Have I not been saying?

today:

I woke up with what could be strep throat.

I can't remember what I was talking about 10 seconds after I say it. (the fever)

I rewarmed the lentil soup I made and it's smells totally awesome, yay me.

I tried to write on my web site but can't complete paragraphs, hence this single sentence strung together post you are reading now.

I am excited about getting a new monitor (LCD) and a real computer desk (not the kitchen table which is what I'm working on now).

I wondered why people can be such total a-holes when they know there is no possible form of retribution (as in online), as in forum boards, as in these people suck ass and I'm pissed off I must share a planet with them.

I tried to read a new Star Wars book and couldn't follow a topic of conversation for longer than a paragraph.

I thought about how much Battlestar Galactic kicked mighty ass last night. Man I do so LOVE that show.

I tried to write a post but could only come up with this.

Now that is just terribly impressive.
Who knew harmonicas were so cool?

In order to recognize our self-image, we can no longer identify with it. In other words, we have to learn how to objectify our own mental processes.

-Matthew Flickstein, Journey to the Center

the really long confessional blog about sex (etc etc)

Ok, today I am taking a break from the site. Not entirely, I'm sure I'll be on later. But seriously, my obsessive-compulsive shit is getting WAAAAY out of hand. I'm like a webmistress maniac. So I just shut down all my IM and mail services and other web pages and it's just me and you blogger.
I've missed you.

Let's see...I've had a lot going on, mostly in my head. (laughs) Where else does the majority of my experiences take place, seriously? I'm so funny (shakes head and chuckles).

I've blogged many times about my fear of porn and how I freak out about it. Well. I think I'm finally making some progress on that front, and it's exciting for me.
I have two minds about porn. On one hand, I think it's hideous and evil. Mostly because it frightens me and I can't enjoy it without feeling gross afterwards.
On the other hand, I think it means absolutely nothing at all, and is simply an expression of humans sexuality. Therefore, it is truly no big whoop (as they used to say in Michigan). (For those of you baffled, I think it's short for no big whoop-de-do, or no big deal.)

Anyway, having a site about women and sexuality has been at times enlightening and at times frightening.

Frightening because I have a lot of painful sexual issues that I am still working out. I have a lot more guilt and fear and trauma still lingering in the corners of my psyche than even I realize. And doing a site about sexuality is difficult, because it is constantly confronting the fears and icky spots I try so hard to avoid. But these things MUST be dealt with. To live the healthy happy life I want to live, I must examine the crap that is wrong in my head. It's like looking at machinery that is wired entirely wrong. To look at the way my psyche works is like wires going every which way and patched together, spliced here and there, and a whole lotta duct tape. That is not health. That is survival. That is coping mechanisms, and not always healthy ones at that. Quite a few are actually horrible, and prone to bursting into flames. *twitch*

(sigh)
This experience has been enlightening for me because it is causing me to shine light into the dark corners, and actually SEE all the f-ed up wiring, instead of just reacting to everything around me, I am actually observing myself react and seeking out where the wiring went wrong.

For example...porn. My site doesn't have porn in it, but it does TALK about porn, and have a few links TO porn sites in case anyone would like to look. They are clearly labeled, so there is no confusion. I know all too well how much it sucks to click on something and suddenly have a big old shlong in your eye when you weren't expecting it. It's unpleasant. I mean, if you're looking for porn in the first place, well there's a big ole wiener, happy day! But if you are NOT looking for it, well, it's just disturbing.
Or to think you are clicking on an article, and there's the article all right but it's got pictures of women giving blow jobs all over the page. Who can read with all that going on? Geez! So if I link to pages like that, I warn people. So they know what they're getting into. I think it's just courtesy, honestly. But I know what it is like to have traumatic freak out reactions to things and so.... I empathize.

I'm getting off on a bit of a tangent, pardon me. Porn. So. Doing research for this site I have seen a lot of the stuff I try so hard to avoid. I have seen very little porn in my life and I thought that was just dandy. Now I'm seeing tons of it, and it doesn't bother me so much anymore.
Why?
I have to wonder, am I getting over my traumatic knee jerk reaction to seeing sexual photos? Or am I merely numbing myself to it due to being saturated in it? One seems healthy, like I am making progress, one seems unhealthy and more like further denial.

Hmmm.

Also, I noticed that sometimes....sometimes I actually like what I see. Is it because I am doing research on sites that would appeal more to women (yes) and therefore what I come across is less male oriented (yes)? Is it because there actually is decent sexual material out there but since I was terrified of all of it and never looked at any of it the likelihood of me running across any of the good stuff was virtually nil (yes)?

Like this one. It's an entire site devoted to porn style film clips of people masturbating, but whoa! All you can see is from their shoulders up. Is that porn? Technically? It's actually fascinating, while at the same time erotic. Watching the expressions on someones face while they get themselves off... does that qualify as porn? It is no doubt sexual.
But.... the lines are starting to blur a little. I am starting to see pornographic material in shades of gray instead of black and white, good and bad. This is both scary and exciting. Scary because I wonder where the lines for me are going to be. They are not where I thought they were, and that change is very unnerving for me. It's exciting because I feel a little more at ease with sexuality, as a woman, as a person, as ME. And I told Mr. Wonderful that I really feel less threatened by porn, and him viewing it, but just to erase his history for now as a way to preempt my psychotic searching to see what he's looking at(embarrassing to admit but yes I do that and yes he knows I do it. We talk about it. It's ok.)

I have also discovered that I find women extremely erotic. This has been maybe the hardest part for me so far. This is stretching my boundaries in a painful and rather uncomfortable way. (Please, spare me the puns here.) I mean, I have always thought women were very beautiful and sexy, and although I may fantasize about them, the urge to actually DO anything with one has never come up. And so, I have assumed it's just some weird quirk I have but that I am clearly heterosexual with some tweaks or something. And I was perfectly comfortable with that.

