| October something'th |
[Oct. 17th, 2009|01:19 am] |
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Wow.. it's been a month since I updated.. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about compromise, and when it becomes unreasonable. I don't want to spend my time thinking, "I wish my partner were more thoughtful," "I wish he showed more of an interest in getting to know me, and what's going on in my life," "I wish he were a more generous lover," "I wish he would make more of an effort to make me happy," "I wish he'd think more about what I want, and what I need." I've gotten a lot of excuses, like, "oh, I'll come to Boston, but I can't really think about traveling till I get my health insurance situation sorted out." Or, "I enjoy performing oral sex, I just haven't gotten the urge to do it yet." Or, "I'm a romantic person, I just haven't shown you that side of me yet." Perhaps, I was too accommodating in the beginning, and did myself a disservice by not sticking to my guns when I ended the relationship. At least then, I would have been establishing a standard, that I could have stuck to from then on. Now it's murky; it's like changing the rules in the middle of the game, saying now, all of these things won't fly. But I think I have no choice. |
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| Hadn't really counted on this one |
[Sep. 16th, 2009|01:17 am] |
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What do you do when you share common interests, enjoy eachother's company, are sexually compatible, make eachother laugh, but have no passion in your relationship? Is it worth continuing? Is passion worth holding out for, is it something that can develop over time or does it exist from the beginning? I suspect it has to be there from the beginning; I feel like you should know it, automatically, instantly. I might be wrong but, it doesn't seem like you become passionate about someone after you've been dating them for 6 months.. But then again, I could be wrong, maybe the more you know them the more you want to see them, be with them, etc. Ughh.. I just don't know.. I am tempted to just cut my losses and bail.. But I'd be discarding other great things. But maybe without the passion it's just a friendship. What to do? |
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| Endings and beginnings |
[Aug. 20th, 2009|12:23 pm] |
***adult content***
I can't remember if I mentioned what started me on this journey. I read Maria Headley's "The Year of Yes," which was essentially about a year of her life where she accepted every date she was invited on, regardless of the invite-er. I read the book and while I thought she was insane, it did make me rethink my approach. I have been shut-down my whole life, I have consistently rejected anyone who has ever approached me on principle. What principle would that be, you ask? Well, I don't know, I just assumed if a guy were talking to me, he must be a creep who just wanted to get into my pants. So anyway, I read the book and decided there was no possibility of ever connecting with anyone if I never let anyone in, so I attempted to change my practice, and joined this dating site at a friend's urging, and attempted not to judge based on looks, and attempted to approach men who interested me in public, and attempted not to shut down men who approached me in public, but be receptive, and try. I explained how things have gone with the Moroccan. Don't recall if I talked at all about the few dates that were blah, or the one I was interested in who wasn't into me, or the several who drift in, and drift out, or the many conversations that I swear I should charge for because I'm essentially providing therapy. I am essentially at the dating age of 15, as when most people were having these romantic experiences at that age, I was studying, or sleeping, or fending off my mother, or just trying to hang on. So now I'm going from 0 to 60, wanting to find THE guy right this second and just be in a relationship the second after. With R, this has become problematic, as after his initial fervor, which I found alluring, he's gotten nervous and cooled off, and as I'm not interested in doing anything casual, my eyes are wandering. I've reconnected with A, another prospect from the website, but suspect that he really isn't prepared to make room in his life for another person at this time, despite his claims to the contrary. I am trying to trust my instincts more, as I've finally developed some strong ones, as far as potential partners are concerned.
I met M the other night, and an initially perfect encounter where he was loving, and generous was busted when he came super fast, and then, destroyed when, after another attempt, later on, where he lost his erection, informed me that I had to train myself to cum faster, talk less, and let my partner tell me what to do because men know what's best, and I must learn to obey, or I would have a problem in future relationships. At this point I got up to leave, and he stole my clothes and refused to let me. I informed him that I would never "obey" anyone and didn't care whether my husband liked it or not, and that I didn't want him bossing me around or trying to tell me what to do, and he had ruined our evening with his comments and thoroughly pissed me off. We cooled down, and he started to tell me about my positive and negative qualities before I told him I didn't want to hear it. It was a shame, as things had started off so well; we were talking about porn and the first one he'd ever seen, and his history of sexual experimentation and my lack thereof. I certainly would have been traumatized if the first porn I'd ever seen featured pig/female and donkey/female penetration but he didn't seem to be. We got into a discussion about his unwillingness to perform oral sex and general lack of enthusiasm for foreplay wherein I questioned him as to what he would do once he was married. He informed me that a Muslim wife's duty was to please her husband, and that in Islam, for a wife to refuse her husband sex was a sacrilege. He said he would find a wife who would obey him, and practice Islam the way it was intended. A good mother to his children and an obedient lover to him. Yeah. In that moment, all was made clear, as I realized our understanding of marriage differed violently. I have no idea how he was ever attracted to me; I could not be more of a contrarian or fiercely independent thinker. He insisted he'd never cheat on his wife, that god would frown upon it. I would bet my left boob that he will cheat, should he ever actually marry. In fact I told him I didn't think he would marry, that he clearly didn't have the temperament for it and were it something that truly interested him, he would have done ages ago, like most Moroccan men.
