertained everyone mightily and is still discussed whenever my wedding is mentioned amongst friends.

Later on the dance floor got going, and despite not having "My Sharona" in his collection (WTF?) the DJ did a stellar job. Watching my Mum get up and do some well-known party dance (a British equivalent to the Hucklebuck) with Ellie's relatives and various British friends was a highlight of the evening. We were there until the waiters gave up, switched the lights on and started clearing up!

It was a brilliant, wonderful, fantastic day and I couldn't have wished for better - not even including wishing for sunshine as I can always reflect that at least it wasn't too hot!

I am very happy that all the months of planning went off so well, that the image I had in my head came to life closely enough that I was completely satisfied. Everyone and everything was wonderful, basically.

Next up: a recap of our GLORIOUS honeymoon. Brace for a picturesplosion!

Countdown to a (Same-Sex) Wedding #3

2 Weeks to Go

Erm, well. I meant to make that a weekly thing, and then 4 weeks mysteriously evaporated. I really don't know where the time goes. Where it concerns time remaining at my current school, I'm satisfied that "away" is where it is going. The wedding, on the other hand, is racing up unimaginably fast!

Today I want to talk briefly about homophobia.

I have to be honest, I've rarely encountered vitriolic homophobia directed at me as an individual. The only incident I can think of is when a random man messaged me on facebook with one of those "I saw your profile and would love to get to know you better" spams. I - being a bit bored and reckless that day - replied indicating my reason for being disinterested. I got a very vile flame in return from this person, the contents of which I won't repeat. Suffice to say, it was not nice, but it didn't offend me because the source was already a figure of fun to my mind (as is anyone who sends similar messages to strangers).

I do see a lot of homophobia not directed at me personally. Read any comment thread on any article relating to LGBTI anything and you'll see it in plenty.

That kind of homophobia is easy to identify, and while addressing it comes up against the brick wall of insecurity, stupidity and intractability, it's at least an honest reaction. Idiots that rant about "poofters" - spare me! - or tiresomely bible-thump are at least being straight with everyone (excuse the pun).

The sort of homophobia I find truly offensive and difficult to deal with is that coming from people who are in denial about their own feelings and beliefs. The ones who start sentences with "I have lots of gay friends, but..." or "I'm not homophobic, but..." or even "I'm in favour of gay marriage, but..." and finish the sentence with a statement about the necessity of restricting gay rights in some particular area.

Sorry, but no.

If you believe that a person's sexual choices should in any way restrict their rights as a person or a citizen you are, to some degree, homophobic.

Now, I know people don't want to hear this, because the people at whom it is aimed are often nice, sensible, generally thoughtful people who would never in a million years class themselves with the "burn all the fags" brigade. And neither would I - different kettles of fish entirely. But still, uncategorically, afraid of the changes that full LGBTI equality would bring. And if you're afraid of full LGBTI equality, you're homophobic.

I've lately been sad to see this kind of homophobia coming out in a truly unexpected place: namely, the Society for Creative Anachronism, the worldwide medieval re-enactment group of which I am a member. Some people whom I previously/otherwise liked and respected have shown a homophobic side I did not expect to see, and I've found this revelation so distressing that I've left my membership fee unpaid this year and have dropped out of active society life for the time being. I've felt hurt and angry that people I looked up to or thought well of have let me down.

The issue revolves around the way in which the society selects its Kings and Princes, and their consort Queens and Princesses. This is done through 'heavy' fighting - full-speed, full-armour fighting with padded rattan swords as weapons. It's hard, fast and potentially dangerous, and while there are many female fighters, species dimorphism ensures that it's extremely rare for women to win fights at all, let alone hotly contested Crown and Coronet tourneys. It's happened literally a handful of times in the history of the society. The winner is almost invariably a male fighter, and he becomes King / Prince, with his wife/girlfriend/willing female friend as Queen / Princess. All entrants in these tourneys must be fighting for someone who will be their co-ruler - it's a requirement of entry that you are 'inspired' by someone.

