this morning we shaved my father’s hair off. it’s not that short, but it’s a different shape.
he’s booked in to the royal north shore hospital for three weeks, from tomorrow.
incorporated lesbians
last sunday i pulled out my failing sense of duty and spent my afternoon at the women’s library. this in itself is no chore, though libraries are no longer the refuges they used to be.
i was there for an agm.
linc, lesbians incorporated, is what grew out of the lesbian space project. these days, it deals exclusively in grants. and grants are something my projects lack.
it was an interesting afternoon, though i was in a strange position. i was being welcomed as a member with a shared sense of history and linguistics, whereas i am actually based somewhere quite different, as much as i feel affection for their point of view. more than anything, i was simply suprised, unprepared for walking into what felt like a little time warp, back to collectives that i have archives for, but am just too young to have participated in.
apparently usage the word ‘lesbian’ had been debated previously and noone wanted to revisit it. ‘herstory’ was taken as almost entirely uncontroversial, and ‘femtors’, instead of ‘mentors’, gently amused some but was slid into conversation quite seriously.
i’m kinda glad this stuff is still alive, somewhere.
living at home
why do i bother breathing around here? rant warning…
living with a piano again, i recently felt the urge to play. i’ve been revisiting lots of strange things, reading, like throwing a broomstick around, listening to six hours of rachmaninov-grieg-tchaikovsky-beethoven-mahler-chopin-brahms. running around the block. of course the last isn’t revisiting anything, it’s something i’ve never done before in my life.
all these things i’ve been doing when i have the place to myself, but i decided that i don’t need to be secretive. after all, these are my parents, they’ve known me all my life, i don’t have to explain myself to them, right?
so i played, and one day i didn’t stop when they came home. all was well, i got strangely worded compliments but that’s not too bad, i’m quite pleased myself that i have managed to recall a fair bit of what i learnt thirteen years ago, when i was allowed to take piano lessons for a year. before they were stopped, with the excuse that i was actually spending too much time practicing, and neglecting my schoolwork. of course, my schoolwork had been neglected for a good decade before that…
then the next day came. it’s always bad when my father has spent time thinking. i was summoned to listen to him expound whatever was on his mind, and this time it was music. he likes to encourage me into ever more education, and often offers to pay for such things. i was suprised to find he considers music lessons to fit in that category, and he would be prepared to help me pay for them, whatever that may mean.
it’s a nice thought as i’d love to be musical, though really, my time is shorter than my money. so i played nice, and got into a discussion about learning music, how it’s a luxury, and what instrument i would learn if i was going to.
so far so good. i can deal with him suggesting i go to a music shop and get them to recommend an instrument for me. i’m unlikely to do it though, as i really don’t have time to follow through. i already have too many things in my life that i don’t have time for.
later though, i am again tempted to regret treating my parents like actual human beings. again. i am criticised for living on the smell of an oily rag. i am criticised for ever having let my parents give me anything, even as i am being pressed to accept something else. something this unnecessary, no less. it seems that i should both accept their largess and take up a new time consuming hobby, while simultaneously working more and making more money so i don’t have to take them up on their offers, yet have enough money of my own to spend on everything that they consider a priority. is there any way i can win? if i refuse, i’m ungrateful and if i take it up, i’m dependent and they will bring their generosity up every time they feel like having a whinge. about anything. unfortunately, the question of moving out is subject to the same consequences – if i stay, as i’m obliged to at the moment, i can’t possibly help enough to be considered worthy, but if i leave and support myself again, i’ll be ungrateful and refusing to live at the standard they want to see. no wonder i’ve been hibernating, trying to deal with this and my life is all a bit much. but now i’ve let my life slip, and i really do need to get back to it…
kate's adventure 