this came in my e-mail today....

A family in Bend, Oregon found this fawn on their front steps and took this photo. The white spots on the steps are apple blossom petals.
A great job of natural camouflage!
As you may know, deer hide their fawns and go away for awhile. The fawns have no odor yet, and naturally stay absolutely still.
The fawn stayed there all morning, and the mama came to get it after 4-5 hours.
Kudos to the people for leaving the fawn alone, knowing Mom would be back.

THE MOM "HID" HER BABY ON THE BROWN STEPS WITH WHITE SPOTS.



So incredibly beautiful.

Rob is always right on time....

Leo (July 23-August 22)



"Boobs: I wish I had them. Not enough to buy them, though." So testified skinny actress Lara Flynn Boyle in the Globe, rejecting the idea of getting silicone implants. Take your inspiration from her clarity in the coming week, Leo. Identify one of your half-assed desires--a vague wish that chronically floats around the back of your mind--and renounce it forever. If necessary, have a no-nonsense conversation with yourself in which you discuss all the reasons why the satisfaction of that longing is not at all crucial to your happiness or well-being, and why, therefore, you will never again indulge in a serious fantasy about it.

bumper sticker update:

Overcome your uncertainties and free yourself from dwelling on sorrow. If you delight in existence, you will become a guide to those who need you, revealing the path to many.

-Sutta Nipata

laughing at people

Ok, Ok, I know it's not nice. But sometimes it's just so well deserved!
I'm cruising through Friendster (want in? write me) and chuckling over some of the incredibly superficial women (and likely men too but I don't care about them right now) in there. One woman actually described her hobbies as : tanning and modeling.
My first thought was: is she kidding? The second was: when is she going to add chemotherapy? Now, I'm not trying to make cancer jokes, we all know that isn't possible. Cancer= not funny. Ever. But damn, dude. Tanning is your hobby? You're in serious trouble. Serious serious trouble.

Dude.

I have been trying to overcome my intense squeamishness with all things sexual (well, not SOME things, heh heh). I am also in the process of setting up a web site for womens sexuality (more info coming, I promise). Because of these things I have been doing a fair amount of "research" online to see what's out there that is of quality. Sex sites. Stuff like that. (*blushes*) Not porn. F'in hate porn. Barf.

Anyway, I've run across the same quandary a few times now, where I can't decide where to draw the line between indulging a morbid curiosity and harming myself psychologically by doing so.

Example: Yesterday I'm looking through a fetish site. Info on fetishes, not pictures or anything. So it doesn't frighten me, it's just words, right? No big deal. Then I see a link for something labeled K9 something or other. What the? Surely they don't mean....I click on it. I start reading the article. Oh, yes, they DO mean.... And while I am horrified and revolted I READ THE ENTIRE ARTICLE. I cannot believe what I am reading. It's not that I don't know beastiality exists, it's that I can't believe people are discussing it as if they're telling you a recipe for their moms banana bread! So matter of fact, so unashamed, so....so.....PRO beastiality! What in the f*cking hell? And so I sat there, slack jawed and wide eyed, and read exactly how it is that one trains their dog to have sex with them.

I got to the end of the article and realized I was both shaking and nauseous and really terribly confused about the world and my fellow humans in it all of a sudden. Then of course felt disgusting for having READ the article, much less clicked on it in the first place. I sat there panicked. Am I revolting for having read it? Why DID I read it? Do I secretly want to do dogs (vomits)? What in the hell is wrong with me that I would read that?

Today I came across erotica stories about incest. Again, morbid curiosity reared it's ugly head but I learned from yesterday, by God. Do I really WANT to know what the hell people fantasize about, when it comes to doing their relatives? Oh, no, I most certainly DO NOT.
And so away away away I click in frightened...awayness. Just get away!

What is this urge to be horrified? I mean, you may not see an article about beastiality and watching Jerry Springer to be the same can of worms, but I do. The Springer Show leaves me slightly less disgusted but with an equal or greater fear for the future of the human race. Most of "reality TV" strikes me the same way. (Except What Not To Wear, I love you. Love!)But so very much of TV and the good old WWW leaves me confused and disgusted at us as a race.
This is, in fact, one of two reasons I am starting a new site. A place women can go where things aren't going to get so...scary. (shudders)

Anyway, where is the line between curiosity and self torture? Apparently it is thin enough that I walked right over yesterday without a thought to my own precious psyche.

People doing their dogs. (shakes head) Dude.


(Editors note from a week later, more or less: There's just something not right about people....)

Oooooh, so funny!

My sons out of school today, so I spent the last hour doing stupid quizzes. Just for the hell of it, here's my results:

You are Bettie Page Girl next door with a wild streak You're a famous beauty - with unique look And the people like you are cultish about it What Famous Pinup Are You? Take This Quiz :-)

Dude, I feel infinitely cooler all of a sudden.

You are a Geek Girl! You're competent, eccentric, and proud to be exactly who you are. It also helps that you're the smartest person you know. Meeting a guy is not a challenge for you, as long as you're willing to pull away from the computer. There's a ton of geek boys who are dying for a girl exactly like you. What Kind of Girl Are You? Take This Quiz :-)

Sorry geek loving men of the world, Mr. Wonderful already swept me off my geeky feet.

Your Power Color is Green You feel most at home in a world of ideas. You're curious and logical - and enjoy a good intellectual challenge. You're super cool, calm, and collected. Very little tries your patience. Your only fear? People not realizing how smart and able you are! What's Your Power Color? Take This Quiz :-)

They know my secret fear. Now I have to kill them.

Guys Like That You're Sensitive And not in that "cry at a drop of a hat" sort of way You just get most guys - even if you're not trying to Guys find it is easy to confide in you and tell you their secrets No wonder you tend to get close quickly in relationships! What Do Guys Like About You? Take This Quiz :-)

Seriously? Huh.

Your True Sign Is Cancer

Cozy

Moody

Romantic

Traditional

Ultra-Sensitive

Unable to Let Go

The Most Loving Ever

Intuitive and Imaginative

What's Your True Zodiac Sign? Take This Quiz :-)

Funny, I'm a Leo, but have tons of Cancer in my chart. They hit the nail on the head, I'm impressed.

You Are A Professional Girlfriend! You are the perfect girlfriend - big surprise! Heaven knows you've had enough practice. That's why you're a total pro. If there was an Emily Post of girlfriends, it would be you. You know how to act in every situation ... to make both you and your guy happy. What Kind Of Girlfriend Are You? Take This Quiz :-)

I better have it down to a fine science by now or I'd have to be a dense as a brick. "Enough practice" indeed!!!

You Are a Natural Beauty! You're the kind of beauty that every guy dreams about... One that looks good in the morning - without a stich of makeup That's doesn't mean you're a total hippie chic though You have style, but for you, style is effortless What Type of Beauty Are You? Take This Quiz :-)

Funny how these quizzes tell me what I want to hear. The whores.
Watch out for their web site. Hurt my eyes something awful to look at for long. Yeesh.

the story of a truly teeny weenie

Wow. I ...I just...well, I just have to post this. But I will warn you know, it will take you to a site with sexual content. For those of you unabashed, go. Read the story of the teeny weenie.

Men, don't worry about the size. I can't say I've seen this small but I have "seen" small. And it really does work that way. Honestly.

must have of the day

"Never offend people with style when you can offend them with substance."
--Sam Brown

Wieners: causing trouble, making headlines.

random facts about me:

I grew up a 40 minute drive from the border of Canada. I would drive there sometimes with my friends, because there was an AWESOME restaurant there run by a small Indian woman, and MAN could she cook. Windsor was also gorgeous and clean, not a cigarette butt in sight. It was like some Twilight Zone episode, to leave Detroit and come out of that tunnel into a clean beautiful place. And then that FOOD! Man I hope that lady is still there. I so totally want that food.

I can't drum to save my life. For some reason, the ability of my arms to maintain a steady rythym is sorely lacking. At Dead shows, I was always the one in the middle of the circle dancing. That I can do. But channel all that movement into the space occupied by my hands? No can do.

I think pooping is awesome. I had a Hare Krishna housemate who used to tell me that enemas were the way to God. Whether or not that was true I can't tell you. But a good poop always makes the world better. Um, depending on where you put it. I suggest the toilet, to keep with that whole "world a better place" thing I was just talking about.

My flippant moods amuse me, although I wonder how they come off to other people. My good friends know me well enough to realize when I'm being goofy just for their amusement and when I'm serious. Does this convey well in a blog? I doubt it. Any long time readers know me well enough by now to tell the difference, I hope. But how many people come by here and read things like this and wonder what kind of freak-o I am, exactly? Just know, gentle reader, I am here for your amusement. And some intellectual stimulation as well. If I come off as wacky, I'm just relieving some stress over here. It's all good. Just know that somewhere in Virginia Beach, there is a woman sitting in front of her computer snorting with amusement, thinking herself quite witty. Is it true? Who cares? I'm amused, and sometimes that's all that matters at that moment.

