Biochemistry is a BITCH

My body is such a bitch sometimes. I pretty much have to be on birth control - and have been since shortly after I even started having a cycle.

I've been on over 10 different brands in 12 years. They all have side effects.

Yes, being on them is better than not for a lot of icky reasons. Mainly that I am physically functional when on them - and don't lose so much blood that I could end up being hospitalized... (my genetics were designed to kill me, I swear).

I am grateful there is a 'treatment' for me... but I just can't help being so SICK of the side effects. If I take any with androgens I have bad acne and my hair thins out. If I take estrogen I have mini periods all the time, still have acne- just less, and often lose my sex drive and sometimes my ability to be stimulated in the same ways. Oh, and they all make it more difficult to keep my weight where I like it.

I'm currently on an estrogen one. My ability to be stimulated has been majorly affected - which sucks because I still have a drive but my body doesn't react much. It's very difficult to orgasm. That is intensely frustrating.

I had a cancer scare recently with my cervix.... there was a part of me that hoped I had it....

Sure, it was a very small part of me - but it was there. I would LOVE to just have my frickin' parts removed and get to BE MYSELF FOR ONCE without all these synthetic hormonal ridiculous issues.

Sorry for the rant but it's a part of why I haven't been around here much. It's hard to read sex blogs and enjoy them right now. It's impossible to write anything sexual.

The worst part is I don't know what I want to do. I don't want to lose my hair anymore or be in my late twenties with a teenager's face and back and chest. I can't go off BC. They won't take my parts out - I'm "too young" and I "might want kids one day" (AS IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT). For now that means staying on the estrogen, staying on a pill that takes a part of my identity... a part of my life... and tamps it down no matter what I want.

What's in a name??

3 posts in one day! :D

Ok - I have one other random issue I'd like some opinions about....

I hate my name. I always have. I can't tell you what it is of course, sadface, but it's a combination of two generic names you hear everywhere that start with the same letter. My mother and father had the same initials, so they decided it would be so CUTE if my brother and I had their initials too. After my brother's passing and the break up of my family my mom left me with my father's last name and I kept it even after she remarried (I did NOT want to be adopted by my step dad). She chose to return to it when her second marriage dissolved, because it was the name I have.

Still... to me it's always felt like this leftover piece of junk from a family who never loved me. I need to pick a name and stick with it before I start getting published. For a long time I didn't worry about this (7 years) because I assumed I would marry my HS sweetheart eventually and just take his name and the stain would be removed.

That clearly didn't happen, haha, and I couldn't be happier. However, I'm left with this NAME I hate and the date I get published keeps drawing closer and closer... if I'm going to change my name I need to do it now and forever hold my peace. I just want to change my last name - and everyone I know is opposed to the idea. My name is 'cute' or 'they can't imagine me as anyone else' or 'it just suits you' are the reasons I get. My first and last name together have a sort of cutesy newscaster feel I've been told numerous times. Yeah, that suits me.

What do you think off hand?
Should I go through with paying to have it changed (it's not too much $, less than $100) but will take some time and effort... or just live with it? I have started proceedings to change it before but I get so much opposition from family/friends I have dropped the issue in the past. Why does it really matter? Am I just being a drama queen not wanting his family name on all of my accomplisments for the rest of my life? (I want to change it to a family name from pre-my father.) I can't see the forest for the trees on this one - so feel free to offer an opinion!

My number one reason I haven't done it yet is I don't want to deal with everyone asking me about it. It's a personal issue and I just know I'll have to explain it to everyone under the sun, ew.

Someday over the rainbow...

One day, perhaps, this place won't be full of so much angsty crap. Soon would be nice. But don't worry about me, I'm actually feeling pretty fine. Painting helps so much, so do the wonderful comments I have gotten (you know who you are!) and the general knowledge that life goes on (and then you die). Maybe the next HNT (since I have missed so many now) will feature both the latest painting and me? I'll try.

Recent research has shown (I read this in a Psych pub) that knowing when an experience will end - that it is a finite experience - makes us value it more. Oh my, what does that say about relationships?

I have noticed in re-reading my posts that I am the queen of run on sentences. What can I say, I think in them. That makes avoiding writing them in personal narratives so damn hard. I apologize both for my grammar and my disjointed sometimes jumbly blather. I am apologizing both to you - and to me.

The End.

Well, the waiting for the letter is over. My first official thesis draft is written and turned in, and until I get notes back - I'm actually caught up in everything grad school related. For the first time in 2.5 years, yay! Now I just have to get myself through to tomorrow and go to my appointment to find out what the results of my biopsies are.

My BFF Anne's father died this week. She's dealing with a horrible mess. SP is heading out of town for 3 weeks on Friday and is swamped in general. And I feel like I'm being silly by feeling so restless and antsy and on edge today - I feel like I need them but I don't know what I even want from them. Thank goodness for fluffy cuddly kitties. And maybe ice cream later..... :)

All of this is just making me think about choices. I dreamed about them all night last night. I think one of the odd side effects of living the life I did was that growing up I always felt like I was on the outside... looking in at a different world. I never really got to do the things all the other kids were doing, I rarely got to indulge my own whims - except for reading. My mom found ways to be sure I had books, yay libraries!! I sought a secure, well-paying career that was based solely on individual effort... I chose to get a PhD because it's something that to me gauranteed security in this world. Once I have it, I can never UNhave it.

My childhood has also left me with this almost desperate need to indulge my desires now. I hate being left out when my friends/loved ones are having amazing experiences. I always want to be a part of them - to see them happy and to share in it rather than just doing things alone all the time. I constantly worry that I'm not doing enough - having enough experiences. I want them NOW. I like to be alone, but the really amazing things I'd prefer to share. 'Experiences' bring you closer to people, help deepen your bond, and I think it's sad I have few of those with the people who matter most to me... the people I would most like to share them with. (I am not downgrading the value of just being able to exist with those closest to you though - to sit and understand one another without saying a word - that's invaluable as well.) I hope this is the good kind of crazy - the kind that just spurs you to be more and better and to 'follow your bliss' per se.

I wish I had chosen a job that allowed me to have more of the types of experiences I crave - but I didn't even know there were jobs like that until it was much too late and my feet were too far down this path to turn back. Now I just want this job to allow me options to make/have the experiences I want: time and gifts/care for those I love and value in this world, travel, animal conservation/experiences, the chance to see/feel different things and places.

I've actually started evaluating what I want to do with my degree based on the opportunities it will give me to fulfill this idea.
Teaching: More time off, flexible schedules, more eternal impact with students, more intellectual pursuits, etc.
Consulting: My money, possibly travel involved, more variety of projects and people.

I think all of this babble is really just a result of me wondering if tomorrow I will be asked to make a choice that affects the rest of my life. Or if I will be presented with something straightforward, or if my body has already made choices about my future for me. I'll find out soon enough.

