Tuesday, January 31, 2012

I Dreamed a Dream

I just wanted to pop on for a breif update.

I had today off, and I'm off tomorrow too. If I'm lucky, I'll get on tomorrow and do a bit of writing, although the need to prepare for Imbolic, which is in two days, is probably more pressing. Still, I've been in the mood to write and since a good friend suggested that maybe since that's what i've been feeling, maybe that's what I should do...I'm going to take the advice and let loose a little bit tomorrow.

In other news, I've fallen in love with the TV show Glee. I watched the first season over the last week. I really liked it. I'm a fan of musical theater, so its right up my alley. I like the show because I don't think they take it too seriously, and honestly, I don't either. I don't think the acting is superior or anything, but I do enjoy it and sometimes it makes me laugh out loud, and that's always a good thing.

I found out today that Kitten's mom is taking us to the ballet at the end of the month. I'm so excited I can't even begin to tell you. I almost cried. Its been so long since I've had a chance to go see a preformance, I think I'll enjoy it. It was a timely thing, too, because today Oscelot and I were talking over lunch and I was rather brooding over the futility of my writing projects at the moment. I've got a tip off to a reigonal press that might be interested in what I've got right now, so I'm going to look into it. I'm going to keep plugging away at the novel I've got going now, although I'm already certain that the first rewrite is going to have to be epic. I hate the way i've formatted it...anyway. We were talking about career options, and I was trying to be hoenst with myself.

Let's face it, even if I do get published, its not likely that I'm going to be the JK rowling of lesbian fiction. I mean, I think I'm good, and I'd take it, but its not liekly, which means that in time, I have to find soemthing to do that has nothing to do with hanging my hat on being a novelist. I don't want to work in restaurants all my life. Its not that I have anything against it, I just...I honestly don't think that's where I am going to spend my whole life. I'm shy enough (go on, laugh) that working with people on a daily basis is emotionally taxing. At least, I'd like a different role if I ever work with the public.

Still, I'm frightened because teaching, the option I had always considered, is likely going to elude my grasp as well, given how late I'll finish my education. I'll find something, I'm sure, but I'm frustrated soemtimes thinking about it.

The point of the conversation I was having with the Oscelot was that the three things I really love doing aren't really what you'd call "career options" for me. I mean, I love writing, and as a tech writer I could make money, but it isn't the same. Its the path I'm choosing because that's the one that seems like the best option. The other things I love? Not a chance. Most of you know I like to sing. If I'm honest, I'm a pretty good singer too. I've had good training, and my voice has held up well despite me smoking the top and bottom of my vocal range away. I love it, and it makes me happy, but I know that singing as a career option is absolutely out of the question. The other thing I love, dance, has been out for so long I shouldn't even think of it anymore.

I injured myself when I was a teenager. I couldn't keep preforming. I was off my feet for far too long. I missed what little shot I could have had. Outside of that, I'm far too old to be a ballet dancer, and that's what I truly love. I mean (and go ahead, laugh again) I'm an excellent hip hop dancer, and I can tap and jazz and all those other fun things. But ballet has always been a passion, and now when I look into the mirror I see myself and I know that even if I wanted to dance with our community ballet I'd have to loose weight and seriously tone up. No, I know I'm not fat. But there's thin and there's dancer thin, and that's one thing I'm not. I could do ballroom, but then, that's not a paying job, its a hobby that requires more money than I have. A lot more money than I have. It also requires a partner, and in my case that would mean a male who was willing to devote his time to that, who was strng enough to lift, hold and do all those other things with me a partner has to do and also is taller than me, by a good enough height that we look normal together on the dance floor, so about three inches or so...putting him at six foot or taller. Yeah...not looking like a viable hobby option even if I did have the money.

So the trip to see the ballet, however painful, will be a beautiful and enjoyable experience beacause its something that I love. Its something I love more than singing and something I understand more than writing. Remember how I said a few posts ago I'm a tactile person? The pure, unadulterated beauty of the movement of the human body is something that truly sets me on fire. Not sexually, but as a person. Watching the way people move is always interesting to me, and watching someone do it beautifully is something that takes my breath away. I wish I still had it in me.

I remembered (and I was telling Oscelot about this) the other day I asked Flyguy if he thought he could pick me up. After asking hwo much I weighed and receiving my answer, he seemed fairly certain he could, after he ascertained I wasn't asking him to military press me over his head or anything odd like that. (Why would I want that? I'm not sure...) Anyway, Hedgewitch had started this funny joke during flashdance about how she was going to get Flyguy in a pair of tights and dancing by the end of the summer. She was convinced that we could teach him to dance, after all, I have the experience...Anyway, I asked him out of curiosity and then spent the rest of the day in a dreamworld after he answered he thought he could. I mean, I had this stupid thought that if I asked him, maybe just maybe he would pick me up, lift me, and I could feel that feeling I did all that time ago...that feeling that I miss so much, that I was something beautiful. That I could make my body something beautiful that was more than me...

Anyway, its a daydream, and its silly, and sometimes I can't help myself. I'll wake up from a dream about dancing, or singing or whatever, and I have this moment where I feel utterly lost because I feel like I wasted so many chances when I was younger and I had no idea what talent or happiness could become if you wanted it to. Its good I'm not a parent...I'd probably become one of the ones that lives through their kids. That's never fair. I don't regret the life I have now. I love it. I love Kitten and Oscelot. I have a great marriage and wonderful friends. I just think...well, I think sometimes that I want to feel that freedom again...the way I feel when I sing or dance and I can't describe it because there aren't words for how you feel when you're like that.

I suppose I'll have to learn though, and maybe trying to know that feeling in words will give me my footing back with my writing, because sometimes I feel like its the only thing I have left of all the talents I've squandered, and then I think that maybe I don't even have that left...I'm never sure. But I'm going to keep after it, because honestly, when I write, I almost feel that feeling.

Sometimes I create a place that is mine, and it doesn't belong to anyone else but me. Everyone else can touch it, or see it, or hear it, but I'm the one that shapes the world. I love that feeling.

Look at me...I popped on to tell you I'm watching a silly television show and that I get to go see a ballet and I end up wandering on a tangent of the things that I love. The things that I miss. I must have needed a confession. I'll say this. Lately I've felt compelled to go dancing at one of our local clubs. I've wanted to go karaoke for a while. Maybe I should. It might do me some good.

I'm to bed, and tonight, there's no telling what i'll dream of. But I've got a hope that I can rest, and be in that world of mine, and know its always there. Even if its only when I'm sleeping.

Wow. I'll turn off the crazy now.

Love Y'all

Saturday, January 28, 2012

As You Shoot Across the Sky

Well hello. As you can see, I've been going through my old photo albums. I thought this might amuse you, because it certainly amuses me. I went and looked back at all the photos of me since I started blogging. I compiled here a little of what you might call a photo diary of how I've changed (at least in looks) since I started this little venture of mine, and since I met many of you.

This first picture is of me on the evening of my twenty third birthday. Well, I think its twenty three. I might be wrong about that, so don't quote me. I always loved that shirt, in fact I bought a bright blue, more updated version of this shirt a few years ago, though I wore it so rarely I finally threw it out this last spring. Also, I'd like to mention I definately don't wear jeans with that high a waist anymore. In fact, I rarely wear jeans. Anyway, this is me when I first started blogging, when I first met Perpet, back when Beloved and I were living together. I had a lot of ideas then, and I think most of them were probably a little off the mark, but that's the beauty of youth, isn't it? You're allowed to be wrong once and a while.

This next picture is of me (singing karaoke, mind you which is why I look possessed) just after I started dating BBD, sometime after I split up with Beloved and sometime before he and I got engaged. I've got a bit of a harder look about me, I think, and I was. I was rough around the edges. I took the split up wiith Beloved, well, not as well as I could have seeing as how I drank all the time, went out every night, and managed to not only start dating but end up getting engaged to someone it turned out I despised. This was definately a time when I was cutting off my nose to spite my face.

This was right before I started the whole Rogue fiasco, and after I left school. Again. This was the time I met some very cool people, and then again, I met some realy jerks too. I met little black book during this time. Shortly after this picture was taken I did get engaged, and it wasn't too much before or after (I honestly don't remember when) I began working at Casa Bueno.

Skip ahead a year or so and this is me again. This picture was taken about a month or two before BBD and I split up. You can see I'm a little more alert in the eyes. My face is pretty pink, in fact, I was probably well into drink the time this photo was taken. But this was a time when I started wanting a little more for myself and a little more from life.

Enter Kitten.

This is me after Kitten and I startd dating. You can see, I am actually able to smile a real smile. You can't see it, but my bestie Perpet took this picture, and that's another reason to smile, outside of finding real love. She and I had been on the outs a bit, ever since she sat me down and told me that I was being an idiot, I drank too much and BBD was ruining my life. I was mad, but she was right. I'm big enough to admit when I'm wrong.

Also, if you look in the background, the red hair and ugly blue vest belong to our old roommate, Guitar Hero. This was taken about a year before she moved in, before we figured out she was bat shit crazy.