I hold a grudge tenaciously. You do something that is seriously crappy and by God, I will never forget it. I will forever judge you by it. I may forgive you, but I will never ever forget what you are capable of. I do, however, believe that people can change, and I will take that into account.
Likewise, I will remember a kindness with unsuspecting tenderness. You do something sweet, it is permently imbedded in my mind that you are good. I may never tell you how much I think of you for such an act, but I try to tell people now and then. I think people have the right to know. It is good for our souls, to share such things.
And yes, the two can cancel each other out. Not often, but it does happen.

I wish I were braver. I used to be brave, I think. Maybe I was just naive. I don't know. But there were times when I was younger that I thought some small act might make the world better, so I would do it. Now I consider what people may think of me. Who cares? I do, unfortuently. I would like to not care again. Maybe climbing to the top of a tree and blowing bubbles in the crack head filled corridors of Detroit doesn't solve a damn thing, but I'm sure it made for a few little bright spots and smiles. And sometimes those things are HUGE. I want to go back to making those moments for people, and not just were I can hide anonymously in cyberspace.

I have always feared that my head is huge. Shut up, stop laughing, I'm serious. In all the pictures I have with me posing next to female friends, it looks like an elf is posing with the Golly Green Giant. Maybe it's because I am taller than most of them; maybe it's to be expected. But when you grow up with the fear that maybe your head is giant and not everyone elses heads actually look like lollipops, this is a concern. And so, I never cut my hair short for years. I hated wearing it in a ponytail, cause then everyone would see my freakishly large skull. When I finally cut all my hair off I discovered something: holy crap, my head is NOT huge. Body dysmorphia strikes again! Now I look in the mirror and I seem proportionate. Well, except for those huge hips and little boobs. I don't know why God wanted me so areodynamic, but (head shaking) there you have it. I keep waiting for puberty to kick in on the upper half of my body. I'm 30. It should be any day now, right? Right?

Why boobs are so cool.

(Don't worry, it's not explicit.)
(Or worry, if that's what you were hoping for.)

Strange...

After my last Friday porn freak out extraordinaire, Mr. Wonderful has decided he just won't look at the stuff. My feelings are conflicted. Part of me wants to yell, "Yay! (You're not retarded after all!)" (I love you, baby, I don't really wonder if you're retarded. Seriously. Well, maybe a little. I mean, the stuff is so damn lame...ok, ok, you're not retarded.)
Part of me is feeling guilty. Because sometimes I don't care. Ok, ok, sometimes I don't care that much.
As I've told him many times, I can't tell if porn is really a stinking pile of shit or if my view is askew because of...stuff. My issues. And stuff.
~sigh~

Yah, I don't know.
What I do know is that he hasn't been looking at it for the last 5 days now.
(pause)
I don't know if I should point out to him the massive change in his personality or not. I mean, it seems like kind of a "I told you so" kind of thing to do. But then again, I DID tell him so.

First, I got crazy amounts of sex all weekend. I was one happy little kitty.

Second, the attention I got was immense. Even though he was busy trying to set up my new web site (you'll hear about it soon) and I was trying to leave him be so he could concentrate, he kept jumping up to come find me and smooch me and stuff. It was awesome. Oh yaaaaaah.

Third, the quality of attention that I was getting was a vast improvement. It was almost as if he just woke up and saw me again for the first time in awhile. As if I were some shiny toy he'd forgotten he owned, and suddenly I was the best thing since sliced bread.
Although this makes me quite happy, it makes me wonder about him. And about porn. And about how porn makes men totally retarded.

Today he forgot his lunch. I made him stuffed pasta and spinach foccacia. I brought it to him at work. He sat there happily eating then suddenly says, "You know, I don't need a bunch of naked girls to look at. I have the best one of all. You're so gorgeous and smart and funny and (add more ego pleasing adjectives here)....I just don't need that stuff."

*blink*

I held his hand. I thanked him but asked him if he was so sure about that (or if it was his happy stomach talking). I bit back the urge to say, "I'm so happy your head has popped back out of your ass! Welcome back, I've missed you!" Because although this may be how I harshly feel sometimes, I cannot tell if my judgment is correct.
There are a lot of things about sex and correct morality concerning it that confuse me.

For example, last night we were discussing fantasy and he had just asked me what I was fantasizing about (ah...recently). I blushed and told him I don't ask him that, but then I was immediately annoyed, and said, "Well, I don't ask because it's never about ME!" Why the hell WOULD I ask? If you're jacking off to porn, it's a safe bet you AREN'T thinking about your significant other, eh?

And he was defensive and said it's pretty normal, he thought, so what was my deal? I had to sit back and think about that. Is it normal? And I told him I have no way of being able to know that, for my psyche is tweaked and has been since the unpleasant beginnings of my sexuality. How in the hell would I know what is normal? Do most women fantasize about other men when they masturbate? I told him most women wouldn't answer that question honestly, as we are trained to be discreet and proper about such things. I told him the few women I consider close enough friends to honestly answer that question are a weird freaky bunch so they may not be the best random sampling of the female species to base such a study on. He laughed at that.

But there's a lot of things like that, where I am trying to decide how I morally feel about something but.... I don't know. It's not like I need to know what other people believe to make up my mind how I feel about something- I know DAMN well how I feel about it. What I don't know is if my judgment is justified.

Then I go around in the circles. Does it matter what is justified? Maybe my own judgment is the bottom line, as I'm dealing with something that is privy to my own perceptions.

Arrrrrrrrrrrgh.
I don't feel like entertaining my own crazy right now.
Think I'll aimlessly surf. You get the idea, right?

flooble said that I am Gay (And I'm damn proud of it.)

Take the Gay Quiz

Crap. I think Mr. Wonderful may find this alarming.
But maybe not.
I'm... uh... not, by the way. As far as I know. Hmmm. I'm pretty darn sure. I'll get back to you.

This certifies that I, Introspectre, Have Become Cooler Than I was Before

You too can Become Cooler at flooble

YOU ARE CATNIP


What herb are you?

A child who constantly tests limits is doing nothing more than trying to pin down parents who don't know where they should stand.

A Thought for the Day
from John Rosemond

thoughts on meditation

I've been dragging my lazy butt out of bed to meditate with Mr. Wonderful every morning. He's been getting up to do it for a year now, while I just lay in bed and luxuriate in having the whole bed to myself for another 30 minutes. Ahhh.

So finally I decide it's time to quit being such a lazy butt and greet my destiny. Ok. So I've been meditating.
Meditating is a funny thing. Funny because it's funny HOW MUCH CRAP my brain can come up with to jabber on about! GEEZ! Blobity blobity blobity jabba jabba jabba jabba jabba
I swear!
And I notice when I first start I yak at me for a minute then I can quiet down. I get the hang of shushing myself and it's all going along swimmingly. By swimmingly, of course I mean I can manage to enjoy the present moment for maybe 8 or 10 seconds at a time before my brain starts rattling and I have to tell it to shush again. This is a step up from the first time I (seriously) attempted meditation, which resulted in me freaking out for 15 minutes about how I couldn't breath right and how am I supposed to find peace when I can't even breath (insert much hang wringing and various expressions of hysteria here)?
So, being able to be quiet a little is an improvement, yes.
Well, after about the first 10 minutes I notice my ability to focus cuts off sharply. Meaning the time inbetween my yabbling is down to maybe 5 seconds if I'm lucky; probably more like 3. I'm trying to focus and mind keeps interrupting with:
(actual conversations I had with me this morning)
Chatter: Hey! Today's a whole new day! Full of opportunity! A fresh start! A new morn! Me Focusing: Yes. I will enjoy it as it comes. Like now. (pause) Chatter: Maybe I should watch Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon today...man what a good movie. What about that part with the... Me Focusing: Shush. I know. Right now I am not watching that movie. (pause) Chatter: ...but the part with the thing, remember? Man! Oh man! And that other thing! That girl kicked ass! What was that sword called? Green something, something green, ummmm..... Me Focusing: Green thing, who cares right now? The present moment, now now now, shush! (pause) Chatter: I wonder if girl ninjas have to tie their boobs back so they aren't in the way? Like when the chick stole the sword, but you couldn't tell if she was a chick? What about Jade Fox? She was like some big hippy mama. Bet she didn't smoosh her boobs with anything. Do they? What would they tie them with? Me Focusing: I can't believe I'm thinking about what female ninjas do with their boobs! ARGH! FOCUS!!!