Why is it so hard to be nice....

to yourself?? It's so ridiculous sometimes just how mean our internal voices can be. I have no idea what it's like to be in a man's head, but I live in a woman's.... and the voices are brutal. Fucking brutal.

Sometimes it's words my mother said about being polite, my grandmother about being appropriate and never talking about feelings or anything else unseemly (like having an original thought), but the worst ones are definitely from me. I'm very hard on myself, always have been. Those who believe in astrology would say it's my Virgo showing - the trademark crazy perfectionism streak. Or if you're more into Chinese Astrology it would be more about my Water Dog personality - which is also prone to being very critical and judgmental. I take in every judgment I hear and even those I just imagine and internalize them. It's horrible. Can you imagine what that does to your self esteem? Confidence is so important, and so damned sexy. It's become increasingly important to me as I've gotten older to learn to only accept the blame I deserve and to learn how to protect my confidence - even from myself.

How do you do that??

When it gets to the point where I'm leaving mental bruises on myself from the internal flagellation I wake up to the futility of it all. I've started using the following tactics to fight it....

• Asking myself if my best friend came to me with the same situation how I would respond to her, and reminding myself that I deserve no less from myself. I am only human.
• I've also started labeling those voices in my mind.... there's the one who hates my body (let's call her Alessandra), the one who always feels stupid and like she has to prove her intelligence (Allison) , the selfish one (Brandi), and a few others in there.... While it made me feel a little crazy at first, it helped to note these voices and identify them as NOT ME. Not who I choose to be. I'm the tolerant, accepting, realistically hopeful one. Not all those other bitches. Some people take this further and journal what those voices say and it helps them realize how often they tear themselves down.
• Forcing myself to note something positive when I prod myself with the sharp-edged negative thoughts.

It helps. It all helps. It's part of that stable ground I've rebuilt for myself when it all threatened to turn to sand on me. The silliest thing that undermines it all is this: I worry that I'll be too forgiving and accepting of myself and become delusional and self-indulgent.

The Sky is Falling!

Have you ever met a Chicken Little? Do you even know what I'm talking about? When I was a little girl, I was a voracious reader. I knew how to read by the time I was 3, and was reading upside down to my class in Kindergarten just to keep me occupied. My teachers said it was the only time I wasn't a handful. They wanted to skip me straight to third grade... I was just too far ahead to be engaged in class, but I was so physically small... and already had loner tendencies (I related to adults, not children) with my social group - so my mother wouldn't allow it. I hated reading books on my level, but every once in a while one would get to me. One story that did was the story of Chicken Little. (I swear all of this will come together eventually.) There's a pretty good entry on Wikipedia about this story too, I read it as one of the fables. Here's an excerpt from the wiki:

There are many versions of the story, but the basic premise is that a chicken eats lunch one day, and believes the sky is falling down because an acorn falls on her head. She decides to tell the King, and on her journey meets other animals who join her in the quest. In most retellings, the animals all have rhyming names such as Henny Penny, Cocky Lockey and Goosey Loosey. Finally, they come across Foxy Loxy, a fox who offers the chicken and her friends his help.

After this point, there are many endings. In the most famous one, Foxy Loxy eats the chicken's friends, but the last one, usually Cocky Lockey, survives long enough to warn the chicken and she escapes. Other endings include Foxy eating them all; the characters being saved by a squirrel or an owl and getting to speak to the King; the characters being saved by the King's hunting dogs; even one version in which the sky actually falls and kills Foxy Loxy.

Depending on the version, the moral changes. In the "happy ending" version, the moral is not to be a "Chicken", but to have courage. In other versions the moral is usually interpreted to mean "do not believe everything you are told". In the latter case, it could well be a cautionary political tale: The Chicken jumps to a conclusion and whips the populace into mass hysteria, which the unscrupulous fox uses to manipulate them for his own benefit, some times as supper.

In my office there is a girl who you've read me complaining about much too many times before. Officechick E, who should have always been referred to as Chicken Little. Her sky is ALWAYS falling, and she constantly wishes to get all of those around her to believe along with her and join in her hysteria. The self centeredness is palpable when she enters a room. She's someone who reminds me anytime she's around that she's just waiting for her turn to speak 95% of her life. (And makes me revow to not be like that! In this way, it's nice having her around.)

I've vented to others when I need to, written some e-mails I never intended to send to ward off any sniping I might have done, explained to Favorite Officemate what the deal was and cleaned up any ugliness with a minimum of fuss and bother. My feathers haven't appeared ruffled once. However, while I think superficially this resembles taking the high road.... I'm just allowing it to draw out because it gives me somewhere else to look and something I technically control (because it's unfinished business) and I'm using the situation to distract myself from much more important things in my life. I'm also in violation of my own resolution to Be True. I will address this with her, tomorrow, in a casual friendly way - face to face. That's the real high road in this situation - the moral of courage.

For the love of Francis.

Oh Francis.... he's been my best friend for years now - and closer to me than anyone else. Somewhere around 3 or 4 years... but I'm not sure he is anymore and that's why there's been no word of him for a long time on here. Our friendship has had it's issues, some of which I caused, some caused by circumstances, and some caused just by the combustible nature he and I have when together. I miss him a lot right now. I'm putting this out there partially for me, but also because I keep hearing others struggling with this same issue and I want to be sure I work through it as best I can. How do you know to let go? Should you? When is a friendship more harmful than helpful?

Once upon a time Francis and I slept together after watching each other get beaten down and broken up with by others, we tried the relationship sort of thing, and nearly destroyed our friendship in the process. But we recovered, or I thought we had. Maybe it's not the sort of thing you can come back from.... I was trying so hard to work through my own issues with his and my relationship so I made some space. I took some time and distance - thinking all the while that if he really needed me he'd let me know, but... apparently I messed that up to. I made it seem like I wanted space even from his needing me, which I didn't. There are months where my mouth tastes of foot even when I didn't say a word, I swear. The worst part was that I think he figured it out by coming here, I'm not really sure. Still, it felt bad. I didn't realize he'd been avoiding telling me that he did need me.... it was too late by then. He e-mailed me asking me to tell him why... so I finally did. I wrote out every concern, worry, and fear of what our friendship might be doing to the both of us. He reacted, responded, and did the same with me. All of a sudden the distance between us no longer felt murky and possibly treacherous. I don't understand why I have to relearn the same stupid lessons over and over again: If you value someone, be honest with them, even if it hurts. Why had we stopped doing that?

We went back and forth e-mailing for a little while....