After lying in silence for a while, he asked what I was thinking, and I told him that I was thinking of the fact that we'd never see eachother again. He said it would be difficult to see eachother again. In my mind, the issue had been settled, he would marry in September and we would stop speaking. In fact, when he asked me what I was thinking, I had actually been pondering my plans for the weekend and wondering if I would have time to pick up some cereal on the way home, but I felt divulging that might be....hurtful. He reiterated that we'd had fun, dating the past two/three months, and that he had to change his life, maybe go to another state to find a wife if he couldn't do it here. I grunted some response, as I was falling asleep, and he asked if I wanted him to let me sleep, but not before mentioning how much he wanted to have sex again, that his balls hurt from the lack of ejaculation, how the fact that I hadn't cum had made him go soft, and what time did I have to leave in the morning because maybe we could have sex beforehand... Anyway, I went to sleep, sort of, as it was 90 degrees in his room and he insisted on lying on top of me.. I left in the morning, and we talked later on, about how hard it'd been to sleep and could I find him an air conditioner, he would pay me back, and he was sorry it was so hot. I agreed about the air conditioner, because even if it only benefitted me for one evening it'd be worth it just to get some proper sleep. So, tonight will be the last night, if it happens at all.. Ramadan begins tomorrow. We shall see... |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 17th, 2009|05:29 pm] |
Blueberry died today.. For the past couple of days she wouldn't eat, and just laid outside on the porch, eyes half-open... I picked her up yesterday night, and she peed on me, then struggled to get up on her own to go back outside.. So I put her back, and my sister and I fed her yogurt and water through a syringe, but she just looked spent. Dad took her to the vet this afternoon at my sister's urging, and apparently, they got as far as taking her temperature before the vet tech noticed she'd stopped breathing, and that was that. I will miss her. She was super-cuddly these past couple of years, which my dad had been saying was a sign that she was on her way out. We've had her for what, 16 years or so? She had a really good run. And I'm glad she didn't suffer, she just seemed tired and ready to go.
My mom is in the hospital recovering from a hysterectomy. She never really spoke to me directly about the surgery, instead giving me a copy of her healthcare proxy and living will, then, at the last minute, asking if I could pick her up when she's released tomorrow.. I have to be honest, I don't care that much. My relationship with my mother is complicated, and were I to elaborate, I think the reasons for my apathy would be clear. I am glad she didn't die on the table, I guess. I dunno. Anyway, I may be picking her up tomorrow, assuming she is released on time, then she'll have a couple of weeks of recovery. The cysts removed during the surgery are being tested by oncology, we will know tomorrow, likely, if they were cancerous.
I need a nap. |
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| 5:55/10:10/2:22 |
[Aug. 16th, 2009|10:50 pm] |
*****Warning: this entry contains explicit material of a linguistic and sexual nature. Read at your own risk*****
5:55/10:10/2:22
“make a wish.”
“What?”
“It’s 10:10, make a wish.”
I closed my eyes. I can’t remember what I wished for. I asked him what he wished for.
“I wished….that you would have a good time tonight. Is that corny?” I told him it wasn’t, though in fact, in certainly was.
I picked out things around the room to fiddle with, to ask questions about. We discussed his artwork; I picked up a photo of his family, and he pointed out the siblings, all handicapped, who had died. He talked about his mom, her infinite kindness, and his living siblings, and their lack there-of. I examined the many posters and wall-hangings featuring Bob Marley, and his meticulously-arranged easel and paints.
“You’re very neat,” I commented. This began a discussion of our relative neatness/slovinliness. We ordered a pizza, and went across the street to pick it up. He handed me money to give to the cashier, as he couldn’t reach the counter. It hit me then, the disparity in our circumstances.
Back in his apartment, a basement hovel next to a set of train-tracks and beneath a gospel church, I sat on his bed while we watched The Mist. He inititally sat some ways away, close to his computer, hiding. I called him over, and stroked his hair, which felt like the soft pelt of some young animal, never exposed to the world outside its nest.
“That feels nice. You know I never got a hug when you came in.” I knew this line, like “do you want a massage?” and “want to come over and watch a movie?” But I was desperate for contact, for touch, for closeness, and so I leant in, stroked his hair, and he began kissing my neck, so softly that my eyes started to tear. “Your smell is intoxicating,” he said, and we kissed; just like I’d imagined, it was soft, and loving, and flavorless, and I didn’t want to stop. I must say though, it was during this moment that I decided I do not like kissing with tongue, no matter how talented my partner. And R was talented, no doubt.
He excused himself and returned some time later without his pants.
“I was hot,” he said. I will never understand the need to mask pretenses in scenarios like this, where both parties surely know where things are headed. I am more the bent to simply say, “wanna fuck?” and be done with it. He said he was sleepy, I suggested we go to bed, and there was an extended period of the two of us awkwardly undressing; me attempting to busy myself while he got himself into bed with some difficulty, not sure if I should go completely nude or switch to my gym t-shirt, and finally meeting eachother in bed, side by side.
It occurred to me that this might be wrong. I hadn’t officially ended things with M, though the end of that “relationship” was imminent considering he planned to spend the month of Ramadan looking for a proper Muslim wife and I anticipated he’d be engaged by mid-September. There was only a week left before the start of Ramadan, during which pre-marital sex was prohibited (though I believe it’s always prohibited in Islam), and so, that would be the end of our seeing eachother, we’d already discussed it. Our last meeting had been disastrous, at least for me, as he’d gotten overly enthused while thrusting away and neglected to notice when he slipped out and, unfortunately, continued thrusting, forcing passage where none had previously existed. I was in excruciating pain. M had also given up on foreplay pretty much, or at least, forgotten how to do it properly, so I was somewhat dry and tense when he entered me, and eventually, told him he was really hurting me and pushed him off. We recovered, and after some acrobatic positions, he got off, I didn’t, as I never did, and we laid beside eachother, talking about his future marriage. He said he wanted someone “more conservative,” who was Moroccan, as he was, and spoke Moroccan Arabic, so their children would learn it. He wanted her to wear the hajab, and if she currently didn’t, he could, as her husband, ask her to, according to Islam. He didn’t want her to smoke or drink of course, and if she wasn’t a virgin, he wouldn’t like her to be in contact with any of her former lovers. After this list, he asked if he’d answered my question, regarding how he’d choose a wife. I replied in the affirmative.
