New year, new… nothing actually.

Can we just talk about how my last blog was in June? JUNE. I’m not ok with that and I don’t blame you if you aren’t either.

In June, a lot of things in my life were uncertain; my job being the main one. I’d love to say that I’m in a super secure job that I see myself doing for the rest of my life. But that isn’t true.

In May of last year I applied to be a bus driver. I didn’t think they’d even look at my application, let alone give me an interview. But, for some reason, they interviewed me based on my unrelated work history and my lack of driving experience. I walked out of the depot thinking that I would never hear from them again but they called me that afternoon and offered me a job. I was pleased, obviously, but dubious about my future with them. I was sure that I couldn’t pass the necessary theory and practical tests but I did. I passed my theory elements first time but failed my first practical exam. And I cried. I sat there on the hottest day of the year (it was 36 degrees) in what was essentially a mobile greenhouse and I cried. And that’s when I realised that I wanted that job a whole lot more than I had planned.

Fast forward seven months and I’m still driving buses (just, I nearly lost my job – buses are hard to drive ok?) and still enjoying it for at least an hour a day.

Of course my job brings me a lot of great things (like money – that’s an important one!) but it also takes its toll sometimes. The hours are long and some (and I want to stress some) of the customers are… well horrible.

It feels weird to me that I haven’t blogged about my job when it is such a huge part of my life now!

Apart from my job, I ended 2015 in nearly the same way I began it; drunk, single and fat.

I am my own worst enemy; I know that.

And whilst I know things are bound to happen in 2016 I’m not about to set stupid resolutions and make promises that I can’t keep. I need to lose weight – that isn’t so much of a resolution as it is a fact. I would like to find a lass (this one is harder than losing weight) and I would love to continue to drive buses. Is that sad? I know job satisfaction is good but is it weird how much I enjoy it?

I don’t know. Maybe.

I’d also like to blog more. Although that’s not a resolution because I feel like resolutions are there to fail.

I hope you all had a very merry Christmas and an eventful near year (I played articulate drunk on NYE – beat that!).

Will I try and blog soon. Yes. Will I actually do it? Probably not. I’ve been eying up the WordPress app so who knows…



Life is busy.

If I thought life was busy before I started my job, I was wrong. I think I completely underestimated how little time I’d have to myself and how much of that time would have to be devoted to work things that needed to be done at home.

I am so tired.

But I feel rewarded. I think the fact that I just got paid helps a lot but I feel genuinely good. Genuinely happy.

On top of  all of that we’ve got a new kitten. He’s a jumpy four month old now but I’ll attach a picture from when he was significantly younger and fluffier.

I will blog more when I get into the flow of things but until then I hope there has been a lot of celebrating in America (and worldwide actually); I couldn’t be happier to hear that “gay” marriage is now legal in all 50 states. Times are changing and I couldn’t be more chuffed.

Here’s Max in all his fluffiness…

Man, I feel like a woman (every day of my life).

When my mum gave birth to me on the 10th of February 1993 I bet she had no idea what I’d become. Maybe a vet or a lawyer or a doctor. Maybe a police officer, a paramedic or a teacher. But probably not a lesbian.

Being a lesbian is not a full time career. It takes me minutes a day to scroll through and catch up on lesbian and bi life in the media and it takes even less time for me to look like a lesbian. I always look like a lesbian, or, at least, a stereotypical one.

I have short, often spiky or ruffled hair and tend to wear a lot of shirts, trousers and, if I’m treating myself, ties. I scream lesbian. (Not literally, that would be a bit odd.)

I have been blessed with fairly large breasts. I’m not boasting, they’re just there. Whilst I have no problem with them except for their considerable weight, they seem to pose a problem for other people who try and guess my gender.

I am called sir at takeaway drive throughs, restaurants and swimming pools. I am told that “the men’s toilets are next door” in cafes and theatres.

Some say I bring this on myself and I can understand that. If I hated being called a man so much I would surely make myself feminine? Yeah that makes sense, I get why people would think that.

But here’s the thing. Until I reached 18 when I cut my hair and started to become who I knew I was all along I felt like I was living a lie. I looked in the mirror at my long hair and didn’t see me. I saw someone who was just trying to conform to avoid confrontation. Well fuck that, I am better than that and I am stronger than that.

As you can imagine, I hate gender stereotypes. Boys like blue, girls like pink. Boys have short hair, girls have long hair. Boys where shorts and trousers, girls wear dresses and skirts. Today I am wearing entirely blue, including some blue striped jeans, and am deciding what to do with my newly washed short hair. This does not make me a boy, this makes me a girl.

I also feel like when I’m walking around people judge me purely on the fact that I look like a man and am “OBVIOUSLY A LESBIAN!” (as I frequently hear shouted in my direction). I am a daughter, grand daughter, friend, enemy, ex, work colleague, volunteer, aggressive driver giving you the finger (as in my middle finger, this is not a sex reference!), lover, admirer of cats, photographer, drunken karaoke singer, the person that tells you that you’ve dropped your wallet and the person that holds a door open for you, the person who slips over in public and laughs hysterically at their own stupidity. I am a lot of things as well as a lesbian.

But some people can’t seem to see past this. Let’s say that I work at a hotel, I don’t but it’ll do for the purpose of this example. A couple of months ago we had a coach load of people visiting who had never been to the hotel before. They were meeting up with a company that often come to the hotel. As this was an important occasion I had donned my usual function clothes; a pair of black trousers, white shirt, floppy (FEMININE!) black tie and a black waistcoat (that doesn’t really fit, that reminds me – I need to get a new one…). Within minutes I was having jokes about my sexuality and gender made right in front of me. Now this is at work, a place where I usually feel comfortable to be who I am; thanks to my colleagues who have literally no problem about me being gay. What I found most insulting was that our usual customers were using my gender and sexuality as conversation topics as they never usually mention it at all. Thankfully, it was all dealt with and I received an apology.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: unless you know who I am or what I deal with on a day to day basis or know what gender I am or what sexuality I am or what kind of person I am don’t assume anything. Because when it boils down to it, I am a human and nothing more.