Lately life is conspiring to make me feel jealous, insecure and sad about other matters. I'm not sure I can pinpoint things exactly, unless it's my period, but I'm confused and a bit uncertain.

I have three working days left until my vacation starts, and I fly out of here into the crazy crazy United States (dammit, why didn't I book on a Canadian airline?) to visit a friend of mine. I'm looking forward to it, but I'm also feeling a bit odd about it because I haven't spoken to him for any length of time since a bit before I booked the ticket.

Everything feels out of sorts right now, and I just don't know what I should be thinking or doing.

Ow.

Just because it's dumb and I have no brain meats to write anything intelligent (though I'm trying, oh I'm trying) (and many of these are pretty lame) (and don't stalk me):

1) YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: Sookie Armstrong
(first pet and current street)

2) YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: Hilda Chocolate
(grandfather/grandmother on your dad's side, your favorite candy)

3) YOUR "FLY GIRL/GUY" NAME: J Mar
(first initial of first name, first two or three letters of your middle name)

4) YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: Blue Cat
(favorite color, favorite animal)

5) YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: Marie Halifax
(middle name, city where you were born)

6) YOUR STAR WARS NAME: Powjecoott
(the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 2 letters of mom's maiden name and first 3 letters of the town you grew up in)

7) Terrorist Name: Eiram Yelnoc
(middle name spelled backwards, your mom's maiden name spelled backwards)

8) SUPERHERO NAME: The Blue Diet Pepsi
("The", your favorite color, favorite drink)

Also:
9) Porn star name: Sookie Sedgemore
(First pet, first street you lived on)

So, is what I'm thinking and feeling genuinely valid in and of itself, or is it just because there are other situations that are different?

*sigh* If only there were ways of melding every quality of every person in my life I like -- friends and non-friends alike -- to make a super-person, that would be awesome. Or awful. People are good with flaws.

It's been a very good socializing weekend. I spent some excellent, though limited, time with Ben the other night, and just came from a hang-out with Andrea, Stefan and Jordan in which much laughing and chatting took place. I really value my friends; I know some fantastic people that I really care about.

I also hung out with P (the Geek), and the Newf, and the Newf has passed along whatever most recent dread disease he suffered from. Yay, me. So I'm going to go to bed to try to sleep as much of it off as I can (I already slept for almost two hours earlier today, but I only got about 5 last night, so that could also be a contributing factor) and then hopefully get some writing done tomorrow before I meet up with everyone for Greg's birthday celebrations -- and some more good hanging out, I hope.

My coworker will kill me if I'm out this week from bronchitis or whatever dread disease I may have contracted. I'm hoping it'll just be a cold, but we'll see. The antibiotics were helping him (even though he didn't know what he had, just that he had antibiotics around that he took), so I may yet get to spend some time in a clinic or at my doctor's office, depending on how I feel in a day or two. *sigh* Just like in the fall, when I had the project due I kept putting off, now I'm sick again. My own damn fault, as usual. :P

I really like smelling like boy. It's a good smell, and it makes me smile.

Of course, it helps if said boy smells good, and especially if he smells good to me. Fortunately, I try to keep the number of bad-smelling boys around me to a minimum. Especially if there is to be hugging or cuddling going on.

Urgh. Much in my head right now, not enough time or brain space to write about it. Back later.

Reasons why I keep things to myself, #435:

When you tell people things, they learn about you. Then they can use this knowledge to their advantage. This can be very bad, and leads to them strutting around and having way too much fun at your expense.

Of course, some people don't see this as a bad thing (i.e., my friend who enjoys having his hair pulled, whose hair I pull on a semi-regular basis), and realistically it probably isn't, but damn if it isn't frustrating anyways.

Note to self: Visit local library to borrow books and pamphlets on how to put myself out there so I'll get some. Thanks for the tip, R. ;)

It's funny how writing something and posting it online can come back to bite you in the ass. Stupid me and my "why does it always have to be about sex?" whine.

Also, once again I have confirmed why it is that I don't always like to give people knowledge -- it means they can use it against me. Which means that telling someone they turn you on can be a source of ego/knowledge for them, and they can then use it against you -- and they can use it to strut around like a peacock. Grr.

I amuse myself in unusual ways. I finally took it upon myself to 'organize' all of the condoms floating about in my nighttable drawer. I took a green plastic box that a friend of mine gave me Christmas gifts in some years ago and emptied it out, then filled it with condoms and some individual packets of lube I had. I was actually disappointed with the fact that the box wasn't especially full. Granted, it's a large-ish box, but... Ah well, at least they're easily accessible now, and there's a variety!

Which reminds me, I apparently ... oh, no, I just moved them. Hah. I was wondering why I didn't have condoms in my usual pouch when I went looking for them earlier today. I forgot that I put them in a different pocket of my purse. Thinking out loud is fun!

*sigh* Why can't I get laid? Am I ugly? *pout*

Well, that conversation was just as easy as I thought it'd be. I ended things with C, the guy I started seeing after the Smooshy and I broke up. It was a very simple conversation, and I felt very relieved after I had it, but I also felt dumb for dreading it for so long. Ah well.

I've also had a series of frustrating and awkward conversations with someone else in my life. I think things are okay, but I'm concerned. I feel as though I've been here before, and it's not going to end well. How I feel about that is a bit surprising in a way -- the thought of things not ending well or of not working out upsets me a lot, and actually has brought me close to tears in discussing it, whether or not the other person realized it.

I managed to break my glasses yesterday and didn't go about getting them fixed, so I blame any typos on that.

I'm fucked for school.

If anyone needs to get a hold of me, I'll be over there kicking myself for the forseeable future.

That is all.

Right now, I want to slam someone up against a wall and wind up tearing up my bed, being crazy hardcore fucked. I don't know what the hell is going on, but it might be wiser if I stay in tonight, instead of socializing; who knows what might happen?!

Life would actually be *easier* if I could just date everyone all at once.

Why can't I? :(

Well, the epic post that's been almost three weeks in the making is finally up. Be warned: it's very personal. Those of you who've felt uncomfortable with past revelatory posts are going to feel very uncomfortable with this one (I'm assuming).

Anyhow, it's up at The Whore's Boudoir. Enjoy, and feel free to leave comments and/or debate, as always. :)

In lieu of a real update (it should be posted soon, I promise, though likely it'll show up at the WB), here are the results of my depression test:

Disorder	Your Score
Major Depression:	Very Slight
Dysthymia:	Very Slight
Bipolar Disorder:	Slight
Cyclothymia:	Slight
Seasonal Affective Disorder:	Slight-Moderate
Postpartum Depression:	N/A
Take the Depression Test

And some song lyrics that I keep hearing and somewhat like:

Hate me, Blue October

I have to block out thoughts of you, so I don't lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you, Will you never call again?
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face
And will you never try to reach me, it is I that wanted space

Hate me today.
Hate me tomorrow.
Hate me so you can find me see whats good for you.

I'm sober now for 3 whole months, it's one accomplishment that you helped me with.
The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing that I won't touch again.
In my sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight
You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate
You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take
So I'll drive so fucking far away that I'll never cross your mind
And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

Hate me today.
Hate me tomorrow.
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you.
Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow.
Hate me so you can finally see whats good for you.

And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave
Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I have made
And like a baby boy I never was a man
Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand
And then I fell down yelling "Make it go away!"
Just make her smile come back and shine just like it used to be
And then she whispered "How can you do this to me?"

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you
Hate me in ways, yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see whats good for you
...for you...for you...for you

Cute beluga whale baby. It's smiling!

A partial post from some time ago. It's partial, so be kind:

This summer, I will be turning 26. As with any age, some people are going to find that really old, and others are going to find it really young. Other peoples’ perceptions aren’t really that important to me in this regard.

What is important to me is how I feel about this age. I feel both very young and very old. Helpful, isn’t it? I’ve bemoaned many a time about how I felt I’d be at point Q by this age, when in reality I seem to be at point C. I’ve more or less come to grips with most of that; after all, there are people younger than me who are married and may or may not have kids, and there are people older than me who are still living at home or who really hate life. Each person’s path is their own, and within a certain circle of my personal judgement, there isn’t much I can or will say about that.

However, what’s really struck me the last little while is that each of us only has one life to live – at least, only one life of which we’re aware (the rest is another posting for later). As much as I’ve been mocked for it, I have said at times that when I die, I’m not going to wish I’d spent more time cleaning. And for at least one person I know of who’s going to judge me for that one, I’ve seen how you live, and you’re no better than I – and in some ways, you’re worse.

Life is too short to waste time on pursuits that you really hate. That involves doing a job that you detest, hanging out with people who don’t benefit you in some way, shape or form, or pursuing activities that ultimately don’t enhance you.

That sounds selfish, I know. Maybe I’m part of a selfish generation, I don’t know. But what exactly do I gain from hanging out with people who bother me, offend me, upset me, or otherwise don’t interest me? Why do that when I can spend time with my friends, who support me, encourage me, make me laugh, make me feel special, make me feel respected and loved? How about the friends that have gotten me through difficult times, who’ve listened to me rant and roar over and over again, and have just been there for me when I needed them?