And on it goes.
At one point I started to wonder what Mr. Wonderful was thinking about in his head, then realized I had enough thoughts of my own to deal with and didn't really need to bother with his, too!

I think my attention gets shorter and shorter because I am getting more and more frustrated as time goes on. Regardless, it never ceases to amaze me how much crap my brain can come up with to continue not existing in the present moment.

I had a realization this morning, too. If I can get my head to stay in the present moment, there is nothing to worry about. And that is a mind blowing morsel of freedom tasting happiness right there, kiddies. I mean, I KNOW this but to actually experience it is wonderful. One stress free moment in my clutter yakkity brain.
Worth getting up before the sun every day.

Is blogger moving excruciatingly slow, or is it just me? I can't figure out if it's a problem with firefox or what....

Is blogger moving excruciatingly slow, or is it just me? I can't figure out if it's a problem with firefox or what....

Sing Out for Eros

You on your seat there
sit up and sing out
Sing out for Eros
Love is unbelievable
so it must be believed

Believe you own loving
your passion and folly
your incredible hopes
Praise the marvels of
joy tube and love pump

It you must feel tortured
respect your misery
and be happy about it
Only the nonsensical is
at ease with the Absolute

Listen to your angels
ripening your secrets
Come to beautiful terms
with the god in your body
with the body of your god

Share flesh with others
Wake love Make love
Clasp hearts Exuberate
And never look back till
you are far out of sight

(1983)

from Ecstasies by James Broughton

Ode To Gaiety

Go gloom
Begone glum and grim
Off with the drab drear and grumble
It's time
its pastime
to come undone and come out laughing
time to wrap killjoys in wet blankets
and feed them to the sourpusses

Come frisky pals
Come forth wily wags
Loosen your screws and get off your rocker
Untie the strait lacer
Tie up the smarty pants
Tickle the crosspatch with josh and guffaw
Share quips and pranks with every victim
of grouch pomposity or blah

Woe to the bozo who says No to
tee hee ho ho and ha ha
Boo to the cleancut klutz who
wipes the smile off his face
Without gaiety
freedom is a chastity belt
Without gaiety
life is a wooden kimono

Come cheerful chums
Cut up and carry on
Crack your pots and split your sides
Boggle the bellyacher
Convulse the worrywart
Pratfall the prissy poos and the fuddy duds
Take drollery to heart or end up a deadhead
at the guillotine of the mindless

Be wise and go merry round
whatever you cherish
what you love to enjoy what you live to exert
And when the hight spirits
call your number up
count on merriment all the way to the countrdown
Long live hilarity euphoria and flumadiddle
Long live gaiety
for all the laity


(1988)
from Glees by James Broughton
in Packing Up For Paradise published by Black Sparrow Press

I can think of sooooo many uses for these.

Oh yaaaah, I feel real cool now.

You've got the power of Unstoppable Creativity

Fun, inventive moms like you know that life is what you make it — and you make it as colorful as you can. Whether you're sewing your kids' one-of-a-kind Halloween costumes, helping them write school book reports, or planning an off-beat weekend outing for the family, you are always full of big ideas and a bright energy that keep your brood smiling broadly.

Your unique approach to the world around you probably carries into other aspects of your mothering as well, and you're likely known for coming up with great solutions to your kids' problems. You're definitely not like the other moms — and your kids may sometimes wish you didn't stand out so much — but really, they like the adventure that comes with living with such a creative force, and the way you always encourage them to be themselves.

"What God has joined together, let no man put asunder."

Great line. It's just a great line.
Mmmm, that includes women, too. No women shall put asunder, either. Unless they want to risk the wrath of God and myself.
(I would fear me more than God, personally. I'm likely to knock you out first.)

Truly, the gayest thing I've heard all week.

a year later....

"I get to go to lots of overseas places, like Canada."

-Britney Spears, on what she likes most about being a singer.

Proof that you can take the stupidest lyrics and throw them in a damn catchy tune and people will eat it up.
28 years later, this song is still being played on the radio.
Oiy.

"I try my hardest to push the point that I am a feminist. I really think it's important that people know that the women in this industry are empowered. They run it, man. It's awesome."
-Jenna Jameson


Well, I'll be.
I don't know, though. Jenna's thirty. I don't think the 18 year olds run it.

the big guy knows it

Better than a thousand useless words is one word that gives peace.

-Buddha

There is no other task but to know your own original face. This is called independence; the spirit is clear and free. If you say there is some particular doctrine or patriarchy, you’ll be totally cheated. Just look into your heart; there is a transcendental clarity. Just have no greed and no dependency and you will immediately attain certainty.

-Yen-t’ou

When I googled "porn" it came up with 86,000,000 results.
When I googled "love" it came up with 251,000,000 results.

It made me feel better, ok?

(By the way, "sex" came up with 338,000,000 results. Yes. One million more than porn and love combined.)

Wow. I mean, just...wow.

Well, that makes sense.

Hmmm.
Where to start?

Um, I seem to be back at square one, or so it feels like. You know, the I Hate Porn And Everyone Who Looks At It square.
Sometimes I seem to be ok with it. Not looking at it, but other people looking at it. Sometimes I don't see it as that big a deal. I think it's pretty retarded. I have some pretty serious judgment concerning it and the people who view it. I wonder if the people who see it as necessary (an arguable word but I'll leave it) have no imaginations whatsoever. I wonder if the people who view it aren't satisfied. Is fantasy healthy when it involves picturing fucking other people on a multiple-times-a day basis? How happy can you be in your relationship if that's your M.O.? Is it so natural for men to exercise this visual Neaderthal urge they have? Are all men just idiots? I mean, maybe they're ok sometimes but they all seem to have this idiot in their heads that is jacking off in the closet thinking about other women.
It pisses me the fuck off.
Why? I don't know exactly. But today I am revolted and angry as hell.

This morning Mr. Wonderful engaged in what seems to be his usual spank-the-monkey-while-I'm-at-the-bus-stop routine. Porn is, of course, almost always involved. Most days I can joke about it. I am, however, NEVER happy about it. I am trying to accept the fact that men are retarded and this is just some bullshit they do. (I know, you haven't heard the hard core bitch tone in a while. Bear with me here. I'll explain in due time.) He tells me it's normal male behavior. I've heard this before, from science shows and articles, blah blah blah. I wonder if men just make this shit up so they can continue to be fucking retards. Some kind of "WeLovePorn and let's make up scientific "evidence" about it being acceptable" conspiracy.
Sometimes I wonder.

Part of me believes it. And then I feel bad for judging the poor stupid monkey men so harshly.

Hell, even some girls like it. Frankly, I wonder about their mental competency, too.

But here I see the amount of porn that exists and can't help but notice I seem to be the minority here. I'm angry and defensive, not blind or stupid.

So what if it's just me? Maybe the rape trauma thing has me unable to see this situation with clarity. (makes odd face, not translatable into words) Wouldn't be the first time my own issues have clouded my sight.

It's the really young girl porn that flips me out. I don't care, an eighteen year old isn't capable of making decisions like that. They shouldn't be allowed to do it.
But who am I to say?
I mean, everybody has their own choice to make about whether or not they want to do porn, but if someone is going to die from it, the people who watch it should know. And personally feel responsible for perpetuating someone else's death at their expense. The guy jacking off isn't in any danger, so what the fuck should he care, right? It's her fault, right? She took that chance. But why would she bother if assholes like you weren't looking at it? Ah, there's the question.

And hence my disgust.
Young girls are naive. You're talking about girls who aren't even able to drink yet, for Christs sake. They're finally allowed to buy a pack of cigarettes the first year they're also allowed to have unprotected anal sex and get AIDS. That's awesome. Any laws to protect them? Nope. Can anyone be held responsible for her imminent death (and the imminent deaths of the others)? Nope. Just some doofus trusting 18 year old who got AIDS. But hey, enjoy jerking off. What do you care?

~pauses for deep long overdue breath~


>screams< I AM SO FUCKING ANGRY!

Here's the thing. I've been reading this book, Female Rage: Unlocking It's Secrets, Claiming It's Power. I know, the super feminist title turned me off in the library but I flipped through it and recognized myself so I have to read it.
I haven't gotten far. Mostly what I've read is discussing how anger is considered an unacceptable female emotion and how women are trained early to not express it. We repress everything. Thus, we become passive aggressive psycho bitches ready to snap unexpectedly, because although we try to convince ourselves we AREN'T actually angry about (whatever) the fact is we ARE. And stuff stuff stuff goes the emotions and next thing you know you have panic attacks and ulcers and Lorena Bobbitt. You have scorned women running their cheating lovers down, shooting them in the head (or wherever else), doing crazy things because repressing all that anger has DRIVEN them crazy. And when something pisses them off, they explode.