“I think you are upset,” he said, out of the blue, after we’d been snoozing lightly for some time.
“Upset about what?” I asked sleepily. Then, registering the context, “I’m not upset. This is the way it is.”
“I’m happy to hear you say that,” he said, though it was clear he wasn’t, then he began on a rant about something that I can no longer remember, maybe the tenets of Islam or something; he mentioned that he wasn’t ready to marry but that he was obligated to by his family and religion. I had heard all this before so I pretty much checked out, just wanting to sleep. In the morning, I kissed him goodbye as always, thinking it was the last time, and left. As the week passed, I got sad, thinking we’d never see eachother again, that we’d go our separate ways and he’d get married, and one day I might run into him with his wife and children, and we wouldn’t speak, as our “relationship” would be something sordid he’d not want to dignify. We spoke online, and he was remarkably…verbal, for him, asking me to find him an air conditioner, which I suggested he have his wife do. Though I joked, there was certainly intent behind it. He tried to help me find a mechanic for my broke-down car, and of course assumed I’d follow his referral. Neither of us made an attempt to meet, which, though it would have been impossible due to Aunt Flow’s premature arrival, bugged me. Were I him, I’d be having as much sex as possible, storing it up like a camel, in anticipation of four weeks without. I wondered if he’d starting sleeping with someone else. But I’d made plans to meet R, for the first time, over the weekend, and so, I could only dwell for so long.
R’s penis looked like a giant sea-cucumber. I laughed out loud when I exposed it, and remarked that he hadn’t been kidding, when he’d said he was blessed. Most men are full of shit when they say that, and when R said he could only use the XL version of most condoms, I’d dismissed it. Later, after we’d kissed, fondled, I’d sucked him off, jerked him off, and he hadn’t cum, we talked about having sex despite my period; I’d laid a towel across the sheets and attempted to put on the only condom I had with me, a regular-sized latex, which comically, only fit on the head of his penis and would go no further. I remembered once seeing a demonstration where a woman put her entire fist into a generic latex condom and stated that any man who claimed he couldn’t fit in one was a liar; I wished I hadn’t believed her. We discussed attempting to make love anyway, as the risk of pregnancy was nil; I asked if he’d been tested, he said he had but didn’t elaborate. He asked if I had been. I hadn’t, only having been with M and always used protection. I considered R’s previous partners, and their frequent unprotected sex, and his illness, polio, which frankly, I didn’t know enough about to assess whether it was sexually communicable. And it was our first meeting. I opted for a hand-job instead.
When I removed R’s boxers there was a strong odor; his testicles were inexplicably wet and I was hesitant to get any closer. Of course he asked for a blow-job, and I stared dubiously at his cock, stroking it slowly, before finally complying. It wasn’t terrible, but the occasional wafts of unpleasant odor I could not determine the source of certainly made it more difficult. He came in my hand, which was fascinating to watch, and I cleaned him off before we went to bed.
2:22 AM:
He was calling my name.
“I need to used the bathroom.” Initially, in my sleepy state, I didn’t know what this had to do with me, exactly.
“Can you help me transfer?” He asked. He guided me through the process; easing his boxers back on, moving his wheelchair next to his bed, lifting him into it, removing his boxers as he sat next to the toilet and lifting him onto the toilet, standing by while he did his business and handing him the toilet paper, lifting him back into his wheelchair and easing his boxers back on. He gave commands like a general, “push my left hip,” “pull my hand toward you.” I found this off-putting, and felt like a nurse, or a mother, neither of which I wanted to be. Back in bed, we awkwardly arranged ourselves, or I, rather, awkwardly arranged him, then myself. He said he needed to “use his machine,” which led to more awkward arranging, as we switched sides of the bed, and he hooked himself up to his ventilator, warning me that he’d likely fall asleep. Soon, odd, mechanized-sounding snores arose from him, and I rolled over on my side to sleep. He woke me again, nuzzling against my breasts, lifting my shirt and taking them into his mouth. He did this expertly, and I was aroused, and again considered taking a massively stupid risk. He asked if I’d go on birth control for him. I jerked him off, and noticed, in doing so, a rim of smegma residing around the head of his penis, beneath his foreskin. I halted my hand-job to retrieve a washcloth to clean him with. He asked what I was doing, but I didn’t get specific, to spare his feelings. After he came, I cleaned him more thoroughly, apologizing for hurting him, but carrying on nonetheless. I am a clean-freak, in all scenarios, apparently. He called to cancel his assistant’s morning visit, but she showed up anyway, and I rushed to wash my hands and throw some shorts on, as well as R’s, before answering the door. For the next couple of hours R and his assistant took care of the practical things, and I was relieved she was there to do it, and R helped her fix her laptop. I sat writing this, until she left. We watched a film together, and discussed Stephen King's work. I held him, and he asked me not to leave, and I quieted him with kisses. Finally I left, but then called him from the gas station, telling him I would return so he could kiss me goodbye properly. I did, and he did, and we both laughed, and I got back on the road to Boston, at 5:55. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 11th, 2009|11:38 am] |
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I really want to vomit.. I have no idea how I got myself into this situation. What do I do now? |
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| Raw |
[Jul. 5th, 2009|05:52 am] |