But now I have to wonder. And be a bit embarrassed. Because on Monday I was looking at stuff that was clearly porn. And although my knee jerk squeamishness kicked in, I also realized I thought it was pretty cool. Pretty cool as in I was getting turned on by looking at it. And I found that disturbing. So I kept going back and forth between doing housework and coming back to the computer to check it out some more. So there's me, squinty with mistrust at the screen with naked girls before me, wondering what the hell is going on? A little while later I had this little lightbulb go off over my head and I heard myself tell me this:

You hate porn because you're attracted to girls and don't want to admit it.

What?!?! I argued with myself for awhile. But it clicked. Damn it, it made sense. The time I walked in on my boyfriend looking at it and flipped out, well...it wasn't just because HE was looking at it. It was because I WANTED to look at it but just could not accept this possibility. Because I...I'm...not GAY! (sigh) It's funny, of all the bisexual and gay friends I have, that I would judge myself so harshly. I mean, really, it's odd.

So I'm kind of creeped out about it all. What is bringing this all to a head (again, shut up with the puns please) is that I have a friend of mine who has been either flirting with me or is just really....uh...confident in sharing things? I don't know. I can't figure it out. Maybe I'm just paranoid. That is a very real possibility. But yesterday we're talking about taking sexy pictures for our signifigant others and she sends me this picture she took. It is super foxy fine, and I think I nearly choked when it downloaded. It's a head shot, and cuts off before you can see her nipples, but it is quite clear that she is at least topless, and she is so incredibly sexy it's painful to look at. And so it downloads and opens and I just kind of stare at this picture, totally confused. Like, mmmm, me likey, and OH MY GOD I LIKE THAT RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY! And then I just flipped out, like, why is she sending me this picture? Especially right after I've confessed my attraction to girls and being all freaked out about it.... It's making me queasy. I wanted to erase the picture but then I didn't want to and was freaked out that I wanted to keep it.

I mean, really, I am so confused.

And so when Mr. Wonderful comes home I give him what feels like a confessional. He just laughs and says he's pretty sure EVERYONE likes girls, to some extent or another. His opinion is that it's hard wired into our brains. Girls = Awesome.
(deep breath)
Well, ok, that's maybe ok with my freakazoid self I say. But I am having trouble deciphering the line. Like, it's ok if my female friends send me sexy pictures of themselves? Because it sure as hell would not be ok if my male friends did! And I tell him I do not understand. I feel like if she IS hitting on me and I'm just an idiot for not realizing it, then her sending me nudey shots is upping the anty and I don't see how that's ok just because she doesn't have a penis! Argh! Of course, she could just be sharing the picture she took for her husband and I'm just some bi-curious freaked out nympho that is making a huge deal out of nothing at all.
Honestly, I can't tell.

So...the issue that I'm having with my sexual identity is being magnified by this maybe-maybe-not-flirty friend.

And I keep trying to rewire the freak out in my head. Like, even if I do find women sexually appealing that in no way means I have to have sex with them, or feel pressured to experiment. Calm down, crazy self! Whoa girl! I can be attracted to them and just fantasize when I feel like it. Like I told Mr. Wonderful last night, he is attracted to other women and fantasizes about them, too. So? It certainly isn't reason for me to flip out and feel like my world is in danger because I feel that way, too.

No big whoop. Calm down.

(does some deep breathing and reassures self that all is well)

I mean, it's not like I've changed in any way. I've just accepted (not entirely) that this may be a part of myself, as well. Accepting what is already there is not the same as changing oneself. Well, perhaps changing oneself in a good way.

And this morning, I walked in on Mr. Wonderful (sorry baby everybody gets to know but it's important) looking at porn and you know what? It didn't bother me at all.
Not at all.
(smiles) Of course, I purposely didn't look at the screen and was looking instead at the contents of his hand (grins wickedly), so that I would not be inspired to have a self esteem issue psycho freak out.

Do you understand the importance of what I'm telling you? This has NEVER happened to me before! I always flip out, and I mean FLIP THE F OUT. We're talking a good 15 to 30 minute curled up in a ball bawling my eyes out freak out.
This time- nothing. I felt really brave, really strong, and confident in my relationship, confident in myself, and able to deal with the reality of what was happening instead of the short circuit that usually occurs. I just admired the view, and cuddled up next to him and giggled.
Seriously, I feel like one of those preacher guys on TV smacked me on the forehead and shouted, "CRAZY BE GONE!" and I was miraculously healed.

And although this scenario may not seem like a miracle to any of you, it is for me. It's beautiful, it's wonderful, it's just incredible.
Although I can't say I am happy to discover the underlying attraction I have towards women, I am so thrilled to be able live in a little less fear and anxiety in my life.

And that is the whole point of the web site I am working on. To be able to explore in safety and know what's really going on in there. In our heads, I mean. Well, and our pants, yes, that too.
Women don't talk about these things, and we need to. We need to be able to not only contemplate our true feelings, no matter how uncomfortable they may be (case in point) but also to articulate them, to be able to communicate with our mate about what we feel, what we need, what is important.


That is where true healing takes place.

Argh.

Since I've started this site (the Other Site) I barely have time to blog at all. It seems the majority of my brain is contemplating sex or sexuality or how to make a web site work smoother, what the interests of my fellow female humans are, and how I can better serve their every need.
(smacks head down on table.)
I got some ironing done today, and cleaned the bathroom. But seriously, this is a lot more work than I thought. It could be also that my usual workaholic tendencies have gone not surprisingly haywire in starting this project. And once there are more people in there a lot of the work will be done for me, with the forum boards and what not. But for now it is me and usually one other friend, toiling away to discuss our hoo-hoos and various other things.

