Pulang, marilah pulang, bersama-sama
I need time in my garden. Alas, not everything survived the housemate’s care in the week that I was gone, including three formerly very happy plants. But hey. I can replace plants. At least the cat is still here and thriving, pampered enough to scoff at me and reject my love upon my return.
I’ve struck up a healthy, if strange, balance with work — an interesting full time job that leaves me with extra time on my hands. This in turn makes me very willing to enter the office; even when I’m not needed or expected. If at the start there was a tinge of insecurity (do you really need to hire me??), now I simply enjoy being present with chill colleagues and a work environment that mostly just works.
I’m used to charging into battle — I have a much more aggressive vibe than everyone else at work (IN LIFE MAYBE/DEFINITELY). Also my dark, dark heart. But I am learning. There’s also a steady stream of interns, volunteers, and assistants, and they’re all so much more with it than I was at their age, it makes me wonder what my path would be like if I were their age. I think part of change is reimagining the self.
Part of change that is sadder, is realising that gay male allies will also exert and defend male privilege — sometimes with a glorious angry combination of scorn and hostility. I had an incident at work that is still weighing on my mind, but in a way, nothing about it was new. Disappointment is a familiar friend by now. I am grateful I draw a clear line between my work and personal life.
Also, the ex-girlfriend helpfully pointed out that I have just returned from a long workshop surrounded by woke activisty queery people, and it must be an extra downer to be home and slapped in the face with all this righteous flexing of male privilege.
I did drunk tarot card reading for some new friends recently. I remember very little, but I do especially remember quietly noting my cards are being sassy with me, trying to avoid having to shuffle the cards*, and the large amount of focus it required to appear far more sober than I am (does that make a person look more drunk though?).
Some things flowed better, especially in connecting cards contextually with each other — maybe I just believe myself more when I’ve been drinking. Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped drinking for over a year. Christ, I only had a few shots and beer and cocktails. Maybe I was more frank than I would usually be when reading harsh spreads for others. I struggle to remember with confidence.
Something about tarot card readings, even in a quiet corner, others will find you. I guess in a party, the equivalent would be the circle passing around a joint. In a human rights camp, it would be a circle surrounding a spread of cards.
I want to do it again. Whiskey tarot nights. With beef noodles. Queer dinner parties ftw.
*I don’t like being vulnerable around my own cards. *suspicious sideeye* Also, I’m pretty sure my cards tried to kantoi me and JJ picked up on it, because of course my cards would, and of course she would 😐