**Contains adult content***
I laid there, staring up at the ceiling, and couldn't help but cry. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but he did, and asked me why I was crying. The real answer seemed impossible to articulate. He asked if I was mad, said he'd never promised me anything, said we could stay "friends" (with benefits, of course), pointed out that he was deeply depressed and just a pizza-maker and did I really think he was in a position to be in a relationship? He had talked about how, if he weren't Muslim, he'd have killed himself. He said he wasn't trying to hurt me, that this was who he was; he didn't believe in love and his religion said it was something that developed after marriage; that the last time he'd loved someone, it'd ruined his life. The hardest part to hear was that he'd "done these things on purpose," avoided telling me that he missed me, or thought about me; that I could review his texts and I'd never find a message like that in there; he didn't play with people's feelings like his ex had played with his. I pointed out that the words weren't necessary when the actions didn't follow. I don't need to hear "I missed you" from someone who pounces on me the moment they see me and buries their hand under my shirt. He said he'd intentionally avoided going out with me after the first date because he "wasn't ready" for a relationship; that he didn't do relationships and if I wanted to leave him, I could, he wouldn't hold it against me. He asked if I was dating anyone else. I said yes, and he asked where and when, and congratulated me, and pointed out his lack of jealousy, and that he'd have been mad, had he actually cared. He didn't say the "actually cared" thing, he opted for something like "if I were your boyfriend." He pointed out the differences in our lives, and recalled a detail of my life I'd mentioned in passing on our first date, which made me laugh, then cry at the same time. He told me he wasn't seeing anyone else, and I said that that was good, and when he asked why I told him he wasn't dating material, that he wasn't open to it, didn't want to get attached or get involved(direct quotes) and therefore, shouldn't be dating anyone. He seemed to disagree. He asked if I thought he'd used me/exploited me and I said yes, he recoiled in shock and asked how? I told him, i think you know, "had we had this conversation beforehand, I never would have come here," and there was a long pause, after which he softly said, "I'm sorry." He invited me to come back to "have fun" whenever I wanted, and said he'd never told me he loved me, at which point I conceded and tried to leave. He pulled me back, feigning confusion over my reaction, saying I was "getting sensitive," and shouldn't be, that I should be strong since I'm a teacher and have to set an example for my students. That made me laugh outright, the ridiculousness of the comparison. What lesson would I impart to my students, from this scenario? Don't lose your virginity to someone you don't love, thinking it will spare you pain in the end. It won't. Eventually, not loving and being loved in return will just feel empty and fake, and you'll end up hurt anyway. I'm thinking that lesson's a little to mature for 8-year-olds.
I told him he was right, and that if I stayed, it'd only make things worse. He asked if we could stay friends; I lied and said yes. It tickled me when he'd referred to what we were doing as "dating." He told me he'd call me tomorrow, or asked if I'd call him tomorrow, I'm not sure which, I had kind of checked out. I said "sure," and told him to get some rest, as he'd complained our conversation had kept him up all night and he'd have a long day of work the next day, and left, slamming the door behind me.
Most shameful walk of shame yet.
I should mention, I'd gone there intending to end things. I knew it would hurt, but didn't think I'd cry. But I think even when our instincts tell us our worst fears are true, to have them confirmed is painful.
So here I am. Not really sure what to do next. Thinking that my no-dating/no-men policy was right from the start; I could have lived the whole rest of my life never experiencing these things and been just fine. I was comfortable in my ignorance. I enjoyed never having my heart broken, never worrying that I was pregnant, never sleeping with a man who couldn't get me off, never fearing the outcome of a situation where I'd made myself wholly, and unabashedly, vulnerable. Sigh. Now what? |
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| Oh. Boy. |
[Mar. 8th, 2009|01:17 am] |
So, luckily I haven't given many people the link to this blog, so I can speak more freely than I would otherwise. I mentioned a while back that I told someone I was interested in that I had feelings for them, and that he basically turned me down, citing a perfectly practical but likely bullshit reason, regarding the co-mingling of professional and personal relations(he's my supervisor). Anyhoo, he'd become progressively less responsive over the past weeks, even lying about losing text capability on his phone when confronted about his lack of communication, and finally reached the point where he wasn't responding at all, to texts, e-mails, what-have-you. And I was just at the point where I was about to go to my boss about it, because it was affecting my ability to do my job, as I couldn't get even the most basic information from the person who was supposed to be supervising me. Then we had a snow day, and I got sick, and missed four days of work, then found out via text from a co-worker that he was leaving. I should give him a nomer of some kind, let's call him Bob. So anyway, it was a major shock. And a really bad one.
I feel a need to explain why this situation is so excruciating. And complicated. Partially because it helps me work through why it's affecting me so much. I started this job working in partnership with Bob, mentoring a group of teenagers while we created a large-scale public artwork. The meat, that is, the majority, of my job is working with very small children (at their individual public schools), whose capabilities are limited and whose attention spans are short, whose language skills are poor, wherein artistic talent is few and far between. But working with the teenagers was very different; they were hand-picked, they were focused, and commited. I also met with them three twice a week, whereas I only see my other students once a week, in a different location each week. In a way, all of the moving around, shlepping all your stuff with you, having to start over every time you land, make do with what's there and feeling like you never know where your relationships are; whether things will start up where you left off, or you'll have to start all over again, reminds me a lot of my childhood, with divorced parents with joint custody. So between the transcience of it, the instability, the limitations, it's just not very fulfilling. But I really got something out of the project with the teens, I pushed them, took risks, they pushed me, surprised me, annoyed me, made me proud. I was so impressed with what they created in the end. And we just spent so much time together; they made me laugh hysterically. Somehow, a sort-of familial relationship was created, with Bob and I coordinating the pick-up and delivery of all these kids, divvying up the tasks; switching off the "parenting" tasks, taking the kids on trips and monitoring them, or just sitting quietly working, listening to the kids' conversations about classmates, so-on... I brought him to the welding shop at my alma-mater, along with the group... They managed to create something really beautiful without burning off a limb or two. Anyway, they really became my family, and now he's leaving, I feel like we're getting a divorce and I can't figure who gets custody of the kids.