This is me on the lake at Epcot in Disney world. Obviously, I'm on my honeymoon. Incidentally, this is the photo I was looking at the other day when I was thinking about how long my hair has gotten. Its much curlier than it is now, because the longer my hair is the wavier it is, and the more like a rats nest it looks like. I spend a lot of time straitening my hair nowdays. Obviously, I am much happier in this picture than the others, I'm relaxed, and you can see my skin actually has a healthy tint to it.

This is me this last spring. It was taken at our local zoo. Because I have it in my hands behind my head, you can't see how long it is. I don't have an accurate photo of myself right now, because I haven't uploaded my vacation photos, and even then, we took pictures of big cats and not ourselves. Its almost an inch past my elbows now. Its also one of the few pictures I've taken of myself (well, someone else has taken, in this case, I think, it was the Lifeguard) where my hair is its natural color. Yes, those are natural highlights. No, I don't still have them. I mess with my hair all the time.

If you want to actually analyze this one, you can see that I've got a healthy skin tone. Overall, since that first picture, I've slimmed down. Rather, I should say, I toned up a bit, and put my flesh where it ought to be. I've only been really big once (andno, you can't see those photos) and I intend to keep it that way. I think you can also see my personality is developing, and I think I look more like a woman in this photo than any of the others.

I'd say its likely that's because its only been in the last four years I've come into my womanhood. I understand things now that were utterly beyond me a decade ago, and honestly, its nothing to do with books either, though I've acquired plenty of those in the process too.

I could wax poetic all night about the things I've learned and all the ways I've changed, but you know, I think you're more than able, if you want, to go back and read all of those posts and see it. Of course, those of you who have been with me all this time, you know how I've changed anyway. You've rather watched me come into myself, haven't you? Then again, I've got no illusions that I still have a lot of growing to do, although I think most of the personailty is pretty well set in stone. I hope so at least. I feel a lot more stable.

There is one thing, though, I will mention, and that's because I was speaking with Flyguy on the topic earlier today. Most of you have heard me say this, although you've never seen it. I have a spectacular temper. In that first picture, when I was angry or upset, I'd run away from a situation. I know now that just puts off the inevitable. By the time you hit the third picture, I'm well aware of how angry I can get, in fact, I spent a lot of my time when I was with BBD yelling. That did me no good at all. The fireworks were seen a lot more frequently, and they were pretty wild when they were out.

Kitten and I don't fight often, I don't say this to brag. I know every relationship has issues. Fortunately, I've learned that I have to discuss things calmly and like an adult. I know now how I feel when I'm working up to a good fit of rage, and for the most part, I can stop it in its tracks now. In the last year I've leanred to reflect why I'm angry. I have learned to take a deep breath and remember thatm ost of the time I can't fix the problem, and getting mad only makes things worse for me. I've learned when to say "Okay, I need to step away (not run away) and take five minutes to breathe and think about how I really feel, and then we can talk. " I've also learned that with almost all people, anger is less a sign of being truly angry, and is more often a sign of something else, like frustration, fear, hurt or sadness. I leanred this because I usually get mad when I am sad, frustrated, disappointed or afraid of soemthing.

Anyway. Enough about my big changes. I'm going to post this sucker, let you guys laugh at how I look, and then think of something to post that doesn't involve me being so abominably vain that I have to post pictures of myself so you can look at them.

Oh- I changed my profily picture because I thought you might like to see me in something that isn't a bikini, and also because its jauary and a bikini is simply not sensible. That picture was taken last summer while I was running in the warehouse district near my house. That was about the time I decided to toss the bangs. I'm so glad I did.

Right. Off to something more entertaining and less, visual.


Postscript. Sorry about the Katy Perry Lyric. It was the only one that came to mind that didn't involve Sheryl Crow, Kid Rock or that terrible Photograph song. I'll do better next time.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

I Walk Alone

So, I'm in a mood. I want to write, but I'm finding nothing but that solid brick wall that most of us in the profession lovingly refer to as "writer's block." To be honest, to me it sounds like somthing hard to bang your head against to shake the ideas loose. It is not. Its more like a huge void of nothing that comes off the blank page and threatens to swallow you whole, churning you in a ceaseless washer that scrubs your brain blank and sings a song that sounds something like this: "you suck, you suck, you suck, give up, give up, give up." Now, the appropriate response of any true writer is to buckle down and write anyway, telling that nasty washer to go eff itself.

I'm trying to do that. I really am.

So I'm hanging out here, in my little plastic castle, and trying to think of what exactly I want to do with the blank page next. Until that time comes, I'm blogging, because blogging is writing, even if it isn't my novel, and honestly, as long as I keep writing, I keep reminding myself that there is a book to be written and I won't forget about it. I've even left myself a helpful little post-it right below where my eyes go at the bottom of the screen reading "write damnit!"

I'll write.

Until then, here we are. You get useless bits of nothing that I may or may not do something with if the moment presents itself.

A collection of random thoughts to follow...

Did you ever look at someone in the reflection of the light of the television and suddenly see them in a completely distoted or strange way? I'm actually a firm believer in not having a television in the bedroom for this reason. I used to, in fact, for most of my adult life I did. Now I do not, and I'm glad for it. Likewise, I do not have a computer in my bedroom. Right now that has more to do with the fact that we don't have room and I don't have a laptop. But I think I'd like to keep it that way. Despite the fact that sometimes I would very much like to have all of my playlists at my fingertips ends in the bedroom, I'd like to keep the bedroom from ever being associated with work, and lets face it, if I am ever a successful writer, I'm going to associate the computer with work.

I've been dying for spring weather lately. I think this is a result of the warmer weather we've been having, but its strange for me. I generally don't care for warm sunny weather. I like the milder, cloudier fare most days. Even in the spring and summer I am more likely to enjoy a rainy day than I am to enjoy a sunny one. Chalk that up to my fair complexion or my aversion to being hot, I'm not sure...However, as of late, there isn't much more that I want than a soft quilt, some thick, green grass and a mild sunny day in the upper seventies. I want to grab some water, a cooler stocked full of berries and cheese and fresh bread and a good book. I want to take off my shoes and prance through the grass in a way that I'm sure rather indicates that I am unused to running barefoot through it, but wouldn't be averse to getting used to the feeling of it at all.

I want a pair of leather pants. I'm not sure why, but I was thinking about this earlier in the day. I have no where to wear them, I don't go clubbing anymore, and god knows what I would wear with a pair of leather pants, but I do want a pair. I nice, tight, tailored pair. Black, I think. This is probably a compulsion brought on by an odd bout of admiration for my own body, I'm not sure. Every now and again I'll get itno a mood and think I'm pretty cute. I wouldn't even say I feel that way now, but I like my legs pretty well and I think they'd look cute in a pair of leather pants.

I've realized Ihaven't posted any new pictures of myself here or on facebook in a while, and I keep thinking I might need to do that. If only for my own peace of mind, because honeslty, I'm rather sick of looking at old pictures of me that really look nothing like me anymore. In thinking of this, I also remember that I was looking at a picture taken of me on Kitten and I's honeymoon thismorning, and my hair was only just past my shoulders. In two years its reached down the center of my back. I keep wondering when I'm going to cut it, but every time Ifeel the compulsion I remind myself that I look like Harry Potter with short hair and if I cut it any length between my shoulders and where it is now, I'll just be bitter I cut it. So it keeps growing. Of course, I live in fear of having that long hair that most people look at and think "that looks gross, why doesn't she cut it or do something with it" so I have to make sure it looks nice when I am wearing it down, which isn't often given I work so much. In the mornings, nothing is more daunting than the thought of taking the time to blow dry my hair and straiten it before I go to work. I just don't like getting up that early. Most days, its in a bun. I should probably change that, since it makes me look like a rather mousy, if severe librarian.

I'm really vain.

We've been batting around the idea of where we would like to go on vacation next year, and it was looking like we were going to go dog sledding, but then the idea of a dude ranch came up and that does sound rather fun. Also, I know more about how to ride a horse than I do about how to make a dog pull a sled. Educational, both...but what would be more relaxing? Of course, I would be delighted to take off and go back to Portland, but since we're planning on moving there, it seems more like I shouldn't choose that as a vacation desitnation again. Of course, I think going to the grand canyon would be fun. I love the idea of Hawaii but that involves planes and me risking getting poisoned by fish at every restaurant we eat at, so maybe not. I also want to go backto Disney world, but lets face it, I should probably save that one for our 5th or 10th anniversary. (By the way, random thought, did you know Kodak is filing for bankruptcy? They print all the disney maps...) So, no certain answer there. Honestly, I think I could probably justlet the girls decide and be happy wherever we go.

Yeah...so that's some of the silly things running through my head at the moment. Nothing important, or terribly literary I'm afraid.

There's some images I've been batting around in my head, though whether or not they're meant for writing or just because I'm the way I am I'm unsure of.