Wow- I started this post two hours ago and it's still here. I still haven't finished it. See what I mean?
Argh.

It's like, I want to come post, but then I think Oh! I forgot to add this thing! or I should check to see if that's working.... or whatever, I'm just totally preoccupied.

Gaaaaarrrr....all I can do is sit here and rub my head. It's like, either I'm working on the site, talking about the site, obsessing about the site or worrying about the site.

I think I'm going nuts.

Or at least being totally compulsive. By this time of day I'm tired of working on it, but soon Mr. Wonderful will be home and I would feel like a heel to just stare at the computer all night, too. Besides the fact that I would go stark raving mad in the process. Yah, there's that too.
And him, he's been such a doll. He's spent every weekend and most weeknights tweaking and overhauling the site with his super mad computer ninja skills, making it do the things I want it to do. He's such a doll. I adore him.

(ps. I never did finish this blog. 3 hours had passed and I can't stand it anymore!)

More funny sentences from my sons homework:

1) A barn has more than three different animals.
2)The starting line in a race is very important.
3)Are shark parties real?
4)It's not hard to do a backflip (crossing fingers.)
5)A poodle really does not look like a spoon.
6)If you can't spell fork you are very strange.
7)She's always getting into trouble when she's throwing food.

And this paragraph:

A big book shook as I was walking past it. Suddenly my hood pulled me up. I shook with fear, Then I pulled the book up and closed it. Then I was let go. "Amazing," I said. Then I stood up and ran home.

Erica, if you're reading this and you haven't called me back I want you to bend yourself over and spank yourself, then call me pronto.
I need your brain.

There's nothing like Pat Benetar blaring when you've got the house to yourself to make you feel cool as hell.
In a high tops and leg warmers and hairspray kinda way.

Yoda: Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm? And well you should not. For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. You must feel the Force around you; between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere.

in the quiet of the afternoon
mid day silence
tea and pastry
sunlight shimmers off tides pushing in
swollen, the river
swelling the bay
filling with critters I ponder from my third story chair
winter sun beats in the window
telling me of naps I've not taken and I listen, still and interested
sipping my tea, indulging in silence
silence, dripping in to fill the empty spaces so misleading
sparkling glittering dark waters of the bay
shimmers up under the highway as the people race by
and I, eating my snack, bask in gratitude
of moments like this

Man.

I went to babysit for a friend. Weird story: one friend is babysitting the other friends kids, but friend number one has to go to the doctor, can't take all the kids with her. I come over for 2 1/2 hours to sit in for her while she's at the doc. Ok.
It's 3 girls, with the 4th one being dropped off after kindergarten. Then it's 4 little girls, all squeeking and getting into everything, but generally being way cuter than boys and god have mercy one should never feed small children pizza with garlic sauce.
(shrug) Their mom had it delivered to be nice, and it was. But all the little girls wanted that margarine garlic sauce that Papa Johns puts in with the pizzas, and next thing I knew it was all over their plates and they're all mashing their hands in it, using their entire hands-both- to wipe it off of the plate and basically rub it everywhere else. Pretty typical of children ages 2, 3 and 4. But that was when I discovered that no napkins or paper towels seem to exist in my friends house and I had to clean every girl and her entire dining room with baby wipes.
Meanwhile her puppy is chewing up everything and when I took him outside he ate his own poop.
Then the little girls all decide they have to use the bathroom, one after another, seemingly for an hour or so. One kept trying (she was 2) but never quite went. One of them pooped and then managed to stick her own hand into the poop filled toilet water while she was wiping. "Oops!" she said, and yanked her poopwater covered arm into her sleeve to dry it.
Anyone who knows me well enough knows that this moment instantly blew all the circuits in my head as I tried to figure out how I could possible sterilize this child and her shit water sleeved shirt.
(*twitch....twitch*)
I tried to just clean her off as best I could and forget about it. And forget about the garlic grease all over everything, and forget about the puppys shit filled mouth chewing everything in the house.

I don't know how there can possibly be any sex in my future tonight but I'm going to try hard to not think about any of it any more.

Crazy people have theories about Valentines Day. Some insightful, some just frightening.
Whoooo.

Beware of the bloggers.

bloggers beware

buy some boobs, and things to put on them

More proof (as if you needed it) that boobs sell anything.
What do the shirts say? Well, the gray one clearly states,
"Define Your Wo"
and the black shirt says...wait, let me see....if I can can just see around the side of this huge boob....

thoughts of today

Where have I been?

I'm setting up my new web site. It's all about sex. You know, the one subject that I repeatedly shy away from on my blog. I've been trying to talk about it, but I'm just not comfortable doing it here.

Besides, sex is a fascinating subject and if I DID talk about it here God knows that's probably ALL I would talk about. Seriously.

So. Now that I have a new outlet for the majority of the thoughts in my head (chuckles) I've been pretty busy.

But it's funny, several things about it are as a matter of fact.

One: I am so used to NOT talking about it that I have this very naughty sensation of being scandalous every time I post something, even though the point of the site is sex. How goofy, right?
Two: Finding enough to post about requires I dredge through the incredible amount of material on the web that is about sex. Holy crap, that is a LOT of sex, people. I mean, it's a womens site, so thankfully I can post about other subjects near and dear to women as well.

Whew! I get tired just THINKING about sex that much.
So I came in here to take a break.