Benefit is a selfish and maybe misleading way of describing it, but that’s ultimately what it boils down to. Maybe it sounds cold or whatnot, and maybe people think I’m not a good person for judging my friends or evaluating them in this manner, but I think it’s what a lot of us do – I’m just more willing than some to admit it.

Hell, I have heard and even used the term ‘cull the herd’ to refer to friends before. I’m obviously not unique in either this benefit theory, or the belief – that some people simply don’t seem to benefit the greater sum.

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Extreme
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	High
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Moderate
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Very High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

Why is it that when I'm wearing scents I like, like my perfume or body wash, I can't smell them even immediately after I put them on, but when I'm wearing a deodorant I don't like, it's all I can smell?

To buy:
Laundry detergent
Deodorant
White garbage bags
Pop
Toothbrush
Shaving cream
(Razor blades would've gone here, but someone bought them for me. Nice!)

To do:
Give OFK Pirates
Give prof Buffy season 1
Get paperwork from uni
READ LIKE A MOFO

That's what I remember for now. There'll be more to come.

Had the second awkward conversation. I think the gist of things got across; how it goes from here remains to be seen. Oddly enough, not sure how I feel about it as a conclusion. But at least things should carry on for awhile, which I feel very happy about.

Well, I was very pleased tonight to hear that I'm not the only one who suffers from lusty feelings towards exes. Granted, mine isn't as recent, but... damn.

Awhile ago, some friends and I were sitting around and talking relationships and marriage. One of the theories that had come up was that, in relationships that fail, or marriages that end in divorce, often the fault lies directly with one of the people involved. My friend believes that some people simply would not be happy with anyone – that somep eople simply aren’t marriage material.

I got a bit depressed, wondering if I might fit that description, and when I shared the pertinent parts of the story with another friend, he thought the exact same thing about himself.

So I wonder – am I not the marrying type, or have I just not met the right person yet? Is there one or two ‘perfect’ people for us?

On a related side-note, in a recent conversation with the Newf, he mentioned that the last few years of dating, one of the considerations he’s made in girls he dates is the question of whether or not she’s marriage material, and how that was a weird transition to make. I mentioned finding it weird when I started looking for a ring on the hand of the guys I check out. Though I didn’t specifically mention it, marriage-material is definitely one of the considerations in long-term prospects. Growing up sucks.

Studies have shown that the number one thing that brings people together is proximity. We’re much more likely to find someone we consider a great match in or near our own city, rather than anywhere else.

This makes sense, because after all, even with the Internet, it’s hard – though not impossible – to make a long distance romance work.

Of course, I might have the phrasing on that wrong – it might’ve been the biggest attraction/draw. It’s been awhile since it was told to me.

Anyhow – I’ve known couples who’ve made it through LDRs successfully, and I’ve known others (and been one) who haven’t (hasn’t). I don’t really have anything new to say on the subject.

Back to the original discussion: What makes someone marriage material? Is it simply a willingness to adapt and compromise with someone else? Is it the ability to let go of the little things and only fight over the major issues? Is it always standing by and supporting your partner? Is it something else?

Is it a trait that my friend and I are lacking? Or does this just sound like a pity post?

I sincerely doubt that my friend meant for his comment to apply to me, and I’m sure the thought wouldn’t have even crossed anyone else’s mind, but… is there some fundamental train in me that makes me incapable of being satisfied with any one person?

I explained – very briefly, no more than a sentence or two – one of the main reasons for me to have ended things with the Smooshy. Oddly enough, my voice was breaking as I did so – though I sincerely doubt anyone but me noticed. It felt as though my comment was glossed over, too, but in some ways, it was that kind of a conversational evening – we all had a lot to say, and there weren’t any breaks in the conversation.

No answers – only questions.

I am somewhat looking forward to having a baby or twelve and getting to raise them as I see fit. But I don’t feel as though I would be any less of a person if I never did. Nothing against those who choose to procreate, but, well – any idiot can make a baby. It takes a good person or pair of people to be good parents. I know a handful of people who will be, though, so I’m not concerned about them.

I was saying to a few people that afternoon that I figure if there are to be wee ones in my future, that I’ll probably be single-parenting them. No one rebuffed that, so the (huge) insecure part of me wonders if they see the same unmarriageable part of me.

But despite all of this self-pity, I don’t believe that I’m unlovable, or unlikely to be married forever, or… I fear it, though. It’s not that I’m afraid to be alone – I love living by myself, and I love having a schedule untied to anyone else’s, but at the same time, I don’t want to be single forever.

I think I’m fairly lucky. Very recently, my life has taken some interesting turns that have brought some pretty awesome people into it. I’m also constantly reminded about how great my friends are, and how sometimes just how far a small amount of support can go. I don’t need someone to fawn all over me and tell me how wonderful I am all the time; sometimes a simple, “Stop doing this to yourself. You don’t deserve it,” is all that’s needed.

Maybe it’s due to going off the pill, maybe it’s due to the people around me, I don’t know, but for once in my life, I feel genuinely desired from many sides. My self-esteem feels good, and although there are still changes I’d love to make to my physique, I don’t feel as though I have to make them or no one will ever find me desirable. On the contrary, I’m lucky enough right now to have several people around telling me just how desirable I am. And of those, the ones who are able want to be with me for me – they want relationships with me, not just to see me naked once or twice. It’s a very affirming feeling.

It's fun how I can complicate my life in just a few small steps.

I think if I wanted to, I could be back in a Smooshy-type relationship very quickly. Well, it's not fair to call it Smooshy-like, but it definitely has elements of that that make me a bit nervous.

But at least he has a bit of accent, which is pretty hot.

Also, guys who sing... *so* hot.

Oh, who am I kidding? Right now I think almost everyone around me is hot. Time again for curiousity-answering smoochies for everyone!

Good lord, libido, rein it in a little! It's one thing to spend the day horny, but seriously now -- not everyone around you is for the kissings!

Although I did seem to get some eyeing at the gym, which is a new experience. Maybe they were just marvelling at my wearing a purple tank top with red hair.

The question that'll likely never get answered:

Do you really mean it, or did you just say it because you suspect or know that I read?

Pretty kinky! Grats! You're 77% kinky!

You kinkscore is pretty high. Most likely you're up for trying anything at least once, which show open-mindedness. You're probably a great lay, so just keep doing that thing you do!

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 85% on kinkpoints

Link: The Kinkyness Test written by nilnisicruce on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

Dear Libido,

You win. I surrender. I give up. I can't figure out what you want anymore.

Apparently lately all it takes to pique your interest is someone paying a bit of attention to the person in which you're housed; you've gone from lusting after essentially no one to one, two, three, four people? Maybe more? I'm not sure I know what to do with you.

Maybe you just need to get laid.

Let's see, a few thoughts from tonight:

"Careful, there are nipples in there!"

Pulling hair is fun.

"I've just never had so many married men interested in me!"

I feel self-conscious when the attention is focused on me. Must work on this.

Turtlenecks up to my chin for days.

People like when you make noise. Must work on this, too.

I need to figure out my sexuality or its quirks and oddities. Work on being more comfortable with myself, for sure.

Why is it acceptable for guys to be quiet in the bedroom, but it's such a major disappointment when girls are?

Need to work on finding someone kinky.

Need to figure out what to make at the next leatherworking night -- or at least, how to put my thoughts into a real piece (waist restraints, with possible separate piece for attaching to collar, in case I forget).

It's good to learn other peoples' boundaries, or lack thereof. It's also good to learn the boundaries or lack thereof of the spouses.

Moment of weakness: I miss the Smooshy.

Moment of strength: I think I'm regaining some male attention, which is nice. Not sure what's going on with one of those males, but... stop overthinking and overplanning everything.

Hahaha. As if that's possible.

Kissing is good (I miss you, too). Especially (in some ways) when it's in the dark, on the rain-soaked street at odd hours of the morning.

Does this make sense to anyone but me?

I'm horny, and going to bed. Alone. Oh well.

P.S. I haven't had a drop of booze to drink in several days. I'm just that tired and/or bemused by the evening.

A sign I might actually be smart? I can understand sentences such as this:

"Groups which can be recognized as having a culturally validated but subordinated identity, such as the young, blacks, women, rock-music fans, etc., will receive a greater or lesser amoutn of coverage according to their approximation to the mythology of the bourgeois."

Maybe it's just the use of the term bourgeois; it makes me feel all hoity-toity.

Awesome . Thanks Shawn.

I went out for a late-night drink with Ben last night. At the place we went to ("The Winchester"!?) there happened to be a table of drunken teenage couples (four kids in all) next to us. They were being dumb, and Ben and I were quietly mocking them. At one point, the drunker guy stood up and lifted up his shirt to show off his abs. I started laughing, and then told Ben, in French, what was going on. I don't normally use French as a 'secret' language, because I assume that everyone around me is bilingual, but it was fun to do at the time.

Over the course of the evening, we mocked the kids with our waitstaff, and the waitress who had intially served both of our tables grumbled something about how they'd only tipped her $0.75. Now, these kids had between them, a pitcher of beer, a pop, and a martini -- and martinis at this place are $6 or $8.