I like the thought of hands. The fingertips especially. In my mind I see a pair of hands playing together, trasing eachother. I see one set of fingers pinching the tips of the others, before folding softly into the other hand. I like the curve of the ends of the finger, the way the nails look on a pair of hands that have been roughened by work. I like hands that aren't entirely soft, but rather ones that are textured and have character. I like the look of hands at work ,whether they are on a computer or doing something more tactile. I like the way they look. I like how they make me feel. Of course, the thought of the hand and the fingers make me think of touching, not in a sexual way, but rather just as a way of communication, of telling someone you are there, that you love them, that you know they need you, or that they are special and important in some way.

i've been obsessed with smiles lately. I like the curve of lips. I like how a smile can mean so many things. I like that one smile can mean love, when the other one might mean disdain or mocking. I like the idea of a smile communicsating more than just happiness, but understanding, compassion or humor. I like how people smile differently. Some smile with their teeth, some smile with one side of their mouth only. Some never show teeth at all. I like how a set of full lips thins out when a person smiles, or how a set of thin lips becomes almost nothing but a pale pink line. Yes, smiles are nice indeed...

Oh, my, I do know how to ramble don't I?

I think I've hit upon something though, so I must run out on you, and find my ramble elsewhere...

By the by...if there's ever anything you would like me to write about, an emotion, a feeling, an experience...anything really, I'm always looking for fodder for a good story...


I'm Determined to Survive on this Shore

So I promised some writing, and its likely that's coming, but Ithought I'd put a little mention to you about my book I'm writing first.

So, I got this crazy idea in my head to write (another) lesbian novel about five months ago. I got a good start on it, and I'm enjoying the characters immensly. The concept is I have two lesbians that hate eachother stranded on an island together in a Survivor type reality show. Its fun, I promise.

I was thinking earlier about how I needed to get back to writing on it, seeing as how I should have finished the damn thing by now. I popped open my Word file, and I reread part of it to get me back in the mood. I was excited, I was ready...then I realized I am in depserate need of some research. So I'm off in the world of learning about the tropics right now, and not doing any writing so to speak of. I could research later, but lets be honest, since I have to do it, I might as well do it now and get it over with.

I'm thinking I am going to have to aquire some books on the subject to be conversant about it, and I'm off hunting for those shortly. In the mean time did you know:

If you burn coconut husks at a cmolder it repels mosquitos?
If you burn the stinging part off of nettle, you can eat it? (The stinging part hurts, trust me on this one)
Plantains can be used to treat muscle soreness if you soak them, but the seeds are a laxative?
Green bamboo will explode in a fire?
Almond trees grow in most tropical locations?
Tropical days have equal length of day and night?
Fish from reefs are more likely to be poisonous?

I did not know these things until tonight.

Its amazing the things you're forced to learn when you decide to write a book.

Lets hope my characters make it out okay. Its looking like I would be dead in the water.


Your Bones Have Been My Bedframe

After that last, most pathetic post, I suppose I ought to give you and update, eh?

I made it through Sunday. Actually, I was pretty proud of myself. I managed to get through the workday in one peice and prove myself useful. I admit, though, by the time four rolled around I was more than ready to go home. I crashed out. Monday wasn't any better. Actually, it was worse, truth be told. I went home sick. Its the first time in years that I can recall going home sick from work with something that didn't have anything to do with my headaches.

I did get to work early, and I got the store open. I took four tables before my replacement was able to get there. I was so very thankful when she did. I had spent most of my morning in the bathroom throwing up, and that's no way to be when you're in a restaurant. I tried really hard to pull it together and be brave. I don't know that I succeeded, but I tried and for me, that's what counts.

When I got home I tried to eat a little bread and some spaghetti. That didn't work, really. I passed out on the couch, because I was frankly too tired to move into the bedroom and I wanted to have one of the girls close to me if I needed them. While I was asleep Hedgewitch came by and brought some tea for me to drink which is supposed to help with colds and flus.

I managed to get dinner down, sort of. I had roast beef and potatoes and green beans. I managed some strawberries and peaches. Everything tasted awful, truth be told. I have a really sensitive palate and when I'm sick everything tastes weird. I swore the peaches were fermenting, turns out it was just the sugar they were soaked in. Ah, well.

I set myself back up on the couch and sort of stared into space for a while. Kitten gave me a massage and tried to get all the tension out of my back and neck. All the throwing up and sneezing and coughing was giving me a headache on top of everything else. I finally relaxed enough to maintain a text conversation with Flyguy for a while. I fell asleep in the living room floor, which was the most comfortable place I could find to rest.

I remember I had a phone call from one of my new coworkers who wanted to know if I wanted to smoke hookah with her. It was late, I think. After I passed on the offer, for obvious reasons, I drug myself off to bed and fell asleep. I woke up when my fever finally broke.

This morning I was up by seven and feeling way better than I have in days. I've been resting. I try to eat as much as possible, although that's not terribly much, because everytime I eat I feel sick to my stomach. At least I'm not still throwing up, right? My best hope is by tomorrow I'll be feeling almost normal and I can enjoy at least one of my two days off.

My accomplishment today was I bathed and I got dressed. Tomorrow my goal is to get out of the house and do something, anything, that isn't lay around. I'll get bored and sickly again if I keep laying around watching special features on all of my DVDs. Watching television for too long always makes me feel like crap. Its part of the reason I'm here at the computer, boring you with tales of me being sick. It gets me off the couch, if only for a little while.

I'll probably follow this post with some sort of nonsense, since I actually feel like writing. If I were smart, I'd apply all this listless energy to my book. I should get on that, you know...

We'll see. The cold dark months are coming, though you couldn't tell since we're back in the 60's today. Once the snow hits, I'll want to be writing all the time. I know, because I spend most winters with my fingerless gloves on at the computer writing. Here's to hoping this year I produce something worth selling.

I'm signing off for now. Stay tuned for some nonsensical drivel, and hopefully no more boring health updates.


Sunday, January 22, 2012

Will the Raindrops Sting My Eye? I Keep Them Closed

The last three days have sucked. Seriously. I don't expect today to be much better.

I'm sick.

now before you start laughing at me, I should point out, I never get sick. I was joking yesterday that the reason I'm able to make peace with the fact I have such awful headaches is because I don't have a crummy immune system. Its pretty true, actually. Working in restaurants means I'm exposed to sick people all the time. Customers come in sick because they're inconsiderate. Coworkers come in sick because they need the money badly enough that they can't afford not to work. Most the time we want them to go home, but how do you say "hey- you have the sniffles, go home" to someone who won't make their rent if you do? Its tough.

Most the time, I don't catch any of that stuff. I remember when H1N1 was such a big deal we had five different employees catch it. We had a whole slew of other staff members with the regular flu. I didn't so much as sneeze that whole season.

So why now? I've had a cough and a runny nose for three days now. It came out of nowhere. i've pushed enough meds that its moved out of my chest and into my head, but still...its torturous to have to run to the back every fifteen minutes to blow my nose. My coworkers keep asking me what's wrong because I look like I've been crying my eyes are so red. I can hardly focus I've got so much medicine in my system. What kills me is that no one I am close to on a regular basis has this thing. If Kitten or Oscelot or Flyguy or Hedgewitch had this I'd understand. But they don't.

So why I am sick?

I think my body has broken trust. I'm not supposed to get sick like this since I have migraines.

Who do I report this violation to? Seriously.

On the other hand, I suppose I can be thankful. I only have two more days until I'm off. I'm looking forward to a ton of hot tea, some blankets and a pillow. I've been running low on sleep. I had a really long weekend at work, and while I enjoy the priveledge, I do wish I could have had it without the sniffles. Today I go into work early to do the liquor inventory and bartend. Tomorrow I probably lunch close, since I do that most Mondays. So two more long days before I get a break.

I can only hope that my customers are kind and generous. I hope they pity me. Seriously. Because I'm not going to make a dime like this.

Well, I'm off to pack up the dayquil and theraflu to take to work with me. Say a prayer for my sanity.

I can do this.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

You're Uninvited

I glance over the rim of my coffee cup to the clock on the wall. It reads 7:23. I blink and you come through the door with a smile on your face. Your cheeks have been whipped rosy by the cold wind outside and I can see that you're cold by the way you hug your coat to yourself despite the warmth of the room. I curl my toes in anticipation. I can't wait for you to put your arms around me.

I blink.


The steam slowly rises as I sip from the cup and when I close my eyes again I see your smile still. I see you looking at me across a table in a crowded restaurant, and you're laughing at something I've said. The lights shine in your eyes, and the sparkle in them is only something I half imagine.

I see the curve of your mouth as you sip your wine and I can almost taste it as I lean across to kiss you. But I never do because I can't work up the courage.

I go back to my coffee and staring out the window and I tell myself that I must take time this evening to think of something that isn't you. The sky is pink and orange and green around the edges and I think to myself that maybe it will snow tonight.


The flurries begin to fall and they dance around the window pane in a hurried rythm I can barely make out. As it begins to collect in tiny drifts in the corners of the sills I think of how it will look in the morning with the streets covered and glittering.

We went sledding last year on these tiny saucers that looked like frisbees on huge and flat and red and blue. We climbed in your truck and I could barely move I was so bundled up from the cold and we drove to a park full of hills and laughing children.

I remember your plaid scarf and the way it looked garish and bright and clashed with the tone of your skin and the color of your knit winter hat. I remember you making fun of my earmuffs and how they made me look like I was ten years old. I remember reaching up to touch them with my gloved fingers and feeling the hardness of them on my ears. But I was warm. And I laughed.