(chuckles to self about it all)

********************

It's a freaking gorgeous day here. Near 70, last I checked. I've got all the windows open, and finished vacuuming so now it's a gorgeous dust free clean zenaliscious home with an ocean breeze and the sound of sea gulls. Ok, the occasional jet roaring over as well. And also the sound of the highway and the laundry flopping around in the dryer. Other than the jets, these sounds are comforting and make me happy.

********************

Have I mentioned how totally in love I am lately? No? Well I am.

********************

I've found some more old friends in Friendster. Very funny, that. They're friends of mine from Asheville, and going through their profiles and their friends profiles is very amusing. I had nearly lost sight of how incredibly f'in WEIRD Asheville is. Since I've moved here I've become the weirdest person around. When I lived in Asheville I was considered nearly square and yuppy compared to the super freak-o freakfest going on there. My hair is all one color! I do not own a single article of clothing held together by duct tape or safety pins. I have no tie dyes. No unusual piercings. My truck has no bumper stickers. I am not a fire breather, stilt walker, or performance artist. I do not sit on the side of road with any sign about "need money for food", "need money for traveling", "need money for dog", or "need money for chainsaw" (this actually occurred, yes.) I'm just a regular looking super freak. I believe in subterfuge, you see. I don't see a lack of hygiene as being an adequate political statement. And frankly, when you're as bizarre as I am, LOOKING weird doesn't help your cause any.

******************************

Morphine is just SUCH a great band.

******************************

This mornings meditation thoughts:
Being in the present moment is comforting. It is a refuge from my concerns about the past, the worries about the future, the neurotic playback of every stupid thing I've ever done.... And sometimes I find it incredibly soothing to be fully present.
Sometimes...
Sometimes being in the present moment is a very fearful occurrence for me. I realize that during the worst most painful moments of my life I have retreated to an inner untouchable space that is NOT in the current moment. It is nowhere. It is a numb empty still lake in my own head, where I float until things blow over. That space does NOT coincide with being present, and sometimes I am acutely aware of being stripped of that space while being present. It is unpleasant but necessary.

********************************

I find this both terribly amusing and rather sexy.

********************************
I found this article to be absolutely freaking brilliant. I applaud this woman. Then I go take a loooooooooooong bath.
Right now.

Two more fabulous sentences from my sons schoolwork (he's seven):

1) Need more sweets, need more!!
2) I think horses like corn, but I don't know.

He cracks me up.

the Valentines Day blog

I love daygloradio. Right now they're playing a Cure cover of the song, "Young Americans" and shitonastick is it incredibly good! MAN!

I LOVE this station!

Anyway....
where was I? Oh yes, it's Valentines Day.
So much I wanted to do today. I may still get it all done. Currently I am baking cookies, then lasagna. I'm working on my website. And I'm working on my ability to rise above and let go.

After my letting go post a few days ago I decided to go through my computer and delete all the pictures of my Ex. There's tons of them in here. Even one of him and his skank last year. Why do I do this to myself? I need to, sometimes. Sometimes I am too easy on those who have done me wrong, and so I save the momentos of pain and humiliation so I do not forget.

And I have dreaded Valentines Day, afraid my anger and pain would overshadow a silly cute holiday.
So, I decided that simply wasn't going to happen. Instead of spending the day thinking about the past and the pain of the past, I would spend the day letting go.
And so away the pictures go. The letters, too.
If I get the chance, I'm getting rid of the majority of the paper pics, too. I think perhaps I should save a couple so my son can have them for the sake of his opwn personal history. I haven't decided yet.

At any rate I feel f'in fantastic. And then this song came on and I see it as a beautiful sign.

Yay for me.

And Happy Valentines Day to us all. Despite the pain. Despite all the bullshit.
Turn on "Dancing with Myself" full blast and do a crazy little dance wherever you are.

Today is a whole new day.

Thanks to this person for solving this mystery for me.
I knew it sounded just a little too familiar but never cared enough to find out why.

the fine art of letting go

While talking to a friend of mine the other day, she mentions that she went in to my Ex's work. She said she talked to him for awhile and that he looked good, he looked happy, he told her to tell me hello and sent along a message for my son.
As she's telling me this my eyes squint up and I am angry. I am angry at him being happy and looking good. I don't really want him to be happy.
I realize this isn't terribly mature of me.
You see, it's year later. Go to the archives of a year ago and you can read all about my breakup hell trauma. And although I am very happy now, I am still in a time of mourning, with it being the anniversary of a very hard time for me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Interesting to note that it was a very hard time for my son as well, but since he has no conscious time table of events and has no attachment to a year later being an event to mourn, he could care less. He isn't thinking about it at all. Interesting, no?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At any rate, it is a year later, I am attached to this "year later" mark in my head, and I seem to be the only one. I kind of thought maybe the Ex would be upset, thinking back to what a fuck up he is, and feeling regret and remorse. Of course, he's spent the last year that way. Maybe the year mark for him is a time to let it go. I don't know. I don't want to talk to him for fear I will reach through the phone and bite his head off.
*blinks*
I'm glad it all happened, in retrospect. But I was devastated at the time.
And to hear that he's tootling around town all cheery and looking good makes me want to smack him on the head with a baseball batt and scream, "Join my in my misery you asshole!"
I know, mature. Terribly so.
The thing of it is, I know it's all in my head. My suffering at this point is due entirely to myself. No one is bringing it up, I am. As Valentines Day creeps closer and closer, I dread it. It's stupid. Why am I doing this to myself?

But isn't that how mourning works? I mean, when letting something go, there usually is a timetable in our heads of when it's appropriate to let go. When someone dies, their widow doesn't feel comfortable jumping back into the dating scene. And if they do, people tsk tsk and poo poo about it, saying it's shameful. Even the witnesses of grieving feel a certain timetable is in order.