When I found out my Ex had fucked the Skank at Work I blew. If I had a gun, they would both be dead and I'd be in jail. There is NO doubt in my mind. That's why I don't own a gun. Gun= Not for psycho bitch with issues.
For a month or two it was all I thought about. The various ways to kill them. How I would do it.
Oh, I'm serious.

I made it through (thank you Xanax).

It seems like every period I flip out and become enraged. Why? Is it really the hormones? Or do I have my own personal devil on my shoulder whispering, "Now! Now is the time! You're PMS-ing, no one can blame you for being such a cunt! Just do it! It feels goooooooooooooooooood, doesn't it?" And I agree. It DOES feel good. In a good horrible way. It feels AWESOME.

Like my rant right now.
When I came back in from the bus stop this morning I started blogging. I was disgusted. And as I'm blogging he walks into the room and leans over to nuzzle my cheek. I was amazed to discover I found it revolting.
It wasn't reassuring, it was revolting. I didn't want him near me. My judgment of him was swift and total. Porn viewing= Asshole. Don't kiss me. Don't even touch me.

But I looked at him and saw the man I love, the man who makes it all better, who makes me feel safe, and I was so confused. How could I feel this way about him? What a horrible conflict.

He left for work. I walked to the bedroom, laid down in the bed and cried myself to sleep.
The feeling was awful. I felt torn, and most of all defeated. Crushed.

I thought about what I had been reading and realized it was right. That crushed and defeated feeling was me repressing my anger. The fact of the matter was I was ANGRY. I was HURT. But I'm so used to not being able to aknowlege these feelings I don't even recognize them. I don't even know what they are when I feel them.

Isn't that screwy?

So, I decided a no holds barred rant was in order.

And damn it all if I don't feel better.

Before he left this morning we briefly talked about my feelings. He said, "If you want me to stop looking at porn, honey, just say so." I replied, "I don't WANT to say so!" Meaning, I don't want to have to TELL you to stop being a dumbass, just stop being one! Why should it be something I request? And I refuse for him to hold it against me that he can't look. I don't want the resentment.

It's the one mar in an otherwise perfect man.

In my opinion.

So I told him I had no answer, I wasn't about to solve this dilemma of mine before he left for work. So he left.

I've told him before I don't mind girl porn. Some of the lesbian stuff is ok. And the stuff where they're masturbating is always ok. I never really thought about WHY that was, I figured it was my fear of strange wieners. But I don't know. I don't think that's it at all. I think it's the amount of danger.
I found one site that was a personal site of a husband and wife. It's obvious they like to film themselves and let others watch. It was really quite beautiful, once I got over my initial squeamishness. If I can find the link I'll throw it in here. It's artistic and lovely. I was surprised.
And that kind of porn doesn't bother me in the slightest. There was nothing gross about it. It's quite simply people filming themselves having sex. There's no coercion, no ickyness. There's nothing skanky looking about it.
The skanky stuff is so nasty.
I am constantly amazed and saddened that there's such a market for it. It really makes me ill.

I don't know. I'm tired of typing. I'll figure it out.
I gotta tell you, being pissed off really works wonders.
Huh.

I'm not sure if porn itself makes me want to vomit, or just the thought of porn, the concept of it.
Either way, it's nasaeating.

Apparently not for the majority of the male population.

It's weird, because I have such conflicts about it. It seems pretty simple. People screw it front of cameras. (shrug) Whatever. That's their choice.
But I don't think it is. I am mainly convinced that the majority of porn occurs when women are coerced into doing it. How many women WANT to have sex in front of cameras and have people watch it? How many? Seriously.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe because of my rape trauma shit I never experienced that whole freedom and never wanted to. Maybe other women do.
And I resent that men watch it.
EH.

my neighbor sent me this one:

Some people are like Slinkies......not really good for anything, but you still can't help but smile when you see one tumble down the stairs.

Having fallen down stairs, it's not as funny as usual. Ouch. But still amusing.

I love people

sometimes, anyway....

The following are pictures recently shown in SENT.
So cool.





















Beautiful, just beautiful.
Thanks for making me love the human race just a little bit more...

note to self:

Shakyamuni Buddha said, "Judge not others; judge only yourself." What appear to be faults in others may actually be reflections of our own emotional afflictions.

-Geshe Ngawang Dhargyey, Advice From A Spiritual Friend

Thai Buddhist monks recite prayers during a multi-religious candle light vigil for the tsunami victims in Thailand's town of Takua Pa, January 19.

Photo by Bazuki Muhammad/Reuters



Thais and foreigners gather at a stadium for a candlelight vigil and to release floating lanterns in memory of the tsunami victims in Takuapa district, about 130 km (81 miles) north of the tsunami-hit Thai resort island of Phuket, January 19, 2005. More than 5,000 people are listed as dead in Thailand from the tsunami and over 3,000 still missing.
REUTERS/Chaiwat Subprasom




















Thai Buddhist monks pray during a memorial service for the victims of tsunami at a stadium in the worst-hit Southern Thai province of Phang Nga Wednesday, Jan. 19, 2005. More than 20,000 people from all walks of life joined the biggest-ever interfaith service in memory of the victims of the Dec. 26 disaster.
(AP Photo/Teh Eng Koon)

how to achieve coolness

In 56 years or less.

from a 1996 issue of the Virginian Pilot, comes this compelling qoute about prayer in schools:

From Thomas Roper of Virginia Beach: ``Throughout the country, children prayed in public schools. The teachers were told by the government leaders that in order to return to traditional family values, prayer would be the order of the day. Those students who refused to pray were to be excused, but their names were noted by the teachers and their classmates. The time and place? Nazi Germany in the 1930s. Those devotional exercises had no humanizing restraint on the alumni of those schools. Many became some of the most savage Nazi barbarians. . . .

That I never knew.
You can lead a horse to water....

Buddhism has the characteristics of what would be expected in a cosmic religion for the future: it transcends a personal God, avoids dogmas and theology; it covers both the natural & spiritual, and it is based on a religious sense aspiring from the experience of all things, natural and spiritual, as a meaningful unity.
~Albert Einstein

As if....

....I didn't want a dog badly enough already....

somebody loves bananas

Maybe a little too much. But who's complaining?

That's using the old noodle.

That's using the old noodle.

The Popemobile

What the hell is he going to do with that?!?

awesome

"It continues to reassure us that people working together in interpersonal relationships that are dedicated to a goal can produce incredible, incredible things. And that's what has happened here," said Alphonso Diaz, associate administrator for science at the US space agency (Nasa).

I'm not sure this is really going to work.
"Prison officials say (it) will deter criminals."
Yah, I don't know. I'm not sure that death seems to deter them, so why should a web cam publicized death do the trick?
Demented.

Whoa.

I think my jaw never shut once while reading this one. Wow.

I must go to Colorado now.

On another note entirely:

My son has these sentences he has to write for school. He has to pick words from his spelling list and make up a sentence to go with it. He's seven. Some of these crack me up: (actual sentences)

1) Shall I put you in a cage? No?
2) I think I'm going to punch me in the face. "Pow"
3) I can bounce twice on my bike. Not really.
4) A fly has hundreds of red creepy eyes.
5) Other people have way more toothbrushes than me.
6) Wow, that's one large dinosaur.
7) Wise means you are really smart.
8) Are you walking across the water?


He has really been driving me nuts lately. But then I look at his schoolwork and think the old crazy apple doesn't fall far from the crazy tree.

Sorry about all the cussing in the upcoming posts. I am very angry and disturbed.
Here's the thing. Hours later I am still irked completely.
I hate voilent movies, books, whatever.
Yes, hate.
It's just adding more awful crap to a world that is already filled with horrible crap. What's the deal? What's the desire to do a thing like that? Are people totally retarded? The world doesn't suck enough, eh? You need to add to that, make your own special fecal smear across the landscape? What the fuck is your problem?
I've blogged about this before.

So your life sucks. So things haven't gone the way you wanted. Hey, great idea! Let's make some creative *whatever* thats fueled by psychotic rage, but not only that! We'll make sure it is so dark and wretched and evil that it fills the people who witness it with a stifling darkness as well. Yes. And that will be good. Let us crap upon the face of humanity and call it art.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've had a pretty horrible life. Parts of it have been ok, and some not so terribly bad. Considering the amount of crap I've been through, I can safely say it would be justifiable if I wanted to vent a little. People would likely overlook my angst and justify it a bit perhaps.
Is this reason to do it?
No.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How can you add darkness to this world and feel ok about that? How closed is your heart? Neanderthals probably posessed more empathy.

