A site based in Glasgow ran a thing on Facebook recently listing forty things every Glaswegian has done at least once and asking its followers how many they’d done. I don’t know anything about that, but I did see “bought something at Tam Shepherds Trick Shop” in the list and thought, “yep, I know of someone who’s done that one.”
That’s basically on my short list for Glasgow if I ever get to visit. I don’t believe I will run into the big man there, but knowing he’s been there probably about a billion times will make the visit extra fun.
(No, I will not ask the proprietors if they remember Rory going in there. Maybe they would, maybe they wouldn’t, who knows?)
Actually, if I ever do go, it occurs to me I could do a little tour of places I know he’s been and, like, share them here or something. Maybe not where we know he has docked — that feels a little much like photographing someone’s house — but other places, like maybe his old forestry school or something. I dunno… if such a trip ever becomes feasible, I’ll give it a good think. Set up an itinerary. You never know.
So much quiet on the fandom front as far as new photos on Instagram, unless people are not tagging said photos. Which, I probably suggested that approach at some point, so here I go shooting myself in the foot. Honestly though, I don’t look all that often. The fan edits are a bit of a turnoff, especially the SanSan stuff. Especially the SanSan stuff incorporating, say, photos from his time in The Irregulars. Good lord. Moving on now.
Job search not going so well. I was going to joke about “quit sending me bad thoughts” but it wouldn’t have come off as a joke even though I really would be kidding. It’s not as bad as all that. I do have income. It even turns out you can put your Uber rideshare-driving or food delivery on your Indeed résumé and it’ll get people’s attention. But it’s this weird balancing act trying to work out livable income versus tolerable working conditions. I’m middle-aged, I’m fat, I’m deconditioned (get too tired and sore too easily, a problem I should be fixing in my personal time instead of in the workplace where I’d just slow everyone down), I’m still in my reproductive years but with defective equipment, I’m prone to migraines at inconvenient times, and my feet are too wide for dress shoes. All these things take me off various hypothetical eligibility lists and it’s sort of maddening.
An example: I think I mentioned here I was in the running for a valet driver job at a hospital. I may not have been that specific but that’s what it was. I found out the hard way that I still have anxiety issues when I suddenly had to contend with finding my way around a hospital (it is a literal CAMPUS) whose landscape has considerably changed in twenty years while only having had one day’s introduction to where everything was, and that wasn’t even the worst thing. The worst thing was the aforementioned reproductive health issues and I would have been driving people’s nice cars with light-colored upholstery. Two words: fibroid tumors. Riiiiight. You get it now. Or you ladies over the age of 30 do, anyway. Ya feelin’ me? I’m sure fuckin’ feelin’ me, and I don’t like what I’m feelin’ on days one and two and sometimes three. Which coincided with the job starting. I was very, very lucky, nothing gross happened, but we’re back to the drawing board anyway because that was never going to work until I actually went into menopause. And that could take another ten years. Who fucking knows?
Tackling the problem would take insurance, and I am not of the “just yank it out” school of gynecology; my mother did that, and she suffered for a long time afterwards. (That one organ holds up a lot of other stuff. When it’s gone… well.) I rate nothing better than Medicaid at this point, and they ARE of the “yank it out” school of gynecology. I would need real insurance before anyone would consider anything else. Which requires… A JOB. Which I cannot seem to secure because Issues. Gah.
Oh yeah, taking the Pill every single day. Someone will suggest that. I’m 48, have a personal history of migraine, and lost three of my four grandparents to cerebrovascular (blood vessels in the brain) events (died from stroke or aneurysm). In a word: No. Moving on now.
I go through alternating phases of being really depressed about all this and then feeling like maybe I will figure it out. Weirdly, my odd little hobby here helps. No, not the looking at pics or videos to cheer myself up bit. The knowing Rory has led an unconventional life bit. Granted, he is a dude, so his health issues are very different (if he has any), and he’s never had kids, and he’s never gone through a divorce as far as we know. But he’s lived on the margins, and he pulled through. I think it takes a certain amount of being willing to adjust to where you are instead of spending all your time crying and envying other people because their situation is so different than yours. I mean, you’re going to do that anyway, because we’re all human and envy is part of the human condition, but you can’t let it cripple you. Then you really won’t be able to help anything.
Also, I recently found out that my city has an ordinance wherein if you have a legal source of income you cannot be discriminated against as a prospective tenant just because that income might not be a regular paycheck. I am curious to see how far this protection extends. I do need a so-called permanent address (I don’t understand how something is a permanent address when you don’t own it) for things like not relying on my daughter’s dad for my important mail anymore, and I’d rather have the legal protection a lease provides. But it’s not a matter of EITHER get an apartment OR be on the street. So I’m gonna keep plugging along and see where I end up. Might be interesting. You never know.
I know for a fact that as my own boss I will let myself take as many restroom breaks as I need to take and I won’t dock my own pay or fire myself for it. So there.
Okay. Enough oversharing. Need sleep now. I need to organize my days better, and then maybe I can get a whole lot of shit updated here all at once. No promises.