We hit that ice patch at the same time, right towards the end. Do you remember? We both flew off the sleds and landed on our backs, moaning and laughing at the same time. We crashed, and you fell onto me when we tried to stand up. I remember how my feet were hot with cold and how my head was spinning from the fall. I remember that as I laughed I thought of how you felt right then with your head on my shoulder and your arm flung out across me. I remember thinking that maybe, if my boot weren't crammed into your knees, how it might have felt nice.

Do you remember?


I pull the blanket tight around me as the cold sets in. The heater kicks on with a low growl and I savor the smell of the warmth coming through the heaters. I bury my toes in the cushions on my couch and I think of the night you stayed over because you couldn't drive.

I dug extra blankets out that night. You teased me and called me a cover hog. You laughed at me for having so many blankets in my closet. Preparing for a blizzard, you said. I must be waiting for the snow that ends the world.

We curled up in my bed together, and you teased the cat over the side of the bed. I remember the sound of her growling and playing with you, her claws skittering across the hardwood floor as you dangled a sock over the side to play with her.

You fell asleep next to me that night and I remember laying there and thinking to myself how beautiful and perfect you were with your lashes resting on your cheeks and the sound of your soft snore echoing through my bedroom. I remember the heat of your body as you wound yourself around me, and the feeling of your legs as you slid them between mine.

I remember how you woke in the morning with a terrible hangover and how you told me I was the best friend you had as I made you breakfast. I smiled at you, and I stroked your hair, and I handed you a bloody mary and looked away.


My coffee is cold and the smell of it is almost sickening, even from its place on the table in front of me. Its sweet, musky scent fills the room and I have trouble not noticing it, even with my face pressed against the glass. It fills me, like thoughts of you, and I can't really escape it no matter where I put that glass.

I walk to the kitchen where we had dinner together just last night, and I sit it gently on the pile of dishes we left there because we didn't really feel like cleaning up. I sit down at the table and I look around the room and try not to think of laying in your arms on the couch and how you laughed at my desperate need to cuddle to stay warm.

You should laugh, I suppose, because I don't care for the warmth so much as the heat of your body next to me, your arms wrapped around me, your breath skimming over my hair and blowing it out of place.


I think of how you looked at me last night and there was something in your eyes that made me look twice. Something I don't normally see. Something like sorrow, or a wish you won't speak out loud. I wonder to myself if its pity, because you see in me all the things I feel for you. Maybe you pity yourself for noticing. Maybe its nothing at all and you were thinking of something I won't ever know about.


The door opens, and you come in, stamping the cold out of your feet as the snow swirls into the tiled entryway.

You smile.

I smile back at you.

When you open your arms to me I don't stop and think, I don't wait. I go to you. And for a moment, the clock disappears.

Can You Make it Last?

Wow, guys. You like the posts about sex! I think that last post was my highest hit count in ages. Not that I'm mad, or suprised. Most of the people who read my blog are friends of mine...or I should rather say that I haven't had anyone new comment on it in a long time, so I assume I know most of you who are reading me...

Anyway. I was glad to see that you're dropping by, and since we're on the subject, and both you and I seem to like it, I figured I would continue it. Sex is an endlessly fascinating subject to me, I could probably blog exclusively about it if I felt like it. I won't I promise, but I could.

The thing I was thinking about the last couple of days is rather convoluted. I was thinking about sensuality and also what constituted good sex. This came about in a rather off kilter sort of way. Part of it was I was rethinking over some of my past conversations with my friends about the topic. The other was I was reminded, as a result of these conversations, of an old lover of mine who accused me once of being "really sensual." I took it as a compliment, but the thing was, out of all my lovers, this would be the one I would least expect it from. It still baffles my mind. Let me explain:

This particular lover of mine was not someone I was in love with. It was a fling. We slept together a few times, off and on. It was never anything serious. This partner was, to be honest, a bit of a jerk and that was part of why I liked them. There were never any pretentions to love or a long term relationship, and as most of you who've known me long will corroborate- I like pig-headed partners if I'm out for a good time. They're more of a challenge and I pride myself on my ability to please even the toughest of comers. (no pun intended)

The reason I was so suprised was because this person was not romantic at all. We weren't romantic, even when we were sleeping together. In fact, this was one of my first experiences where I realized that sex is not something you could take seriously all the time. We'd be sitting on the couch talking politics and all of a sudden I'd discover we were having sex. I mean, yeah, that's why I'd come over, but all the same I was stunned to discover a debate about medicare and social security could work as foreplay. We carried on the conversation while having sex. Some people might say that's terribly boring, or maybe the epitome of geek sex. I don't think it was either of those things. We had a nice time, it felt good, we were both pleased. But my partner didn't see the point in stopping the conversation just because we were into each other.

Given this rather unique situation (one I haven't repeated since then) I was really suprised when I was told by them that they found me "really sensual" and that it came as a bit of a suprise to them. I don't know that love and politics, or any other sort of serious topic, usually go hand in hand. Apparently, though, this time, it worked. I mean, at the time I took the compliment with a puzzled smile and moved on. But thinking about it now- I don't think I was trying to be sensual. I was just enjoying myself. Does that always constitute sensuality? I'm not sure.

I think that I've been with plenty of people who were extremely sensual, but you could tell they were trying to be. I've been with people who just were and it was a part of them. I'm not sure how you would define it. I mean, I think in relation to myself, my "sensuality" as it were is more that I am an extremely tactile person. I like to touch and to be touched. What's the point of sex if you can't enjoy a person completely? I want to feel every part of my partner. I don't think that's sensual, I think that's good sense. I mean...I hate to use the phrase "you've seen one you've seen them all" because that is certainly not the case. But, I do think that there are far less suprises when it comes to the actual sex organs than there is in the rest of the body of the person you're sleeping with. I mean, doesn't everyone enjoy finding the nice spots, the ticklish spots, the places where they have birthmarks, freckles and scars from falling on the playground as a child? Those are the best places. Those are the places that make your partner unique and interesting. Right?

I'm interested, you see, in what you think sensuality is. Maybe its that I have no definition to work from. Maybe its because if I actually set out to be that way, I feel like I'm play acting. Of all things, I think sex should be real. I think the act itself is something that should be natural for both people involved.

Which sort of, kind of, brings me to the second thing milling about in my head. What constitues good sex, and how important is it? If you go back to my post prior, and you think about the first time you sleep with someone, I think there's that moment there where you consider afterwards exactly how that felt for you. I think sometimes that's a determining factor for whether or not you do it again. Not always, but sometimes.

Now, I was debating with someone the other day about whether or not you should dump somebody because the sex is bad. I think that's not ever a good cause, although I think in that there is a root problem that possibly goes deeper. Here's why. My friend argues that if the person is trying, and maybe they aren't experienced, or they're nervous, or whatever and it doesn't go as well as you hoped, you shouldn't be basing your whole relationship solely on that act. There has to be more. I do agree. I think that sometimes it takes partners time to find a good stride. And if you are new to it, or you've been less adventurous that your partner, or you just did things differently with all your other partners- sometimes there's a learning curve. You don't say, "well, that didn't work for me, so we can't date anymore."

I am totally there on that one. BUT I also think that if you've been with your partner for a while and things in the bedroom have never heated up, that's something to be concerned about. Here's why- there's a compatability issue here. Maybe you don't trust your partner (you probably shouldn't be having sex with them). Maybe they're selfish. Or you are. Maybe their kinks are simply too much for you, and you can't handle it and it freaks you out. Okay. I get it. But I think that you put that up to a relationship issue that's been manifesting in the bedroom. Its then, I think, you can probably say "maybe this is not working for us" and move on. But I also think you make it clear, the sex may not be great but its a personality thing that's really killing it. Also, I think if you've been with someone a long time and the sex goes bad...well, that's a problem too, and likely one that has nothing to do with sex.

Anyway, so good sex? Important? Yeah, probably, but I think in a different way then most people would think. I've had partners that I didn't think were as talented or adventurous as others I'd been with. This doesn't mean they were bad, just different. I think you're on a slippery slope when you start comparing partners. And at no time do you ever say "my old partner did this and it really worked for me, try it." That's a killer there. I mean, yeah, if you like a certain technique, teach your partner and see if it still works for you. But, for god's sake, don't mention your ex, because that puts other people in the bedroom with you and is a can of worms you probably don't want to open. I'm just saying...

As for the act itself, I think that part of what makes sex good is who you're with. I mean, I've had some partners that could do things that bent my mind and turned me inside out. I've had partners finish me so hard that I actually was physically sick afterward from the vertigo. I still prefer other people I've been with because I enjoyed their company more- in and out of bed. To me, they were better lovers, because we connected at a different level (something Flash mentioned in his comment on the other post, and I completely agree with). I do think that other things, like whether or not you like screamers, or nails, or tender or whatever...I think that's personal preference and doesn't constitute good or bad. I think that's something you should probably talk about with the person you're with before hand. I mean, if you like a good spanking and it weirds your girlfriend out...well, things might not work out there and you need to resolve that issue before you hit the sheets.

Am I wrong on that one? I mean, how many of you actually talk to your partners before you've gotten into bed with them about the things you like? Obviously I can't pretend that you would cover this with someone who you're having a one night stand with. I mean, pick-ups aside, I would be completly freaked out if someone at a bar was like "Hey, I know we're thinking about leaving together, so I need to know, are you into reverse cowgirl?" But I do think, with most of my partners, the topic of sex, the act, comes up in conversation pretty frequently before we bed each other. Am I unique in this? I don't know. I still think its a good idea.