Is that it? Do I feel it is appropriate for me to grieve this long? Otherwise maybe I didn't really love him?
But I'm not really sad. I'm angry. I feel like I want to feel justified for being ANGRY this long. A betrayal like that needs closure for me, and closure comes in the form of apology.
You know what? I'm angry that I feel he hasn't properly apologized. That's it. I want to stay angry so that he can feel bad and apologize until I'm satisfied that he MEANS it.

Realistically? Is he ever going to be able to convince me that he's sorry enough for me to feel better about it? Is my feeling better really going to be contingent on his level of guilt and misery? What kind of retarded shit is that?
I could be angry forever at that rate.

My refusal to let it go is only hurting me.

(note to self: let it go.)

Ahhhhhh tax season. How my poor ass loves you.

I hope Princess DI comes in to kick him in the bloody shins for it. Asshole.

recent thoughts on meditation:

I have noticed recently that meditating has become more relaxing, and more deeply relaxing. I am stressing out less about my ability to focus and that is making me less anxious.
Also, I have noticed how incredibly relieving it is to put everything on hold and just sit, and feel totally justified to do so. Most of the time if I sit and relax I feel like perhaps I am being selfish or lazy. But the act of meditation itself I feel neither of these things about it so it is good.
The fine art of sitting silently and listening to the current moment and breathing is beautiful.
Very simply beautiful.
I miss an awful lot of life by thinking too much about stuff.

(does a happy dance)
I made a new friend today, I made a new friend today....


I was brave. I wrote to people in Friendster. Only a handful wrote back, and one of them I have been e-mailing back and forth with for a week or so.
Today we finally had lunch at Denny's.
It was nerve racking and goofy at first, but then relaxing and awesome.
MAKING NEW FRIENDS RULES!
YAY Friendster!
Thanks!

Also, I got on yahoo IM last night and saw that these two crazy lovebirds are moving in together.
Friendster, you lovable bastard. You rule.

The world can be a very hairy place. Full of dark evil haircuts signaling the end of society and even civilization as we know it.
My favorite part:

Newspapers too highlight the civic advantages of short hair and smart shoes.
Hair is a "very important issue that shows the people's cultural standards and mental and moral state", argues Minju Choson, a government daily.
"No matter how good the clothes, if one does not wear tidy shoes, one's personality will be downgraded."

You hear that people? Your personality will be DOWNGRADED.
F'in serious.

hot dog

Today I have learned of 78 people who can eat moldy dog crap.

Ponder vegetarianism. Ponder it seriously.
I think it's a no brainer for Chicago.

Oh my. I had no idea how incredibly sexy Mickey D's was. But I know now. Oh yes indeed.
Double cheeseburger? I'd give anything for some hot greasy meat, too. Mmmmmm hmmmmm.

feeling like a dork

It's funny how you don't outgrow some things...

I've been trying to yap at people in Friendster, find other moms in the area, make some new friends. I know it's a totally geeky way to do it but when you never go anywhere how the hell are you supposed to make pals?
Anyway, one of the girls I've been talking to I seem to have hit it off with. But it's been weird, because I'm too afraid to call her, too afraid to meet her. Like, what is this? I'm shy? I'm so used to cyberspace that real space is just too crazy to deal with now? Crap... I'm becoming a mutant!
So I finally forced myself to call her and felt all nervous, worrying that she wouldn't like me and whatever else I could come up with to freak out about. We talked. It was ok. I felt weird every time there was a silence, like maybe she thinks I'm weird (I totally am) or maybe I'm totally freaking her out by being eccentric (read: myself).
And although I know these feelings are ridiculous (if we don't end up liking each other, who cares? I make more friends. It's not really a big deal! I'm thirty years old for crying out loud!) I still notice them cropping up again and again.

It's weird, feeling like a shy nervous kid. Hell, I wasn't shy and nervous when I WAS a kid!
(rolls eyes)
Oiy.

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster."

~Friedrich Nietzsche

Once upon a time there was a fairy princess. She looked delicious so a dragon ate her. He was quite satisfied with his meal because, as everyone knows, fairy princesses are very high in protein and fiber, so the dragon stayed full for hours.
The townspeople were overjoyed and started feeding fairy princesses to the dragon on a regular basis. The dragon was happy. The townspeople were happy. The fairy princesses were not happy, except for the dead ones, because they weren't anything at all due to the fact that they no longer existed.
Eventually the dragon got way too fat (no one had mentioned that fairy princesses are also high in trans fat, not a good fat at all, indeed) and his fat ass was killed by the townspeople. They were happy, the remaining fairy princesses were happy and the townspeople made a crapload of dragonmeat pies for the fairy princesses in a vain attempt to make up for killing so many of them.
The fairy princesses invited all the townspeople to a feast of forgiveness. The townspeople came and ate many dragonmeat pies, at which point the fairy princesses waved their magic wands and turned every single townsperson into the asshole of an angry donkey.
The end.

rage and submission

I know, I haven't been blogging much lately, other than rambling niblets about other crap.

Let me amend that:

I'm irritated. I always get this way after not blogging seriously in a while. This is my introspection, my self assessment.

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

Meditation is going much better. By better I mean I'm still yakking in my head but I manage to not be so upset and judgmental about myself when it happens. And also my efforts at being in the present moment are starting to pay off in other areas of my life. When I lay in bed awake at night I can appreciate the hot gorgeous usually naked man at my side instead of being caught up in the past and the millions of things that went wrong or ended badly.

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

I just finished reading Female Rage: Unlocking Its Secrets, Claiming Its Power, by Mary Venentis, Ph.D & Anne Devane, Ph.D
It was a rough read at first, getting the hang of the constant references to other things. But once I got the hang of it it was excellent.