I don't watch Jerry Springer, or reality shows, or any talk shows that thrive on drama and horrible behaviour. Sometimes I read Stephen King but thats as dark as I go. I don't see horror movies (PTSD, no can do anyway).
I just don't know how to express myself here.
(focuses)
I am horrified that I live in a world where darkness and evil is accepted, and even treasured and celebrated. When American Psycho came out, I remember people raving about it. My opinion? No f*cking thanks. You freaks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After my last blog about darkness my friend Erica wrote to tell me she felt hurt since she associates with darkness. I can't imagine she would read that book or see that movie and think it was awesome. I could be wrong.
But I don't think so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damn it I'm still pissed off. I guess I'll go back to pacing the house and see if I can figure out WHY I am so upset.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On another note: the song "Monster" by Fred Schneider is playing. Hilarious.

Oh. Now it's Bitch'n Camaro by the Dead Milkmen. I love DayGloRadio.

Seriously. I don't think I can ever read that again.

I really want to vomit.

I am so angry!

On a similar note:

I was over reading one of the blogs that I love so dear. One of my favorite bloggers over there had a chunk of the book American Psycho in there. Holy fucking shit, dude. I will never read that book. After the first paragraph or two I was in a cold sweat and still feel like I could vomit.
Favorite blogger, you know who you are. I have always loved your posts. I'm not sure I'll forgive you for that sniper attack of nasaea you just inspired. My hands are shaking, but what do you care? I hope my discomfort has you feeling better. That seemed to be your agenda.

What the bloody hell? Sometimes I hate people, too, and want people to suffer because of it. It's a huge difference between wanting to make them suffer and actually going through with it.

Maybe I'm just a big PTSD baby. Maybe. But that was over the top, way too much bloody fucking awful.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The stupid thing about it all is that I am hurt. I don't even know this guy but I read his posts, right? I like what he has to say. I've told him so. And then today I read that and I feel personally attacked, and I'm angry. I'm piss-fire angry about it.
Like, I can't believe he would DO that to me!
Yah, I know, like he had any thought of me whatsoever. It's stupid. I'm over reacting. I'm aware. But I'm also totally traumatized by reading it, and goddamn it, I'm always really careful about stuff like that! (crying) Like the last post explained, shit sets me off! I trusted that bastard to not scare the fucking shit out of me!
Damn it.
It's just another thing I'm afraid of now. Awesome. That's just fucking great.
Damn it.

PTSD confessional

Poor Mr. Wonderful, dealing with all my crazy.
We sat here for a long time last night, with him in front of the computer and me pulled up next to him in the papasan. We were looking at , ahem *toys* on the computer. I started scratching. He turns off the computer and asks me if I want to talk.
When don't I? (chuckles)
I think I rambled on for a while, about sex and porn and ex boyfriends and issues.... there wasn't anything really bothering me, just a vague sense of unease and unrest. The same feeling I always get when I see any nudey pictures. (A few of the.. uh...*toys* were shown being demonstrated. Ahem.) It pushes my buttons. Not good ones, unfortunately. And if any of it DOES turn me on it freaks me out and opens a whole new can of "why-is-that-what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-me" worms.

~sigh~

(thinking)

I was explaining to Mr. Wonderful that my paranoia and jealousies are usually just anxiety. Chemical in nature, or learned behaviors, however it works.
For example, when I peek over his shoulder and something looks suspicious and I freak out, it has little to nothing to do with HIM.
In the case of last night, he was researching different um...(insert computer lingo here)and looking at the kinds of pages people had built from them. So one page is a photography journal. I come up and start talking to him but my eyes narrow when I see his cursor is over a picture of some ok looking girl on the page. He then clicks to another page and then another and he's trying to explain to me the way the set up varies between the pages, but I can't hear anything he's saying. I'm wondering who the girl was and why he was looking at it and why he clicked away from it so quickly.

*tweak*

So I have to tell him to stop. I ask him to back up to the first one and ask him why he was looking at the girl. He looks at me funny and explains that its one of the pages using this new (thingy) set up. I tell him I thought it was a dating profile when I first saw it and it freaked me out. He sighs and tells me he would never ever do that, and rubs my head. I tell him I know, or I think I know, but I'm never sure. The little voice in my head. Is it premonition or paranoia?

I tell him about that afternoon, when we all went hiking in the forest. How we were walking along and everything was just dandy then my son went running up ahead on the trail and all of a sudden I wondered if any lunatics may have planted a land mine or something in the trail and pictured my son running over it and KABLOO, watching him explode into thousands of pieces of flesh and blood and fragments of bone, raining down around us. The slow motion horror of it; me running but there's nothing left to save. The small recognizable chunks of hair. An eye. A bloody bit of shoe. My shredded child, scattered on the ground and hanging in the trees. Everywhere. But nowhere. Not anymore.

Fucked up, I know.
This is what an anxiety disorder is like.
Anxiety disorder= not fun.
Thank you, I'll be accepting my Understatement of the Day Award now.

Seriously, this is the kind of shit that pops into my head. Usually it is paranoia and not premonition. Very few moments have EVER been premonition.
But how can I tell? Usually by the sheer horror level of them, as in the case of my exploding child in the forest. I could pretty safely guess that it was just a freak out moment and he wasn't really going to blow up.

The problem is, it's not like it's a vague thought. Not like I wonder about what it would be like; I actually see it. I'm walking along and then there's this image superimposed over what I'm seeing. Talk about scary. It takes me a second to differentiate between what is real and what is not. By the time I've figured out it isn't real and I'm just flipping out, my heart is already pounding and the adrenaline is coursing. Then I know I'm ok and just want to collapse and cry because it's over and everything is ok after all. But instead I just try to smile and nod and act like everything is ok because I know if I tell people what I just saw they'll think I'm fucking nuts. As a matter of fact, this was the first time I ever have really shared this fact. What I actually see. I know it's crazy.

Thinking about it, it's a wonder I leave the house at all. So much frightens me. But it doesn't happen when I leave the house. It happens all the time.
I can lay awake at night and think about it. What if our house burns down (and the accompanying image of all of our flesh burning off while we scream, of course)? What if someone breaks in and tries to harm us (and I have to protect my son, who watches me get stabbed to death or some such)?
I won't go on. You get the idea. I think about this shit all the time.

Post traumatic stress disorder. I've blogged about it before. ~sigh~

Today I was looking for a hammer to hang some pictures and I find a little satchel of cards, which I didn't know were there. Immediately my heart sank and I started to freak out, thinking it's something Mr. Wonderful is hiding and it's going to be bad, some other woman is involved, my world is about to shatter.... I pull them out. It's him old credit cards he's stashed away. I can't figure out of my main emotion is relief or embarrassment. (shrug)

Any unexpected thing can set me off. Not everything does, mind you. But it's not surprising a lot of PTSD sufferers become agoraphobic and stick to familiar controllable surroundings when you think about it.

The risks of normal life are mind numbingly huge with PTSD.

It helps to recognize that it's the crazy talking and not logic. That's always good. I'm hoping if I can get better at it I can make it be quieter. That's my plan.

Do you know how scary it is to have sporadic horror movie clips burst into your head at unexpected moments?
~more sighing, looking around, feeling pitiful~

I am so determined to fix me. Sometimes I wish I had a month long live in shrink. Not like the movie Anger Management, because there's no way I'm sharing a bed with Jack Nicholson. I'm afraid he'll hatchet my door in (ala "Here's Johnny!")
Heh heh.

I'm not sure where I was going with this. Who knows. Anyway, I wanted to make a point though. About medication. About how sometimes I talk about how much I love Xanax (which I only took for a few weeks last year but decided then that the stuff was pure magic. Unfortunately, it's also addictive.) And about how people give me shit about it when I mention how I would so totally like some.
I think most medication has a bad rap because people are generally stupid. It's true. And a lot of people rely on medication to cover up the problem instead of actually doing the mental work it takes to fix it. That is not me. Also, a lot of stupid people take medication when they don't actually need it, because they are assholes who like to "get off" on it, leaving it nearly impossible for people like ME -who actually could BENEFIT from the meds- to get it from the very nervous doctors who are skittish about prescribing anything because so many assholes are abusing the drug.
Thanks, assholes.
You SUCK.

Anyway, the point I was getting at was that I get some shit about wanting meds. I don't have them, lets be clear about that. I talk about it because I don't have them.

But I honestly believe if anyone giving me shit could live with PTSD for a day, a month, or the last 16 years of my life (which has only gotten worse, at 14 it was occasional flashes, but man were they strong...) they would understand and feel a little empathy.
I would love to spend a day without seeing my own horrible demise, that of my son, the end of the world, my lover fucking someone else, being brutally attacked, raped, drowned, or whatever the hell else my psycho brain can conjure up to scare the living shit outta me with, you know, a day without any of those thoughts would be just fucking swell.
Thank you. I will accept my second award of the day now.
That is all.