So, here I am, straddling the fence again. Last post I said sex isn't something holy, it isn't some deep mystical act. I believe that. But I also believe that to have a truly good time, you have to be connected to your partner in some way. You have to be on the same wavelength. Am I a hypocrite? I don't know. I mean, if you take it only to mean you have to love you're partner I suppose I am. And I have to confess, the times I've really, really enjoyed myself, if I tote them all up into like a top five list or something- four of those five? I loved them. But then, that partner I mentioned earlier...we connected and I did not love them. Not in the slightest. But I think we understood each other, and that made all the difference. Because, honestly, I did have a nice time.

What do you think? Do you measure good sex purely based on how good you felt after? Or is it something more?

Let me know. We'll go from there.

Monday, January 16, 2012

I Want to Feel You From the Inside

Right. Now that I've gotten my "sentimental drivel" out of the way, I actually have something to talk about.

First, I need to mention that we went to dinner with Kitten's mom tonight. This week is Kitten's birthday and her mom is going to be out of town, so we went to dinner with her tonight so we could share it with her. We went to our favorite local hibachi restaurant. Her mom hadn't had it in a long time, and I love Japaneese, so it was a win all around.

I'd like to say this, I think Kitten is really lucky because her mom is always proud to be seen out with us. She is always happy to tell people we're her daughters. I ran into an old schoolmate tonight and we got to talking over the table. I am sincerely delighted, because we were talking about Kitten and I's honeymoon and her mom totally took it in stride. She didn't look embarassed or ashamed. She just smiled. It made me happy, because a lot of parents wouldn't be okay with it. A lot wouldn't think that the honeymoon of her lesbian daughter was appropriate dinner conversation. Mom has no problem with it. I love that. She spoke to me earlier in the evening about "when" I meet her sister I should ask her about certain things when Kitten was growing up. She spoke of it as a certainty, like she knew I would meet her one day (she lives on the other side of the country, which I suppose is why we haven't met before now) She didn't say "if" or "maybe" and implied that her sister knows about our relationship and has no problem with it. It made me feel really good.


So before mom arrived we were there early because I didn't have to work as late today as I normally do. It was quiet. So we got to the restaurant and made our way to the bar to have a cocktail and chat with the bartender, who knows us pretty well. Before you go thinking we're heavy drinkers- I'm allergic to seafood, so I always ask for a specific chef. He's never had an accident or cross contaminated my food. I know I'm safe to eat with him. The result is sometimes on busy nights we sit at the bar quite a while waiting for his turn in rotation. So the bartenders see a lot of us, whether we drink or not.

Cocktail conversation this evening was inspired by a friend of mine who mentioned one of his guy friends went out with a girl a couple of times and then slept with her. Afterwards he decided that he didn't like her all that well because she was willing to sleep with him on the second date. My friend pointed out to him that he would have dumped her if she'd made him wait six months, and he agreed that was probably true.

So...what's the magic number? At what point is it "okay" to start having sex with the person you're seeing? That was our big debate tonight. I think we were slightly divided in some ways, but it ends up equating to the same thing when you work it out. I think.

We decided it depends on what the situation is. If you're out looking for a good time, of course you're probably not going to wait as long. That's natural. If I were to go out trolling for women (forgive the expression) then I don't need to wait three or four dates to sleep with her. That's why I'm picking her up, right? Time frame shortens (for me) to long enough to ascertain she is disease free and regularly gets tested for AIDS and uses protection.

Now, if I'm in a relationship its a whole new ball game. If I am dating you because I like you as a person and I want to be in a long term relationship with you, the waiting period is longer.

Have I had sex on a first date? Yes. Did the relationship pan out? Hell no. Here's why: in the end, that was actually more likely part of the first catagory. We're all been there right? Here's my friend, acquaintance, whatever. We've talked, we're cool, and they're pretty good looking. You go out, you end up in bed. Turns out it was a fling and you were really more interested in the sex. Sometimes you go back to being friends, sometimes, alas, you don't. The end.

There are, however, those special circumstances where you know this person is special. You want to be with this person. For a long time, or at least a fairly good period of time. This is where the numbers get tricky. Kitten is of the opinion that between 4-7 dates is appropriate depending on the person. I agree, to a point. For example, in our relationship, we waited quite some time. The second time around. This current relationship. the first time I think we may have hit the 4 date mark, if you count meeting up at the bar and dancing all night a date. But this time around we waited for what seemed like an aeon before we did. Now, I was in a unique postition, given the relationship prior to her, but suffice to say when the time did come, I was more than ready.

Now, here's where she and I rather diverge in viewpoints. See, for me, I don't think you can put a time period on it. I think there's probably an average. I think its even likely it falls in the 4-7 date range. But for me, its a feeling. My view is you wait until you can't possibly wait any longer, you're about to freak out, your genitals may actually pack up and leave town in mutiny if something doesn't happen soon.

Maybe I'm a massochist. Maybe its just my thing. Maybe I'm old fashioned. For me, though, I think there should be a kiss goodnight kind of night. I think there should be some making out. I think that should progress to some heavy petting with expressions of wanting more. I think that may or may not involve oral sex, given the relationship and the people in it. I think said oral sex probably comes next. But after that- that's the time. You've stopped, and stopped and dithered about respecting each other and how much you care and how the relationship might be affected. That's when it happens, if it ever does. That's the time you have sex. When you think you can't take another second of how beautiful your potential partner is. When the thought of not being with them is totally and completely intolerable and possibly a risk to your sanity. THAT'S when you have sex.

Of course, if you're as impatient as me, this could happen before date four. Or, if this person falls into the type of person catagory one is. You've known them forever, you've been friends a long time, you're ready to take it to the next level and that first or second date was so amazing you can't wait to please them in bed, yeah, you might have sex on date two or three. Is it rare that works out? Probably, I don't have any hard numbers, but I'm betting so.

Even then, I think it does come down to the relationship itself. I'm convinced that if I had slept with Kitten the night I ran back into her, we would still be married and happy and together. But then, I know we were made for each other.

But I think circumstance can make all the difference. Take Perpet, for example. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned that I've slept with my BFF. I'm pretty sure if I haven't she won't care (you don't do you, darling? :)) She and I had known each other for almost 5 years before we slept together. Did it take us that long to discover we wanted to sleep together? Hell no. I knew I thought she was attractive about ten minutes into meeting her. I knew she'd be a good time before the first month we were official besties was out. But it wasn't time.

(Actually, an aside, mostly addressed to her: you know, I was thinking that we should have signed the walls of all the bar bathrooms we made out in, because I'm pretty sure that most of the bars downtown would have our signatures on them by now...)

Anyway, point is, we were way into our relationship before we did, and it actually happened after she got married. Thank god and goddess for the poor Boy, who finally broke down at a bar one night and told us he was going to go nuts if we didn't get it over with once and for all. We did. That night. Honestly, I'm glad for it. I don't know if we would have ever gotten to it if he hadn't said soemthing because by that time I think we were so accustomed to our attraction to each other it almost didnt register anymore. It wasn't like "Gosh, Perpet looks hot and I love her so much, I ought to see about sleeping with her." Ever.

Fortunately for me we did and it was nice and we don't have to do it again if we don't want to. We know, and we still love each other, and nothing changed except now I've slept with my best friend. And she's still my best friend. I'm fortunate she's that cool. I've seen it go the other way. Rogue is a great example of that, though we never really had sex. Not in the technical sense anyway.

Point is, and I know I digress, I think timing has a lot less to do with actual timing and a lot more to do with how you feel about a person and the way you view them. And what kind of person you are.

Oh- I suppose the other thing I ought to mention, and you can see it is almost an afterthought- is the idea that you shouldn't have sex with your partner until you're married. Obviously, I am not a fan of this idea. In part because I like sex. But also because I think you set yourself up for disappointment sometimes when you do that. I think you make sex into something it shouldn't be. I mean, don't get me wrong, I think sex is special and the person you're with should be special. I'm not a fan of one night stands. I like to know the name and birthday of the person I'm bedding. I think sex can be beautiful and intimate and wonderful. But I also think that, like the timing, that kind of sex is entirely dependent on the person you're with. Sex, to me, isn't a reward. Its not a holy act. Its not something you expect and its definately not something that should be a sacrifice for you. Sex, in the end, is sex. It can be fun, it can be silly-and sometimes that makes it awesome- it can be serious and it can be beautiful. But in the end, its a form of pleasure, and its something you do to show the person you're with that they are as beautiful as their company makes you feel. I think when you wait until marriage, especially if you aren't a virgin and you've decided to wait, you run the risk of setting yourself up for disappointment. And you're partner. It works for some people, but I'm happy it wasn't something I did, because I would have missed out on a lot of special moments in my life if I had.

So, I'm really interested to see what everyone thinks about this one, because I find the whole idea fascinating. You're opinion would be appreciated, because frankly, I like to know what you think about things like this, even if they are really trivial things in the grand scheme of it all.


You Made Me Feel Like a Million Bucks

The sweet scent of your skin is the most comforting thing I know.

The soft glow in your eyes is the meaning of love.

