Census meme
The UK government does a census every 10 years, and the resulting data is then locked for 100 years. It's meant to be a snapshot of UK life as at one Sunday at midnight, every decade. The 1911 census results are being cracked open this year, and we've gotten the 2011 one in the post. It's supposed to be filled out on 27 March. No earlier, and preferably no later. *amused*
2011: Turned 38. Sharing a flat in Southampton with Jack, in a building that dates from the 1890s and was once a fish market - the sea is fairly close, but used to be closer; there's a large bit of land that was reclaimed years ago. I have taken to blaming anything weird on fish ghosts. *g* It's the first time I've properly lived with a friend since my first year at uni and I'd forgotten how nice it is. (Living at looking_spiffy's for a few weeks was also lovely, but we all knew it was temporary, and most of my stuff was still living in suitcases during that time.) Working at an organisation I like, doing a job I have developed a love/hate relationship with - the job itself, records management, I actually love. It fits very well with a lot of my strengths and my likes, and I think it may very well be my career area of choice going forward. As of this month, though, I will have been the manager of my section for a year, and that part of the job has been a hellacious challenge, which is ongoing. Otherwise, I'm in reasonably good health, still organising the flat (we moved in just before Christmas and then retrieved the rest of my stuff in January), stressed out considerably by work, and spending a lot of my leisure time writing in the Establishment RPG.
2001: Turned 28. Living alone with my cat Nibbs in a one bedroom plus den apartment in Mississauga. Until 16 March, working as the bilingual receptionist and sometimes customer service representative in the head office of a cosmetics company, which is the first job I got after graduating uni, and actually the last job that I really loved until my current one. On the 16th, a Friday, I went into work with a job, and left that night without one, because the company had filed for bankruptcy. I did take an unseemly amount of office supplies home :P. I was out of work for precisely four months, starting my job as a federal civil servant on 16 July, which I'd found because I'd handed CVs to everyone I knew, and the son of a friend of my Nan's handed mine into OSFI's recruiting department. I was planning my first trip to California for the August Fan Forum/Crashdown party, having just had in January my first major fan gathering, in Chicago, which was awesome and instantly addictive. I'd been writing Roswell fanfiction for four months, which was the first time I'd picked up a pen in several years. I was watching the midnight showings on Showtime of the original UK Queer as Folk mini-series, and that intersected with some thoughts I had about the Vegas ep of Roswell and resulted in me dithering for a few more weeks before I got into writing slash. Rather pivotal year all around, 2001!
1991: Turned 18. Living with my parents in a two bedroom detached house in Brampton. Halfway through Grade 12, which was my second-last year of high school as Ontario was still on a five-year system at that time. Started dating/fucking A, who I would marry three years later, and eventually separate from and then divorce. Probably the last time that I was uncomplicatedly happy - looking back now, I can see that the following year is when depression began to creep in, though it didn't hit the first critical peak until late 1993 when my aunt and my dog died and I was far enough into my second year of uni to realise that I hated my chosen programme and had no idea what to do as a result, having been aiming at that since age six. Unfortunately, A was the person I turned to throughout these years, and he was wholly incapable of being a support system and indeed, contributed quite a lot to my problems; it wasn't a healthy relationship. But in March 1991, life was good.
1981: Turned 8. Living with my parents in a two bedroom detached house in Brampton (same house). Got caught in a snowstorm on my birthday on the way to my parents' friends' place out of town, and we ended up spending a few hours at the house of a guy that my dad was best friends with in high school. His daughter and I briefly bonded as her birthday had been the day before - I say briefly, because I never saw any of them again! Best friends were the daughter of my parents' friends, who I would mostly lose touch with as we got into being teenagers and having social lives of our own, and JR. JR and I had started becoming friends two years prior, and were very close by this time. That would continue through high school, and a more distant friendship afterwards - in fact, her wedding in May 2003 is the last time that I saw any of my school friends. At age eight, however, she thought boys were useless and she was never, ever going to get married. We had a rather tempestuous relationship, arguing frequently, and she remains the only person in my life that I've been truly comfortable being angry with/having her be angry with me. Something I've never been able to explain.
1971: Two years before I was born. My parents bought my grandparents' house, which they had bought when my dad was 14, and my grandparents moved into a small bungalow down the street. My dad grew up in that house, and so did I - my parents remained there until September 2000, when they moved to Halifax. The people they sold it to are still there, and their little girls have grown up and are off to uni themselves now. I had considered buying it, but it's got a huge backyard with a pool and it's a house meant for children, not a single person who's allergic to grass! Also in 1971, my cousin DRC was born, which is what made my dad think that yeah, okay, maybe he might like to have his own kid someday. *g* Which means, of course, that DRC just turned 40, and I sent him an appropriately mature Scooby Doo card to commemorate the occasion.
Going in 10-year chunks really does miss a lot - there's been huge changes in my life between 2001 and now, especially. The years I was living in Halifax aren't even recorded this way.
And speaking of birthdays, I have received several belated wishes and apologies. Thank you. I would rather not receive any more, though; at this point, it's just upsetting me all over again. I know I have been quiet, and I know that LJ notifications have been down, and I don't make a big fuss over my birthday, and would probably shoot anyone who threw me a surprise party. That said, it was surprisingly depressing that absolutely no one online actually remembered it. I wasn't going to say anything, because it seems all guilt-trippy and passive-aggressive, but as it's been a few days now and it's still bothering me and I don't know what else to say to the belated wishes, I'm posting about it anyway, because I'm not going to respond to anyone individually. I would just like to follow the crowd and forget all about it now.