It's about rage, obviously, and how women have been trained to not express it. Consequently, it simmers and bubbles beneath the surface, manifesting itself in all kinds of bizarre and sometimes horrendous ways.
The way to getting in touch with your rage is to claim it for your own, meaning acknowledge it. Easier said than done says me. I'm angry, oh yes I am. I am angry about a great many things that have happened in my life. I could give a list, indeed I could.
Well, here's the thing. They suggest to make a timeline of your life, just drawing a big line across a couple of sheets of paper if necessary, to fit it all in. Then on one side of the line mark the REALLY big betrayals and heartbreaks on one side, and the smaller betrayals and hurts on the other.
Ok.
So I start picturing it in my mind, and thinking through the years and what has hurt me. After a minute of this I realize the lines are adding up faster than I can even keep track of in my head. Pretty soon my time line looks like a bloody cat scratching post, and I'm shocked. How much of this have I buried? It's like, there are have been some truly major betrayals in my life and I think I have discredited all the smaller ones, simply by comparison. Like that was bad, but not as bad as THAT, so.... (shrug) I guess it's not SO bad.... But they're ALL bad! All of these things have hurt me...

(long pitiful pause)

I realize to do this line properly I am going to have to make it very very long to fit all this stuff into it.....
And I feel a great kind of disconnected sorrow for myself. As if I am outside of myself, and looking at the lines adding on faster and faster as the realization of what pain is finally occurs to me. Not that I don't know what pain is, but having been so severely wounded by other people has allowed me to have a much higher tolerance, or at least trick myself into thinking I have a high tolerance for the pain inflicted by others.
When I really allow myself to think about all the things that have occurred in my life that have really hurt me....
(pause)
I feel crushed, shattered, but most of all, injured. Weirdly, like I've just looked down and realized I'm bleeding, and that I've been bleeding for years and years. And in a way, I have. Each occasion that arose that caused me such pain is a wound that hasn't healed. I managed to stitch the gaping ones back together but haven't really ever bothered with the hundred smaller ones, which are all sapping my energy in their own way.
By not allowing myself to acknowledge my pain, I have cheated myself of years of authentic feeling. That weird sense of devastation that has haunted me...maybe it's my own rage. My own pain that I refuse to see.

The strange thing about rage is how frightening it can be. When you don't allow yourself to feel angry and stuff those emotions for years and years, and suddenly something triggers it to come flooding out, it's terrifying.

Last year I was ready to commit homicide. I thought it was because my Ex had sex with some other girl, but that wasn't it precisely. It was the years of his crappy alcoholic behavior, all the times he dismissed my feelings, ignored my feelings, disrespected me, was dishonest, embarrassed me, was disloyal, all of the things that I had tried to just "deal with" over the years...all the things I ignored and stuffed below my own radar so I wouldn't have to be angry and confront him...

All those things had been building you see. When he stuck his dick in the girl at work, it all EXPLODED. It exploded with a fury that was blinding and nearly uncontrollable. I scared me. I was terrified of my own emotions. But at the same time, I felt ALIVE. I was a screaming raging bitch and it felt good because at least it was AUTHENTIC, it was real, it was OUT. I was no longer worried about what he would think, or they would think, or what anybody thought. If I wanted to storm into his work in the middle of the day and tell him he was a lying cheating drunken whore, so be it. I damn well would. No more quiet hushed conversations about where he was last night, no. He would be held ACCOUNTABLE. I was not about to cover up his crappy behaviour for another second. It was no longer up to me to pretend everything was ok for the sake of appearances.
The thing of it is, it never was my job to do so in the first place.

>pauses and watches highway traffic, listening to Jack Johnsons "Rodeo Clowns","Cocoon", then "Mediocre Bad Guys"<

Indeed.

What now? I guess I make my list this weekend. It's going to be sad. But it also will be relieving, to know that all the heartache I've felt for so long is not without reason. I'm not crazy for feeling the way I do. I'm just very hurt. And when I take a look at all the reasons why, I feel justified to feel the way I do. Maybe that justification will lead me to acceptance. I hope so.

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


I finally feel like the ball is starting to roll on my web site. It's been a bitch to learn how to do this, and I still have an assload of stuff to learn to be able to do this well (and let's face it, a Leo wouldn't do it any way other than well, now would they?).
I've been fluctuating in my feelings about sex. Well, (laughs) not about sex itself (I *heart* sex) but the way I view sex, and how other people view sex. I seem to go through phases where I feel very accepting of other peoples feelings and expressions of sex, and then all of a sudden I have a complete and total shut down. In my research for this site, I have come across an incredibly wide array of other peoples expressions.
(nods)
I have learned a lot. Which is the point of the site. To allow for growth in a safe environent. The funny thing is, in my research for other people, I am constantly putting myself in unsafe (for my mental health) environments. It is causing me to constantly stretch my own mental boundaries and sometimes I stretch too far by mistake and it takes days to bounce back. After that beastiality page I'm still freaked out by dogs.
Side note: my neighbor just got a puppy. He's adorable. And while I'm petting him I'm actually thinking "How can people train their dogs to have sex with them? He's so innocent and sweet...." and was all grossed out. That's what I mean by it takes me awhile to bounce back. Like I would have ever thought that before reading that damnable page. Argh!

Hmmm.

But a lot of the stuff that has challenged me has been healthy and good. Reading blogs of prostitutes and porn actors and the web pages of transvestites and pansexuals (?!?) and dominatrix....
It's causing me to crack my little shell open just enough to peek out and get some fresh air in here.