The tender quiet moments are the ones that mean the most.

When I lie down at night, its thoughts of you that put me to sleep. I dream of your voice and your touch and your kiss. You rock me softly through the night with the comfort of your presence. I always know you're there. I always know I'm safe.

If I could get lost in a warm wooded place, I would want it to be with you. I could turn my face to the breeze and sing with the birds and I know you wouldn't laugh. You would be there with me, your voice with mine, your touch soft against my hands. I know that in that perfect quiet, that sweet peace, you and I could find surrender together. I find it when we're alone, when no one is looking but you and I. I know it when you smile at me, and there's a secret hidden in the curve of your mouth, and you beg me with each glance to learn it from you.

I find it when we are dancing together, your body and mine moving without needing to think. I find happiness and warmth with your arms around me, and security and peace and the beginnings of joy.

When you tell me you love me I know that somehow I've done something right, however many things I've done wrong- because I would never have found you if I hadn't.

When you grin at me I know I've found someone who finally knows me, who knows when its okay to tell me I'm silly, and just the moment to comfort me tenderly and tell me that really, its okay for me to be just the way I am. You and I know, each moment we're together, that life is a perfect, precious stolen moment and we're sharing that moment together.

I want it to go on always because being with you is the only way I can be me.

I love you.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

They Will Stop at Nothing Once They Know What You Are Worth

Well, the month is half over and I've been a very lazy poster, haven't I?

I suppose part of it is there hasn't been anything terribly interesting to report, honestly. Work is work as usual. Life goes on. Kitten starts school this week and I'll be missing having a couple days off with her. Even with such a short break, I did get used to taking time to spend with her during the week. I keep promising myself that this semester I'm going to try and be a better partner and help her keep the stress levels down. I want to make sure she takes time for herself, because the strain of full time work and school is a lot to handle.

Speaking of school, I am thinking about the fall semester now. By the time it rolls around my student loan payments should be out of default. I entered the rehabilitation program, which means a higher payment (about $100 more, actually) but it also means I'll have my credit restored, which I am looking forward to. Then I can get student loans and grants again, which will make it much easier to go back to school. If I have to work less, which I'm hoping I won't, I will be able to still make some sort of contribution to our household without the fear of putting us into the red.

Incidentally, Kitten's birthday is this week too. I haven't gotten her a present, because I don't know what to get her. Also, she says she doesn't need anything. *sigh* aint it always the way? I have a hard time shopping for her, so I'm trying to think of something small and thoughtful so she'll know I love her without her feeling like I am going overboard.

I should mention, I think, we've spent the last couple of weeks renting movies. Its not something we normally do, but we've been getting a kick out of it. I made the girls watch Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, because they hadn't seen it. I like it, and I keep trying to remember I need to get a copy of the book because I want to reread it. I don't think they cared for it much, although I'm pretty sure that movie was where my love of Kevin Spacey was born. No, I'm not saying its his best flick- just the one where I realized I liked him as an actor.

We watched Final Destination 4, which I could rant about for days. I know the 5th one just hit DVD and honestly, I don't know that I care to see it. It was excessively and stupidly gory, which isn't scary. Let's be honest- the plot of all of the movies are the same, so you're just trying to figure out how the person is going to die. A lot of the time, its completely improbable, sometimes almost impossible, and for me the ability to suspend disbelief only stretches so far.

Kitten had us watch a movie called Cutting Edge. It was pretty cute. I won't lie. I actually put my book down at watched it.

It was my turn again, and we picked up The River Wild, because Oscelot had never seen it. I love Kevin Bacon as a baddie. Seriously. This was the first movie I saw him as a villain in. It was a fun one to rewatch. Also, Meryl Streep in a swimsuit? Never a bad thing. Ever.

Last night we watched the first Terminator, because (again) Oscelot had never seen it. She didn't like it. Kitten and I of course were really into it. Its a classic. We're planning on getting T2 and Rise of the Machines to watch later in the week. We'll have to find some time when Oscelot isn't around, though, since she disliked the first one so much. I'm pretty sure she said something to the effect of "Arnold Schawtzenegger is ugly, and this movie has a stupid plot." To each their own, I suppose.

Hedgewitch came over on Thursday and I made soup because we had our first snow and soup is always nice when its snowing. We watched Flashdance, and the girls rolled their eyes at our peanut gallery remarks. They'd never seen it. I have to say, I remember the dancing being better and the plot a little tighter than it was this time around. Maybe I was just distracted by all the flesh when I was younger. Or I didn't care. I'm not sure which. I think Kitten is sick of me giggling and saying "Hey- don't you want some pizza?" and then batting my eyes at her. I have to confess, I laid off only long enough to beg Flyguy to send her that quote via text message. I laughed so hard when she got it. It was delightful.

I should add, if you have a lovely classic (even cheezy) movie you feel like we should put on the list, by all means leave me a note, because I've been enjoying the rewatch. Really. I think work started it, because our new music system kept playing songs from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack and OScelot said she hadn't seen it, so I went and bought the anniversary edition, because honestly, I love that movie. I don't care if its silly. And the dancing is nice. I keep thinking how I'd like to learn more ballroom...

The weather here has been, well, erratic. I won't lie. Last Wednesday Kitten and I had a free day and it was in the high 50's- low 60's so we went to the zoo. It was such a nice time. We had a really good time, and the animals were really active. Most were still out in their enclosures, except the animals that can only tolerate a very warm climate. We got to see quite a bit. But, you'll recall, the next day I made soup, because that night it snowed. Like, an inch. And it kept snowing throughout the day. Today we were back into the fifties. Its supposed to be sixty tomorrow and then freeze again by Wednesday. Pathetic. I wish it would just go ahead and be winter so I can stop thinking about how nice the sunshine looks. I'm not normally subject to cabin fever, I normally like darker, rainy weather...but this off again on again warm weather is making me stir crazy.

I suppose I also ought to mention my ire over the whole girl scout cookie protest thing, although I think most of my friends have covered it in their blogs. If you're not familiar: there is a girl scout in California leading a cookie buying boycott because some troop in Colorado allowed a transgendered 7 year old female child into the troop. Honestly? I'll buy cookies this year and I'll tell the local troops that I support that Colorado troop and its why I'm buying them. I mean, how dare a group dedicated to the growth and development of young American women teach tolerance and respect? It baffles the mind. What made me most angry is that this little California girl says the one in Colorado is exploiting her sexuality to get cookie sales. Sad. Seriously sad. In part because I gurantee this child is spouting ideas that her parents gave her, because at that age she can't possibly understand transgendered politics, gender identity or sexual exploitation enough to make a determination as to what someone her own age is doing. Hell, I'm a grown adult who still struggles with the intricacies of those ideas. And I'm not supid. I'm a pretty sharp lady. Moreover, as the partner of a trandgendered person, I can verify that this child likely has no choice in their gender identity. Its likely this young that she was born intersexed. This is something she can help. Its fortunate for her that there are troops out there open minded enough to accept her. She's even luckier that she has loving parents who support her, and help her to grow in the gender she most identifies with. I'll get off my soap box, but it seems to me like there's something wrong with the world when little girls are accusing one another of personally choosing to exploit their sex to sell cookies.

Yeah, that's about me for now. I'm feeling a long, rambling, useless post coming on. The type you'll probably skim because its drivel, but you know...go where the muse leads you...

It always works for me.

Love you all

Friday, January 6, 2012

You'd Be Back to Bother Me

A warning to those of you who would like to retain the illusion I am a nice person...I'm about to creully make fun of my ex. Or at least, let his own words do the making fun for me...

Its that time of year again...or so it seems. My ex is trying to get into contact with me again.

Now, as a breif update, for those of you new to the blog or my life, before I married Kitten I was engaged to a guy I refer to as BBD. We dated for about 6 months before he proposed, and god knows why, but I accepted. The long and short of the whole situation was it was a bad idea from the beginning, and honestly, I attribute a bit of it to rebounding from my breakup with Beloved and most of it to alcohol. Either way, it was a mess, and a few years ago I ran back into Kitten, who is without a doubt the love of my life, and she totally helped me when things got more awful than I could expect them to get in that relationship, and she let me stay with her. The rest is history, she and I are blissfully happy.

Unfortunately, there is always a fly in the ointment of happiness, and BBd is one source of mine, or was until I dealt with the situation once and for all yesterday. You see, even after three years he doesn't seem to understand that when I say go away and never bother me again that I mean it. Over the last three years I have recieved a number of annoying and pathetic messages from him. When I was working as a DJ downtown, god knows how he found out, he actually showed up at my workplace during the middle of one of my shifts, drunk as hell (suprise) and begged me, in front of his girlfriend, to come back to him. Thank god the bouncers were friends with Kitten, because honestly she was ready to try and kick his ass for not leaving me alone. Alls well that ends well though.

Anyway, if you're my friend on facebook you'll have already read some of his lovelorn letters to me, which I post for my own amusement and that of my friends. Suffice to say, the more he talks the more I wonder what the hell I could have possibly been thinking. I'm not the kind of girl who is usually suceptable to lines, but I must have been, because this seems his preferred method of attack. That, and cliche.