We finished our food and drinks, and got up to go. The kids had been up and down and wandering around and talking to people they knew on the sidewalk (since we were out on the patio, and there's a pedestrian walkway right beside us), and we figured they were wrapping up for the night. As we're leaving, drunken ab boy gets up into my face and lifts up his shirt again. I very calmly told him, "No thanks, I saw the show before, and I've seen better." He and his friends started getting all "ooh" about that, and someone said something about the "seen better" comment, and I said, "Yes, frequently," and off we went to drop in on Markuk's going away party.

If only the story ended here.

Ben and I decide to hop on a transitway bus, because the others that will get us home aren't likely running anymore (this is right around 1 a.m. -- we got started late). So we walk through the mall and out onto the bridge... when I remember the thought I'd had at our previous location: because it's now 1 (or close to), all the transitway buses are running where we were originally standing. So we either walk down to the university, walk up a ways to where the routes once again converge, or walk back to where we started.

I'm whiny (okay, I wasn't actually being whiny) and was wearing not-great shoes, so we ended up heading towards the university -- in time to see the one bus that will suit Ben pass by, towards the next stop (which was our original location). I mention that another bus that will work for him should be by any moment (same route, just different end points). We see a bus at the lights, and it's actually the same route as the one that just passed by. When we board, the bus driver says he's late, so he's not going to be following the usual route for the bus (I'm thinking he thought we might have wanted the bars or something), and we tell we're fine with that, and we're glad not to be riding with the drunks (usually more of an issue on the 1:30/2:00/2:30 routes, as the bars empty).

The bus picks up some people at the mall who hadn't gotten the memo about the late-hour route changes (something that's been in effect for a few years), and we realize that Drunky McAberson and his loud-mouthed girlfriend (she was the louder of the two) was on the bus with us. Fortunately, they didn't see us.

There also happens to be a girl on the bus wearing a neat hat. Ben tries to compliment her on it, but she doesn't see his thumbs-up. My stop approaches and Ben and I play a quick games of "things I won't be putting in a smoothie when I get home," and I get off the bus with the girl.

I compliment her hat, we agree that we prefer to (illegally) cross the bridge instead of taking the underpath (yes, that was deliberate), which is surrounded by blackness at night, and we end up chatting until we have to head in different directions for residences. I tell her about our drunken friends -- she asked if they were the ones making out on the bus. I say most likely.

I also called Ben to tell him I'd passed along his compliment... and I said I'd given her his name and phone number. She was cute! :)

Anyhow, time to grab some breakfast, toss the kitties outside, and hit the books. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to help out on the move, 'cause I have some serious studying to do. *sigh* I hate my procrastinating self... although I am almost done two different books. (Thena just put her paws on the keyboard and managed to hit my caps-lock key. Kitty wants to learn to type!)

Life is strange. I wound up sharing something last night with the guy I've been seeing for a few short weeks that I never told my ex- of about 10 months. Of course, he shared something with me first, which led to my revelation, but... it was still interesting.

I finally managed to get my pictures from my computer to my picture site. This has been a major endeavour, sadly enough.

Anyhow, there are only two, 'cause I wasn't worried too much about taking tonnes of pictures, but they can be found here and here.

As you can see, I had red hair and a double chin for the wedding. Also, while the bride was having a bunch of pictures done, I wound up as possessor of her flowers. Someone insisted on taking my picture at that moment, so now I look like a goon. :)

Weird head space the last few days. For now I’m going to blame it on PMS, but I think it’s too early for even that.

I feel as though I’m being ostracized by some people because of ending things with the Smooshy. I suppose I can’t blame the folks involved, ‘cause at least one of them is his friend and roommate first, and an acquaintance of mine second, but at the same time… urgh. It’s frustrating, ‘cause while yes, I ended things, and yes, that makes me the bad guy, I did have my reasons for it. The Smooshy has more or less said on many occasions that he agreed with my reasons for ending things, and has acknowledged that we’re not happy together, but…

Breakups suck, and they can really only be understood by the people involved in them. I’ve tried to keep my relationship with the Smooshy out of my friendships with other people, my friends included, because I don’t think it’s fair to put innocent bystanders in the middle of a relationship. The UBFM did that to someone who used to be a friend of mine, a long time ago, and it ruined the friendship between that person and me. I did it to Jay, when I was dating ex-boyfriend J, and it was unfair of me, and I’ve decided not to do it since.

Granted, I do talk to one or two friends about my relationship situations, since everyone needs a confidante, but I don’t do it that often. And the people I confide in are actually quite open-minded and able to see both sides of the equation – they’re likely much more open-minded than I, even if I can see both sides of things more often than I’d like to. It makes debating difficult sometimes.

I guess I have some guilt and some paranoia going on… I tend to do a lot of self-flagellation and guilt-amassing whenever I end a relationship, probably because I feel it’s expected, or because I’m being a bad person, so I have to compensate somehow. I don’t make sense of it, I just go through it.

And yes, for those who want to cast stones, I started seeing someone after the Smooshy and I broke up. *gasp* *shock* *horror* I know. That wasn’t the reason for the breakup, it just worked out that way.

So yes, go ahead and judge me. I judge me for it sometimes, it’s true. But right now I’m not dating this person for a hearts-and-flowers-forever kind of relationship. It’s light, and it’s comfortable, and it’s just less complicated and difficult than things became with the Smooshy, and that’s what I need right now.

Mind you, it seems the Smooshy is recovering okay, as he's rejigged his profile, possibly put another up somewhere else, and has had a date already.

Of course, I have all kinds of interesting paranoia and weirdness going on around that, but it’s fairly self-inflicted, I think. Either that, or my radar is going off as it did in past relationships… but if that’s the case, I’ll be okay. A little disappointed, but I’ll be fine.

Feelings are frustrating. I don't even know how to begin detailing just what it is I'm thinking and feeling right now. I want contact, but...

I had a dream the other night that was incredibly involved and detailed, and I think it would make an excellent sci fi story... I just need to figure out how to explain a few things in it. I also need to remember elements of it; it was very vivid when I first woke up, but less so later on.

The kitties were annoying last night. I dreamt I'd changed Venus' name, and then forgotten I'd changed it. I remembered at some point when I was at home, and thought, 'This is going to be confusing when I take her to the vet, and they call her (alternate name) and I call her Venus... especially after I called them to say I'd changed the name.'

I made cupcakes for my coworker's birthday, which was actually on Friday. I've discovered that Duncan Hines butter cream frosting is fucking crack cocaine, so if you see me next week and I've gained 2000lbs, you'll know why.

Time to shower; I'm feeling grody.

It’s official; I have to lose weight.

Everyone hush for a minute. In the last few months – since the end of my last class, in April – I’ve had three different people ask me if I was pregnant.

First: A classmate asked me, because the shirt I was wearing was one that early-stage pregnant ladies could wear.

Second: N’s friend K congratulated me on my pregnancy at her wedding. Okay, this is more mistaken identity than anything, but…

Third: Today one of the ladies in HR asked if I was the one who was pregnant. I said there were a few people on my floor who were, but that if I was, it was a surprise to me. She said she’d heard that I was pregnant.

Okay, so two of these are cases of mistaken identity, but it’s enough to give a girl a complex.

A collection of thoughts, mostly self-absorbed ones, that span the last few weeks. Welcome to a brain dump:


I have problems with emotions. I don’t know how it started, or when; I can point to instances in my childhood, but I can’t necessarily assign them blame. I’m just as I am, I guess.

I have difficulties telling people I love them. I’m not sure I’ve ever told my parents that I love them, and I don’t remember when they last told me the same. I’m not complaining or offering excuses; merely explanations at best.

How or even whether this has affected past and present relationships isn’t entirely clear, although it has led to my being called cold on two occasions – that I was present for. People are so kind.

Nonetheless, I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again; I do have feelings. For the record, there is nothing in my life that is triggering this post, aside from a wandering mind and possibly too much time to think.

I started this with the intention of crafting a love letter, of sorts. Once upon a time, I was in a relationship. It became more than it was originally meant to, and eventually it ended. Not very well, but then again, these things rarely do.

I didn’t do a very good job showing this person that I cared about him; in fact, I think it very likely that I took him for granted.

Hindsight is 20/20, isn’t it? I’d like to believe that I’ve grown, that I’ve matured, but I find that unlikely. Maybe I have; I haven’t taken advantage of some opportunities presented to me… though I’ll admit to flirting once or twice, ‘cause I like it.

It’s interesting learning the perspectives of you that your friends have. I told a friend that I was out of the practice of flirting, and wanted to get back to it, ‘cause I missed it. I mentioned I’d been slowly getting back into it, and he said he’d noticed. He said when the Smooshy and I were getting more serious, I’d eased off, but it had picked up again in the last few months – a description supported by another friend. Even my trainer mentioned that I’ve been down the last while, and am now back to myself and more upbeat. As she said, I match my hair – which is now (and has been for about a month) red again, for those who are interested.

Wow, have I ever ventured off-course. This was meant to be a letter of praise, admiration, and even love for someone from my past (who’s unlikely to even read it), and look where it’s gone.