What surprised me most about all of that was the misconceptions and concerns on both sides that we didn't share with one another when they came up. Two people who know one another so well, who talk to one another so much, and yet we still didn't say some of the most important things we were feeling. Some of that stemmed from not wanting to hurt the other by telling them they hurt us - but a lot of it stemmed from fear and self-interest. Fear of losing what we had or changing it. Self-interest and pride that got in the way of allowing the friendship to change and grow as needed - because we both have.

Playing off of a cliche - the reason, season, lifetime friend idea: I wanted him to be a lifetime friend, not a season friend. BFF is a lifetime friend. SP is likely a reason and a season. I heard from Francis just the other day in text message, though he's no longer my Facebook friend and is no longer showing up on my chat list. Somehow on the day I went in and found out I needed biopsies (and had them done, owwwww) he felt he should text me. I'm glad he did, and he did again today. He told me he felt we have a place to start from when we can again (life gets in the way so often).... if we can again, but only time will tell if he feels it's worth pursuing and trying or not. I led us to this place, and here we are. In friendship stasis. A lot has changed since we wrote these things to one another too... so quickly. So strange to move through life without him.

In the waiting line...

So... life is interesting. Today, February 15th, my mother happened to be in the city I was born in with her SO. He had never seen any of the places there which were important parts of her life, they had never had the time, so they decided to take a little tour of her past. Her past, and as it turns out, my past too.

As they neared the house where I was raised for the first 3 years of my life, where my brother died... they noticed a little old woman in the yard. She looked at them and waved, it was my grandmother. So they debated, and chose to stop. My aunt was inside. I remember seeing my aunt a total of three times in my life, my grandmother I only remember seeing twice. (I don't remember anything from my time in that house.)

My grandmother is experiencing some dementia now at 85, but she was adamant about how much she had been praying for this and how she knew it would be today. (She's a woman who believes very strongly in particular versions of events, in all honesty I wish my imagination or conviction or delusion - whatever it is - could be that strong, she lives in a charmed world where everything is as it was meant to be and only as it was meant to be.) They looked at old photos throughout the house that will never go to me but my mother feels should have - which my father also died in and now it seems my grandmother likely will too. My grandmother talked of me incessantly, and finally insisted my mother do her a favor. She led her to a table and told a final story: she said when I was just 3 years old she took me to a garage sale looking for a nightstand. I insisted that THIS was the right nightstand for her, she had to get it and keep it and put secrets in it. This nightstand (I have no idea what it looks like) has a removable top, but apparently you'd never notice just looking at it. My grandmother removed the top, and gave my mother a letter. A letter to me, from my father, written on February 15th, 1998. They couldn't understand what my grandmother had to say about it, she broke down and became incoherent at this point. Something about my father being somewhere when he wrote it, likely prison. It was unclear whether he gave it to her to send to me, or wrote it and hid it away himself rather than sending it. It only took me moments to place that date - shortly after I wrote him a painstaking letter I labored over for hours, thought about for weeks, etc. asking to meet him... when I would remember him. He sent me a birthday present that year, a bible... with a card suitable for a small child. I was 14 going on 40, like always. I remember how hurt I was that he didn't send me a letter in response... and I chose not to reach out again in any way.

My grandmother made them fit that table into the Corvette they take their road trips in (my mother is not wealthy, but her SO is doing just fine for himself), and my mother is mailing the letter to me tomorrow. I didn't ask her to read it to me. I just don't know what to think until I get it. My aunt got my mother's e-mail. My mother and her SO finished off the trip by finally buying my brother a marker when they visited the cemetery - something I was going to do for her 50th birthday this coming year - but I am so glad she finally got to do (my father went and canceled the marker purchase to get the money back after my brother's funeral many years ago - and he's gone unmarked in Babyland 5 *shudder* ever since). I don't really believe in graves in any way, I think they're very unenvironmentally friendly and unpleasant... but it means something to her. As The Militant Ginger said in an incredible post on tolerance: "Tolerance is the subtle art of not getting up off your arse to meddle in somebody else's business.... Maybe you should leave them to do whatever they want to do and confine your opinions to how you live your life." That's where I'm trying to get with every part of my life, and I certainly am there when it comes to this issue with my mother and her son's gravestone. All that matters is that it's important to her....

Being abandoned by your parent is the sort of thing no one can understand unless they have been through it or something very similiar... which sounds cliche but I promise it isn't. I have found that I have this affinity for those who have experienced similar things, we're drawn to one another like moths to the flame, while there always seems to be some undefinable quality that the rest of the population (the un-abandoned) possess that forever keeps a gap between us, no matter how close we become. It's one of the things that hold SP and I apart, and brings me so close to my BFF.

I'm so lost in thoughts about this letter, so curious what it will reveal, all I've ever wanted is an explanation. I forgave my father years upon years ago for everything, what's the point in not? I went through my anger phase, I still occasionally go through my sad phase (I don't watch movies involving parental relationships much to avoid invoking one), but all in all it's a-ok with me. I can see I'll be writing more about this later... like when I get that letter I feel like I'm going to need to reprocess my entire life experience with my father. I guess we'll find out soon enough.

****

In other news, I will know the results of some biopsies I had done last week on March 2nd - I'll be finding out if I just have precancer or actual cancer... and then what we can do about which one it is.

I feel like I'm in a holding pattern in many areas of my life right now. For some reason it's made me very introspective. /sarcasm

So for those of you who were here because this was a sexy blog, haha, good luck with that. I never started this to be in a class of sex bloggers, I just happen to get along with them and find them interesting. I also just usually happen to be very sexual (and like being artsy and naked), but this blog is more about all the private sides of me - not just that. There's going to be a lot less sex until I get the ok to land, and a lot more of the pure me working through my own private nonsense.

The Bi Problem.

Ok... so I noticed something this week that came out of those dark halls I woke up in one night late a few weeks ago. I think I realized this deep down before that... but I never consciously noticed the connection until now.