My boss wants me to start teaching all of these new courses for teens at our center in the Fall, and I fear that without Bob, they'll be failures. My boss has already attempted this at another center, and not one student turned up. And the person who managed the program at that center is the one she's hired to replace Bob (and manage the teen programs for our center), so I'm not hopeful. My position is somewhat dependent upon these classes being successful; at the very least, my psychological health is dependent upon them being successful and having another outlet that doesn't involve 7-year-olds. I've been teaching a teen course at the center for some months now, and for the first weeks, no one showed. Now, I have a few regulars, but none of them are actually teens, and their capabilities (and mine, as far as projects that are age-appropriate) are limited. I just don't think I can stand more of the same; waiting for kids to show up, trying to coax them in, trying to motivate them to come back each week. I have a co-worker who's supposed to be teaching computer courses, and every time I see him, he just looks so dejected, and talks about how useless he feels, with no one showing up for his classes. I know how that feels, and really don't want to experience it again. Bob was such an integral part of my initiation into this organization, it seems impossible to imagine being there when he's not. I don't feel like I really understand the way things work. And he was the one I went to when I was in conflict with another co-worker, and he reassured me. He wasn't a part of the school-aged childcare program, so was always a step removed from the drama that seems a constant feature there. I don't know if I can stand to be there without him.
At the risk of divulging too much identifying information, there is also a physical particularity that makes this situation challenging. I am not a small girl, never have been, and never sought to downplay my physical strength. I rarely feel weaker than the men around me, and I sense that men are put off by the fact that they can't feel immediately physically dominating in my presence. I could be mistaken, but I see the difference in the way men relate to my petite, skinny, delicate friends, and the way they relate to me. There is a kind of let-me-pick-you-up, sit-on-my-lap playfulness that exists for them that does not exist for me. Bob is a physical anomaly. Like giant, professional basketball player/football player anomaly. Huge. He is the only man I've ever met that made me feel small. And safe/protected. It was a unique experience. I don't think I'll be able to duplicate it.
There was such a sense of devotion to the kids at our center that I even questioned it; found the cuddling and hugs and phone calls to parents at the crack of dawn bizarre, the group overnights to colleges and to volunteer at shelters; I was a bit envious of the connection, but mostly in awe. We were given a grant for our public art project; he reinvested half of his pay into the project to fund additional stipends and supplies for the kids. He knew some of the kids for years, seemed to know every aspect of their lives, their families. Hence the shock at his sudden, unceremonious departure.
In kind of a cesspool of sadness now. I am really terrible with change. I just don't adjust that quickly. I thought I had more time, and I just hadn't envisioned a future without him in it.. On the contrary, I imagined a lot of futures with him in them, lol.I guess he was kind of a stable (or seemingly stable) feature in a very unstable environment, and I am thrown by his ultimate instability. And I don't understand what could motivate him to leave, and I'm questioning his integrity.
I have never been the type who really believed in partnership, marriage or monogamy, and until this experience, had never had experience with any of the above. But I really enjoyed having someone pick up the slack; take on the tasks I couldn't do (or didn't want to do), who I could rely on, who I genuinely respected. So I allowed myself to imagine a future where I'd actually have that, and I am grieving those fantasies now, and going back to my previous vision for my future, where it's just me, on my own. Kinda regret ever considering an alternative, 'cause it feels way worse to have to give up on.
So yeah. Complicated. Kinda feel like shit. Lol. I am just waiting for this to pass. It will, right? |
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| Help Me |
[Feb. 19th, 2009|02:51 am] |
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I am in love and I can't get over it. I need to lobotomize that part of my brain. Or get some of those bacteria that attack brain tissue but only live for a limited period of time. Seriously I can't take it. This is the worst thing ever. I can't think of anything else; everything relates back to this person... And I am so not that girl... |
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| New Year |
[Jan. 5th, 2009|01:21 am] |
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Hello all.. well, the past year has certainly been interesting... I have gone through a lot of changes. One of the most notable events was a brave moment for me; I told someone I was interested in that I had feelings for him; apparently he was so freaked out that he couldn't come up with a single thing to say in response for a week and a half. Ultimately, he said he couldn't mix personal and professional things (we work together), and I have been on an emotional roller coaster regarding this whole thing. And here is where I've landed. I hope for him, in the new year, that he gains the maturity to be able to appreciate being desired and respond to it with dignity and respect for the person expressing that desire. And I hope he gets what he wants. As far as I'm concerned, I hope I will continue to put my fears aside and act boldly, and love openly. I think about 4-5 years ago when I applied to school and in my admissions essay I expressed my primary goal to be to "open up;" I feel like I've really achieved that. Not sure I can credit it solely to art school, in fact, sure I can't credit it solely to that. But for whatever reason, there's been progress. Anyhoo, had my art opening on First Night, which was great. Saw Joey McIntyre at the E Room on New Year's Eve, he's pretty hot in person! Which reminds me, Dana says he's nearly 40, must go and look him up, because that just makes me feel fricking old! I hope you all will have an amazing, wondrous, exciting new year... Talk soon! |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 14th, 2008|12:39 pm] |
I have lapsed in my Livejournal posting duties! Let's see.. So.. What's happened. I graduated from Tufts in May, and then started a massive, stressful job hunt.. I got a job teaching, as well as as the Artist-in-Residence at this non-profit, where I am creating a large-scale public art project with a group of teens.. If you're in the Boston area, come check it out on First Night, we'll be in the John Hancock building.. I have to say, having a job makes me wary about posting specifics on here.. But what the hell.. I work closely with the Education Manager at the non-prof, and I'm kinda wondering if it'll go anywhere.. But thinking about that is really distracting so I'm trying to refocus my energy elsewhere. The teens are great, but the little kids, who I teach for the larger percentage of the week, are generally monsters. I hate children. I'm sorry, I know that most women are horrified at the idea of another woman hating children, like it goes against some unspoken maternal code, but I do. They're dirty, they spread disease, they cry for no reason, they don't follow directions, and I hate them. And when I'm attempting to actually teach them something, it's torturous. I am hoping the public art project will be more rewarding. I am having the kids do some stained glass, and MAYBE welding, but not sure about that yet. Kinda terrifies me. Teens with fire. Meh. Anyhoo, been swimming a couple times a week, hanging out on the weekends; gals and I made an apple-picking foray earlier this month, and made a couple (actually three) apple-crumb pies of awesomeness. We've been making an effort to try new places, so we finally went to this Burmese restaurant in Brighton, and it was great. Some new flavors, some I really dug (one not so much!). Last weekend we went to Providence to see the play "Bug" (like the Ashley Judd film) by the Black Repertory Theater. It was interesting. Very bloody. I had consciously avoided seeing the film because the whole bugs under the skin thing has always creeped me out tremendously. But to me, this play was more about what happens when your support system fails and someone preys upon your vulnerability, as well as the dangers of becoming completely cloistered. It's an interesting story; check it out if you can!