Well, since I’m already off-track, welcome back libido. I’ve missed you. Granted, this may not have been the most opportune time, but here we are.

People who express self-confidence are unusual to me. I’m not sure if it’s because few of my friends express their self-confidence in the same way, or if all the self-deprecating humour that I hear and make has coloured me, but… mind you, I think it’s the nature of our culture and society. We have a very difficult time with confident people.

I encountered it when I told the Smooshy I was a good writer. It’s not necessarily a sign of my ego – simply a result of years of compliments and a gradual acceptance. I feel I write well, but it’s hard for other people to hear me say that. I’m sure there are those who don’t believe it, too – which is fine. Writing is subjective, and I enjoy doing it for me. And you. :)

My mom told me the other day that I always jump into everything with both feet. I find that odd to reconcile with my image of myself as shy, timid, chickenshit… I’ve always felt that I’m terrible at making first moves, but maybe it’s time to let that belief go. Maybe I’m not. But I do know that I like to be pursued, and I’m fairly sure it’s because I hate the vulnerable/out-of-control feeling that comes from being the leader. Maybe I do get too emotionally involved too quickly… I guess I can consider myself lucky that no one picks up on it, given the number of people who’ve told me I’m hard to read, right?

And yet… apparently I also broadcast certain thoughts/feelings. Or maybe I’ve just met someone who can read me; which is a scary idea, regardless of who he or she might be – I like having secrets and, more importantly, privacy – says she who (semi-) regularly spills her guts on this blog.

I frequently mentally choreograph strip dances to music I hear, but I’ve never done a strip tease for anyone. I’d like to, but it would have to be for someone who finds me – and the idea of me stripping – really fucking hot. All or nothing, baby.

I’m trying to re-sexualize my bedroom, and on a greater scale, my life. I’ve gone off the pill, which seems to be helping with whatever depression/no sex drive issues I was having. I tidied up my bedroom yesterday – or least, did away with all the laundry – and I’m on the hunt for new bedsheets. I’m on my way to being a reformed nailbiter – I haven’t done it, nor had the urge to do it, since removing my fake nails. Maybe discovering people who really enjoy being scratched (I’m looking at you, R!) is helping that.

I also want to make more of an effort to buy more flattering and/or fitted clothes. I still have a lot of pieces that are great for hiding in, but aren’t especially becoming or trendy/grownup.

I’ve always found certain clothing, jewelry or body parts sexier than others. The nape of the neck, at least on a woman, is sexy to me; on a guy, I like the abs and the treasure trail, where applicable (some guys have a treasure forest). Running your fingers just under the waistband of a guy’s underwear? Sexy. Having someone trail their finger down my neck, or bite/scrape their teeth where my neck starts to meet my shoulder? Sexy. I had one long-ago boyfriend (the First Big Love) who would run his tongue up the back of my neck – very sexy.

Buttons are sexy. Having someone undo the buttons on your shirt, one at a time is a turn on – and much easier and arguably more convenient than pulling your shirt over your head. It’s a bit classier than having someone reach down your neckline to try to access your breasts, too. Remember – those things are attached.

I also think chokers and ankle bracelets are sexy. For the first, well, see above; for the second, I’m not sure why. Maybe because ankles so rarely get attention, and feeling an anklet there is a gently sensual experience, I don’t know – but they work best on bare legs. Under or over pantyhose just isn’t the same.

Being pinned up against a wall, especially with hands over the head, is also sexy. As is bondage and blindfolds, but I’ll talk about that some other time.

I was out this weekend at a friend’s place for a birthday party, and I was admiring my girlfriend’s daughter’s eyes; they’re a beautiful sold blue colour, with no other colours visible. My girlfriend and the birthday boy then started commenting on my eyes, saying how I had a gold circle around my pupil, and how cool that was. I’ve actually usually wished I didn’t I didn’t have that, as I find it takes away from the solid blue I think is nicer. At the same time, I don’t usually notice it, and I think it tends to disappear later at night, when my eyes are prone to lightening.

I had a friend say recently that I seem angry at myself. I’m not sure what to make of that, exactly.

I woke up this morning from a relatively long dream involving my First True Love. I ran into him in my old neighbourhood, where both of our parents still live, and he was with his folks when I saw him. He had also done some kind of pseudo-mo/fauxhawk with his curly black hair and dyed it yellow blonde, which wasn't exactly the best look for him.

We ended up back at his place, in the basement, where much of our shenanigans used to take place, and while he was teasing me, before his mom came down to watch television and interrupt our mischief, he mentioned something about how I was the girl with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

Odd dream, especially since I haven't seen him since OFK and I went to Toronto, and I don't think I've even spoken to him since then, either.

The (ex-?)Smooshy has started up a blog, and he passed along the address to me a few days ago. I've added it to my daily rotation, and he seems to be one of the only ones in there that updates regularly -- again, not that I'm allowed to say anything. I was speaking with him briefly yesterday, 'cause he needed some files off my computer, and he mentioned being hungover from a party the night before. His blog also mentions the party, and mentions meeting a girl at said party -- which doesn't surprise me much.

I know that I ended things, and I have a whole bunch of good reasons as to why, but that doesn't mean that I'm at the point of being totally fine with the idea of him with others. I think he might've been trying to get back in the habit of talking to girls before we broke up; I don't think he cheated on me, but I think maybe he was getting some comfort from chatting with girls that he used to flirt with, or something similar. A pre-ego sop, if you will.

I know he put it up there, knowing I'd read it, just as I write this, knowing he'll read it at some point or another. As I've vented about many times in the past, I really need to stop giving this URL out to people that I get involved with; it means that I have to keep censoring myself, both during and after the relationship. :)

Is it possible for someone to be the love of your life if there are others in your past you'd get back with in a heartbeat? Or does that second identifier only matter in that you'd only get back with the others if things with the current aren't ongoing? Never mind, short of explaining it all out, it isn't going to make sense.

Past time to get ready for work... and figure out how I'm going to fit in the schoolwork that I didn't do all weekend. But at least I got some cleaning done.

Sometimes I think I enjoy being a bitch a bit too much... (and yes, I'm being a double bitch by leaving the email address in... what can I say? Spam bots, rejoice!)

benderfresh@hotmail.com says:
hey there... how's it going ?
did You have a nice weekend ?
Aphrodite says:
not bad, you?
benderfresh@hotmail.com says:
not too bad at all...
benderfresh@hotmail.com says:
went to 2 birthday parties
Aphrodite says:
cool
benderfresh@hotmail.com says:
so i'm a little slow today
benderfresh@hotmail.com says:
...almost in a suggestive state of mind

Aphrodite says:
How nice for you, I'm sure
bender says:
lol, thanks...
go ahead... try me out
bender says:
lol
Aphrodite says:
Oh, you wouldn't like any of my suggestions
bender says:
no? why not ?
Aphrodite says:
I don't think you're adventurous enough for them
bender says:
no?
bender says:
please try me out
bender says:

bender says:
no need to be shy
Aphrodite says:
Okay, well, just remember.. you asked
bender says:
yes Ma'am...
Aphrodite says:
Well, first, I want you to take the biggest flashlight you can find, and shove it up your ass. Then, I want you to fuck off and stop trying to get me to talk dirty to you -- I never have, I never will, and since I don't know you from a hole in the wall, I have absolutely no interest in ever doing it.
Aphrodite says:
Then, have a nice night.
bender says:
hmmmm... sorry about that
bender says:
i hope i didn't offend You
Aphrodite says:
You might have noticed -- this is MSN, not a XXX chatroom. Try frequenting the proper channels for shit like this, not harrassing strangers on your MSN list that you don't talk with unless you're feeling 'suggestive'
bender says:
sorry again
Aphrodite says:
You'd better hurry -- wouldn't want your mood to wear off.
bender says:
yes Ma'am, thank You, and i am sorry
Aphrodite says:
Stop calling me ma'am; I'm hardly old enough to warrant it, and I'm not playing along with your dominatrix game.
bender says:
okay...

All right, so I'm media-savvy and all, and I know it's a total PR ploy, but I have to admit, I like it:

PM fosters pets (in this case, dark tabby kittens! I love dark tabby cats).

I'm still waiting to see how you do as a PM, Stephen Harper, and we may disagree on some stances involving women (though again, that remains to be seen how it influences your politics), but I'm giving you and your wife some bonus points as people. I would totally be PM if I could bring kittens to my office -- 'cause you know that's the only thing keeping me out of politics.

Okay, judgement time. I need peoples' opinions on a scenario. Totally made up, of course. Call it a writing exercise.

Scenario:
You meet someone close in age to you. In conversation, the question of where you each attended high school comes up. It turns out that he attended the same arts school as someone close to you. Later, you happen to be hanging out with said close person, so you ask them to get out their high school yearbook in order to look up said person.

Nothing more is done about this, except for possible teasing about said picture later.

Question:
Crazy stalker behaviour, or normal/excusable curiousity?

Judge away.

More life updates later, including the one in which I describe the final days of the Jen-Smooshy saga.

