waves
Hey there, lovelies!
((Kristin))
So I've just read Allyson's book, which I'd ordered from our Very Good Bookshop and which arrived rather quicker than they led me to expect, and, damn, that was fun. Both because she's such a good & funny writer (I was laughing out loud to the point that I totally lost it a couple of times, and this random Indian gentleman had to get up from his table and come over to me and ask what I was reading, as he'd been watching me crack up on and off for the past however-long) and of course because it's about my peeps! And fandom! I want to hug it and snuggle it and call it George. Go Team Allyson.
And then in wholly mememe news, apparently I am Really Stupid, and have caused my mother to join facebook, and now she's sent me a friends request. Which horrified me, actually - but it's not like she's joined LJ and wants to read my fandom journal, or anything. Still - I've not told her about the tattoo (as she really really loathes them, and so does my Dad) and there's that whole sexual orientation conversation that we haven't actually ever had...
Oh, God.
bangs head on keyboard.
Don't actually know which way I'm going to jump on that one. It's my fault - I use facebook for photo storage 'cause it's just so damned quick and convenient, and with the infinite storage, and after she'd sent me a slightly guilt-inducing friendly newsy loving email of the 'hey there, hope you're not dead!' variety I was stricken with guilt, and realised that I've not emailed home for a while (but really, there's literally nothing to write home about - I'm reading and writing and watching DVDs and tutoring a wee girl and occasionally going to the gym, which doesn't add up to stimulating Adventures In Bangkok, but which I'm very happy with) and then I thought 'aha! I'll cherry pick some relevant photo albums and send her the links to them - as facebook assures me one can do, in order to share one's photos with non-facebook-using friends.
So - totally my fault.
Argh. I'm not sure whether I'm freaking out because of the mental disconnect (I get a bit irrational sometimes about different facets of my life colliding) or whether it's because it's revealing some fundamental dishonesty in my relationship with my mother - but, you know, I love her enormously and like her and she's my best friend and all that shit. Seriously! But she's emphatically not a geek, even a little bit, and although I think I've done a pretty good job of beating the incipient homophobia out of her over the course of the past 25 years, I haven't actually had that whole 'so, I like girls too' conversation with her. Because - well, that's just getting in to my myriad messy self esteem/sexual identity issues, and I'm not a Californian. I'm English. I don't much want to open that can of worms, thank you very much - repression is something I do so well!
Argh. I don't know what to do about this. I'm emailing my wee sister to see what she thinks.
Meanwhile, I'm marvelling at the fact that the disturbingly Neanderthal looking Thai bloke (seriously - put the guy in a nasty fur loin cloth and he could be on some Discovery Channel show) at the terminal a few yards away - in my direct line of sight - is methodically clicking from page to page to page to page to page to page to page to page to page of porn. I mean - dude. We're in a net cafe in Bangkok's swankiest shopping mall - it's a SHOPPING MALL, for God's sake! I mean, he isn't looking at people fucking donkeys, or anything particularly startling - just lots of flexible blonde teenagers going down on their friends, or offering their nether regions to the camera. But still - SHOPPING MALL! Time and place, Mr Caveman!
makes mental note never to use that particular terminal again. And always to wash her hands as soon as she leaves this place.