Sunday, 11.13.2016 - 10:01 am.
Andrew and I went to York yesterday. Our second wedding anniversary is on Tuesday and we gave ourselves a little trip. Last year it was Liverpool, and I'm hoping to make this a tradition, wherever in the world we are in the future. A good trip and a good meal together. That probably sums up our relationship, anyway, haha. But seriously, crossing paths with him in March 2011 turned around my life for the better, and throughout our ups and downs, it's been fantastic, and I foresee it will remain like that for, at least, a long time.
The little safe bubble that protects my life, however, does not make me forget how awful the world is, with particular viciousness this week due to the USA elections and all the expressions of hatred that has encouraged. Even if I forget the USA for a moment, the world was already awful and unsafe and cruel for many countries and social groups in particular, and the elections don't make much of a difference. I mean, it may make things worse, and it will, but it's been enough of a hell before that.
I feel a bit repetitive if I talk about the above, and a bit guilty if I don't. But I'll steer clear from it for now, as talking about it doesn't improve my *feelings* about it (what a privilege that only your feelings are affected), and it doesn't help anybody else at the moment (i.e. by making some things visible, or changing someone's mind about something. Oh, not the most evidence-based Facebook comment will change someone's mind, who would have thought). I'll keep writing about it, for what that's worth, and donate to some causes, but at some point I'll need to do something beyond that.
Yesterday in York, I came across a man collecting signatures to push for an enquiry into the physical and sexual abuse of 200+ pupils by priests, decades ago. He was a survivor of that abuse himself. I signed his petition and donated but first, no matter how horrified I was after reading the signs he put up, Andrew and I just walked by and went somewhere else. I was uncomfortable the whole time until I returned and signed, and Andrew said he felt the same way. After signing, I wished I could have had more words for this man other than "thank you" and a look into his eyes, but it reminded me how I'm prone to my first reaction in real life being to just walk by. I'm shy, and I'm mindful of others who will see what I'm doing and judge me, and I'm afraid I won't be able to defend my support. Fuck that.
On much lighter news, the story I'm writing is now 165 pages long. Yesterday on the train to York I felt like I've laid the story I wanted to tell, I've populated that world as much I wanted to, and now I can move on to the stage of editing, painting a second and third (and fourth!) coat, and fixing some gaps and inconsistencies. I really love how the story is turning out, which doesn't say anything about the objective quality of the story, the writing, or the characters, but it's great that I'm proud and not cringing at my own work. I hope it means I'm improving and not that I'm going literarily blind. I've been reading a lot of fiction this year AND I'm getting a PhD on it, so all that should count for something, eh?
Last and, yes, least: last night I dreamed that Joseph gave me advise on some shit. I'd bought a video game as a gift for someone and I asked him about it, and he recommended one that could be better. I was sorry that the game I'd bought would go to waste and he said he'd keep it if I was willing to give it to him. I said sure, and that was it. We were friends, in the dream. I think that means that I'm at peace with him by now, it doesn't matter if such state is unattainable for me in the real world. In the real worlds that's irrelevant because we live on different astral planes. I thereby declare that I am satisfied with that dream.