My admittance of and being bisexual has caused a lot of problems in my life. What I don't get is why in many instances, because it doesn't change how I am in my relationships. Anyway, on to the list...
1) My first boyfriend, who I thought was it for me forever, couldn't handle it at all. It was a large part of our breakup, though certainly not all of it. It sucked.
2) My desire to have 3somes and my second boyfriend's acceptance of this in words but not fact really messed up our relationship too. It emasculated him. I turned into a jealous lovelorn shrew over his and Q's relationship (she was my first woman and them wanting to be together without me involved when he and I were living together and serious about things was... painful to say the least, they eventually had sex behind my back). She will hate me forever for the stupid things I both said and did. He might too. Not that either of them is worth heartache, but still. This was the darkest personal chapter of my life so far due to how I acted.
3) I have had several men angry at me because Q and SS slept with me rather than them. In fact, I've lost friends over it. I feel like the group of friends we were all connected with believed me to be morally corrupt due to my sexual proclivities. (They sure condemned me without evidence fast enough and now I retain a whopping 2 out of 20 of them as friends - those 2 barely talk to me.)
4) When one girl discovered my sexuality here at school, the commentary on possibly sleeping with me never ended until she left 2 years later. In fact, she told her boyfriend and it got weirder than weird. He hounded me to seduce her whenever he was in town. Gross. She also turned out to be fairly open with others about MY sexuality. That led to further odd moments and weirdness with people in our department, people we would meet, and parties I attended. I have wondered what could have been different these past 2.5 years had she not caught me drooling over a gorgeous blonde one night.
5) My bisexuality caused a lot of my attitude with my department to shift to 'nothing' on the all or nothing involvement scale. Part of that was from when I overheard a condemnation of our cohort's token gay guy. I just can't approve of people speaking in their graduate office about how someone's going to hell for his preferences and then giggling about it in a group - "at least he's nice", they said. No thanks. Plus my sexuality eventually became known to most if not all of them, yeah, underline the no thanks and add an exclamation point. I don't need people like that in my life beyond a professional level.
6) With a budding friend her man found out I was bi and immediately wanted to talk to me about how to get his girl to have a 3some. I attempted to persuade him out of it. She decided to hate me anyway, because I talked to her boyfriend too much (um, he talked to me, but ok) and because I even talked about sex in a hypothetical way with him. My boyfriend also spazzed about this incident, because I talked about sex with another guy. Does no one understand I didn't bring it up, I never would have slept with him (hello - I'M IN A MONOGAMOUS RELATIONSHIP), and while I didn't mind the conversation it was purely hypothetical... I was honestly just trying to help.
7) This also influenced my 'break-up' with Officechick E, I am sure of it. She considered a 3some with her and her now-fiance, but decided she'd be too jealous. Nevermind the fact that I wouldn't have done it, she didn't even ask that question. That wasn't the big deal - but #4 & 6 were good friends of hers, and they + her boy's opinion of me after he vented about her to me = no more friendship.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm flattered when couples want to sleep with me - I choose to take it as a compliment on my attractiveness. I also am happy when someone either figures it out (that means they're open to people having alternate sexualities, yay!) and accepts it, or is told by me and does the same (hooray tolerance!). These times afford me such wonderful opportunities to tell people about it as well, if they want to know. It allows me to explain that sexuality is not a choice (which I of course firmly believe) and to talk about sexuality issues sometimes - all of which are very nice things I heartily enjoy.

Still - do you see between these stories the underlying assumption all of these people made about me? That somehow my being a bisexual means I'll sleep with anyone, just about anytime. They always seem to assume it's their decision whether I will sleep with them or not, even when the decision is about them and their partner. All I have to say to that is: WHAT THE FUCK? Since when did my sexual orientation mean I don't have morals? Values? Standards? Rules for myself?? Seriously. When I am in a committed monogamous relationship it means the exact same thing as when any of them are. I just don't get it.

So the real question is: Is it them making these assumptions? Or me projecting something? Does my commitmentphobia make me come across in a way I don't mean to?

I wish that's what it was, but I doubt it.

Waking up.

I wrote this on january 24th... and didn't post it because I wanted to find a better headspace about this.... and I may have, finally. I wanted to post it now to get it out and to work through it further, and so my rebuttal to these feelings will stand out in appropriate contrast once I get it nailed down.

Sometimes I wake up feeling lost in the realms I walked the night before, as if they're superimposed over the real world. For me those dark halls between wakings last night were places of pain, of darkness, of regret... places from a time past. I still seek resolution from unfinished business. Dealing with one of my friendships (Frances) that has spanned that time and this newer time in my life is part of what has brought it all back to the forefront. So has Facebook, oh good old Facebook. Knowing that one of my remaining friends is taking a trip to Providence - and that trip that I took 4 years or so ago to Providence was ... well... providential. Not in a good way though. My first serious boyfriend (7 years) is now married. My first female experience (who I was so infatuated with it didn't even make sense) is also now married. It's odd how you find these things out, and how they feel like they shouldn't matter, and yet the knowledge seems to play peek-a-boo at the most random moments.

I mean... everyone goes through their own private hells. I thought when I was younger that it must have been my childhood which would always stand out as my hell. My father's drug addiction and brother's death left an initial stain, my mother's rages, the repeated abandonment and betrayal and verbal/emotional abuse from all parental figures in my life, the almost sexual abuse from within my church and the subsequent dismissal of it by my pastor leading to my subsequent break with Christianity -which had previously been my lifeline-, deaths of friends, my own self-imposed isolation due to trust issues, but.... no.

What ended up being my own true hell was when I had to learn who I had been denying I was for years. When I recognized my sexuality for what it was and realized who I assumed would be the love of my life couldn't accept that part of me was the first hint of the brokenness to come. I shattered us. Walked away. That was the easy part.

Before that the only real thing I regret is saying something horribly unfeeling to my family after a member of it passed away in a horrible accident. I learned then that while I may choose to laugh to relieve pain, others don't always want to do that and it's not the right thing to share sometimes.

Then I had my first sexual fling with a guy, my first experience with a woman, and fell for someone new. After that is where I really have my first deep regrets.

After that though... there's a list. A painful list I don't think I can ever atone for. A list I never saw myself having. It's funny that I woke up this morning feeling those old, deep wounds aching as if they were just inflicted last week. So I came here...to my reader and then to my blog. And in my reader I found some wisdom.

I.. I can't say sorry... Because I know sorry isn't enough...
But I can say thank you.
Thank you for showing me who I really am.
Thank you for showing me that light in my life.
I'm ready to change now. For the better.
Thank you.
- Paraphrased from Sunny on So How Was Your Day?

That's all there is from those times for me to do, and I have. I have changed so much since then. I know things now about myself and know what to watch out for to make sure I never become that insane, unhappy, jealous person I remember (with horror) being. Sure, circumstances helped to push me to be that way, but I can't believe I didn't find some other alternative to the things I did and ways I acted. It's not like I want those friendships or my old relationship back, because I don't believe they were good for me at all, or that I was good for them... but I also don't want to be a stain on anyone's life. I don't want to be that ugly memory, and if I am for me I can't even imagine what I am for others. My biggest hope is that by now, years later, I just don't matter at all anymore. That time will wear my memory away for them, but not for me. Not for me. I have to remember to make sure I am NEVER like that again.

There are still things I could work on... but I don't always know how. What I console myself with is that I try, and for now I guess that has to be enough.

Breathing.

Your breath catches, then deepens, and starts to come in hard and fast little gasps.

The air seems to be warmer as your body heats up from the inside out.

Your eyes flutter closed, and snap open at some stimulus that shoots through you like an electric current.
Agony or ecstasy?

Ecstasy.