In lieu of a proper update (I think the writer's block is finally ending, though), I present some poetry. See if you can come up with the author:

I sat next to the Duchess at tea;
It was not as I thought it would be.
Her rumbling abdominal was simply quite phenomenal,
And everyone thought it was me!

Yes, this is stuck in my head, whereas I can't get work or school subjects to stay. I think I need to go back to kindergarten. :\

I'm in love, and I expect we're going to be very happy together:

Complement of the season my Dear !!!!!!!!!!!!
My name is Miss Helen Karar 22 years old girl , I saw your profile
today at http://www.vienna.cc and was moved and become interested in you, I
will like you to send me email to this my private mailbox giving me
details about you with your full contact means so that i can give/send you
my pictures for you to know whom i am.Here is the addrees
(helenkarar1@yahoo.co.uk)
I believed we can move from here in relationship !!!!!!!!!
Remember colour or distance does not matter but LOVE matters alot in
life .
My love feelings is already high for you .

Pls. Reply me back at helenkarar1@yahoo.co.uk

Kindest Yours and remain bless,

Miss.. Helen Karar.

Well, I'm getting more confidence -- and maybe improving -- in French, and I'm going to tentatively blame the Smooshy's French roommate. We work at the same agency (though in vastly different fields), and through him I met another lady (who actually used to date a friend of Stefan's... as I always say, small world). I started imposing on their lunchtimes, and Smooshy French Roommate (SFR) was helping said friend practice her French in order to improve for her pending test. I gamely joined in (as I need to work on improving mine as well).

The first day this happened, not a half-hour after lunch, I took a French media call and handled it fairly well, all things considered. Since then, there have been a number of French media calls, and barring one incident (where I asked my Francophone manager to handle an interview that I thought was going to vastly exceed my limited French scientific repertoire -- especially given that the information I had been provided with was in English, which adds another problem), I've done fairly well.

This all seemed to have come to a head when yesterday, I was leaving the building fairly late (for me), with my helmet in hand, and leather jacket and backpack on, heading for the parking lot. A gentleman I'd shared the elevator with part-way (but don't recall having met previously), addressed me in French. We had a conversation about bikes and related issues for the few minutes' walk to the parking lot, and I did quite well -- and he never dropped into English, so I guess I didn't struggle or cause him any pain avec mes anglicismes.

Next I'll start speaking to the Bens in French, since they're both better than me at the language. :) Anyone else want to participate? I need to practice written French, too -- feel free to email me at work or at home in French, and I'll do my best to reply in kind. ;)

Also, personal life update pending.

The kitties say hi.

Weekend update pending, but in the meantime -- anyone interested in going salsa dancing with me Thursday night? It includes a free lesson.

I'm tired. My stomach doesn't feel good. I'm bored. I'm stressed. I don't want to be here. I don't know what's going on. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know what I want to happen. I feel numb. I feel confused. I feel ... confused.

I read once that always wanting to sleep when something bad is going on is a sign of depression (paraphrasing). Last night, today... I want to go to sleep. I also want to get together with people and discuss, but the two people who come to mind first have other things going on tonight, and tomorrow is right out.

It's somewhat ironic that, by keeping some things inside so as not to needlessly hurt someone, you a) get accused of/thought of as having no feelings, and b) sometimes wind up hurting them more. You think I might've learned this lesson already, but no, I keep hoping that one day, it'll be for the better.

Well, there are a few things I've kept to myself that have protected people, for lack of a better word, but...

I want to go to bed.

?

A few things to remember:

Scrubs season 3 is out on DVD tomorrow. I completely wasn't paying attention to this, although I thought about it recently.

I need to pay my phone bill.

I would love some real time off.

I have to figure out what colour I want to dye my hair on Thursday. Go back to red? Put more thought into this.

Find time to write. There are some ideas percolating in there, they just need an outlet.

The end of the gift is in sight. Of course, getting my nails done put a real crimper on my rate of progress. :P

Get back to the gym!

You're not as awful as you think you are.

I'm sure there's more, but if I want to be even remotely close to on time, I'd better get moving.

Rargh.

1. Restless tonight/'Cause I've wasted the light
Finger Eleven, One Thing
2. She likes to read/I like tv
Guttermouth, She’s got the look
3. This is how we do it/When we do it/Like we just wanna tear the club up
50 Cent, Have a party
4. I rode my bicycle past your window last night/I rollerskated to your door at daylight
Melanie, Brand New Key
5. Softly now/You owe it to the world/And everyone knows that you're my favourite girl
Francis Dunnery, Good Life
6. Hanging out behind the club on the weekend/Acting stupid, getting drunk with my best friends
Blink 182, Rock Show
7. Tear the roof off/We're gonna tear the roof off the mother sucker
Parliament Funkadelic, We want the funk
8. I'm a girl and by me that's only great/I am proud that my silhouette is curvy
Flower Drum Song soundtrack, I enjoy being a girl
9. Eyes boring away to me/Paralyse/Controlling completely
This Fire, Franz Ferdinand
10. I can't get to sleep/I think about the implications
Colin Hay, Overkill
11. A little sexual frustration/Combined with lack of motivation
Prozzak, Strange Disease
12. You know I used to be a bad girl/I got busy in the bathroom at my high-school prom
Everclear, Volvo-driving soccer mom
13. (First 'sung' lyrics): Me and Fast got the gats/We're out to rob a bank/We got Steve outside carrying a full pack.
Fun-loving criminals, Scooby Snacks
14. (First sung lyrics): Try to OD on the Cold-Eeze/One girl's got me sweating to the oldies
Bloodhound Gang, Mope
15. I wish you could meet my girlfriend/My girlfriend who lives in Canada
Avenue Q soundtrack, My girlfriend (Who lives in Canada)
16. When your baby/Leaves you all alone/And nobody/Calls you on the phone
Solomon Burke, Cry to me
17. (First sung lyrics): That ain't five-oh/That's the funk-yo
Black Eyed Peas, The Boogie hat Be
18. Getadelt wird wer Schmerzen kennt (major points for this one)
Rammstein, Feuer Frei
19. Yeah! Inter-national, underground/Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground
Outkast, Bombs over Baghdad
20. When you were here before/Couldn't look you in the eyes
Radiohead, Creep
21. Swollen Members gunna make us stop/Take a minute and remember who takes the top
Swollen Members, Fuel injected
22. (First sung lyrics): Well woman the way the time cold I wanna be keepin' you warm
Sean Paul, Temperature
23. Here me now/Oh thou bleak and unbearable world/Thou art based and debauched as can be
Man of La Mancha soundtrack, I, Don Quixote
24. I'm not feeling alright today/I'm not feeling that great/I'm not catching on fire today
Cake, Sheep go to Heaven
25. So if you're lonely/You know I'm here waiting for you
Franz Ferdinand, Take me out
26. Although my lover lives/In a place that I can't live/I kind of find/I like a life this lonely
Franz Ferdinand, Come on home
27. (First sung lyrics): There she goes shaking that ass on the floor/Bumpin' and grindin' that pole
Eminem, Shake That
28. Nobody rocks 'em up like Dujour/Dujour/Ride on your motorbike with Dujour
Josie and the Pussycats soundtrack, Dujour
29. His bed is on fire with passionate love/The neighbours complain about the noises above
Matt Nathanson (one of many covers), Laid
30. You don't have a clue/What it is like to be next to you/I'm here to tell you/That it is good
Eels, Fresh Feeling
And a bonus...
31. (It came up twice, it can't be denied): The sun'll come up tomorrow/bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there'll be sun
Annie Soundtrack, Tomorrow

1. I'm not dead yet.
2. I would have sworn yesterday was Friday; it's been that long of a week already.
3. I made it to the gym and worked out on my own on Monday, *and* did a (not challenging) pilates class.
4. I'm very tired.
5. As a result, I have underlying cranky issues. But I'm keeping them to myself.
6. Would it be wrong of me to sign my name in bold in emails to emphasize to people that I use Jen and not Jennifer? Urgh.
7. See above re: cranky.
8. Need time off. Argh.
9. Answers to songs pending.

What can I say? I'm bored:

Blame Shawnathan for this one.

Here is how it works:

I put my MP3 player of choice on random, and post the opening line(s) from the first thirty songs that pop up, out of my entire music library, no matter how embarrassing.

You guys get to guess the artist/song -- without cheating (using Google, for example). I'mma bold songs and write down who got what right as people go along.

Additional note: There's some random shit in here, 'cause I'm like that. I did remove one or two that were complete give-aways (i.e., the song title was the first sung part). It'll be interesting to see how much of this peoples actually get. :) Some food prize to whoever gets the most!