For example, Mr. Wonderful and I have been playing around with D/s (Domination/submission). I refuse to give you any more juicy details than that for now, but I want to discuss this: I have discovered that I have always been submissive. Those that meet me may laugh at that; I am one very out there charismatic bitch. But anyone who has viewed the relationships I've been in has witnessed it, albeit vicariously.
The tricky part is that I have never been with a man that was trustworthy to dominate me. The men I picked either were passive or really rather evil and untrustworthy (any boyfriends of yore reading this are not included in these categories, as I was still dealing with rape issues and would not have LET anyone dominate me due to flashbacks). The men who have managed to dominate me in the past 8- 10 years have done a miserable job of it, and both of our lives were worse in the end. There was no joy in either party, just one miserable arrogant asshole trampling one miserable cowering wench.
Some people get off on that fantasy. The catch is in only works in fantasy (unless you're dealing with a bit of screwiness to begin with, I surmise). The people involved really need to be strong empathetic people to begin with for the role playing to work. I just happen to get off on the submissive role. And happily for us both, Mr. Wonderful happens to get off on the dominant role. Groovy for us.

Another interesting question arises: Am I submissive because of the rape? Is it some sort of acting out of a painful experiance?
No, I don't beleive so. I recall strange submissive fantasies as far back as childhood. No, I'm not telling you about them.

Here's the thing: now that I'm with a man I trust, being submissive is GLORIOUS. I mean, it's really glorious! I can relax, I feel safe, cared for. And what I always viewed as a weird weakness of mine is now a strength, something I can use to explore my own feelings more deeply.

This is the first time in my life I can ever remember fully trusting a man to take care of me. It's been a touchy painful subject for me, since Mr. Wonderful really wants to have a baby some time in the next few years. The thought of having a baby TERRIFIES me, absolutely. The expereince I had with my sons dad was a nightmare. Literally.
He was a control freak. One of the very bad dominators. Because he was busy sticking his dick in anything that moved, he was very careful about me not finding out. To do so, he managed to slowly but very completely isolate me from everyone and everything. It was all innocent enough at the time and I didn't really think anything of it. Turning off the phone, we hardly used it, we could save the money for later... using my car istead of fixing his... I wasn't working, so it really wasn't a big deal. Slowly but surely I had nothing. I would be home, miles from anywhere, with no TV, no computer back then, no phone, no way to leave. Then he just wouldn't come home. Could I call to find out where he was? Go look for him? Contact any other humans? Nope. Just sit and wait.

Traumatic? Yes
.
Did I think about killing myself and my child when the post partum depression hit? Yes.

Did I stay in that nightmarish psychotic depression for the next year and a half? Yes.

Did I finally snap out of it when I finally had prove he was cheating on me, and fly into a complete rage (another one than the previous one in this post) and nearly kill him...but use that rage to leave and finally feel better? Yes.

Do I assosiate childbirth with a seemingly endless period of coma-like suicidal pyschosis? Yes.

And Mr. Wonderful and I had a talk about this last weekend after babysitting our neighbors kids. I love that baby...but I kept looking at him and wanting to scream and run away, far far away. After they left Mr. Wonderful sat me down and asked me if I wanted to talk, I seemed troubled. Next thing I knew I was sobbing and telling him how I'm afraid to have a baby, how I'm afraid I'll spend my days contemplating the suicide/murder again, the claustrophobia, the feeling of my very soul itself dying, turning to ash and dust, leaving me an empty shell of misery....

(the song "Blasphemous Rumors" by Depeche Mode just came on, fitting...)

Anyway, another example of me stuffing my rage at ill treatment and then exploding. You know, when I found out he was screwing someone else I tried to beat him. He hid in his van in the driveway (not sure why he didn't just drive away, not terribly bright). I spent the entire night on the deck, chain smoking and throwing pieces of gravel down onto the metal roof of his van. I would wait about 5 minutes between each one, just long enough for him to fall back asleep. Then chuck another one, watch it sail through the silent moonlit air and shatter the silence with a thunderous clatter when it hit. Then take another drag and wait, feeling the poisonous murderous rage pulsing in my veins, reminding me that I was finally ALIVE again.

Back to the topic of submission:
Being with a trustworthy honorable man is a whole new bag. It is such a releif to not have to fight and claw for a modicum of respect. To know that I can just do what I want to do, which is simple: express myself, grow, and take care of the ones I love. These things make me happy. Now I can do them without constantly looking over my shoulder and pushing the barricades father back.
And to actually play a D/s scene out in the bedroom is unbelievably hot for me. Because here is this man I love and adore, and he's acting like a very bad man, but he's NOT. He's just playing a little mind f*ck game with me, that isn't real, it isn't my life, and weirdly enough, I find that reminder incredibly soothing. To be dominated for play is not the same as being dominated for real. The man dominating me would never let anyone hurt me, certainly not himself. This man looks terrified if he thinks he's done anything to hurt me. He cares so much about me, and my son... (chokes up)...my pains cause him pain, my joys cause him joy...
~sigh~
And if spanking my bad little butt makes me happy, well you know he's happy to comply.

heh heh heh

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

What's strange about it all is that I never understood the D/s relationship before because it seemed awful. But since my own limited experiance had never shown me a man worthy of that extreme level of trust, I quite simply couldn't comprehend it. At all.

And so that has carried over into my judgement of other things. Just because I can't understand it doesn't make it wrong. Hell, I can't even comprehend the position of dominator. Doesn't work for me at all.

I assume all girls in porn are miserable and abused. But some seem to enjoy what they do. Sex without love? Unbearable! For me. I realize it is not that was for everyone else.
Some of the sex worker blogs I've read describe what they do as great fun. These women really enjoy it. I simply cannot comprehend it, but I'm starting to actually get a grip on the fact that I don't HAVE to comprehend it. Like, I know this but I don't KNOW it. It's logical but it doesn't mean I accept it, you dig?