When it's agony, I go cold. Much like I did the other night while writing about how I felt I was committing life suicide. I stayed up that night and all through the next day. For nearly 48 hours. I greeted the dawn, and it was lovely. I can't remember the last time I did that. I forced myself to go down and hit the bottom, some internal rock bottom that had nothing to do with anyone else but me. I hate that I had to do that to find my way, my center, my motivation, my self - again, but apparently that's what the situation called for. A little self loathing, (ok, maybe a lot of it) mixed with total isolation really did the trick. This week has been entirely different, but I have conversely been afraid to come and say so out loud here. Still, fear is what got me into this mess, so here I am. I am different, I will continue to be different, and this is the real me.

I needed to remember that no one can make my life what I want but me. That smelling the roses a bit today is important, but planting seeds so I can smell them forevermore is just as important - if not more so on some days. This small principle (and thank you to Stephen King and my re-reading of The Dark Tower series during this dark time for me for the analogy) really applies to every single part of my life. Friendships, personal time, working out, school, work, family, everything.

I find it's harder to remember what being motivated feels like when my sleep gets more messy - which does happen fairly often for me. However, now that I can remember again what it's like to feel vital and driven again I'm holding on to that with everything I have. Time to go plant some damn seeds. ;)

Thank you so much for the comments to those who left them. I really appreciate it.

Suicide.

I am killing myself. (This is not a cry for help. I am not going to physically extinguish my life and existence. So don't worry about that, I have no desire to do that until I'm naturally old and a drain on society. Moving on...) AAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

I want to scream until my voice is gone. I want to tear my hair out, but there's not much of it left (it's been thinning since I got to grad school, I don't know why... but after 2.5 years of that it's getting pretty scary and worrisome. I no longer have a choice about having short hair or long hair.). More than all of that I want to BE VITAL AGAIN. I want to feel... excited, motivated, like I want something. I've fallen deeply into this sea of apathy. I've become so afraid that I can't do the things I set out to do that I am not even allowing myself to try.

I've lost the spark I had since childhood to ACHIEVE. I've lost the spark for my field. I've lost my direction.

I'm in a stupid directionless relationship. I have one true friendship left to me.

I am crippling my own life. At every turn. And I don't know how to stop. I've gone to therapy, nothing. I've tried pressuring myself, nothing. I'm still doing just barely enough to get by in my classes (but because I was so afraid I would fail an exam - I had a cheating plan. ME. I had a plan to cheat if I needed to, though I still decided not to in the end and I did know enough it turned out.... I planned it. *shudder*), but making myself work on my thesis? Minimal. Applying to internships? I've waited so long to do it I don't know if I can even get the apps done by the deadlines. I haven't purchased groceries since long before I left town, that was back in the 1st week of December. I keep saying I'm not doing laundry yet, or cleaning the house yet, or starting back into my workout regimen, because I need to meet certain thesis/internship goals first. They're more important. And they are..... if I was working towards them that would be an acceptable excuse, but I barely do.

I have become cripplingly afraid of failing, and SURE that I'm unworthy. I have confidence: confidence that I am not smart enough, educated enough (I feel like I am learning less than nothing in my classes lately), and GOOD enough. I am sure that none of my professors like me.

I liked my organized, driven, busy, happy, take-charge self. She was vital. She believed that she wasn't the best, the smartest, the prettiest, or any of that... but that she'd get where she wanted to be because she TRIED. She communicated her needs, wants, and desires. Then she looked for ways to get them for herself.

What happened to her? Where did she go? I am so afraid that I KILLED HER. I don't know how... but I am so scared I did. And I don't think this is a medical issue, though in the past 2.5 years I've had more medical issues than ever it seems, but if it is I don't trust the doctors here to help me. I feel like.... I need a massive change to fix things. I feel like I need a slave driver.

I have never EVER needed someone else to help push me to achieve before. I hate the fact that I feel like I need one. I hate the fact that I honest to god would be begging my best friend to come stay with me or I would stay with her day in and day out for a little bit to force myself to do the things I need to do.... if she were here. There's no one else to call out to. There's just me. I won't call out to SP, it just.... doesn't feel right.

So... I may force myself to go into campus ALL day tomorrow. I hate it there. I am in one of the best and quietest offices, but somehow (maybe due to Officechick E, who still has diarrhea of the mouth syndrome whenever I am around) I can never get left alone there no matter what I do. I have to find a space within ME to work from. My home seems to have become a place where perhaps my sleep issues have bled in so far that I can't work here anymore? I'd love to be able to blame it on that, but I know it's me. The place may not be helping, but I KNOW it's me. Where is my self-discipline??

I don't know what to do. I have no idea. I'm lost, I'm dying, I'm killing myself.

Am I waiting for something? To win the lottery I don't play? WTF. I'm getting PISSED at myself, but I don't feel like that's the solution either. I don't know what is. What's happening to me???

This is life suicide. What hotline do you call to save you from this? What do you do???

I want to write about...

Whew, I just spent hours and hours catching up. Sneezing, going from hot to cold and back and forth, cuddling with each of my kitties, reading, writing comments, being distantly aroused (thanks a lot you damn cold keeping my libido dampened), and much more.

I kind of want to do a 2008 in review post...
Health concerns that I'm sick of(haha, so punny), a relationship I never let myself BE in, losing one of my kitties, procrastinating to the point of possibly jeopardizing myself, and the pretty dots of happiness - blogging, my sister finding love, my friends, overcoming stuff.

I kind of want to review my trip home... and to WI with SP... Christmas in general...
My mother's insanity and meanness, my family's lack of love, the weirdness of this trip home in general. WI being so refreshing and yet so boring at the same time, feeling like again with SP it's just about fitting into his world, the fact that he didn't buy my presents until this week, the beauty of the winter wonderland, and just the general NOT rightness that was this Christmas. I am not a fan of Christmas.

I kind of want to write out what has/has not happened with my BMF - Frances...
I stopped talking to him. I sort of know why. He's not happy about it. I'm not exactly happy about it either, but I'm also not unhappy about it. I feel bad that I know it's hurting him, but I am still not convinced it's not in both of our best interests either.

I kind of want to write about my father, my mother, my family...

I kind of want to write about my current concerns...
HPV for me? School crap from thesis to support groups (LGBT, grad school, or general?? I'm leaning LGBT... but kind of think I should do Grad School since I have way more trouble with that than with being Bi)... whatever.

I really want to get back into writing my story...

I really want to work on my thesis...

I kind of want to whine some more about my relationship...

I wish I was feeling well enough to create a good HNT...

So many wants, so ill-defined... I am unsure that I want to revisit or dwell on any of the above however, that would go here anyway. I SHOULD go to work more on my thesis, post-haste. I'm sick of my own wishy washy nature on some things.