For example, my first one posted:

I don't know how else to reach you personally...I found this in my history of facebook logins..I miss youI don't know what else to say other than that. Every once in a while I seek you out. Just to see pictures of you...I'm not a stalker, I don't do it all the time or anything, sometimes I just feel weak and lonely and starving for you and i give in to my better insitncts. And I hate it. I hate it so much. All I want is to be rid of you. But I find myself thinking of you daily and dreaming of you nightly and its been a year and a half and its driving me fucking mad...I miss you...I don't know why I am mailing you I guess I just want to know that my insanity is not based on a ghost. I miss you. And you are so bad for me and my development and I can't help it...I hate myself...

Flattering, right? I mean, outside the obvious fact that he IS stalking me, despite me telling him to never contact me again...nothing turns a girl's head like being told she's missed and the fellow hates himself for it...

So in this instance, I sent him off a reply, which I thought was more tolerant, fair and kind than he deserved...excerpted below:

I have to say I am very suprised to hear form you. I can't say I'm pleased to hear from you either. I apologize if that hurts your feelings, but its the truth.

I don't know what you want from me. I am a very happy woman now. Hindsight being 20/20 I can see more how unhappy I was and how cruel I became when I was with you. I don't say this was a direct result of my relationship with you, but it was a part of me, at that time, that I don't care for. My relationship with Kitten is a happy and healthy one. I am a happier and healthier person. I am becoming more succesful.

I apologize for any pain I might have caused you. I do. But that does not mean I regret leaving you and pursuing my own happiness. I honestly believe if you would seek help and learn to let go you would realize I am not only not right for you as a mate but not right for you as a friend either. I think you are still fixated on your idea of what I might have been to you had I stayed with you and conformed to fit your ideal of a wife. I am none of those things.
Honeslty, BBD, I don't think I was an impediment to your development. I think all those personal issues that I repeatedly asked you to get help for were what kept you from being a whole and happy person. Go get help. You need it. You certainly need it if you think it is acceptably to email a married woman who is no longer attached to your life almost two years after she told you to leave her alone for good. Keep in mind the last two times I had any contact with you were as follows: you sought me out on my blog and posted disparaging messages about my relationship and you showed up at my place of employ and caused a scence (in front of your girlfriend at the time) Please stop seeking me out. It isn't healthy for you and it worries me for my safety. If necessary I will delete my facebook account, moce my blogs and make any attempt necessary to remove myself from your path. I want to think this was a result of a night of drinking, the time of this email seems to indicate so.

My best hope is that you have regretted contacting me and will not do so again.

Please accept my best wishes for your happiness.

See, I tried to be nice, and honestly, I think I was more than fair. Those of you who know me will immediately appreciate the fact that I didn't tell him to go to hell striataway. I say straitaway because (a lesson I am learning) engaging him only encourages his bad behavior. I received a reply message almost immediately:

Okay look...I didn't read your reply. Only because I was extremely embarassed. You don't understand, any new information I have about you makes my heart pound out of my chest adn the butterflies in my stomach start a rebellion...its very rare, but every time I see a picture of you or read a blog...it is like my heart is leaping out and I get afraid and hurt and sad and sick. I know you probably don't understand...maybe you were that way with (insert my long time expartner's name here) when she was moving on...but it hurts. It hurts more than anything I've experienced. And feeling like this for over a year has killed me...absolutely killed me and made me feel so...powerless and inadequate. So please don't respond to this because I will probably just delete it because I can't take reading it.

I made [female friend's name- redacted] read your reply and she didn't really tell me anythign other than you wanted to delete your facebook and stuff. you don't have to do that. Don't worry. I won't interfere anymore. Look...I don't know hwo to make this understandable to you...I've held the pain of you leaving me far longer than my father dying. Far longer than anything negative in my life. I often think that if I could go back in time and change anything it would be that night at {;ocal bar- redacted] where I got my DUI and spiraled downward. I feel that would make an entire differnce in my life. Financially, educationally, romantically. I would give anything for that.

When I asked you to marry me I meant it. I don't want to spend a second of my life without you. I didn't want to spend a second of my life with anyone else. Ever since you left me I feel like my life and my heart have been on a treadmill. Exhausted but not getting anywhere. Alecya...I love you. I mean, I hate you because of the pain I've felt ever since you've been gone but I love you so much. I'm sorry to both you adn myself that I didn't live up to your expectations. I hate thatI feel like I have to live through this pain for the rest of my life. And that isn't melodramatic because I have tried a lot to forget you and not have to imapct my life. ..but try as I might I keep coming back to you in my thoughts. I don't like it. I hate it. It makes me feel like whatever I do in my life is pretty much inconsequential because all I do is lament about you. I am sorry if this makes you feel uncomfortable or uneasy. But who else do I have to tell? I can't tell [my girlfriend- name redacted] or [my girlfriend's] friends, I can't really get into it with detail with my friends. Fuck,

Its like [my best friend] is born again and perfect and trying to give me advice about how I feel. [MY BEST FRIEND] is giving ME advice. The most messed up emotionally person in the world is giving me advice. Where does that leave me? Am I really that messed up? Yeah, probably...I very much hope that I can get over this...I don't want to cause you or me any more pain or distress over our relationship...but for now I really don't know what the hell to do. It's been so long and I am still at a loss. Alecya, really, what have you done to me? What have I done to me? I;m so bitter now...I don'tknow how you do it. I don't know how you look forward and fuck everything else. I wish I could do that. I'd give anythign to do that. Instead, I am stuck getting depressed, gaining 30 pounds and dreaming of you...I don't know hwo to fight it anymore. I'd give anything to have you in my arms, hold you while I sleep. I wold do anythign to forget everything about you. However, I am stuck here in a world where everythign I want the most is completely unattainable. And that completely kills my soul. I feel cold and alone and helpless. And I've felt that way for way too long.

I'll try to carry on and make my life without you. What choice do I have? But I won't like it. I'm afraid for the rest of my life, no matter what I do, I will always feel empty. And its stupid because we werent good or right for eachother. But you know what? I don't care. I don't care that things weren't meant to work out. At keast every atom in my body feels like it doesn't care.

I am smart enough to know that I need to move on. And I am trying. Pray for me that I am able to.

Thank you, Alecya Giovanni, for the good times. I am sorry for any worry that I caused for you lately. As far as I know I will always love you...and I hope that you won't ever forget me, at least, in whatever capacity. wish me luck.

So, of course, after this terribly flattering missive, I was really angry. In part, because I know he doesn't mean a word he says. Part of me thinks that he hopes I'll feel guilty about it and...hell if I know...The overly poetic (badly poetic, I might add) language and the trite flattery and self-righteousness sent me over the edge. I fired off a much less kind reply:

That email was teh very picture of the relationship you and I had. You spill emotion all over me, you blame me and you ask me to fix things for you and then you don't even bother listening to me when I respond. You just go ahead and do whatever the hell you feel like doing, spill emotion all over me again and don't have the slightest regard for anything I think or say.

You should be embarrassed. You should be ashamed. I have repeatedly told you to leave me alone. I have repeatedly told you I don't care for you anymore. You refuse to listen. Honestly, I think its rediculous you feel like its okay to stalk a woman who has told you to get out of her life, email her at ungodly hours of the morning and then have THE INCREDIBLE GALL tot ell her not to email you back because you can't stand it.

Grow. Up. BBD. You are a melodramatic, spoiled, selfish little boy. You don't even have the remotest concept of how emotionally fucked up you are if you think you're worse off for me leaving you than for your father dying. I'd tell you to get help, but I told you for two solid years, and in my last email to you, and you obviously aren't listening. You keep thinking that if you tell me you get butterflies when you think about me and and how you're miserable without me and how you wish you could change you'll make things better. I CALL BULLSHIT. If you really cared about me you would have fixed things the three times I threatened to leave before I actually did it. You don't give a fuck about me BBD. You miss having a woman who pays the bills, spoils you rotten, mothers you to death and is pretty to look at. You don't want a wife or a girlfriends. You want a fucking doormat. I learned the hard way. I'm not coming back. Got it? Every time you email me or seek me out itmakes me like you less. You don't give a damn for anyone but yourself.

I moved on because I deserve to be happy. I forget the past because I don't like it. You think I want to remember I could barely keep food in the house and my managers were feeding me because I didn't have enough to eat? You think I want to remember that I lived with someone who would rather live in squalor than help keep the house clean? Why would I think about that? Do you think I sit and reminisce about all the times I was sick and you went out, got toasted and then I had to take care of you before I called my best friend to drive me to the hospital? Yeah, it was great. You manipulating me and controlling me were good times. And the night you decided it was okay to be violent with me ranks as one of the top moments in my life. I only remember those times when I am counting how lucky I am now. I never thought I would say this, but if steve is telling you toleave me the fuck alone, listen to [your best friend]. It is not my fault you are depressed and have put on thirty pounds. If you drink half as much as you used to you are going to put on weight, and you were depressed before I left you, thoughtelling you that was like smacking my head against a wall.

Go away BBD I mean it. I don't love you. I don't care about you. I don't want you in my life.

I wished you luck in my last email. You didn't read it. I'll send you a much more appropriate regard.

See you in hell.

Probably not one of my finer moments, but there you have it. I was angry. The day before my mother had called me and told me he had been text messaging her about how much he missed her. I was annoyed.