Anyhoo, I have to get ready for work. I will try an update more regularly. But my brain is like a sieve so don't count on me remembering! |
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| Got my back? |
[Jul. 20th, 2008|02:05 am] |
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This evening, I attended a social gathering to celebrate a friend's birthday. Near the close of the evening, one of the guests, a pseudo-friend who I've know since kindergarten, shoved one of my best friend's without provocation, while the latter friend was innocently standing in the kitchen doorway, conversing with a group of us.. The events that followed inspired the title of this entry. I watched my close friends say things to the assailant like, "it's ok, things happen," and "I know you're sorry," and "it'll be ok, everyone loses their temper;" comforting the girl... And alternately trying to convince the friend who'd been assaulted to talk it out with the girl who shoved her, be forgiving and gentle with her, allow her to explain herself. At one point I approached the assailant myself and asked her directly if what i believed i'd witnessed; her approaching my friend, shoving her, and then retreating, was accurate, and when she confirmed it was, told her that whether the friend who'd been attacked chose to speak to her at that point was up to her, but that her conduct was unnacceptable.. But the whole thing made me really worried, not simply because my pseudo-friend's aggression was unpredictable and seemingly unprovoked, and the issues she later used to justify her actions were partially applicable to several of the guests, not solely the one she attacked, but also that my friends reacted the way they did.. I think I believe my friends will back me up in any situation where I am being threatened, in any way. And I felt like this situation demonstrated that that belief is unfounded. I am horrified by the possibility that if I were physically attacked, they'd stand there doing nothing, later making excuses for my assailants behavior and suggesting I take some time to "cool down," which to me is just code for "get over it." The physical threat in this scenario was minor, and yet none of my friends took immediate action, not even in insisting that the assailant leave the house; perhaps physical violence is more acceptable to them then it is to me, I dunno, we're all approaching our 30's so in my mind, physical confrontations should be a thing of the past. If what's right and what's wrong are clear, and the threat is minor but you still can't take a strong stance, that concerns me. I guess what I'm reading into this situation is that in the future, if I'm physically confronted, I'm on my own, which kinda sucks, but is good to know. |
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| Death, or break-ups come in threes? |
[Jul. 15th, 2008|03:55 am] |
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This week heralded the dissolution of yet another long-term relationship of a close friend.. You know I've always been dubious of the whole pairing-off/marriage thing, but secretly, I still hope for the success of my friends' relationships. I want to believe that my peers can make it work, that somehow marriage and couple-hood is still relevant and practical, that people my age; smart, funny, accomplished, people I know, can do it. But again and again, it fails.. It fails in people I think of as stable, as bonded to their partners, as good planners, compromisers, etc.... They eventually find their partners aren't enough.. Whatever-enough, 'cause the flaw is always different; too serious, not funny enough, too dull, too stable, too wild, blah blah blah... Is it possible that choosing one person to fulfill your needs for the next 60 years just doesn't make sense? |
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| SIGH |
[Jul. 15th, 2008|01:32 am] |
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My libido is out of control. That's all. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 5th, 2008|03:15 am] |
I went to the awesomest event tonight, InteractBoston. Capoeira, African Dance, Yoga-nastics, nude painting, sushi served on naked bodies, paintings and jewelry, bellydancing with live violin, techno music. And hot men.
My feet hurt. |
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| For the Ladies, especially |
[Mar. 31st, 2008|07:12 pm] |
I have a little tip for the single people, especially chicks, reading this right now. Scrabble is a man-magnet. After being approached by two separate guys within the span of an hour whilst playing Scrabble with a friend, I am convinced this game possesses some magical power. I pass my Jedi knowledge onto all of you. Give it a shot!
