We have this magazine here in the UK called The Big Issue, sold on the streets by the homeless or as close as you can get anyway. It’s been a long time since I bought one, I don’t like giving money to these people because I know, first hand where it goes. They’re better off being handed a sandwich or a cup of tea than your change, believe me.

However, I was waiting on the bus at 8pm last night & having already been asked if I wanted one but said no thanks, I watched the Big Issue seller be ignored time & again by the crowds walking past him. I guess his polite reply to my “no thank you” hit a soft spot because after noting I had another 5 minutes to wait, I went over & asked to buy one.

From there we had a little bit of a conversation about what it’s like being treated like a lesser human being & well, he was very honest indeed, telling me he “liked a drink but didn’t do drugs any more”. Merely out of morbid curiosity I quizzed him on the latter & he told me he’d been off heroin for a year & a half.

Like my own addiction I see these things as being linked so I praised him on his feat, genuinely. Besides, who the hell else out there is going to readily praise this guy for coming off smack? The difference between me the young, pretty girl off the street & some condescending Doctor telling him he needs to stop shooting up & quit the drink is vast, worlds apart.

I guess I saw a man struggling there outside the supermarket & decided to go & brighten his world for a moment or two. Life is all about moments, I know that all too well. There’s no doubt in my mind I made his night too – & I don’t say that to blow my own trumpet because actually, he brightened mine as well….

Think about it, especially over here, I’d bet there isn’t another 21 year old woman like myself who would even have given this guy, Ian, the time of day. Never mind 21, but 31, 41, 51. Standing there with him for those few minutes I too caught the looks of irritation & pity. There’s a fear there, I think. And honestly, with the things I’ve seen & the things I’ve been through, I’m not so sure I would have been so eager to walk on over & talk to him had there not been so many people around either.

My point is that I learned this, how to be cordial, how to create a moment & how to put forward a gesture that might help someone, in America. I don’t think people in Britain realise how differently things work over there. Sure, not everyone is nice in America either but I’ve seen a hell of a lot more kindness than I ever have in 21 years of living in Britain.

This is how everyone should be treated. This is the point of the Desiderata – (the tattoo across the inside of my left wrist).

The line:

“Speak your truth quietly & clearly; and listen to others, even the dull & the ignorant; they too have their story”.

That is what I did last night & I’m really proud of the fact.

I was detained by Homeland Security, fearing the worst – being sent back to Scotland because of some unwritten rule & an arsehole on a power-trip.

I’d give anything to be back there, just to start those 90 days over..

But, I leave tomorrow afternoon with at least 6 months of waiting ahead of me. I haven’t even started packing yet, most of our energy today has gone into preparing my Visa Application which has been stressful to say the least. The mountain seems to get bigger with every new page.

Like the fact I have to take a 5 hour train ride to the other end of, not my own country, but another country for both my Medical (at $250+ a pop by the way) & my Consulate interview because the Scottish Consulate “doesn’t do Visa’s”. And no, they really don’t. I mean their website quoted “$16 for about 7 minutes” to ask one fucking question? I don’t think so…

However, I guess you could say we’re feeling pretty good with each completed form. It’s coming together slowly, & if the mail would just hurry up, $455 later we’ll be on our way. If only that was the only number involved though, once it’s all said & done we’ll be well into the thousands for sure.

The best I can do is be positive, work myself silly to cover the costs & remember that this is my last time leaving Bear, the family, pets & Kentucky all together. Perhaps I might even bring myself to enjoy those murderous flights & hell, maybe even take a liking to Newark N.J?

Yeah, thought not.

Funnily enough, I haven’t been brought to tears yet, but the night is young my friends.

Until next time, do me a small favor & think about me whilst once again I face not only my fear of flying, but the reality of spending 6 months or more under my families roof, 4,000 miles away from home.

Ah.

Home.

Finally we have Internets in our apartment, finally!

I can now write freely again & fill you all in on everything that’s been going on – even if that isn’t actually very much, other than settling into our new surroundings – which by the way, is off the awesomeness scale to say the least.

I’m telling you, this guy could not have found us a better place to live – especially for the money! This sure is a rare gem.

What else, what else..