On top of that, those of you who are familiar with my old blog (and as I mentioned in the first email) would be aware that he was reading my blog and leaving nasty comments there too. I was tired of dealing with him.

I thought that letter had done the trick. I hadn't heard from him in a while. That is, until last week. When he poked me on FB the day after Christmas. I ignored it. I figured there was no point in starting a war over nothing, although I did make a snide post about it- but then, that's my right, isn't it?

So leaving him alone was apparently not working. He messaged me on new years eve:

Hey... I know I didn't mean that much to you and I believe you when you said the things you have, and don't think they are just trying to get me to move on and forget about you out of compassion. But happy holidays and happy birthday. I guess thats all I have to say. I know you don't think about me in anything but a negative light.... All I do is think about you and wish I could have done better and treated you how you deserved to be treated... Im sorry for all my short comings (to quote Rhett Butler) and I know you deserved better and all I can do is kick myself for not treating you that way. I want you to know that I'm sorry, and I know you wished I'd just go away, but you are the greatest regret in my life and I will never forgive myself for being such a dick to you. I had the world in my hands, I know that, and I let it slip through and I will forever be worse for it. Alecya Giovanni, I have such powerful and mixed feelings for you, and you will always affect me.... I know that any effect I had on you has long since faded away and that kills me. Thanks for letting me part of your life and Im sorry that I wasn't up to the task... You'll always be with me. I love you and I know it isn't mutual but... I wish you luck in everything you do.

Riiiight. At this point, I can only assume he's drunk and suffering from more of the same delusion that he's been suffering from since the day I met him. I mean, part of me does feel really, really sorry for him, because he doesn't have a clue. He actively refuses to move on, and chooses to make things difficult for himself.

I joked with Flyguy when I got that message that he acts as though he lost a supermodel and Nobel Lauriate all in one. Now, I'm egotistical enough to admit I'm a decent looking girl, but then, I'm also realistic enough to know there's plenty of women out there who are as good looking or better as I am. Some even like being treated like crap, so he's even better off there...Of course, as far as I know he's still dating the girl he started seeing the week I left him. Anyway, this was my rather hateful response, having been all out of nice for 2011:

After three years of this, I imagine that no, you really don't believe me when I say the things I say. The last time that I spoke with you it was via an email that you swore you wouldn't read. I'm betting you read it. I'm betting that you know I don't want to speak with you. I'm also betting you don't care.

See, that's the thing...at one point yes, you did mean something to me. You were important to me. Important enough that despite my horror of men, I got engaged to you. The problem was, afterwards you turned into a possesive, brooding manipulative jerk. You seemed incapable of thinking of anything but yourself. It wasn't until I got engaged to you that you let your true colors show. Despite what your friends might say, or what you have fooled yourself into believing, I never told you I was anything but what I was. Granted, I was a foolish, hateful, fearful child when I was with you. I was terrified of my life and everything in it, including you. I think that's why I drank so much. Push comes to shove, though, I would have tried for you, had it meant my unhappiness, had you not done the things you did.

And since we're laying blame, yeah, all your friends might point out that I'm a flirt. They might say Icheated on you, that I was a slut. Don't fool yourself BBD. I didn't mess around. I might have kissed that girl that one time. I might have spent a lot of time with Rogue, but you know what? It was no worse than anything you were doing, and I know that for a fact, because people told me at the time what you were up to when you were out alone without me. I don't care. I'm not a I was paying for a lot of your shit at the time, remember, and bartenders, DJ's and waitresses have a way of being good to the money, even when your partner and their friends aren't.

And siince we're on the topic of you and your friends, did it ever occur to you that we have mutual friends? Did it ever occur to you that even after all this time your badmouthing me would get back to me? You're such a child, BBD. Such a fool. I know your friends have all sorts of nasty little nikcnames for me. Personally, "she-who-must-not-be-named" is my favorite, and honestly, though I don't think myself evil, it amused me immensley. Give [your female friend] props for that. And pass on to her I don't give a shit what she thinks about me, since she was wodering. Tell her if she were a good friend she would have not let you get engaged to me, and if she were a better one she would have told you what my first email said last year rather than cushioing the blow for your delicate ego when I told you to get lost. You're an idiot, BBD .You bad mouth me to your friends, you say I'm a liar and a cheater and a slut and that I'm with my beautiful, wonderful wife for all the wrong reasons and then you turn around and tell me you love me and miss me. How stupid do you think I am? And speaking of partners, does your girlsfriend know you email me at least once a year in a drunken fit of regret and tell me how much you still love me?

I'm tired of this. I really am. You're a test to my karma and as hard as I try to be a good person every time you pop up in my life you enrage me to the point of doing something stupid. I have tried being polite. I have tried being mean. Nothing seems to work. I'm going to try again. This time, I'm going to hope you listen. I expect you to reply to this message with the words "I understand" and that's it. When I get that reply, I am going to block you. You atre going to leave me alone and fade into the background like you never existed. I don't want you in my life. If you do not respond, I swear, by everything good and holy, you will be sorry for it. I will take every pathetic begging message you have sent me via email and this last one, since the day we split up, and I will post iit on your facebook wall, your friends facebook walls and anywhere else I can think so you'll be exposed to your friends as the pathetic, grovbelling, refuse to die bastard that you are. And if you block me, believe me, I will make sure that our mutual friends, any of my friends, that can access your and your friends' facebook pages will do it for me. Do you understand?

Leaveme the hell alone. I'm tired of your bullshit. I was three years ago. And for the record, when Rhett Butler says that in Gone with the Wind, HE WAS BEING IRONIC. He didn't mean it. Which is hugely appropriate since you don't either.

Go away. Once and for all. I mean it.

Cruel? Maybe. Direct? Well, you know me. I hate making threats, but they don't seem tomake much a difference anyway...Aparently not convinced I was serious, he also began to send messages to Boy, Perpet's husband. I'm pretty sure he would have messaged Perpet, except she's set up so you can't actually view her profile publicly, for this very purpose. It runs as follows:

Hey dude, I'm drunk and lamenting about my past. I just want you to know that I really liked you guys and valued your friendship, and Ialso understand not being able to be my friend, but I miss you and Perpet's friendship, people I used to connect with. Believe it or not its hard to find people with similar tastes and mental attributes as ours. Just wanted to thank you for treating me well when I was in your lives. Hope to sometime run into you in a positive atmosphere soon bud. Have a good one.

Also I know I will regret this and feel stupid in them orning so feel free not to reply, heh.

Too right. This sent Perpet and the Boy in gales of laughter. Its no secret between us that while we were dating, he didn't like them in the slightest. He always told me that he thought they were pretentious and that they made him feel stupid. Well...apparently the past is tinted rose, because now he thinks they're great. Or in his mind he can somehow work on Boy and Perpet in an effort to get to me. It won't work, I can tell you that. Perpet had to be talked out of sending him a nasty message. Boy is much more calm than we are, he simply ignored it. Probably the right thing to do, really.

I was amused, because Perpet did post on facebook an adorable plea to all of her friends that live in our town to please laugh at him and/or kick him in the junk when they saw him for her. (Because, as obvious in BBD's note, he hasn't realized she lives six hours away now) She noted that she doesn't want his mental attributes, because it almost cost her her mest friend. I smiled with plesure at that. Its nice to have such a good friend at your back. And to her credit, she tried more than once to extricate me from that situation before I was ready to. She did the right thing. I love her for it, all the more because she didn't give up on me.

So in response to this most recent evidence of his lack of respect for my personal space, I sent him one last message telling him to leave me and my friends alone for good. I blocked him, which will keep him off my Facebook at least, and I told him I would file a restraining order against him if he attempted contact with me ever again. I've kept a log of all his messages, phone calls (that was early on, before I changed my number) and when he harasses my friends and family. I won't play nice the next time he tries. And unfortunately, I do think he's stupid enough to try.

See, normally, I would worry that this whole post is a bore to you, my lovely reader, because its not particularly entertaining unless you're a sadist like me. :) However, I do keep track of search terms that lead people to my site, and my traffic sources and such. turns out, the google search "Plastic+Castle+Tours+BBD" is one of my most popular search terms. Especially within the last month. So I assume you lot get a huge kick out of me talking about my ex. That or, well, lets be honest, he's stalking my blog too, which wouldn't suprise me since he no longer has access to my Facebook, my email or my phone number.

Either way, I think I've finally, truly washed my hands of the situation. Kitten is delighted that I've done it, although she swears if she ever runs into him she'll make him cry...she says he's earned it as much as he hurt me. I made her promise to never do anything that I'd have to bail her out of jail for. She doesn't have a criminal record. I'd like to keep it that way.

I know Perpet will also be happy for me. I must confess, we have a good time privately mocking those notes. Ah, well, there's always folly elsewhere. Much more plesant folly too, I might add.

Here's to hoping 2012 will be my first full year without him being a pain in my ass. I know, Swiss, you mentioned I might just ignore him and go on with my life when I mentioned in that last post I made about how facebook suggested him as a friend for me...I hope you don't blame me too much for letting go one last time. I think I'm well shod of it now, and will do my very best to take your incredibly reasonable advice.

Have an excellent day, friends. I promise something a little more interesting and way less dramatic for next time.