Fri Jan 14, 4:11 PM ET
AP

As seen in this photo released in New York by Hasbro, Inc., Friday, Jan. 14, 2005, Hasbro, Inc.'s Playskool division is launching a new Mr. Potato Head figure, Darth Tater. Available at stores nationwide in February, kids will be able to have all kinds of mix 'n match,Mr. Potato Head fun with this wacky spud dressed as the infamous Star Wars saga villain, Darth Vader. (AP Photo/ Hasbro, Inc., HO)


And just like that, I see the world as a better place.
It doesn't take much, people. Just a little Darth Tater will do it for me.
Of course, a Wookie Water Blaster helps, too.

I decided to put my weepy PMS to good use and spent the last hour crying over this.

Absolutely beautiful.
Of course, I remember it. But reading about it 15 years later is powerful, incredible.
Wow.



Mr. Wonderful commented that it was probably one of the defining moments in his life that gave him faith in the human race. I agree.

can't.....resist.....cuteness.......!!!!!

I got these pics in one of those super duper forwarded e-mails from a friend of mine this morning. Despite the sense that it's Velveeta, I can not resist them. They are too cute. They're hyperadorable qualities have overcome me. I am defenseless against their wrath of cute.












Yummy yummy cuteness yummy animal fluffiness....
(this blog will be rolling around on the floor murmuring "so cute!" and "awww" until it manages to regain composure.)
That is all.

I keep seeing variations of this on other peoples blogs so I cut and paste and here we go:



3 Names you go by:

Now how am I supposed to be anonymous that way? Geez.

3 Screen names you have:

Again, no can do.

3 Things you like about yourself:

1. I am dedicated to improving myself, constantly, in any way possible.
2. I am able to laugh at myself and even amuse others with my foibles.
3. I'm making the progress in life that I want to. It's awesome.

3 things you hate/dislike about yourself:

1. I cuss like a sailor. Not terribly eloquent.
2. I am filled with anxiety and scratch when I get get nervous. Yuck.
3. I have a very difficult time claiming time for myself, and get burned out a lot because of it. I would be a better mother and partner if I gave myself time to relax.

3 parts of your heritage:

1. Polish
2. Irish
3. French Canadian

3 things that scare you:

1. Men
2. My seeming inability to control my own anxiety.
3. Anything happening to my child.

3 of your everyday essentials

1. water
2. food
3. love

3 things your wearing right now.

1. jeans
2. a silver velour hoodie
3. my heart on my sleeve

3 of your favorite bands/artist today:

1. Jack Johnson
2. Led Zepplin
3. India Arie

3 of your favorite songs:

1. the wind in the trees
2. the rain hitting the sliding glass door next to me
3. the sound of the highway

3 things you want to try in the next 12 months:

1. wearing an wedding ring (heh heh)
2. running my own web site
3. ocean kayaking

3 things you want in a relationship (love is a given)

1. the ability to change and have my partner support my growth (vice versa)
2. joy
3. security

2 truths and a lie

1. I have been known to raid the fridge for olives at 3 am
2. I read Stephen Kings "It" in two days
2. I will occasionally masturbate while driving

3 physical things about a love interest that appeal:

1. a saucy expression of intellect and wit
2. being taller than me (at 5'10" that can be a challenge)
3. grace

3 things you just can't do:

1. eat raw mushrooms without wretching
2. go one hour without thinking of sex (in some form or another)
3. math, most of it

3 of your favorite hobbies:

1. duh. blogging!
2. writing
3. reading

3 things you want to do really badly right now:

1. roll around mostly naked with Mr. Wonderful and laugh about stuff
2. relax. completely
3. fix me, and all my crazy. I have lots of crazy. It can go.

3 careers you're considering:

1. therapist
2. sex therapist
3. some new fangled variation of 1 and 2

3 places you want to go on vacation:

1. tour Europe
2. a Buddhist retreat
3. anywhere serene

3 kids names (either boy or girl):

1. Hazel
2. Nigel
3. Stella

3 things you want to do before you die:

1. live another 70 years
2. hang glide
3. have a wonderful family

Researchers claim the average man encounters five women a day he would like to sleep with.


Well!

Loss of mindfulness is why people engage in useless pursuits, do not care for their own interests, and remain unalarmed in the presence of things which actually menace their welfare.


-Buddha

THAT is the color wedding gown I'm thinking of.
(purses lips)
Indeed.
Mr. Wonderful thinks it's fabulous, of course. He hoorahed it and said, "I'm all about us going completely over the top! I'll dress like a Japanese Emperor! You can be the Empress! It'll be awesome!"
I mean, a blood red ballgown + Buddhist ceremony?
But hey. He's game. So am I.
And just looking at this dress fills me with yum.
Yuuuuummmmmmmmm.

a year later

I'm sitting here thinking back to last year at this time and blaring Jimi Hendrix's song, "Hey Joe" (see blog archive for details) and nodding slowly and psychotically along.

It's amazing how much difference a year makes.
One year ago today I was desperately trying to hold on to a dying relationship, completely unable to picture life without him, but completely unable to find any possible way to make it work. It was hideously unhealthy. It was hell. We screamed at each other.

(Alanis Morrisette "You Oughta Know" is on now. Listening to the break up CD I made at that time.
It was a slap on the face how quickly I was replaced
Are you thinking of me when you fuck her
Cause the joke that you laid in the bed that was me
And I'm not going to fade
As soon as you close your eyes and you know it
And everytime I scratch my nails down someone else's back
I hope you feel it ...can you feel it?"
It was the song I planned on blaring while I beat the two of the to a bloody fucking pulp in the alley with a baseball bat when they walked out of work together, smiling, laughing and best of all, unsuspecting....)

This year I'm 500 miles away, living in a beautiful apartment on the bay, with the ocean just a skip away. I met the most incredible man....I...couldn't even imagine a man as phenomenal as him. My son is so happy and so am I. We're planning our wedding and just waking up every day dumbfounded at each other.
Totally blown away.

Do I believe things happen for a reason? I sure do.
Does that make the pain of last year any less? No. But it helps to bring it into context, to give me a sense of perspective.

Selflessness is the most subtle and difficult characteristic to observe. However, when we discover this characteristic for ourselves, we experience a sense of freedom that words cannot describe.

-Matthew Flickstein, Journey To The Center

A day of movement

Today has been weird. Scary. Exciting. Horrible. Good.
First, I woke up and immediately started having panic attacks. Had quite a few yesterday. It's funny how much you take breathing for granted until you suddenly can't do it.

Turns out I got up while Mr. Wonderful was ah...indulging himself in some early morning porn. For the first time, it didn't totally freak me out, but I wasn't happy about it either. But I think maybe since I was already having panic attacks I just really couldn't emotionally afford any more stress and so decided to just blow it off. No pun intended.

Almost the whole way to work Mr. Wonderful and I were silent. He was stressed out about his very real day. I was stressed out about the imaginary crap I make up in my head to freak out about. I decided to over ride mine and ask him if he wanted to talk about it, since I love him and all and it seemed like a good plan. It was good. It was also a first to be able to see past my own bullshit and be big enough to help someone out despite my paranoias. A good step.

Next I braved the DMV. Not so bad first thing in the morning. Turns out you do indeed need a birth certificate so I couldn't get my license but I could switch the title and tags. I sat there and waited as calmly as possible while the very enjoyable chicks voice announced what number was next. Something about her voice was like a sedative. Good planning, whoever came up with that one.

Next stop was the library, to get my own card. Here was a beautiful moment, watching all the people streaming in the door, towards knowledge, towards learning, towards enlightenment. Just beautiful.
I got a few books on stress and overcoming anxiety and left.

My plan was to go to the beach and read and work on a website I'm developing, writing the pages out and what not, but instead I decided to look and see what Mr. Wonderful was looking at this morning.

Yah. I decided to check out his porn viewing habits.

I sat here for a few minutes debating whether or not I should look. It seems sneaky and devious to do so, yet he's always telling me he totally doesn't care if I do and that it would probably make me feel better. Because I'm afraid. Afraid of what I might find. What if he has e-mail from some other girl? What if he's going to dating services? What if the porn he's looking at disgusts and horrifies me (which isn't hard to do with the amount of trauma I'm working with).
I think about one of the books I just checked out and how it had said that it is best to confront your fears. So I sat here, panicky and afraid, and finally decided if there is something scary about this man, it's best I know now, before I marry him, right? And that even though I feel bad about actually LOOKING, is it somehow better that I don't look and instead FEAR it? That seems to be to be a form of pre-judging him, not wanting to look because I'm afraid of what I might find.
And he has told plenty of times that I should, so I feel better. He's even tried to sign me in to his account (we have separate ones on the same computer) and I backed away, terrified. I just wasn't ready to even try. Too scared.
But today I did.