1. Restless tonight/'Cause I've wasted the light
2. She likes to read/I like tv
3. This is how we do it/When we do it/Like we just wanna tear the club up
4. I rode my bicycle past your window last night/I rollerskated to your door at daylight
5. Softly now/You owe it to the world/And everyone knows that you're my favourite girl
6. Hanging out behind the club on the weekend/Acting stupid, getting drunk with my best friends
7. Tear the roof off/We're gonna tear the roof off the mother sucker
8. I'm a girl and by me that's only great/I am proud that my silhouette is curvy
9. Eyes boring away to me/Paralyse/Controlling completely
10. I can't get to sleep/I think about the implications
11. A little sexual frustration/Combined with lack of motivation
12. You know I used to be a bad girl/I got busy in the bathroom at my high-school prom
13. (First 'sung' lyrics): Me and Fast got the gats/We're out to rob a bank/We got Steve outside carrying a full pack.
14. (First sung lyrics): Try to OD on the Cold-Eeze/One girl's got me sweating to the oldies
15. I wish you could meet my girlfriend/My girlfriend who lives in Canada
16. When your baby/Leaves you all alone/And nobody/Calls you on the phone
17. (First sung lyrics): That ain't five-oh/That's the funk-yo
18. Getadelt wird wer Schmerzen kennt (major points for this one)
19. Yeah! Inter-national, underground/Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground
20. When you were here before/Couldn't look you in the eyes
21. Swollen Members gunna make us stop/Take a minute and remember who takes the top
22. (First sung lyrics): Well woman the way the time cold I wanna be keepin' you warm
23. Here me now/Oh thou bleak and unbearable world/Thou art based and debauched as can be
24. I'm not feeling alright today/I'm not feeling that great/I'm not catching on fire today
25. So if you're lonely/You know I'm here waiting for you
26. Although my lover lives/In a place that I can't live/I kind of find/I like a life this lonely
27. (First sung lyrics): There she goes shaking that ass on the floor/Bumpin' and grindin' that pole
28. Nobody rocks 'em up like Dujour/Dujour/Ride on your motorbike with Dujour
29. His bed is on fire with passionate love/The neighbours complain about the noises above
30. You don't have a clue/What it is like to be next to you/I'm here to tell you/That it is good

And a bonus...
31. (It came up twice, it can't be denied): The sun'll come up tomorrow/bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there'll be sun

I want to write, but I lack in original ideas/storylines. Anyone have any suggestions?

Dear world,

Just because they're not obvious to you, it does not mean that I don't have feelings. I really, really do, I promise. Maybe I am, as you claim, hard to read; maybe you're just not very good at it. I don't know. But I assure you, I have feelings. In fact, sometimes it feels like I have too many feelings, and not enough space or rationality for them.

I'm just... I'm very tired of people assuming that I don't get hurt, or feel, or even notice their words. I do. Hell, I know some people who think I'm too sensitive -- so I guess I just can't win.

Yes, I'm independent. Yes, I believe that it's better and healthier to want someone around, but not to need them. I've had relationships and I've had failed relationships; I've been attached and I've been single. I've done great in both situations. I know I would continue to do great in either situation. I'm not afraid to be single, and I'm not afraid to be in a relationship.

What I'd like to know is how to know you're with the right person. How do you know what sacrifices you're willing to make, or what compromises you're willing to accept in order to create a future with someone. What parts of myself should I change in order to accomodate someone else? Or do I change nothing, and insist that someone take me as I am? What if I'm trying to change small details of them -- is it still fair of me to remain fundamentally as I am?

Well, I think the answer to that last part is yes. The fundamental parts of someone are, ultimately, unchangeable. But surface things... they aren't so awful to change. If one or more of my piercings bothered someone, I could conceivably remove them; they aren't a deep-down part of who I am. But if my lack of religious conviction, or my chosen hobbies, or semi-committment to my family or love of animals bothered someone, that's different.

I have no point.

What I'm trying to say, in my tired and possibly otherwise affected stupor, is that I am who I am. I have feelings, I cry (semi frequently), I hurt, I feel... and if you can't see that, then... I don't know whose fault that is, I really don't. It's not as though this is an uncommon accusation -- which makes me wonder just how on the line other people put themselves?

*sigh* Brain dumping is fun! :P

And on another, very vague note... how much credence do I put to my thoughts and musings? Are they valid? Or are they temporary? Will I even know what I'm talking about tomorrow?

Am I a bad girlfriend, as I sometimes suspect?

What the fuck do you want me to say?

That's a quote from before, but it seems apt.

When it comes to a vast difference in something major, who gets to 'win'?

Dear world,

Just because they're not obvious to you, it does not mean that I don't have feelings. I really, really do, I promise. Maybe I am, as you claim, hard to read; maybe you're just not very good at it. I don't know. But I assure you, I have feelings. In fact, sometimes it feels like I have too many feelings, and not enough space or rationality for them.

I'm just... I'm very tired of people assuming that I don't get hurt, or feel, or even notice their words. I do. Hell, I know some people who think I'm too sensitive -- so I guess I just can't win.

Yes, I'm independent. Yes, I believe that it's better and healthier to want someone around, but not to need them. I've had relationships and I've had failed relationships; I've been attached and I've been single. I've done great in both situations. I know I would continue to do great in either situation. I'm not afraid to be single, and I'm not afraid to be in a relationship.

What I'd like to know is how to know you're with the right person. How do you know what sacrifices you're willing to make, or what compromises you're willing to accept in order to create a future with someone. What parts of myself should I change in order to accomodate someone else? Or do I change nothing, and insist that someone take me as I am? What if I'm trying to change small details of them -- is it still fair of me to remain fundamentally as I am?

Well, I think the answer to that last part is yes. The fundamental parts of someone are, ultimately, unchangeable. But surface things... they aren't so awful to change. If one or more of my piercings bothered someone, I could conceivably remove them; they aren't a deep-down part of who I am. But if my lack of religious conviction, or my chosen hobbies, or semi-committment to my family or love of animals bothered someone, that's different.

I have no point.

What I'm trying to say, in my tired and possibly otherwise affected stupor, is that I am who I am. I have feelings, I cry (semi frequently), I hurt, I feel... and if you can't see that, then... I don't know whose fault that is, I really don't. It's not as though this is an uncommon accusation -- which makes me wonder just how on the line other people put themselves?

*sigh* Brain dumping is fun! :P

And on another, very vague note... how much credence do I put to my thoughts and musings? Are they valid? Or are they temporary? Will I even know what I'm talking about tomorrow?

Am I a bad girlfriend, as I sometimes suspect?

What the fuck do you want me to say?

That's a quote from before, but it seems apt.

When it comes to a vast difference in something major, who gets to 'win'?

I woke up this morning, as I have the past few mornings, to a herd of elephants masquerading as an unknown number of small children stampeding back and forth across my ceiling. I was also snuggled by two cats, so the morning wasn't a total loss.

I let Thena out on her harness and leash, as she regularly insists I do, and settled on the couch to get in some serious cross-stitching time, something I haven't had the time to do much this weekend.

All was going well, I'd opened the window for Venus to look out of, it's a beautiful day out, Venus came over a few times to cuddle on my lap (and interrupt my cross stitching time), and then the calm was broken by someone outside screaming epithets.

Believe it or not, this isn't the first time this has happened, so I didn't pay *too* much attention to it.

Until the words sunk in: "You cocksucker! You just ran over a cat!"

Cue me, racing to the backdoor to check on Thena, slipping on the floor in bare feet (a feat, pardon the pun, that I hadn't achieved before).

Thena comes in, the guy is yelling how he's sorry and hadn't seen it (this probably happened before I opened the door; I don't operate well in panic mode), and a few other neighbours emerged to see what was going on. Maybe hoping for carnage, I don't know.

I did overhear someone making a phone call and talking about an emergency, but I don't know if they were calling the emergency vet clinic or what.

I threw on some clothes (bright pink pyjamas aren't the best for wandering my streets), and walked up a block to see if I could see anything, but didn't. Either the cat was taken by someone to a vet, or it didn't happen on my street (or the portion of it I saw), but I went back inside. And lectured the kitties on how this is why I get mad when they run out the door on their own (okay, just Thena does this; Venus is a chicken), hugged them, and started crying.

My adrenaline is back down again, and I can hear periodic yelling, but no words. For all I know, it's coming from upstairs, which again, isn't surprising.

And yes, Thena was fine.

Dear crazy people,

Oh how I appreciate that you spend so much of your time and energy devoted to entertaining me. Really, it's a sacrifice for you, I know, but I really do thank you for it. You make my mornings just a little bit better through your efforts.

To whit:

The paper: The Record (Kitchener, Cambridge and Waterloo)
The date: 2006.04.12
The reason: Opinion

The headline: Pornography is pollution

The letter:

I was compelled to write when I read Mirko Petricevic's article on April 3 on Internet pornography, You Can Lose Your Life.

I agree wholeheartedly that pornography isolates men from their wives or girlfriends and family.

One other important source was not addressed in this article which I think should be addressed. It is commonly known as "soft porn," and it is found everywhere in the form of adult movies and magazines.

These soft porn pictures also take a man's focus off his wife or girlfriend and direct his attention on a fantasy and comparison. Pornography teaches men to dehumanize women by viewing them as sexual objects.

It sends a message to the wife or girlfriend that she is not worthy. It is like a bomb exploding in her heart and in her despair she leaves to escape the pain.

I think it has become an epidemic and should be exposed for what it is -- polluting the mind and soul.

The crazy lady author: Maria Weber, Waterloo

Once again... thank you.