I'd also love to be able to talk about sex, but I haven't had very much of it at all. My Hitachi seems to be giving my boyfriend hints, when he walks over on that side of the bed (I often leave it under the dust ruffle under my side of the bed) it has turned on all by itself a few times now. It scared the hell out of him the first time. He refuses to turn it off himself. (I just don't know if I can handle the prudishness, I thought he was being funny at first, but clearly he's not.) Apparently when he walks over there the floor dips (my apartment is OLD) and sometimes it hits the switch. Providence? Hint, hint, says the Hitachi?

I've learned something odd this year - I orgasm during sex very easily without a condom involved. For some reason, with one involved I get EXTREMELY aroused but if I do orgasm it's what I think of as a little one, not a big one.

And with that disjointed undecisive ramble I am taking my sniffly, stuffy, somewhat miserable and clearly whiny little butt off to bed. Goodnight moon.

What it is, and what it isn't...

I'm aware that no relationship is effortless. I never expect them to be... especially with me involved. I have trust issues, commitment issues, and can be demanding (since I'm demanding of me I expect a lot of someone else too)... I'm also snarky which sometimes just means I'm a right bitch. However, knowing these things about myself actually seems to have made me much too accommodating in my relationships. I accept much too little for much too long. Still, how do you know when it's time to throw in the towel? And how do you do it gracefully? How do you know when you're sticking for the right reasons??

One of my current concerns with SP is that he is much more emotional than he knows how to articulate - or even wants to articulate. He's been in 6 or 7 serious relationships by the age of 27. He's never broken up with anyone. They've all broken up with him for one reason or another but usually because they 'wanted something else'. Which is exactly what I am and have been feeling with him. I want more. Is he capable of more? He doesn't seem to want it at all. I am still not sure he knows me very well, after over a year now, and it seems like if he wanted to... he would. I'm not that hard to get to know once I choose to open up, and I have. I'm to the point where I am boring myself when I talk about all of this, I can't even imagine how Anne feels, she's the only one I really talk to about him. It feels like the same conversation, over and over and over and over again. I hope it's not and it just feels like it. I just wonder if he's capable of love the way I want it. His family example certainly wasn't very good.

It's not the way we fight, because we don't really.
It's not that he doesn't hold me, because he does.
It's not that he's a bad person, because he's a great person.
It's not so many things that I could point to and go AH there's a reason to leave... but it's the lack of other things I can't even always put my finger on.

That lack of specificity makes me doubt myself, doubt that I can EVER be satisfied and happy. I've never been broken up with, it's always me that does the breaking. So I have no proof I can ever be happy at all. I'm not built for much contentment somehow, I'm a striver, a bit of a restless spirit. I always want more, better, or just something else. Yet I crave security and steady support and understanding deep inside.

I want someone, anyone, to love me unconditionally, someday... So far no one's been able to, often including myself. Except my darling kitties, the furry loves of my life. And THAT is why every guy I've ever been with has been jealous of them, I'd bet a million on it.

And with that, I finally feel a little purged. A little cleaner mentally. Maybe now I can get some sleep and get back to my thesis with a clean slate in the morning.

I want to write...

but today there are few coherent words to be said. I'm not sure exactly where the pain is yet, but it's there. I'm searching for the source. I'm hoping to find it and root it out and remove it. Maybe it's just the down on the coaster, it's been a while since I experienced one so profound... but this feels like one. 3:20 am and I have gone to bed and come back to the computer due to my inability to silence my mind? Possible.

Is it my relationship? Possible. I'm afraid I may be giving myself and someone else a broken heart for Christmas. Something's got to give, I've been settling for so long and I should know better. If something won't give, well... best not to make my plans yet. Or alone when they affect someone else. I don't want another non-civil break-up, but that's not a real reason to stay with someone is it? I genuinely LIKE SP, but... oh but, I'm in no way in love with him. He doesn't make room for me in his life. I know the things I really want... and I want a little space, because I like to make space for someone else within me. IF I'm going to commit to someone then I want: Support, trust, sex, love, understanding, creativity, and humor. Not sure what order I want them in, I just want them all in some form or fashion. I feel like we're missing a few of those, and that's just sad. I do my best to give those things, why is it so hard to get them? I sometimes wish I wasn't attracted to these independent men who don't know themselves at all.

Is it my distancing from my friends? Also very possible, though it still seems like the right idea for now.

Is it the impending holiday 'vacations'? Also also wik. They've gotten so much better in the last few years, but not enough that my impending sense of possible doom is alleviated. Especially this year with the SP trip tacked on and the quality of things between us lately.

Is it the continuing weirdness of just being me in my grad program? Continually possible, but the real fear there is that it's ME causing what could be a non-issue to be an issue. That my perceptions of myself as the outgroup are making me into the outgroup. Though even I doubt I'm THAT neurotic, it's possible. (At least this is a more distant fear thanks to the current break in classes.)

Sometimes I have so many fears that the barrier to changing myself and overcoming them seems insurmountable. Lately in the top tier has been knowing that I've learned so late what it really means to be a good friend - and praying I've really finally learned that lesson well. My childhood was one of... well. It taught me not to trust, to lie, to hide, that no one is safe... that loyalty only exists in the movies. That anyone truly caring for, supporting, and trying to understand someone else is impossible. I have proven that's not the case finally in my own relationships. Now I just need to believe others can do it, besides myself and Anne. She's my one true friend, my soulmate without the angst and heartache. I'd probably be in an institution without her.

I'll be back, and Dear Sir simmers in my mind but for now I can't focus to force it to make a coherent shape. Soon hopefully.

My Post(ed) Secrets

Right now they would be as follows....

I'm scared that grad school is making me someone I don't want to be. Though I hope it's giving me the tools to be who I always wanted to be...

I'm scared the economic crisis is going to force me and my kitties to move, force me to find another way to live my already frugal life.....
I've been homeless before, I vowed that once my life was under my control I wouldn't have to be ever again. I know it won't come to that this time... but... it's getting scary.

I am the first in my family to ever be educationally ambitious, and I'm scared it'll all come to nothing when I finally get out of school. That I put the other experiences and life I could have had on hold for this dream... only to have it be just that... a dream that fulfills nothing I believed it would.

Some of this is just the pain and agony of finals week talking, mixed with my finally getting a touch of the myriad of illnesses that pass through college campuses. I'll be officially done with my classwork Wednesday night, then after that it's Thesis specific time. Some of it is worse than that. It's the fact that it's time to start deciding what I want to DO with this degree, be a consultant or a professor.... and knowing that my school and my department are suffering now. My summer funding is gone. All of our summer funding is gone. My normal funding remains... but this added uncertainty and now pressing need to find some kind of future-enhancing employment for myself over the summer is just more than I needed right now. I've already spent too much money on Christmas, of course (I just LOVE buying presents, I can't help it!), and now I'm scared of what my future holds in the next 6 months. Not to mention the next 3 years.