And somehow this knowledge heals me a bit. The world is somehow less horrible and frightening because of it.

very interesting

circumcision-speak

Wrong, wrong wrong. This is in so many ways, wrong.

For the record, my son is not circumcised. I think it's a wretched way to welcome a child to the world. Also, I do not believe you should start hacking off body parts needlessly. If my son wants to get circumcised as some sort of acting out teenage angst thing (or whatever other reason a man would want to hack off part of his wiener), so be it. They will give him much better drugs then, I'm sure.
Also, for the record, I prefer them uncircumcised. I've seen both, and the full package is a lot of fun. In many ways. I'll leave that to your imagination.
And finally, I would like to state that I had a very clear moment the morning my son was "supposed" to be circumcised. I had a C-section and was under a dense fog of drugs. One morning, a surgeon walks in and cheerfully asked for my son so that he can perform the circumcision.
What I actually saw and heard was this:
(surgeon walks into room, I stare at him bleary eyed)
surgeon: Well, it's time for (my sons) circumcision! Give me your child."
(I notice his pointy tail, and pitchfork)
I tell Satan he most certainly will NOT be cutting my child, nor getting any where NEAR him, lest he risk certain death at my hands.
(I notice the flames licking out from the doorway he has passed through)
He informs me (most annoyed) that if it isn't done NOW I'll have to come back.
(I notice his forked tongue flitting out when he speaks)
I inform His Evilness that I don't see that being a problem, as I am never coming back, he's not hacking off my sons dick, and what in the fuck is his problem? Is he joking? He cuts off baby boys dicks? That's what he does for a living? Fucking A that has got to be a horrible job. What kind of evil bastard must you be to do that for a living? (I don't actually say the last part out loud)
(He leaves in a huff)

Like the earlier link, being a mohel is one thing, if you're Jewish. Doing it with your mouth, a bit unnecessary. Kind of getting a little too enthusiatic there, dude.

For the record, my son thanked me. When he got older and wanted to know why his willy looked different than other boys I informed him that there was no way in hell I was letting some crazy bastard cut off part of his dick. I told him what circumcision is and why it is done, but that I chose to not have it done to him. I gave him the run down of the possibility of infection and explained why he has to be careful washing it and stuff. He stared at me horrified and was silent for a little while. He walked over to me after a minute and hugged me HARD and said, "Thank you, Mommy" with heartbreaking sincerity.

No shit.

What is the point of all this? I don't know. I guess if you're going to cut off part of your boys wiener make sure the guy doing it 1)doesn't touch it with his mouth and 2)doesn't have herpes.
Good things to think about.

That is hardcore dedication.

Wow.
These two searches brought people to my blog today:

"School Bus Girls The horny bus driver is back with his little"

and

"step on cracks break mothers back"

I'm guessing you people are trying to make me feel better about being so weird. (squints eyes) I mean, that's it, right?
Oiy.

More wieners making the news.

think about it.

Why drugs are bad, mmmmkay?

Doing a pile of cocaine and inviting strange women into your trailer could result in tongs up your butt. At least, I'm assuming it was his butt. Pretty sure.

duh

Suddenly...I can type in there again.

I swear I may take a dump on this computer. It's not it's fault. I'm not being fair. But that may not stop me at all.

mumbling

Stupid web site with the stupid setting up and the stupid I-don't-know-what-the-hell-I'm-doing.... stupidness!

Ok, yesterday I couldn't write a thing in certain areas, then it magically was okey dokey and I wrote a whole bunch.
Now today? Same thing.
I will be bald soon at this rate.

Sometimes, the news can be funny.

It is my fond hope that someone very severely kicks this man very squarely in the nuts.

And this one?
Rip em off.

His you can pound with some rusty bent nails. For the rest of his life.

Why don't I read the news more often? Hmmmm.

one night stand hiaku

he, drunken bar fly
she, lip glossed helmet haired tramp
wham bam thank you ma'am

This is priceless. I particularly like the part where she says, "Get rid of this and get it out my sight for ever and ever."
For ever and ever is a long time, Lara. A long long time.

I had commented here that I am not gay.
However, I was not aware of all the facts and now that I have found out that Portia de Rossi is gay, I have to say I am definitely gay. Totally one hundred percent gay.
Other than being heterosexual and having a preference for men and mens parts. Aw crap. I'm sorry Portia. I will always love you, though. From afar. Maybe. Maybe closer than that. We'll see....we'll see...

I heard this mellowdramatic little ditty on the radio and thought to myself, "You know, maybe you cut her off...."
I mean, are you sure it's the little sticker she's flipping you off for? Or maybe you drive like an A-hole.
Just a thought.

Someone found my blog by searching for:

"mumbling" BLIM

I'm.......not sure.....why.

some people are tiring of the snow, methinks...

Arrrgh.

I'm working on getting my new site up and running. So far I've managed to alter a few things and piss myself off a whole bunch. All right! I rule!

Then somethng froze up the text, so now I can't type anything else. Tried in in Internet Explorer even (boo hiss).
Arrrgh.

Glad I got a pile of new books from the library.
So glad.

Whatever an enemy might do
to an enemy,
or a foe to a foe,
the ill-directed mind
can do to you
even worse.

Whatever a mother, father
or other kinsman
might do for you,
the well-directed mind
can do for you
even better.

-Dhammapada, 3, translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu

Indeed.

Geeks need to get laid more often.

Not thinking about anything is zen. Once you know this, walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, everything you do is zen. To know that the mind is empty is to see the Buddha...Using the mind to look for reality is delusion. Not using the mind to look for reality is awareness. Freeing oneself from words is liberation.

-Bodhidharma