I’m still shaken by the whole Immigration thing. Bottom line now is that I cannot come back here without my K1 (the Fiance Visa) which a) Costs money & b) Gives us a mere 90 days to do the deed.

You could say, like that son of a bitch actually did, that they “are happy for me to marry an America citizen” but what they don’t want, is for me to take my time in making such a huge decision. No, it must be rushed & unsure right?

Basically, I’ll leave here on the 10th of February not knowing when I will be back. It’s not going to be a matter of weeks, that’s for sure. It could be 8 months at worse. It all depends on those guys at the Embassy but more importantly, myself & the road I choose to take.

However, with this in mind, I embark on the three months ahead taking nothing, not even the crisp 30F for granted. And the last twelve days? They’ve been awesome. I feel so at home here. I’m confident & comfortable. Something that takes a great deal of time & effort for me.

We went to the Dizzy Wizz round the corner for lunch today & sat at the counter – old school I know. The food was good but the banter was even better. It felt great to feel so at home in a place which used to be so…foreign. Needless to say, our new neighborhood is pretty great.

Tomorrow I’ll have my first Thanksgiving over here. This time last year the two of us were bitterly disappointed after believing for months that we would see the holidays in together but alas, such is life.

We’re off to Bear’s sisters for the feast – which I’ve been saving all week for!! It’ll be a busy house, no doubt full of hyperactive children but I’m sure I’ll fit right in on that one

Also, I do hope my abuser enjoyed his last weekend of freedom – the police will be knocking on his door by the end of this week with a bit of luck!

Anyhoo, now that my tater-tots are done (diets always start tomorrow) I bid you goodnight & a very happy Thanksgiving!! Enjoy!

This is just a quickie (sometimes those are the best you know) before I go to sleep for the last time in Scotland for three months;

The police were sprung on me this morning by surprise. There was much bad language in the bedroom & I’m not quite sure how my bursting into the living room with “Surprise!!” went down. But either way.

Technically I didn’t give a new statement but I did answer a hell of a lot of questions. It was really difficult & very emotional. Especially re-reading my statement & the things later added, back to myself & really seeing what others are learning about me & what exactly that mangy mother-fucker did to me.

The outcome?

They are going to arrest him. Not this coming Monday but next. Monday or Tuesday, with a bit of luck. They are currently working on their interview plan & getting themselves situated in the best way possible to watch him fall flat on his face. We can safely say he’s going to have a pretty darn good Christmas ahe?

For now though, I’m totally wiped out, both physically & emotionally so I better get my head down. I am up at 5.30am tomorrow after all.

Next time you guys hear from me I’ll be in sunny Kentucky! – Please keep me in your thoughts as I sob my way, clinging onto the seat & poor soul next to me across the Atlantic!

Where was Michelle Obama? Where was Michelle Obama?!!

I can hardly wait to hear her excuse in the morning!

What do we think? …..

a) “Well, there was a misunderstanding, I thought it would just be a candidate only kind of thing”

b) “I was worried about how my cringe-worthy Ellen dancing would look on that ramp”

c) “McCain pulled a nasty stunt by bringing along his wife last minute!!”

or is it

d) “Honestly? I just hate America”

Way to go for the next First Lady!

- this was another salaciously sarcastic post brought to you by your favorite Pot Stirrer, AudaciousAria!

Do we even have an exact number of how many people lost their lives that day?

How apropos that I would be in a History lesson at the time. Even though I was in Scotland, I remember the panic of that day, especially when the second plane hit.

This is an enemy that runs & hides. Are we then suppose to cower? Turn our backs? Forget? You’re kidding me right. This is what our Nations are responding to. This is why we’re in this fight.  – Nations, because goddamn it my country is a part of this war too.

Why their boys return to a hero’s welcome & mine don’t I’ll never know. I believe the majority of people over here have forgotten this war even exists. We’re all in this together. Oh but lets not forget, it’s only about the oil. But really, that’s another topic & another post.

In all honesty, back in 2001 this tragedy didn’t really affect me. I mean I was still in High School & Scotland was my home & I wasn’t planning on leaving it. But now as I call America my home, well to see first hand how it has scarred people here, it affects me hugely. Even more so as a regular flier. Terrorism is a very real threat & a very real fear.