These are my deepest fears, and I know they're likely mostly unfounded. Now that they're out I'm hoping to get back to my work, get it done, and get on with solving my problems. Here goes nothing....

This love.

It's hard to let go voluntarily. I am though. With a little whimper, not a bang. While I find myself a little sad, like we are with any loss, I also find my life less complex (a good thing) and I find myself more content even during this high pressure time of year for me. I'm questioning less, less ambivalent, more sure of my footing in general, more secure in my choices and my life. This development may also explain my lack of words to say. I have worked on my story a bit, I'm sorry it's so slow in coming... haha. However, maybe for now that's a good thing for me too. Delayed gratification anyone? Isn't that what life is all about? Finding the positive to be had today on the journey to the next landmark, goal, whatever you want next.

Of course, E popped back up last night wanting to talk too. I haven't spoken to him in months since he was unable to hold a conversation with me without trying to tempt me into having sex with him or sending him nude photos or talking on the phone with him etc. Even though he is states away, that's how our initial fling started, he's no dummy. And he does have a very sexy voice, not to mention a very nice penis too, though I still think I might have more idea of how to use it than he does. Maybe he's learned a thing or two since our little thing when he was barely 19, haha. Still, out with the old... in with the old? Ugh. Right. This works well for my theory that my life requires a certain level of drama, and will seek to fill it's quotient even if I don't seek to fill it.

None of this is really what I came here to write about, of course. What would my posts be without a lot of rambling?? If my mind was clear, straightforward, and entirely logical... well I wouldn't need to write at all.

I'm entirely curious if this thing with SP - whom I do currently love in a quiet, comfortable, appreciative way - would be different under other circumstances. If we were younger, if we were not both scared by past loves broken and lost, would we have been willing to actually fall for one another in a spectacular way? I remember doing that once upon a time. I remember how wonderful it was and the security that came from us both knowing we were as deep in this as the other person was. I also remember that when I felt that way a little bit about SP, I leashed it. I tied it up tight and threw it in a dark closet, locked the door, and tossed the key. I could NOT allow that again, and I don't know if he sensed that or chose to do the same for himself. Because he did do the same, I know it without a doubt. The signs were there for us both - and then they weren't. We're too independent. It makes me wonder if I will ever allow something like that again. Could this love have been different? Could it be different now if I tried to find that tied up bundle? Do I want it to be?

And can I just say I HATE SPCA commercials. HATE. If I am anywhere near my TOM and sometimes when I'm just more emotionally fragile than I usually am - they move me to tears. Immediately. The poor babies, we domesticated these animals, how can people abuse that responsibility, that trust, that privilege? If more people would just neuter and spay their pets eventually we wouldn't have this overabundance of them and maybe then people would cherish them the way they deserve because they wouldn't perceive this endless supply of animals for their enjoyment. That's wishful thinking to the highest power though, some people abuse any and all power and responsibilities they have.

Another sidenote: 4 projects down, 1 nearly done, and only a test and paper left to go (besides my own work that needs doing on my thesis). I'm more productive than I was last finals season. Just keep working I'm telling myself... I'll have some kind of break soon....

Only boring people get bored?

I bore myself. I complain too much. I whine about all manner of things. Well, maybe not WHINE... I'm exaggerating like I usually do (which doesn't read well in text and to people who have never heard me speak). I just wish I could NOT worry, complain, or say a negative word. I really want to be positive, much more of the time.

My mind runs to contemplation which is a close cousin to worry, it always has. I shoulda, woulda, coulda all over myself, all the time. Sometimes I feel like this is often the source of my drive, my ambition. I wonder how much of it I would trade for a positive and content outlook.

I went to therapy again this week and decided I am basically going to use her to keep myself accountable and on track with the things I'm going to work on myself. Sleep issues and maintenance. Relationship stuff. Self esteem stuff. Family/past pattern stuff. I'm getting too old to wallow in unhealthy patterns, :).

This sleep stuff is still freaking me out a bit, I wish I could just afford to do the sleep study. I think I'm going to look into what this could cost me for sure next week - rather than taking the 'medical professional's' word on it. Essin' Em recently wrote an adorable blog that I sort of wanted to copy to see if it diffused some annoyance I am having. I won't, but I thought about it. It's so hard to get school and my own stuff done and done WELL when I'm having to expend so much energy worrying about my mind, my sanity, my sleep, my mental health, the effects on my body, etc.

Current issue list:
- My cycle is a mess, painfully so, I wonder now if the same thing that happened to Em is happening to me. No one realizes that the meds are messing with each other?? Either way, it seems like it's time to go on a higher dosage. And I want to go on continuous, screw the fact that they hate prescribing that method in this state. I'm going to ask for it.
- I should be clear of the antidepressant, but I had a textbook case of extended mania from a very small dose. Two professionals confirmed this. That idea just pissed me off and freaked me out a bit. I don't remember quite a bit of the time when I was on it (to the tune of Amazon orders, two tickets at school of $96 EACH, and who knows what else, I keep checking the mail in fear of finding packages). I'm honestly thankful that I didn't take it the way it was prescribed (I took half the dose prescribed and didn't take it every night for 15 days the way I was instructed, I didn't think anything would happen, but I've had enough adverse reactions that I always take these precautions with anything I am unsure about now.)
- The headaches. Daily. I took the Ambien CR Sunday night and haven't so much as touched a tylenol since. I plan to take it again tonight. Still, I am having these headaches which I was NOT getting before I started trying all of these different medications. It has to be some weird either post all these different medication trials effect... or something. It worries me that I may be having other effects, cumulative possibly, of the Ambien CR or of the other medications (like SSRI withdrawal)... since they're just throwing medication at me without actually knowing WHAT the problem is.
- I'm scared to go to the doctor about any of it now, they don't listen and they seem so suprised by what reactions I have to things. They are guessing as much as I am at what might have a positive effect.
- I wish I didn't feel like I need medication at all. But I do. I know I do. I'm not sure exactly what is wrong, but I know I can't do it alone. That in itself pisses me off and saddens me at the same time. It's awful feeling out of control in my own body.

I think I'm sleep deprived again today, after a week of productivity I haven't seen the likes of in MONTHS. It was a GREAT week! Today though... bleh. No motivation to do anything. I'm tired. My head hurts. I want to take the Ambien CR now and go to bed. I match symptomology for chronic insomnia, narcolepsy, and REM disorders... which all have different treatment methods. I'm so sick of thinking about this, I feel like I've been very patient with this process. I've been trying different medications, taken myself to therapy, seen professionals, kept a sleep journal and medication journal for 3 MONTHS. They still have no idea what is wrong, I'm the one who brought in the possibilities that have even been discussed so far. They don't CARE what is wrong as long as I stop coming in and complaining. That's scary. :( They don't even warn me of the potential side effects of the medications they put me on, so I now have a week+ I barely remember where I absolutely wasn't myself. Let's not forget the hallucination I had on the Ambien CR thanks to doctor reccomendations. (Even though it was fun, it's still dumb that it happened.)

