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It's been another not-getting-dressed day, and not in a good way. Felt like all the life and purpose had drained out of me, everything was pointless and all that malarkey.

I did manage to get into a minor twitter spat with some dickhead, but it was mostly in my head. A journalist I follow had posted a link to an article about that old feminist quandary "having it all" (i.e. family and career), and how we don't seem to have made much progress judging by a recent book about how to do it, which makes it seem utterly exhausting and unlikely to leave any time for other pursuits if you are a woman, but still not that problematic if you're a bloke (she acknowledged that this was a discussion about the minority of the population who have a 'career' rather than a job). I left a comment about men needing to do their share on the domestic front and this fucking bloke came back with :"id like you to explain to me, a man you don't know, how I need to do my share in a home you've never been in.." and instead of ignoring it, or replying fuck off, you knobhead, which would have been better, I got hooked into arguing with him, trying to get him to see that what he was doing was #notallmen-ing, hijacking the debate by demanding that I acknowledge that not all men are guilty of whatever behaviour is under discussion, WHICH WE ALL KNOW AND NO ONE'S CLAIMING OTHERWISE, instead of addressing the issue at hand - in this case that the combination of children and a professional career takes it out of women disproportionately. It's like white people saying that not racist in the comments under articles about black churches being set on fire - it's not about you, stop being so fucking defensive and try to do something to move things forward. All this in 140 characters at a time. Pointless, but distraction from endless ruminations over my daughters, I suppose.

I'm going to see Patti Smith performing her album 'Horses' on Saturday, in north London. I feel so anxious about it, I can't tell you. I keep reminding myself it's Patti Smith, totally uplifting, empowering, blah blah blah, but it's Saturday night on public transport, up to then across a city, and fucking Halloween, all about spooking people, and drunks and all stuff that I can't summon up the strength to steel myself against. It'll almost certainly be brilliant, but this bit isn't, the apprehension.

I am grateful for: a roof over my head, warm slippers on my feet, a computer to moan on, readers who actually read my moans, a full belly

Laters xxx

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