For those who have been wondering (and I appreciate your emails and text messages asking what’s been going on lately), here is the longish explanation:

I am taking my masters degree in communications, part-time. There are four classes that have to be taken before you can start your thesis; being a part-timer means that you only take one class per semester. I started my degree in September of last year, so I have taken two classes so far. 4-2=2. Right? Right.

At my university, each course that you take counts as 3 credits. I don’t know why, it just is. If you take a course that runs for a full year, then it’s 6 credits. Now, following that math, 2 courses * 3 credits = 6 credits for a year’s worth of courses.

The deadlines that we were given to follow stated that if you were going to have completed 9 credits of work by a given date, you had to have your thesis proposal turned in by such-and-such a date. If it was by this date (which would have applied for me), then you had to have it turned in in December, 2006.

Of course, if I had the emails in front of me, this would be easier. :P

Anyhow, along comes February, and on the 22nd, the administrative assistant for the graduate students sends out an email stating that suddenly full-timers had to have their proposal in by the 3rd of April (later revised to the 7th), and that part-timers had to have their supervisor and thesis subject registered by April 3rd (later revised to the 7th). Now, because the administrative assistant was in the habit of sending the same email multiple times, or just sometimes changing dates in the email that was otherwise a cut-and-paste job, with no “Hey, things have changed, here it is” warning, I, admittedly, wasn’t completely up on my reading of the emails. I asked her after the first one, “Does this apply to part-timers as well?” had it explained, and Bob was my uncle.

Bob came along and beat me up.

I found out in the beginning of March, from a classmate in the same boat, about what was going on. Now, as some of you may recall, March sucked a lot for me. I had crazy amounts of things going on and no time in which to get them all done. Some of them never did get done, ‘cause I just happen to suck that way.

So, I started making the rounds of desperate phone calls to various professors who might in any small way be related to my chosen subject matter. In my department, there are five such professors; four of them are francophones, and one of them is a professor I’ve had four times in my undergrad and grad combined, and I was hoping not to work with him.

Of the four francophones, I called three and was able to meet with two. All accounts said that the last guy was one step away from completely incomprehensible in English, and oh joy – he’s teaching one of the courses in the fall.

The first professor is the head of the graduate faculty, and seemed like he was interested and in the end, told me where he’d be able to be of use to me. He told me to keep interviewing folks, send me some of my writing – preferably something in the realm of media-related work – and then we’d talk.

The second professor was a bit dotty, but pretty much agreed to supervise me by the end of our discussion. The Anglophone professor told me I wouldn’t want to work with her, but I figured beggars can’t be choosers (or at least, those who have few options probably shouldn’t complain about the ones they have… I guess that was pretty redundant). She asked me to write up a little one-page explanation of what I wanted to do and send that to her on the weekend. I did – on Sunday. So I’m liberal about my application of ‘weekend.’ Whatever.

I hadn’t heard from her by Wednesday, so I called her from work before I left for class. She called while I was in a meeting and left a message on my cell, but I figured I’d check it later. I’m very glad I did.

I went to class that night, and my group did our presentation and watched and questioned all the others, and I felt pretty decent by the end of the night. The wine the last group had served might’ve helped that; I know I was definitely tired, which can be blamed on the wine and on my crappy sleeping schedule of the last few weeks (no one’s fault but my own, and sometimes perhaps the Smooshy).

I got home from class and listened to my voice mail, and it was then I learned that the dotty prof felt that I wasn’t developed enough in my ideas – no shit, I didn’t have to have them ready for another six-plus months – and she asked me to maybe come back to her again in the fall. Well, if I were to do the directed studies course over the summer as I planned, then I have to have my thesis proposal in before the fall… and regardless, I have to have a supervisor registered now, you bint, not four or five months from now.

So, needless to say, my mood plummeted significantly, and I found myself both very upset and depressed. And more than a little stressed, ‘cause that goes along well with the rest of it.

Instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour, as I had previously hoped/planned, I spent the next half hour or so composing desperate emails to the two other professors with whom I had spoken. I had warned the first francophone professor that when my computer had exploded, I had lost many of my previous papers, so what I ended up sending him were two papers from my second year and the research paper I had composed for my first masters course. If nothing else, it showed a literature review and a few other things that would be applicable to my proposal and thesis.

The Smooshy monitored my home account for me on Thursday, and forwarded me emails of relevance. The Anglophone professor wasn’t able to/was unwilling to sign off on my paperwork as he had originally offered (he said he would register as my prof and I could then find someone else at my leisure), but I called the department and got myself an extension as a precautionary measure.

In the end, on Thursday, there was an email waiting for me from the first professor, agreeing to supervise me. Major relief. Granted, I had to wait awhile to get the email, since the power was out in my neighbourhood from 3 p.m. until about 10:30, then a few times more during the night, but I got it, and I was pleased.

Also, I made sure my computer was unplugged during the night and the next day, since they had cautioned about rolling blackouts on the news. I wasn’t taking any more chances, especially not with my sexy new computer.

I was, however, able to use the blackout as a bit of an excuse for ‘sleeping in’ on Friday, and I ran first thing to the department to drop off my paperwork for my supervisor’s signature. It was also my last real day with my former manager as manager, so it was a very positive day in many ways, despite the poo weather.

Friday evening I was supposed to have dinner with Moose, but it fell through (for the second time, I might add). The evening was spent fairly quietly, with both the Smooshy and I in a bit of a funk.

Wednesday morning I’d had a meeting downtown, and I spent some time at the mall shopping for a belated shower/on-time bachelorette party gift for N. I managed to find a few things that were very appropriate for her fiancé (and my friend), so I picked up season 5 of Buffy on DVD for her, and the He-Man/She-Ra Christmas special on DVD for him. As her bridal shower had the theme ‘lucky’ and her bachelorette party had an 80s theme, I was trying to get something that might fit one or the other, but didn’t quite manage… though I claimed that season 5 was somewhat lucky because you got to see Spike with his shirt off. I did, however, succeed in some semi-fluorescent green wrapping paper, as well as some bright-pink… and I got some blank cards that are fluorescent green and have velvet paw prints marching over them. So I managed to continue my semi-regular cat theme for cards, which was a success in my books.

The bachelorette party was fun. I made a pasta salad that got compliments, and a chocolate-caramel cheesecake that I found a bit disappointing. The highlight of the evening for me was the horrible luck I was having bowling (I was granny-style bowling the ball too hard, so it kept spinning off just before it got to the pins) – and I’d like to point out that it was only my second or third time doing 10-pin bowling – and doing various dances with N in the bowling lane in our shoes and her bright white lacy dress. We were under blacklights, so she really glowed. Props to Mad for another successful (on-going) turn as a matron of honour. :)

Sunday was a very quiet day, and I got to spend many hours cross-stitching. I also took the bike out for a trip, and it was a fairly successful run, though a bit chilly… and then there was when the guy tried to pull out of a gas station in front of me, but we didn’t collide. I just felt somewhat unsettled in my stomach for a few more minutes after that. I think the guy in front of me who had his left turn signal on for three blocks before he actually turned help me get over that a bit faster, since I had an annoyance to concentrate on.

Aside from bobbling the bike in the driveway (which slopes downwards fairly stiffly) and the herd of elephants my idiot upstairs neighbours invited over for what seemed like wrestling and throwing bowling balls and furniture around in addition to the barbecue they were having, the evening was pretty decent. Is it wrong of me to be rooting for my neighbours to kill or maim one another, so we can just be finished with it?

Also, they did an episode of Mythbusters on flatulence and the Ben Franklin electricity/kite myth. At one point, they tried to fart Buster to death, as I so not-crudely put it. I love that show.

Finally, this article today amused me for the first part, then the last part was somewhat sad. But I wish there were more judges like her:

The Winnipeg Sun, 2006.04.08

NO FREE RIDE FOR PHONEY DRUNK

ROSS MCLENNAN

Three years have passed since Winnipeg Transit officially declared its Open Door policy .. er ... open ... in April 2006.

Predictions that some people would try to take unfair advantage of the new policy came true yesterday when a man became the first person to be found guilty of pretending to be drunk in order to obtain a free ride on a bus.

Judge Wanda Gavell sentenced Carver Flamboyne-Sussex, 48, to seven days in jail, with no chance of parole.

She also fined Flamboyne-Sussex $250 and ordered him to pay the dry-cleaning bill of each passenger he urinated on during his phoney drunken state.

Paying passengers testified that a seemingly intoxicated and belligerent Flamboyne-Sussex staggered on to the bus, told the driver he was "pissed" and had no money and then asked him what the %#@*% he was going to do about it.

The driver, in accordance with the Open Door policy, quietly wiped the spittle from his face and politely told Flamboyne-Sussex to take a seat.

"Considering Flamboyne-Sussex burped in his face more loudly than Barney does on The Simpsons, I thought the driver was being far more courteous than necessary when he added, 'Have a nice day,' " one of the passengers said.

Bus operator Zack Change was later asked if the reason why he was so polite to Flamboyne-Sussex was because he does, indeed, support the humanitarian impulse that sparked Transit's Open Door policy.

"Sure," Change said, adding, "Of course, if I'd just learned I'd won the lottery, I'd have kicked him right in the crystals."