(BTW, some Starbucks have boardgames in the store, which is how we played, so keep an eye out!) |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 23rd, 2008|11:56 pm] |
So recently, several of my close friends have been experiencing some emotional strife. They are, for the most part, of the sort to call/instant message/e-mail repeatedly, wanting to discuss their issues, and in two cases, those issues center around men in their lives. As I really know very little about relationships, this has inspired the question of how to provide emotional support, and how much is appropriate. In one case, the prevalent issue in my friend's life has been the same for about 2-3 years now. We have the same discussion, over and over. I give her advice, she ignores it, gets hurt, then cries and complains that she isn't being emotionally supported by her friends enough. I think for me, the central issue is that I feel as though, in a lot of these instances where my friends seek my support, they do so only as a gesture. They intend to do what they want to do, but want to give the appearance of doing something different, and so reach out to me. In a couple of cases, they intend to make bad choices, but ask me for input/advice, then proceed to make bad choices, therefore making me an accomplice. And I take issue with that. i occasionally make choices that i know will likely have negative consequences. Or that are morally questionable. But I don't go to my friends and ask them, "do you think this is right?" or "do you think this is the wrong?" before doing so. Because I think that would be unfair to them. Were I smoking crack, I wouldn't ask my friends whether it was wrong and encourage them to dissuade me and then go shoot up, followed by a binge where i piss and vomit all over their floor, only to do it all again the next day. If I did so, I don't think there's anyone within the sound of my voice who wouldn't think me an asshole and not the kind of person they'd want in their lives. But I think certain friends of mine see how their behavior is comparable to that. They don't see how their repeated tantrums, poor choices, unwillingness to change behavior, and feigned desire to live differently is damaging to the people in their lives. Or me, specifically. In fact, I may use that crack example. Not sure they'll get it though.
Anyway, I can tolerate the occasional emotional outburst. It's just the constant, everpresent kind I have a hard time with.
I saw a pretty interesting film called "The Dead Girl," the other day, with Giovanni Ribisi, Toni Colette, James Franco, etc. in it. I was pretty impressed by it, and surprised I hadn't heard of it before. It's about the discovery of a corpse by a small-town woman, caring for her invalid mother, and the way the discovery impacts the lives of several other people. It's not a totally unfamiliar story, just told in an interesting way, with some unexpected twists. I highly recommend it!
My school vacation ends tonight. It wasn't much of a vacation really. i used it to get done all of the crap i didn't have time for during the semester, like going to the doctor, getting my car speakers fixed, getting my hair cut, etc.. I chopped all my hair off and died strands of it purple, I quite like the new look. I went to City Hall to dispute a couple tickets, and the guy there was the biggest asshole ever, and I plan to file a formal complaint against him. I have encountered a couple of these men in these pseudo-influential jobs (at least, in their own minds) who seem to put great effort into trying into intimidate me, and i find it rather comical. I'm sorry, no amount of raised voices will compensate for your small penises, fellas.
And with that, nighty night. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 16th, 2008|02:33 pm] |
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Lately i've had extremely vivid dreams. Some have featured people I haven't thought about in years, old classmates from grade school. I'm focusing less on the content of the dreams and more on why they have been so frequent and vivid. i can't figure it out. my brain feels different. |
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| Update |
[Feb. 27th, 2008|01:40 am] |
What's going on with me:
Monday was my 26th birthday. For the first time in several years, I had a really phenomenal birthday celebration. i had made a commitment to approach this birthday with a more laid-back attitude than before, to not focus on perfection as it rarely feels rewarding, and to accept help and go with the flow. So we had a burlesque lesson, which was pretty cool, followed by a tea party/trunk show of my work at a friend's apartment. I had a lot of fun, ate some good food, hung out, chatted, sold some work (yay!), and afterwards, a couple friends and i continued on to a party at another friends house, where much dancing and flirting occured. I really enjoyed myself. Unfortunately, it's been kind of downhill since then. I had had some difficulty with the burlesque lesson, the coordinator constantly wavered on the pricing beforehand, and after we'd settled on a price per-person, which I quoted to my guests, the actual instructor quoted us something different at the end of the class. I questioned her about it, reminded her about the original quote, and she insisted the amount had changed due to the amount of people who'd shown up (I should note that the price she quoted was $9 less per-person than what the coordinator had quoted me, and that i'd estimated that 7 people would show up for the lesson, but 11 actually did, so the lower price made sense). Anyway, everyone gave me the $21 each and I wrote the instructor a check. i get an e-mail yesterday from the coordinator talking about how the check was for the wrong amount, he wants to rip it up and send me a paypal request for the full amount instead (wants me to cover the cost of the whole class), the instructor was mistaken, blah blah blah. Mind you, I paid him $100 up front. So i think about it, consider the prospect of having to chase all my friends down and recoup the $100 balance the coordinator's asking for, and I say fuck it, I'm not doing it. I respond, CC-ing all my guests, tell him he should deposit my check, that everyone can mail him or paypal him the extra $9/person on their own. He responds that i'm responsible for the balance 'cause the agreement was with me, and I respond that he didn't get $30/person because his employee quoted the wrong price to all my guests. I mean, what could I have done in that situation, told all of my guests to disregard what the instructor was telling them and pay me extra, just in case she was wrong? Anyway, that's where things are right now.. I'll pay my extra $9 for now and see what happens.
In other news, i have a meeting with some judicial rep. at the Dean's office on Thursday. Basically, without getting into details, I've been parking at my college campus during Fall using a parking decal that isn't real. I was ticketed, went in to dispute the tickets, brought the decal in for them to inspect, had to meet with the public safety dept. which is essentially the university cops; the gist of it is, they won't dismiss the tickets, think i should pay them because the decal was on my car whether i put it there or not, (I bought my car from a student in the Fall) and referred me to the dean's office who'll determine if i should have to pay retroactively for a Fall semester permit, as it's an issue of Integrity or some shit. They even wrote up a report on which the term "larceny" was used. I will just say that I am pissed and indignant at the idea of people whose salaries I'm paying for having the nerve to try and charge me with anything. i have no idea where these people get off or who they think they are, since in essence, they work for me and i'm at this university of my own volition. I have no idea what's going to happen at this meeting Thurs., but i'm annoyed at even having to deal with it. Academia is a f*cking trip.
i've also had three presentations this week, one of which was impromptu, which you should read as the professor giving absolutely no notice. For the first time in my life, I found myself actually paralyzed by fear in one class, and went last, which i never do.. I think it actually went ok, but I was more concerned about my anxiety. I have progressively lost my ability to control my anxiety, and have had to take valium for the first time ever to calm down. I realize that I repeatedly choose a path of dissent, which creates resistance, which causes me anxiety. But I feel that I'm motivated by unfairness, and to not object would be wrong. i do think I'd be less anxious if, for example, I just paid these ridiculous tickets to my university, or just covered the entire cost of the burlesque class. But i don't believe that'd be fair, so i guess it comes down to what I value more.