So I looked. And looked. And looked. He spent a long time looking at porn this weekend ("It takes a long time to find anything worthwhile!" he says.) So there was a lot to look at. I scrolled on down that history list and looked at every damn thing.
I was shaking like a leaf. My guts were on fire. It really, really, really, freaked me out. It was, in all honesty, kind of horrible.
Went through all the history, which mostly consists of computer programming, Buddhist stuff, T-shirts, and porn. Nice combo.
Then I went through all his e-mail, dating back to last year. All the letters he wrote to me, to every other girl and then ones they wrote him.
Ok, I didn't read the stuff to or from his mom or sister. That just seems crappy. Like, why would I need to do THAT?
~sigh~
Anyway, after a long time staring terrified at the computer and shaking, and a really disgusting trip to the bathroom that I won't get into, I was finished. I had looked at everything I was afraid of and it wasn't bad. Well, looking at porn is kind of freaky for me. It's just so easy to scare me with it....
But there was nothing that made me question his commitment or his honesty. I may wonder about his taste in porn, but that's another matter. None of it was objectionable, per say. Ah...well.... that's a tricky statement. None of it made me love him any less or fear him any more. How about that?

So I drove up to his work to meet him for lunch. It was beautiful today so it seemed reasonable enough. I just wanted to confess what I did though and get some reassurance that it was ok.
Which I immediately got. He was actually proud of for doing it. He knew how scared I was. He said, "Wow baby, that's a whole new step for you." Instead of making me feel guilty for being a sneaky suspicious asshole, he actually congratulates me on being brave.

Is this guy for real or what?
These are the times I really idolize him. Like I said at the beginning of this post, being able to override my own B.S. to help someone else is beautiful. It's not something I can often do, but I'm learning. I'm learning it from him.
Have I mentioned how wonderful he is in the last 10 minutes? No?

Anywho, I decide it's a good time to put on my new license plate, and do so. It's weird, giving up the North Carolina plate, the finality of it all. What's bittersweet is the specialty plate that I had. I had gotten it before all that crap went down with the X, and it was a personal joke about the three of us. Since we broke up, every single time someone asked me what my license plate meant I would just cringe. It's bugged me ever since. You'd think I would be glad to be rid of it, and it dawned on me today how very glad I am. Standing there in the hot sun (In January! The beach rules!) and chucking the old plate to the side and screwing the spanky new Virginia plate in, I was washed over by a feeling of relief. I didn't realize HOW badly the old plate bothered me.

Ahhhhhh.


To remove the past. Delish!

And to purge my fears! What a day!

And although I never got to sit on the beach and write, my day was well spent. To make psychological strides is of more meaning and consequence than nearly anything else.
It's a beautiful thing.

Just what I was hoping for, a veil to "make my wedding forgettable."

Oops.

just plain creepy

Right after the last post I left to go pick up Mr. Wonderful. We're driving towards the sunset and this song comes on the radio. I turn it up, watching the jets roar overhead, and think I Am Having A Moment. One of those moments were something long painful just suddenly shatters and falls away, one of the many walls I've built in here....
it was beautiful.

My Own Crimes Against Men

After making the post yesterday about Crimes Amongst Women, I lay awake and thought about the crimes I have committed against men. Quite a few of them, to be precise. And some of them were very nice boys.
To all of those I hurt through my own indiscretions, I am truly sorry. You deserved better than I felt able to give. I am sorry for the pain and sense of distrust my actions surely caused you. I am sorry to the women (and some of them, men) that had to help you clean up the emotional mess I left in my wake.

I have no excuse, but I do have my reasons. I will tell them to you now, not to excuse myself, but in the hopes that understanding WHY I did the things I did will ease whatever pain may be left.

As anyone reading my blog knows, I am a neurotic mess. But I have a long long way from the fucked up half happy half completely psycho bitch I once was.
I have a plethora of issues. From abandonment (dad a suicidal alcoholic, mom trying desperately to get rid of me in my teenage years- an upcoming blog), to the rape at 13 (not a good way to lose your virginity), to the anger and rage of an angst filled teen who thinks the things she has encountered in life are not only normal but deserved....
I wasn't doing so well.
I tried to be a lesbian, in the hopes that no more wieners would make me feel better. But I like the wiener. Way too much. It became a love-hate relationship.
I desperately wanted the affection and approval of a man, any man, god I wasn't picky. Somebody just pay attention to me and fill the gaping wound in my chest that my dad left. Please?
Sex itself...I wanted to like it. And I pretended I did, for a long time. Because that's what I was supposed to do, right? I honestly thought all women hated sex and it was a big conspiracy that they all pretended it was awesome. (nods) Yah. I seriously believed that to be the truth. I was very surprised when I actually learned to like it (another blog). Shocked even.
And men....(sigh)....so confusing. Sometimes they would act as if I was supposed to have sex with them (not plural) so I did. I was pretty fucked up from the rape and just figured if you didn't give it up, they take it anyway, so might as well not struggle. It's over faster.
Sad. But also true.
And sometimes I had a boyfriend when that would happen. And I would cheat on him, and I was honest and would tell him....and he would cry and ask me why, and I had no answer. I didn't know why. Life seemed to be a cruel set of circumstances.
Maybe even part of me didn't care, men hurt me, they deserve some punishment in return. But I doubt that ever factored in; despite my pain, I was never so jaded to be cruel. I was always cruel unwittingly.

To all of you that I hurt, please know that I am sorry. I really loved you. I didn't want to hurt you and your pain was my pain, plus the shame of what I did.
It took me a long time to stand up and quit letting men abuse me. So that I could quit abusing them, in turn.

I wish healing for us all.

the twats of old ladies

While waiting for my inspection sticker today I struck up conversation with the two ladies in the gas station. One was near 70's, and she was also waiting for her inspection sticker. The other was a lady around 60 maybe, and she worked there.

They were discussing whether or not to visit doctors with any regularity. The one that worked there was saying she didn't bother unless something was wrong with her. The lady who was waiting was trying to impress upon her that she needs to have things checked now and then to be on the safe side.
The one working there exclaims, "What?! Are you saying I need to dish out some cash so some quack can look at my twat?!"

I turned beet red and they both started laughing.
The one who said it said, "I think I embarrassed her." I didn't know what to say. Like, I am no angel lady, don't you worry about that.... but twat? Out of a 60 year old?
It takes a lot sometimes to make me blush but hoo boy, that did it.
(shakes head)
Man.

Also available is FUKDOG. Which you can get on the cute "Animal Friendly" license plate, with a cute little picture of a doggy and a kitty.
Awwwwwwww.
Work with me people, I am in a bloody rage. It's making me feel better. Laughter is good medicine. Even if it's totally low brow.

I did find out, in the process of trying to get a personalized plate, that someone in Virginia already has the plate:

DMV SUX

the DMV blues

(I realize there are some readers from other countries, so I will explain: The DMV stands for the Department Of Motor Vehicles. It is the suck-ass place you have to go to get your license plates and drivers license, etc. It sucks. Bad.)

You know, it's funny how I was so optimistic about going to the DMV this morning. There was almost no line. I strolled in and was told I needed some additional papers. Well, ok. Not a big problem or anything. I toodled on back out the door and went home to get them. I decide on the way back I'll stop to get my inspection done, just in case I misunderstood and that needed to be done first.

I get back to the DMV and there is a much longer line. I wait and the girl tells me there are yet MORE papers that I need. Why, that would have been helpful to know before, I think to myself and take the paper she's holding with me.
I get home and look it over, to make sure, to make DAMN sure I am missing nothing. Then I see that Virginia requires a proof of "Legal Presence".

Ok, I don't even know what the hell that MEANS. But it seems to me, looking at this list, that I must somehow prove I was born here, which requires my birth certificate, which is in Michigan.

Here's what form DMV141 states:
"If you have permanent legal status in the U.S. and have once proven your legal presence, you will not be required to submit proof of legal presence for subsequent ID cards or driver's licenses."

Huh?
Once proven?
Do I need to prove it once to the Virginia DMV or was being born here 30 years ago and never leaving the country (except for dinner at that awesome Indian food restaurant in Windsor) proof enough? I've been here my whole freaking life! I'm totally confused that someone needs me to prove that so I can get a license. I mean, I just got one in NC 5 months ago. Hello?