So today is the 7th anniversary of 9/11. My heart heart goes out to all those who lost loved ones on that fateful day. I can only hope justice will soon be served. But until then, like everyone else who promised never to forget, in remembrance we stand.

After re-reading a recent post & the comments I’ve been thinking about my abuser & my situation. I feel like I’m in a swirling tide of despair. I feel lost & confused. Unsure of myself & my decisions.

Why am I telling them, that if they go ahead with the case against my wishes, that they will not have any co-operation from me? Is that even really true? Say they arrested him & took his kids into care, would I really look the other way? Would I have the guts to pull the plug, not just to let them sweep me along into something I never wanted in the first place. Now where have I experienced this before. Oh the irony.

What am I so afraid of?

I guess it all stems from being ready. Again, I didn’t choose to tell anyone. The fact I was sexually abused by my uncle was discovered by a nosey step-father who happened across a journal – hence, I wasn’t ready. I’m still not ready.

But what does being ready even mean? How does it manifest itself? Will I suddenly wake up one day & just know? Will my body surge with the bravery & courage I wish I had? In-fact, that’s a lie, I don’t wish I had anything of the sort. What I wish is that I could turn the clock back to never having written in that journal & never letting anyone find out.

I don’t what what ready feels like, I don’t know the signs or what to look for. Am I ready now but I just don’t know it?

I’ve been dealing with the abuse & it’s effects for 6-7 years now, internally that is. I’ve never spoken to anyone (a professional) about it & I’m not planning on it either, at least not until I’m back with Bear. I cannot even contemplate doing it over here. It would be a very dangerous thing for me to open that door without the proper support I need….

Support. I don’t have much support here. I know people try, albeit not very well but sometimes, well, my mother tries maybe? But she is the last thing I need. That sounds so cruel but unfortunately it is what it is & really, that’s the bed she made for herself a long time ago. So really, I have little to no support from anyone here. I’m sure there’s a few who would beg to differ but actions speak louder than words don’t they, & I’ve had neither.

My support is Bear, I need Bear. And where is he but 5,000 miles across the Atlantic ocean. The thing with having Bear physically by my side for support is that way, I can be sure not to be bullied nor swept along. We can safely say my family see me as a child – perhaps if they’d tried a little harder when I was a child, none of this would ever have happened.

I’ve never been a part of my mothers family. None of them have ever been interested in me, even when as a baby I was deathly ill, none of them cared. So to suddenly turn around & say “He, my uncle, my “Godfather”, your brother sexually abused me for 3 years”, well, it’s very scary. I believed that no-one would believe me for a start. I’ve been proved wrong so far, but then, I’m not even sure on that because no-one communicates so I’m just going by the riddles thrown at me by the step-father.

I think about my mothers mum & the fact that she will be the last to know, probably once they arrest my uncle. I don’t think her dad will ever know as he isn’t well at all with Alzheimer’s & suchlike. But either way, I honestly believe that she won’t believe it. She never cared for me as a child, why should she care now. I mean, no-one wants to hear their son is a pedophile/rapist/you name it. No-one wants to hear that.

Anyway, I’ve always believed, & perhaps I should credit that to my abuser, that no-one would believe me & that sooner or later they would all close ranks. I envisioned confrontations, over the phone & door to door, & perhaps that may well come, I don’t know. It scares me. It scares me that we’re not answering the house-phone because of who might be calling, it scares me that I’m not allowed to answer the door for fear of who might be on the other side. It just scares me full stop.

Over the years & the separation of hundreds to what is now thousands of miles I feel I have dealt with the abuse, as much as I can, even if that means having blanked most of it out to perfection, like it never even happened. But I understand that other people, family members who have just now found out haven’t had the time nor the…I don’t even know…I guess being a third party they cannot black this out like I do. So to see people almost grieving around me is somewhat strange, scary & at times, infuriating. How dare they. I think to myself at times. How fucking dare they pretend to care now when they couldn’t give a flying fuck before. I have a lot of anger towards my family, especially now.

I worry about the police, the questions & the power. I worry about it developing into a full blown court case. I worry about what will happen when my abuser gets out on bail, will he come & hunt me down? What about his wife & kids? Will she come & find me? She won’t believe me, I’m sure of it. In-fact, due to my father, (though I do not know exactly what has been done), she knows enough right now to at least have questioned him, yet she hasn’t left him has she. No. Because he’s pulled the same wool over her eyes too.