I just want to know what's wrong. It doesn't sound like much to ask to me.... however, the only way to know is a sleep study. My best Frances just went through one last night, he gets to know what's wrong with him in 3-5 days, haha, I'm so jealous!!

On a side note: I wish I had thought of some of Rona's wonderfully delightfully funny labels for posts. I didn't realize they could be anything you wanted for a while, haha, I may have to go back and come up with some and re-categorize things.

Weekend Recap

I have been off having a fantastic time for the weekend (some pre-birthday celebrating) and - insert sarcasm - doing school work. The semester is officially in full swing. In fact, I'm in class right now, and I don't feel guilty about writing this now.

Mmm, I got my need to kiss a girl again satiated this weekend. I feel a little guilty that it was with my Frances' girl, he didn't seem upset, I didn't think he would be, I really really hope he wasn't (there's been no chance to ask him alone really).... it's the only thing I feel bad about from the weekend. I didn't want to kiss her really. Then the bouncer walked up and asked us if we would or something like that, and then she looked at me. She's very pretty, piercing blue eyes, soft hair, soft skin, sweet lips, etc. She looked at me in this undemanding way she has about her, a little hopeful (maybe it's been a while for her too??) and smiled. It was too much or something. I immediately was like: Self, wtf. Not ok. You said you wouldn't. I really want to talk to Frances about it, sigh. He didn't call today, and I didn't want to leave a VM about it. So I left two about other things. :(

Stupid alcohol and soft skin. They're such a potent combination. The funny part about it was, while it at least satisfied that need (which has been growing lately) I didn't feel anything. And as a person, I really liked her!! She's the kind of person I could be very good friends with, he could do a lot worse. ;) I also kissed and flashed my boobs to a bouncer, but it was more to get him to leave me/us alone. My prominent feelings at the time were somewhere along the lines of whatever, surely he'll leave if I do this. Which I know doesn't make much sense, that doesn't make men leave. He was somewhat verbally persistent and it was killing my buzz, what a bad reason, lol. I'm also not planning to tell SP about any of those things. My ex seemed ok with my activities (he said he was), which regularly involved flashing and kissing people... but I only used tongue with women, but I doubt he was ok with it in reality. SP has a more pronounced jealous streak already, and he's a recovering Catholic (my term for anyone who grew up with any Catholic influence, even if they reject it, and he does). No need for that kind of trouble, when I know I had already forgotten these things 2 days later without looking at photos and trying to remember. On another note: Our between the sheets chemistry has gone through the roof lately, I have all kinds of bruises, and it's fantastic. I have no idea what changed... maybe my other bestie moving away... I'm relying on him a lot more for my talking friend, my emotional stability friend, my right now person.... interesting that it's going so well. Haha.

I feel like I'm rarely getting to converse with anyone BUT SP.... everyone seems busy. My phone rarely rings. My messenger is fairly quiet. Ah well, this too shall pass. Everyone has lots of things going on, it's life.

This weekend I was all about trying to make people a little uncomfortable, for whatever reason.... here's one of the ways I did it....
I was in the bathroom in a huge sporting goods chain store. They were out of TP. We had to use paper towels, or 'rough it'. So I did this and then went to wash my hands. The idiot automatic sink would not acknowledge me no matter what I did. I sighed loudly at it and the woman next to me (40's? Fit, dressed boring but ok.) waiting on someone smiled and said, "Don't you hate when they do that?" At that moment, the water came on, and I squeaked in excitement as I smiled at her and replied, "Yes, I can't stand when some inanimate object won't validate my existence." That made her laugh, so I went on... "The best is the little thrill I get when the credit card machine tells me I'm approved." She laughed some more and made some comment along the lines of "It's funny how we respond to that" , so I went on.... "What does that say about me?, It makes me want to call my mother and tell her she didn't love me enough." I smiled, she laughed again but this time with some color in her cheeks and a bit of a nervous edge.
Mission Accomplished. :D

Thoughts on touch.

This blog made me laugh a little, and reminded me of my own weekly discomfort lately. I'm very tactile, and I don't like to be touched by people I don't know and like. I'm ok with lots of hugs, flirty touching, etc. from friends and those I know and like... but I don't even really like to high five those I don't know. It might be strange, but it's just how I am. It makes me feel uncomfortable.

So each week I've been bowling in a league this summer. It's something I've never done: competed in a team. It's a sport I am capable of, and it's something I was interested in trying doing, since I'm self-professed non-competitive and I feel I am only self-motivated when it comes to achievement. That has proved pretty true. I only berate myself for what I want to achieve, typical perfectionism. I get sad when I did really well but the team still lost. I have gotten a little more competitive though, and it might be good for me. Who knows, it could sharpen my ambition.

Here's the touch thing: We're a good team, we're good sports. We support and berate one another and coach each other when needed. We actually have an awesome dynamic I think. We high five a lot, dance around, and generally make sure it stays fun. So we tend to get the other team into it with us. They see it, they want to participate. Everyone we've played says how much fun it is to play against us, and clearly enjoyed the experience. So, when we get a strike, they want to high five us too. They want to pat us on the back, fist bump, whatever. Then they get a little more into it and by the end of the first game they're complimenting each other and wanting high fives etc. when they do well too. I have to say, I really like that our team spirit and enjoyment of the game is contagious, BUT I HATE having to high five all these strangers, and having them all hold their hands out to me when I do well. I turn around now from a strike, all glowy and happy and then silently groan in my head as they all hold their hands out. And I'm too much of a polite southern girl to say a damn thing. So I plaster a smile on and go do it, I avoid as many hands as I can by taking a sip of water when someone comes by wanting their fives, etc. I still say, nice shot, or good roll, or some other such bowling nonsense though. Ugh.

Now, it's no penis touching, but it's still icky to me. At least penises in clubs aren't skin to skin with you. Like hands. People's hands are not clean.... ewwww. I do want to close this with the fact that I also hate that new trend of aggression in clubs. I went out on a girls' night not too long ago, and I had to forcefully extricate myself several times when someone was too physically aggressive with their pelvis or got too handsy. I hate that. Especially because I didn't invite ANYONE to dance with me. I'm fine dancing alone. Or next to someone, interacting with them in that way, it's way super fun and can be just as sexy. I'm short and small, if a guy actually wants me to like him he should take that into account. I don't want to be physically intimidated on the dance floor, I like to be dominated but not until you respectfully get my permission to do it. Then it's on, but only then.