So as I was driving to my dad's house tonight, because he insisted I shlep over there to celebrate my birthday because my younger bro had lots of homework and going out was out of the question and they'd be away over the week AND despite the fact that i told him I was exhausted, just out of my evening class and was more than 45 minutes away, I got stuck in traffic. i spent 30 minutes sitting on the highway, at the will of my ineffective GPS system before I just gave up. i called and cancelled, and on the way home, had a slightly hysterical crying fit in my car. On reflection it sounds mildly funny. I proceeded to cry while watching "What would you do?" on Dateline; teenage girls getting told-off by middle-aged women for picking on other chicks, friends reluctantly telling friends that they'd witnessed future spouses cheating, or just seeing other people on tv crying. Needless to say, emotions are a little high at the moment.
Oh, and my advisor, who I've e-mailed repeatedly to ask about satisfying my graduation requirements, continues to ignore me. In the end I just dropped the class I was asking her about, which met from 6:30-9 pm miles away from my home on a day when my first class meets at 10:30 AM, my second at 4:30. This may mean, or likely means, I'll have to take a replacement course over the summer. This is to fill an english requirement, mind you, that I tested out of. Apparently testing out counts for nothing as they just replaced the english requirement with a literature one, which means an additional two classes for me. I e-mailed my advisor my matriculation form, and no response. I also asked her about masters programs in our last meeting, to which she responded "you should look around and see if there are any programs you want to apply to." Thanks. Very helpful. Where would I be without your highly useful advice. 'Cause you know, I wouldn't have done that without you.
And a little disappointed that two friends from school, who i've made a concerted effort to get to know, did not show up for my birthday, though one of them said she would. And i gave a month's notice. Have i mentioned that flakiness is a pet-peeve of mine?
OH! And i almost forgot! On my birthday, I was awoken by a phone call from my credit card company, notifying me that there had been suspicious activity on my card. So i called in, and apparently, someone had used my card number to try and by gas, crap from Walmart, and something from somewhere called Terrible Herbs in Las Vegas and California... Because the charges would have put me over my credit limit, the company declined them, and for that reason only, they recognized that they were likely fraudulent. When I spoke to my credit card company on the phone, they were totally lackadaisical... "Oh, this happens all the time.. just shred the card and we'll send you a new one.. no idea how they got your number, maybe online... " WTF?! Um, hello, could you investigate this a little further, perhaps?! Now I have to worry if these people have access to any of my other info, as my credit card is linked to my checking. No anomolous activity there thus far, but who knows.. So i have that to look forward to..
And i've got a ridiculous amount of pending parking ticket disputes, two for a location which I actually checked with about with the police department BEFORE parking there. I know I was ticketed because a neighbor called the cops to ticket me. This guy had previously stuck notes to my windshield telling me he didn't want me parking there, dispite the fact I'd never been ticketed. And apparently, while they were ticketing me, the cops didn't notice the 18-wheeler this guy had parked overnight outside his house. But yeah, I found a parking statute prohibiting that, and called the cops on him, and they made him move the truck. I hope they gave him a massive ticket as well. And now, there are a bunch of cars parked outside his house where the truck used to be, so I hope he's annoyed daily by their presence.
On the upside, my financial situation should improve shortly, with an influx from my loan refund. My friends were also very generous in purchasing my jewelry, which i really appreciate and makes me hopeful for future events. I am looking forward to spring break, I just want to disappear. I wanted to go to Egypt, but I think I'm too frazzled to handle it, so I might go to New Orleans instead. i just need to get gone before I lose my mind.
I'm sure this has been depressing. Some of you may have checked out long ago because this is such a Debbie Downer post. I'm hoping putting it down on "paper" will make me feel better... Let's hope! The valium's kicking in so I'm gonna sign off now.. I hope you are all well. Talk soon!
D |
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| Bag Tag! |
[Jan. 18th, 2008|02:36 pm] |
Via Mellie,
This is my ginormous "purse." It's really a laptop bag I was given as a gift, but as my laptop weighs 600 pounds and was made in the 1800s, I have no intention of carrying it anywhere. So I carry all my crap in the bag instead.
Contents: a camera, an umbrella, two tubes of lipstick, a lip pencil, eyedrops, lip balm, black eyeliner, band-aids, pack of rolaid chews, bottle of ibuprofen, Purel, pad, squash ball, padlock, scrunchie, bottle of water, keys, checkbook, wallet, pack of gum, ipod, Swiss army knife, book of matches, 3 pens, sunblock, sunglasses, Special K bar, camera manual, compact, allergy meds, nasal spray, bag of splenda packs, pack of tissues.
And during the week I also carry a three-ring binder in it.
Yes I travel as though natural disaster is imminent. But I have at one time or another used every item in it. The bag has already fallen apart once and I've had to sew it back together. But I like that I can put 8.5" by 11" dimensioned things in it and they fit without being squashed. And I like that it has a leathery-smooth feel but is not leather, 'cause I try to avoid animal products. And it has a magnetic button thing that keeps it closed. But yeah. It's ginormous. |
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