2011: Turned 38. Sharing a flat in Southampton with Jack, in a building that dates from the 1890s and was once a fish market - the sea is fairly close, but used to be closer; there's a large bit of land that was reclaimed years ago. I have taken to blaming anything weird on fish ghosts. *g* It's the first time I've properly lived with a friend since my first year at uni and I'd forgotten how nice it is. (Living at looking_spiffy's for a few weeks was also lovely, but we all knew it was temporary, and most of my stuff was still living in suitcases during that time.) Working at an organisation I like, doing a job I have developed a love/hate relationship with - the job itself, records management, I actually love. It fits very well with a lot of my strengths and my likes, and I think it may very well be my career area of choice going forward. As of this month, though, I will have been the manager of my section for a year, and that part of the job has been a hellacious challenge, which is ongoing. Otherwise, I'm in reasonably good health, still organising the flat (we moved in just before Christmas and then retrieved the rest of my stuff in January), stressed out considerably by work, and spending a lot of my leisure time writing in the Establishment RPG.
2001: Turned 28. Living alone with my cat Nibbs in a one bedroom plus den apartment in Mississauga. Until 16 March, working as the bilingual receptionist and sometimes customer service representative in the head office of a cosmetics company, which is the first job I got after graduating uni, and actually the last job that I really loved until my current one. On the 16th, a Friday, I went into work with a job, and left that night without one, because the company had filed for bankruptcy. I did take an unseemly amount of office supplies home :P. I was out of work for precisely four months, starting my job as a federal civil servant on 16 July, which I'd found because I'd handed CVs to everyone I knew, and the son of a friend of my Nan's handed mine into OSFI's recruiting department. I was planning my first trip to California for the August Fan Forum/Crashdown party, having just had in January my first major fan gathering, in Chicago, which was awesome and instantly addictive. I'd been writing Roswell fanfiction for four months, which was the first time I'd picked up a pen in several years. I was watching the midnight showings on Showtime of the original UK Queer as Folk mini-series, and that intersected with some thoughts I had about the Vegas ep of Roswell and resulted in me dithering for a few more weeks before I got into writing slash. Rather pivotal year all around, 2001!
1991: Turned 18. Living with my parents in a two bedroom detached house in Brampton. Halfway through Grade 12, which was my second-last year of high school as Ontario was still on a five-year system at that time. Started dating/fucking A, who I would marry three years later, and eventually separate from and then divorce. Probably the last time that I was uncomplicatedly happy - looking back now, I can see that the following year is when depression began to creep in, though it didn't hit the first critical peak until late 1993 when my aunt and my dog died and I was far enough into my second year of uni to realise that I hated my chosen programme and had no idea what to do as a result, having been aiming at that since age six. Unfortunately, A was the person I turned to throughout these years, and he was wholly incapable of being a support system and indeed, contributed quite a lot to my problems; it wasn't a healthy relationship. But in March 1991, life was good.
1981: Turned 8. Living with my parents in a two bedroom detached house in Brampton (same house). Got caught in a snowstorm on my birthday on the way to my parents' friends' place out of town, and we ended up spending a few hours at the house of a guy that my dad was best friends with in high school. His daughter and I briefly bonded as her birthday had been the day before - I say briefly, because I never saw any of them again! Best friends were the daughter of my parents' friends, who I would mostly lose touch with as we got into being teenagers and having social lives of our own, and JR. JR and I had started becoming friends two years prior, and were very close by this time. That would continue through high school, and a more distant friendship afterwards - in fact, her wedding in May 2003 is the last time that I saw any of my school friends. At age eight, however, she thought boys were useless and she was never, ever going to get married. We had a rather tempestuous relationship, arguing frequently, and she remains the only person in my life that I've been truly comfortable being angry with/having her be angry with me. Something I've never been able to explain.
1971: Two years before I was born. My parents bought my grandparents' house, which they had bought when my dad was 14, and my grandparents moved into a small bungalow down the street. My dad grew up in that house, and so did I - my parents remained there until September 2000, when they moved to Halifax. The people they sold it to are still there, and their little girls have grown up and are off to uni themselves now. I had considered buying it, but it's got a huge backyard with a pool and it's a house meant for children, not a single person who's allergic to grass! Also in 1971, my cousin DRC was born, which is what made my dad think that yeah, okay, maybe he might like to have his own kid someday. *g* Which means, of course, that DRC just turned 40, and I sent him an appropriately mature Scooby Doo card to commemorate the occasion.
Going in 10-year chunks really does miss a lot - there's been huge changes in my life between 2001 and now, especially. The years I was living in Halifax aren't even recorded this way.
And speaking of birthdays, I have received several belated wishes and apologies. Thank you. I would rather not receive any more, though; at this point, it's just upsetting me all over again. I know I have been quiet, and I know that LJ notifications have been down, and I don't make a big fuss over my birthday, and would probably shoot anyone who threw me a surprise party. That said, it was surprisingly depressing that absolutely no one online actually remembered it. I wasn't going to say anything, because it seems all guilt-trippy and passive-aggressive, but as it's been a few days now and it's still bothering me and I don't know what else to say to the belated wishes, I'm posting about it anyway, because I'm not going to respond to anyone individually. I would just like to follow the crowd and forget all about it now.