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this is easier than it looks. I wouldn't know, because I can't ever get through to the DMV because the phone line is always busy. And the only reason I knew what the number WAS is because I snagged form DMV141 before I LEFT the DMV. That's right. The DMV is not listed in this crappy phone book I'm looking at. At least, nowhere obvious.
So now I am sitting at home, eating lunch and thinking about how many more people are probably in line by now, lining up as I sit here, but I'm still so enraged I think it's best I sit here.
I'm afraid I will go back and they will inform me that I do indeed need a birth certificate and I will go postal.
Maybe.
Maybe.

crimes amongst women

Women of the world, listen to me.
I want to tell you of a thing so terrible, something I want you to swear you will never do. I want you to learn vicariously, and not end up with your head on a pike somewhere.
Don't EVER mess with another womans man.
No, no, there's no problem with Mr. Wonderful, goodness no. I'm thinking back to a year ago. You can read the archives. I try not to. It rips my heart out to watch me experience it, knowing what I know now.
~sigh~
Some skank stole my man. They worked together. She drank, he drank. I do not. So them getting a beer after work wasn't such a big deal, he swore. He went anyway, before she worked there. Stopped there on his way home. But something about her told me it wasn't right. I knew it from the beginning.
But I was reassured everything was ok. And I wanted to believe, so I tried to. It became apparent it wasn't pretty quickly though. I fought to hold on to him; he slipped away. She consoled him when we fought, he thought it was nice of her; I screamed at him that that was her plan if he wasn't such a fucking moron he would SEE that.....
Couldn't he see that SHE was what we were fighting about?

~long painful sigh, staring at keyboard for a long time...~

It's over now. I found a man so much better it's incomparable. But I am still sad. For the damage is there, it is done.
My learning to trust him is a jagged perilous road. For me, and for him. I think he deserves better than a fucked up neurotic case like me. He tells me time will heal me and he's content to wait and nurture me till then. I cry when he says things like that.
But there is another problem. Another heartbreak. One more difficult to heal, I'm afraid.
I don't trust women.
Hell, after it happened I didn't trust my best friends. My pain and isolation was incomprehensible to me. I really wanted to die. How could anyone do that to me? To ME?
How could he? How could she?

Well, I moved 500 miles away and now it's time to make new friends. But I don't really want to. Because I am afraid. I am afraid they will go after my man and I think blood would be shed.

Ok, it totally would.

The loss of the X wasn't much, really. The loss of a dream, a plan, a future together. A future, in retrospect, that wasn't very rosy.
But my loss of faith in women is far worse. That still stings, and it hasn't lessened in time. I'm not sure what will heal it, really, other than taking the leap and making friends....
Yah. I just don't know. I mean, I have friends. So none of them live here. Do I need friends here? What it boils down to for me is: is it worth the risk?
Oh, I know. She wasn't MY friend, she was HIS "friend". What burns me still is I tried to befriend her. I tried to cut her off at the pass, so to speak. She fooled me good. Quite the actress.

~sigh~
Just don't do it, ok? If a guy is with someone else, tell him you're interested. See if he breaks it off with her. If not, he's not ready. Do not go forward.
If you witness your friend doing this to another woman, and you say nothing, you are guilty of perpetuating crimes against women. Guilt by association. You both deserve to be hung.

Women, do not damage other women. Do not be unholy whores of hell. (small laugh) Seriously.
It pains me.
Greatly.

Have I mentioned in the last 2 weeks how much I judge drunks? No? Seriously. It's bad.
Where do I get off casting judgement? I don't know. How do I justify my holier than thou attitude? Ya got me.
But it's so totally there.
Alcoholics of the world: You can bite my ass.
You SUCK.


ps) you know, I started this post with an apology about how pissy I am and the whole PMS thing and then I thought, "You know what? I'm NOT sorry! There's plenty of shit to be pissed off about!"
And here we are. Go figure.

nebulas rule

Geez. I thought boob jobs were scary. Not like this.
My favorite part?
To increase girth, doctors typically inject fat — suctioned from another part of the body — into the penis or excise fatty tissue from another part of the body and graft this tissue onto the shaft of the penis. Tissue from cadavers also can be used.
Cadavers.
~shudder~

Talk about being a corpse in bed. Heh heh heh.

PMS ponderings:

This morning I'm wandering around the house, grumpy as hell and irritated. Here is what I'm mumbling to myself:
"I really just wanna go back to bed. Stupid waking up. Whats the point? Just go back to sleep anyway...(Mr. Wonderful walks by and smooches me, smiling) Stupid boys. What's with their magical weiners anyway? Damn weiners. I want some weiner. Damn it! What's with the magical weiner super powers makes me wanna get some (looks at clock) I'm not getting any anyway, gotta make lunches....stupid dirty kitchen....(tries to get spegetti out of tupperware) damn noodles! sticky damn noodles! argh! (makes strangling noises while wrestling with clump of stuck together noodles) screw the f-in noodles! (gets out tortellini instead, dumps some in new tupperware) ok, that'll work... (looks at clock again) damn it! I WANT WEINER! (editors note: "weiner" is not the word actually being mumbled to self at this point but for purposes of not offending some......ahem.) Don't know why it makes me feel better, damn stupid boys! Curse stupid boys and their magical super powered hypno-weiners! Argh!"

I must note that weiner is the object of my obsession this morning but anything could be that object for most women. I just happen to be an immense fan of the weiner. It could be chocolate. Last night it was. Mr. Wonderful tried to eat my M&M's and I growled at him. I quickly stashed the other pack in the feezer. Seeing as how he cooks nothing, he doesn't look in there. Great place for hiding candy. And it makes it all yummy and frozen and melts in the mouth....
~blinks~ (runs to freezer for M&M's, comes back, continues typing with cheeks stuffed with chocolate, looking squirrely)

So anyway, I took my Pamprin like a good little psycho and had to chuckle at my ultimate grumpiness.
Now that I am home alone there is no weiner to torment me with it's proximity and no one gets near my M&M's. (deep breath) I'm ok, I'm ok, I'm ok, I'm ok......
everythings gonna be ooooooooooooooooooooooooookaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

Mr. Wonderful took a geek test today (that I failed miserably, so what if I don't know diddily about computers? Where were the Star Wars Trivia questions, huh? Huh?).
This was his result:



I love you, baby. I've been telling you that you rule for a while now. Now the truth is out. Everyone knows you're the shiznit.

Wow.
Someone in London did a Yahoo search for "Largest dick in the world" and actually ended up in my blog.
I'm so sorry.
In case you're wondering it was this. I had to look, just to see how that could possibly be.

"Now I don't pretend to know what you know, no, no,
now don't pretend to know what's on my mind,
if we already knew everything that everybody knows,
we would have nothing to learn tonight....
we would have nothing to show tonight.
Ahh but everybody thinks that everybody knows about everybody else,
nobody knows anything about themselves
'cause they're all worried about everybody else...yah...."
Jack Johnson, Wasting Time

We all went to the park today. Mr. Wonderful wanted to learn how to rollerblade while my son and I rode bikes. Ok. He's rollerskated once.
What??
I know, it's crazy, right? I can rollerskate really well, maybe a couple of half ass tricks, and I'm telling you it is my goal to skate cooler than old school. Looking hot diggity HOT in some white skates with big fluffy pom poms (you 80's fans know what I'm talking about). Oh yah. It's on my list of things to do before I die. That and 50 million other things.
At any rate, Mr. Wonderful has ridden on rollerskates once in his 28 years. I am astounded. And he wants to learn how to rollerbade so he can join me in my exercise of extreme sweatiness.
(Which I so will NOT be doing come summer.)

Ok. Let me set this up for you: Mr. Wonderful is a 6 foot tall bunch of manly hotness. Confident, strong, and graceful.
Seeing him flail about on a set of rollerblades was totally hilarious and baffling. Hilarious because he looked like a little kid with his tiny tiny tiny step, roll, spin, crash maneuvering. Baffling for exactly the same reason. I have never ever seen him out of his element like that before.
I rode in slow concentric circles around him and pondered what to do. Do I encourage? Giggle? Leave him alone? When he falls with a frightening closeness to something like the splits, do I ask him if he's ok? Is my hovering going to annoy his manly pride? I didn't know, having never experienced anything like this with him before.
He was, being ever true his name, a great sport. I watched that man go go go then flail and splat quite a few times before he got the hang of it (mostly).
I'm not sure how it works exactly, but it made me love him sooooo much more. That he would try something new, that he would risk possible humiliation to do it, that he would instead laugh it off and keep going till he succeeded.
God I am so in love with this man.
He rules.
I could go on now about how it's a good trait in a life partner and obviously he will make a good husband...
I'm just saying...(slow smile)
Smoosh Am I.