Currently, SCA Society Law states that you can only be inspired by someone of the opposite gender. No exceptions. This law has been problematic for some time, and there is an ex-SCA group in the UK who split off from us over precisely this issue. Lately the problem of 'inspirational equality' has become a raging thorn in the side of the SCA both in Europe and worldwide.

This has opened the door to some seriously regrettable views being aired by people who should otherwise know MUCH better. Their objections don't stand up to criticism, and they all boil down to the same thing: 'gays are fine but I don't want them parading around in full view on my Kingdom's throne'.

The first and most easily dealt with argument is, "it's not period". Well, homosexuality was very much period, folks. And as for same-sex co-rulers, there are plenty of documented same-sex co-rulerships. While these people were often parent-child pairs or sibling pairs, some were unrelated joint rulers, and unless we have a time machine we can't say for certain what they were doing behind the scenes. I've never seen heterosexual crown couples snogging on the throne, so if having two men or two women up there really worries you then pretend they're cousins and be done with it.

Besides... we have female fighters. We have black rulers with white subjects. Almost all of us wear garb made from machine-woven commercial fabrics (some of which are even synthetic *gasp*). Machine stitching won't get you thrown out, nor will drinking cola from your charity store 70s glass goblet. We drive to site, and no one will tell you off for using a torch to make sure you don't fall in the moat after dark. Our royalty keeps court on flat-packable wooden thrones in everything from fields to ruins to 1970s scout halls. No one moans that their pastry was made from machine-ground flour, or cooked in an electric oven. We're the Society for Creative Anachronism, not the Society for Constrictive Absolutism. Same-sex rulers are far less anachronistic than swords wrapped with frickin' duct tape.

The second that usually comes out is "if we have two men or two women on the throne then the opposite sex will have no one to look up to/be encouraged to emulate.". This argument particularly pisses me off. The rulers of any particular SCA group are only up there because (almost always) the guy won a fight. Sure, that's a feat, but it's no more than that either. The pair might both be outstanding SCA practitioners, authentic to a tee, involved on every level and skilled in multiple crafts; or they might be a fighting-is-all-I-do guy and his I-only-own-one-piece-of-garb other half. The point is that, no matter how skilled or unskilled they may be, they are only up there because of one skill practised by one half of the couple. King / Prince is a meritocratic role only in the arena of fighting; and Queen / Princess is not meritocratic at all, merely luck/being the right person for the best fighter at the time.

If you're looking for a role model to emulate or someone to look up to and think "if I work really hard that could be me", the Crown is the wrong place to look (unless you're a male heavy fighter, in which case, carry on). The people on the throne, no matter how good they are at whatever multitude of skills they employ, didn't get there by virtue of the majority of them. If you're not part of a couple where the guy is a highly skilled heavy fighter, then being on the throne is completely out of your reach. So the argument that people need sexual dimorphism on the throne to inspire them to new heights of creativity and authenticity is bollocks. Our truly meritocratic awards - the peerages and other orders - are the place to look for role models. The rulers are figureheads to provide pomp and circumstance at events, not the best players we have to offer. I see no reason why two women or two men couldn't provide the pomp to all and sundry.

(The above also opens up another rather tricky arena, that of sexual equality in the SCA; that women are all but barred from participating in the meritocratic selection of rulers, due to their relative strength, is another thorn in the SCA's side. And the arguments against other forms of selection are equally specious. *sigh*).

At the end of the day, what people are really saying is "I want to see traditional marriage reflected on the throne because that's The Way It Was and when I play I'm trying to get AWAY from the modern world and all its trappings, not have it shoved in my face here too." (this is a paraphrase of an actual statement by an SCA member on the Facebook page). If you regard gay visibility as less desirable / uncomfortably modern, then no doubt about it, you're homophobic. If you'd make a rule for same-sex coupled players that you wouldn't make for black players or disabled players, you're homophobic.

Like the gay marriage debate in real life, none of the genuine arguments against Inspirational Equality stand up. The opposition to both  is based on peoples' fear, ignorance, distaste or religious beliefs. Frankly, in this or any other day and age... that's not good enough. It's time to take homophobia out of the SCA statutes, for good.