Although Crown attorney Phil Buttress and defence lawyer Greta Meinhair agreed Flamboyne-Sussex should be given a conditional sentence, Judge Mavis Gavell decided a jail sentence would be more appropriate.

"I might have considered a conditional sentence," Gavell said, "if it hadn't been for the fact Flamboyne-Sussex also deliberately consumed 10 cups of coffee all the better to urinate on fellow passengers in order to make his intoxicated condition appear more genuine."

The judge dismissed defence-lawyer Meinhair's argument that Flamboyne-Sussex consumed all that coffee because he's been addicted to caffeine ever since a childhood spent with poverty-stricken parents who were similarly afflicted.

"Mr. and Mrs. Flamboyne-Sussex spent every penny they had as they drifted hour after hour from one Starbucks outlet to another," said Meinhair. "They took little Carver with them, and soon he was able to match them grande by grande throughout the day and into the night."

That was when Gavell asked the court reporter to stop recording the proceedings, turned to Meinhair and told her she was "nuts."

When the trial resumed, the judge said that Flamboyne-Sussex's failure to keep his pants zipped wasn't the only reason she decided to send him to jail.

She explained that Garwood Hemphill, one of the 13 bus riders upon whom Flamboyne-Sussex urinated, was a genuinely drunk man who was even less able to protect himself from Flamboyne-Sussex than the sober, fare-paying passengers.

"It's a sad day, indeed, when a truly intoxicated person is unable to take advantage of the bus company's Open Door policy without being subjected to this kind of behaviour," Gavell said. "It's cruelly ironic that the very kind of person this policy is intended to help became, instead, its victim.

"We can only be thankful that Flamboyne-Sussex didn't vomit all over Mr. Hemphill as well."

Hemphill later expressed surprise at the sympathy extended to him by Judge Gavell.

"To tell you the truth," he said, "I'm not sure which of the urine stains on my pants were Flamboyne-Sussex's or my own," he said. "And I don't think it would have much much difference if Flamboyne-Sussex had vomited all over me since I'd already thrown up all over myself before he got on the bus."

Although Hemphill said he remembered nothing about the incident, Gavell said Winnipeg Transit should recompense him for "having endured a humiliation he will never forget."

Following the trial, bus-driver Change was asked if he would continue to abide by the Open Door policy, despite his experience with Flamboyne-Sussex.

"Sure," he said, "as long as I don't end up like Garwood Hemphill."

Hemphill, Change explained, was a former bus driver who couldn't cope with the Open Door policy and was driven to drink.

"He lost his job and his home, and his wife and kids left him, and now all he does is stay hammered and ride the buses hour after hour," said Change.

"Thank God for the Open Door policy, or he'd never survive."

1. Part of me would really like to get drunk tonight.
2. I have to work tomorrow.
3. Part of me would really like to mope around my apartment.
4. I need sleep.
5. I'm not especially flush with cash.
6. I'd like to ride the bike today or tomorrow, weather depending.
7. Because I'm somewhat responsible, I likely won't be doing any drinking.

Shake That
(feat. Nate Dogg)

[Intro - Eminem ]

Shady, Aftermath
There she goes shaking that ass on the floor
Bumpin and grindin that pole
The way she's grindin that pole
I think I'm losing control

[Verse 1 - Eminem]

Get buzzed, get drunk, get crunked, get fucked up
Hit the strip club don't forget ones get your dick rubbed
Get fucked, get sucked, get wasted, shit faceted
Pasted, blasted, puke drink up, get a new drink
Hit the bathroom sink, throw up
Wipe your shoe clean, got a routine
Knowin still got a few chunks on your shoestring
Showin I was dehydrated till the beat vibrated
I was revibed as soon as this Bitch gyrated
And hips and licked them lips and that was it
I had to get Nate Dogg here to sing some shit

[Verse 2 - Nate Dogg]

Two to the one from the one to the three
I like good pussy and I like good trees
Smoke so much weed you wouldn't believe
And I get more ass than a toilet seat
Three to the one from the one to the three
I met a bad bitch last night in the D
Let me tell you how I made her leave with me
Conversation and Hennessey
I've been to the muthafuckin mountain top
Heard muthafuckers talk, seen 'em drop
If I ain't got a weapon I'ma pick up a rock
And when I bust yo ass I'm gonna continue to rock
Getcha ass of the wall with your two left feet
It's real easy just follow the beat
Don't let that fine girl pass you by
Look real close cause strobe lights lie

[Verse 3 - Nate Dogg]

We bout to have a party (turn the music up)
Let's get it started (Go head shake your butt)
I'm lookin for a girl with a body and a sexy strut
Wanna get it poppin baby step right up
Some girls they act retarded
Some girls are bout it bout it
I'm lookin for a girl that will do whatever the fuck
I say everyday she be givin it up

[Chorus - Nate Dogg]

Shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
Come on girl, shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
Ohh girl, shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
Come on girl, shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me

[Verse 4 - Eminem]

I'm a menace, a dentist, an oral hygienist
Open your mouth for about four or five minutes
Take a little bit of this fluoride rinse
Swish but don't spit it, swallow and I'll finish
Yeah me and Nate d-o double g
Looking for a couple bitches with some double d's
Pop a little champagne and a couple E's
Slip it in her bubbuly, we finna finna have a party

[Verse 5 - Nate Dogg]

Have a party (turn the music up)
Let's get it started (Go head shake your butt)
I'm lookin for a girl I can fuck in my hummer truck
Apple Bottom jeans and a big Ol' slut
Some girls they act retarded
Some girls are bout it bout it
I want a bitch that sit at the crib with no panties on
Knows that she can but she won't say no
Now look at this lady all in front of me, sexy as can be
Tonight I want a slut, will you be mine?
I heard you was freaky from a friend of mine

[Bridge - Eminem]

Now I hope you don't get mad at me
But I told Nate you was a freak
He said he wants a slut, hope you don't mind
I told him how you like it from behind

[Chorus - Nate Dogg]

Shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
Cmon girl, shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
Ohh girl, shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
Cmon girl, shake that ass for me, shake that ass for me
We bout' to have a party (turn the music up)
Let's get it started (go ahead shake your butt)
I'm lookin for a girl with a body and a sexy strut
Wanna get it poppin baby step right up
Some girls they act retarded
Some girls are bout it bout it
I'm lookin for a girl that will do whatever the fuck
I say everyday she be givin it up

[Outro - Eminem]

There she goes, shaking that ass on the floor
Bumpin and grindin that pole
The way she's grindin that pole
I think I'm losing control

God, come one

[Eminem makes noises]

I ain't leavin' without you bitch

Come here home with me

And my boy, and his boy, and his boy, and his gurl

haha, Nate Dogg

[deep breathing]

Um, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

And, oh yeah -- fuck.

No, I'm not single, this is just a fun song -- and good advice to live by.

From "Thoroughly Modern Millie," the song "Forget about the boy":

MILLIE:
No canary in a tree for me
This canary's ready to fly free

Cut the cord
Is that a man I once adored?
He's nothing but an albatross
No great loss
Doublecrosser
Forget about the boy
Pull the plug
Ain't he the one who pulled the rug
He's lower than an alley cat
Dirty rat
And I flatter
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy

And in the moonlight
Don't you think about him
Sister, you're much better off without him
You can blow the blues a kiss goodbye
And put the sun back in the sky
For when he comes crawlin'
I'm not fallin'

Shout hooray and halleluh!
Now me and mister wrong are through
I'll find myself another beau
Who I know is no rover
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy
Forget about -

Jimmy, oh Jimmy, Jimmy

TYPIST #1:
Horace

TYPIST #2:
Danny

TYPIST #3:
Milton

TYPIST #4:
Percy

TYPIST #5:
Edgar

TYPIST #6:
Timothy

TYPIST #7:
Alfred

TYPIST #8:
Vito Carbone

TYPIST #9:
Benjamin Pratt, the third

TYPIST #10:
Teddy Morgan

MISS FLANNERY:
Barney Schreiber, C.P.A.

MILLIE:
Jimmy, oh Jimmy, silly boy
Gee, what a real swell guy

MISS FLANNERY and TYPISTS (at the same time):
Cut the cord, is that a man I once adored?
He's nothing but an albatross
No great loss, doublecrosser

ALL:
Forget about the boy

MILLIE:
Jimmy, oh Jimmy, what great joy
He makes my troubles fly

MISS FLANNERY and TYPISTS (at the same time):
Pull the plug, ain't he the one who pulled the rug?
He's lower than an alley cat, dirty rat
And I flatter

ALL: Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy!

(The typists break into defiant tap, topped by MISS FLANNERY in a tap solo.)

Shout hooray and halleluh!
Now that me and mister wrong are through
I'll find myself another beau
Who I know is no rover
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy

And in the moonlight don't you think about him
Sister you're much better off without him
You can blow the blues a kiss goodbye
And put the sun back in the sky

MISS FLANNERY and TYPISTS:
For when he comes crawlin'

MILLIE:
I'm not fallin'

ALL:
Hallelujah!
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy
Forget about the boy!