I wonder if he, like I had until my world was shattered by the discovery, has convinced himself it never happened, or that I was willing & that it was all fine & dandy. All these years he thought he’d get away with it. Evidently he thought I would be forever thirteen & I would never grow up to know how wrong evil it really was.

What am I so afraid of?

The past? The future? The truth?

Wow. This just in, my father is a fucking arsehole.

Now I’ve mentioned before his slight confusion over his sexuality. I’ve known this for years, my mother knew even before I was born & honestly, it’s never really been an issue. Until now. So, what I may not have mentioned is the fact he has a young man (22 years old) from the Philippines coming over to stay with him in November. My father’s wife knows & is fine with it – as I would hope so since he will be staying in her house. In-fact, while we’re on her, I may as well shock you all by saying again how she can email him but not me. Yes I know, shock horror.

So this guy is in the process of applying for a Visa to come here. Apparently all of his friends have been telling him not to come. My father could “murder him, traffic him, rape him, anything!“. My dad tells me this as though it’s blasphemy, to which I replied that those were the exact words he used when Bear & I were planning to meet for the first time.

Anyway, the point of this post? This evening, my father tells me the following:

[22:19:36] —–@btinternet.com says:
I got a really good deal on travel to London where we’ll stay with Ian and Nick and it’s only £14 train fare each way
[22:20:04] —–@btinternet.com says:
but I had to book right away and take the dates offered which are 7th to 15th November
[22:20:13] —–@btinternet.com says:
so I will miss your last week here

Well shit me a coconut, isn’t that a fathers love in action right there.

Obviously he isn’t bothered by the notion that I’ll be living in America & won’t be coming back any time soon. It’s fucking unbelievable with these people I swear, they are so out of touch with reality & with me. I’m speechless, I mean, what the hell am I supposed to even say to this?

I mean he’s going on about some Muslim guy in the fucking Philippines who’s angling for a ticket & a job here so he doesn’t get “stoned to death if his homosexuality is found out” – his words, not mine by the way so don’t hold me to that. But really, is he coming over for a holiday or is my father fucking adopting him?!!

My father is supposed to be thousands in debt, cannot afford the airfare to come to my wedding & wants me to apologize to his wife because it causes him “undue stress“. Well you know what, evidently he can pony up for this kid, fly him over & pay the bills while he’s here, but can’t even be there for me on my last week here, even when we had our own plans!

So fuck him. Fuck it. I’m done.

My Kind of Woman

Hell yeah! That’s my kinda woman right there.

I’m totally swooning, I swear, I love this woman. I’m so wound up over all this. I say ditch McCain & run on your own Sarah!! Whooohooo!!

I’m not going to turn this blog into a shrine to our fair lady I promise, but come on, you gotta love that shot – putting her foreign policy into practice me thinks.

*Updated*

Snort.

I couldn’t resist.

And you know, this whole non-story about Oprah balking at having Palin on her lame ass show… why is anyone surprised let alone even talking about this? I mean, we all know she loves Barack Obama. She set him on this path for gods sake, she gave him his notoriety & made people aware of him & his mole back in the fall.

I mean hello??

Oh okay, make me;

Michelle can sure pull some faces can’t she?! I won’t even go there with Oprah’s “I wanna suck his cock” look there either.

Hahaha! Bear & my Father totally had the following conversation;

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’ve turned her into a Republican!”

“Well, actually I’m not a Republican, I’m a Libertarian & she’s probably more that than anything”

“Well, I think she’s a Republican now”.

Snort.

It’s 4am & I’ve just ordered my very own Sarah Palin hoodie. (Told you nothing good happens in the wee hours with me!)

Now that’s gonna blow him a new one!

I was torn between this & the “My Vice-Presidential Candidate is HOTTER than YOUR candidate” but I settled on the fact she’s looking pretty fucking hardcore right there.

Can ya’ll picture me walking round Bonnie Scotland in this?! Don’t tell me it doesn’t make you proud!

S’ok, you can do it!

Needless to say I’m feeling better.