Countdown to a (Same-Sex) Wedding #2

6 Weeks to Go

This post is a little later than I intended, but it's been a busy long weekend: we spent 4 days completely redecorating our living room. It looks absolutely fabulous if we do say so ourselves! It's made the place feel properly "ours" and we couldn't be happier.

So this week I want to write about some of the people we've encountered on our wedding organisation journey.

It's always a little daunting when we walk into a shop and the attendant says "so, who's the bride?". Explaining that we both are, and no we're not sisters/best friends, and that yes it's the same wedding, usually takes up the first few minutes of any interaction. There's always a little apprehensive feeling: how will they react? The hope is for acceptance; the expectation is generally tolerance.

What we never expected was enthusiasm!

Without fail, everyone we have dealt with has reacted in a manner indistinguishable to the reaction you would expect as a heterosexual bride. People have been excited, interested, thrilled, engaged, eager to help. A little curious sometimes about how it all works, but never indecently so, and always with a warm and welcoming manner. We have been SO impressed. The attitude of vendors has exceeded all expectations and made us feel truly at home in the wedding supply landscape.

Here's a shout-out to some people and companies who have made our journey so enjoyable:
Christine at Crystal Breeze in Kingston-upon-Thames, where we bought my dress;
Jessy (we think that was her name) at The Wedding Dress Factory Outlet, who found Ellie's perfect dress after we picked up the wrong sizes and were running out of time;
The ladies at H. Samuel in Hemel Hempstead, who not only sorted out our engagement rings but wave and smile at us whenever we pass in the mall; and
Kerry of Kerry Steeden Couture, whose genius as a seamstress is seeing our lovely dresses shortened without losing their loveliness.

There have also been numerous other people, encountered in passing, who have entered into the spirit and made us feel good.

Cynically, one might think that people in the wedding industry know their business and put on a good show for their customers whatever their private beliefs, but we've never been given reason to think that about anyone. Without exception, everyone we have dealt with has seemed genuinely happy for us. We think that's amazing, and it gives us such good vibes for the future.

Plotting

I'm setting myself a bit of a challenge as a writer at the moment: to plot/plan my new work only, with no scripting or writing permitted, for two months.

In my early 20s, I worked very hard on what I intended to be my first novel. But in 2004, at around the 20,000 mark, I hit fatal plot flaws and had to abandon all the work I'd done on it. The failure of that novel attempt really shook me up. Since then, I've barely written more than a couple of thousand words on any project, and that rarely. I'd say that in the past 6 years my output of genuine novel composition would barely top 10,000 words.

Initially, I went into planning overdrive. I was so fixated on not getting part way through then falling down that I refused to let myself write without having every itty bitty detail sorted out. So I spent countless hours fidgeting with character profiles and defining currencies and making maps and generally avoiding doing the actual writing bit.

Then, I got frustrated with myself for never writing anything, forbade any further procrastination, and forced myself to just write.

This went about as well as you might expect... my characters rocketed through their (well-imagined) starting scenarios then drifted aimlessly as I had no clear idea of how to get them from there to the intended finishing point. I've always been good at starting scenarios, but fine-detail plotting is more of a challenge. Without it, I was sunk. Repeatedly.

So I've decided to try giving myself a timeline and boundaries. Between now and the end of my honeymoon, writing is prohibited, but I have to spend a bit of time planning every single day. Any and all planning is allowed, including obsessive world-building, but by the end of those two months I have to have a workable chapter and scene list.

At the end of those two months, I have one month to write as fast as I can. The planning should be done and I will have 4 weeks of school holidays in which to pour out something resembling the first few chapters of a YA fantasy novel.

When school goes back I don't know what will happen, but hopefully I will have developed good planning and writing habits that will allow me to keep going at a gentler pace.

The honeymoon is a good marker for all of this, as I'm going on my first ever cruise and seeing 5 new cities in 3 new countries, so I'll head into the writing stage full of new inspiration and atmosphere. Seeing bits of France and Spain for the first time (and Guernsey!) can't help but fuel creativity, right?