It was really nothing
2002-11-13 || 6:39 p.m.

There were lots of things that I wanted to write this entry about.

First of all I wanted to write a funny story about my desk catastrophe yesterday. Telling how, when I went up to my classroom after wet dinner play, I found my desk pristine. Yes! nothing on it. Clear. Devoid of crap. Verily glistening with cleanliness and decked out with drawings and pictures with messages such as 'Tidy Now!' and 'Surprise!' and 'Ms Vincent's new desk'. And how I smiled and hugged them and gave them housepoints whilst secretely wanting to vomit with worry at what they had done with my lesson plans.

Then I wanted to write something about last night. How me and Bex went to Dingwalls in Camden to see Bright Eyes even though we DID NOT HAVE TICKETS! What a super fuck off clever mum I am. How I got her in an over 18's venue. How lucky I am to live near London. How I FUCKING love live music. I love going to gigs. Shit I love it. How I could not bear to be without music. Reading I can clearly live without, but music ... no way.

Then I wanted to write something about Mary Magdelene. About how I did not know that she wrote her experiences down. I did not know that somewhere buried in some dusty library RE collection are manuscripts that originated from her. How fucking interesting and why are they not included in the Bible? I wanted to think about that. Clearly it is because the Bible is a patriarchial book with certain set gender roles. I was surprised actually that Mary Magdelene even existed. I always thought the two Mary's were like the mother and whore imagery. Two sides of how men perceive women. But then I began to think that their assigned roles must have grown up around their reality. There once must have been two real women and men assigned them those two aspects. And I wanted to write about how I find Christianity hard to take, especially because it is so male. I have no problem with the message of Christ. Indeed, I've written about it before. I tell my children love is all they need to learn in their lives. What I have a problem with is the interpretation of Christ's message. I wonder whether, if Christ came back today, without being told, he would recognise the churches as having even the most tenuous link with his own teaching. I seriously doubt it.

But instead I need to write about how bad I feel. How stupid and inept and pathetic. How just an hour ago I was once again being put down and moaned at. How Alain will still not agree to any maintenance. I am fucking struggling here. I'm paying things for him that are solely in his name and all I get for it is a slagging. I came home and he is sitting on the sofa smoking a cigarette. I don't smoke. The one thing I like about my house now is the smoke free fucking atmosphere. I have said not one word to him about this. I just ignore it. I think, actually, that it is a cheek. He should ask. He should go outside for fuck's sake but he doesn't and he won't so there's no point in mentioning it. He started moaning at me about the letter I sent him last week reiterating the need for a financial agreement. I told him that it was a letter, a piece of paper, not the end of the world. He could ignore it if he wanted. It makes no difference to me.

I saw that he had opened a letter that had come for him, I recognised it as from the sofa people. Fuck I forgot to pay the cheque in. I wrote it two weeks ago. I apologised. He laughed - the fucking male laugh - the one that really bugs me big time. He said 'well you've incurred a �20 charge for the letter!'.

I said to him legally the sofa is his debt, his responsibility but seeing as its my arse sitting on it, I will pay it regardless. I asked him if I gave him the cheque and paying in slip would he do it for me. He just shrugged. So I just got very angry. I said 'just bring a fucking van round and take the fucking sofa away then'.

What really, really annoys me about all this is that prior to that point I was saying to him, 'your daughter is sitting there can we stop talking about this'. At that point he was saying he wanted to sell the house and have his share.

How the fuck does it feel, as a child, to hear your father is not bothered about you being homeless? I know he has not made the connection. He is thinking 'house, money' not 'house, daughter, me adult, should look after daughter'. All he sees is pound signs. I said to him that a house is not an investment it is a home.

Oh fuck, stupid arsey me.

What a boring entry. Badly written. Rambling.

He just has this innate ability to make me feel so small. So ridiculous. So totally worthless. And so needing to cut giant chunks of myself up so that I can be reminded of how crap I am for a whole lot longer.

I suppose that's what life is all about though really.