I've been told by a few people (okay, two) recently that I need to blog more. So, here's the effort to do so.

The thing is, I don't often feel I'm especially funny in text. Off-the-cuff remarks, angry rants, sure, I seem to amuse that way. But in text? Much more challenging. I don't know, some people seem to relate to what I have to say, and goodness knows I like to hear myself speak -- metaphorically speaking.

I had coffee with the girlfriend of a high school acquaintance yesterday (how's that for unwieldy explanations?). She's commented on here a few times, so I don't feel too guilty if I use her name, Sarah. I'm trying to make this as simple as possible.

Anyhow, we had a good chat, covering all kinds of topics, including but not limited to relationships. I then had another conversation about relationships with a coworker today, so suffice it to say the subject matter's on my mind. Add this to one of the songs that came up on my playlist, and I figure I have a subject to discuss.

For those who are curious, the song was Cupid's Chokehold -- the singer is telling his dad about the girl he's in love with, and there's a line to the effect of "I know you've heard me say I've met The One before, but this time it's for real"; I can relate. I do think that his saying that his girl has her very own ringtone on his cell as an example of Tru Wuv is a bit goofy, but hey -- it's a song.

So, how do you know when you've met The One? And how do you remind your fingers where the characters are on a QWERTY keyboard when you work all day on a French keyboard and your muscle memory has both stuck in there. Kinda cool, makes me wonder how I'd do on a Dvorak keyboard, and is a slight deviation from the subject at hand.

Relationships. The One. Is there really a One for anyone, or do we end up just settling? Where do the compromises get made?

I have a number of friends in committed relationships of differing types: some are married; some are married in an open relationship; some are living together but not married; some are living together, not married, and don't plan on getting married; and some are in a long-term relationship but not living together. In essence, they cover the basic spectrum of heterosexual partnerships (yes, I'm limiting myself, but I just don't have that many gay friends at the moment, curse my luck).

I've always been open about my support for all kinds of different pairings, and I try to be honest about what would work for me. In the past, I was openly dating two guys at the same time; in the past, I was also not-openly dating two guys at the same time. In the present, I'm living with someone with whom I share a committed, monogamous relationship. I've also had friends with benefits.

I have found, through trial and error, that what works best for me, provided the relationship is good, is the situation in which I now find myself. However, in the past, when I was in relationships that weren't good, it was not unknown for me to ... alter the circumstances (see above re: not-openly dating two guys at the same time). In short, yes, I cheated. I don't condone it, I don't feel it was the best course of action at the time, but it was what it was and that was that.

The motivations behind the actions were varied, and often tied to sex (duh, right?). I had a lot of bad sex in my past. Unsatisfying, boring, with partners that couldn't seem to learn regardless of the direction, and so on. Sometimes, I was just looking for something different.

At one point, I discovered that someone that I was spending time with (who shall remain nameless, unless he wants to out himself), had similar kinky interests to my own, and we explored those together. I was open with the DB about my kinky interests (without going into gory details of who and what, a policy we've kept with regards to past relationships over all), and one evening on a drive home, he basically asked me if I was going to want an open relationship to allow me to explore my kinky interests, which he doesn't share.

Because the DB doesn't share these interests, an acquaintance who is kinky called him boring. I guess in that regard, he could be perceived as such. However, on the grand scale of relationships, one must weigh what one's priorities are in regards to said relationship -- and even on a personal level, how highly said priorities rate.

I was a fairly curious sexual adventurer, and as such tried a lot of different things. My overarching philosophy was always one of, "how can I know I don't like it unless I try it?" -- with some limitations for things that were simply a flat-out no from the start. Through trial-and-error I learned what I find to be a turn-on, and what I feel works best in fantasy.

Now, combine fantasy with my tendency to ... romanticize, for lack of a better word, elements of sex -- leaving out the awkward parts, the uncomfortable moments, or the times when I was just plain bored -- and I can come up with some pretty hot scenarios. Maybe my more kinky tendencies would be enjoyable were they to take place with the right person, someone I feel committed to, cared for by, in love with, whatever, but my experience taught me that a lot of it was just more enjoyable in my brain than in real life.

Lots of things were still very hot in real life, in case you're wondering.

So, do I want to go elsewhere to explore my kinky side? No, I really don't. Am I unhappy with my sex life? I have my grumbles of which the DB is aware, but overall, I'm pleased.

If we return to our original subject matter, the question of The One -- how do I feel about that? Do I believe there's one special person out there for each of us? I honestly don't know. I think there are a small number of people with whom we're compatible, and therein lies individual choices about the sacrifices or priorities we have to make.

For some people, smoking is a total deal-breaker, for example. For others, it's not a selling point, but it's tolerable, and the last group, it's irrelevant to their decision. Sex lives are also like this -- some people just don't have a large sex drive, whereas others do. Individuals have to determine for themselves whether they can tolerate having more or less sex than their own personal preference.

And now I've rambled enough that I feel I can get into some more salacious information without getting into too much trouble.

I've seen a number of my friends pair up. I readily admit that the aspects of the relationship I see will a) be coloured based on my worldview and/or knowledge of the couple/individuals; b) never be the full picture, even if I'm speaking to one member of the couple about the details of said relationship.

I can say this because we do have a tendency to complain more than we praise our partners, in general. And when we do tend to gush about our partners, it generally evokes something similar to a gag or vomit reflex in those unfortunate souls subjected to said gushing. I experienced this with a new hire at one place of business -- she went on about how her and her partner were SO in love (a direct quote) and how it was just as passionate as when they first started dating, etc., etc., complete with effusive hand gestures and the clasping of the hands to her ample bosom. I wish I was kidding. She was also only one year my junior. She was later mocked fairly mercilessly by myself and another who were subject to this display -- and it was shared and reenacted for others. I've never claimed to be especially nice, particularly when I'm being egged on by others with similar opinions.

So yes, it can be challenging to speak in glowing terms on a regular basis about our chosen victims. Especially because ultimately we're all human and we do get on one another's nerves. I've lived with the DB for nearly a year now, and there are plenty of times that we piss one another off -- do notice I said that's mutual behaviour. And sometimes, we feel the need to vent about our partner's behaviour(s) to sympathetic ears. Sometimes, said sympathetic ears may get the wrong impression of our significant others, and may start to question just what it is that you, the complainer, sees in such an aggravating person -- so venting can require balance.

Or, the sympathetic ear has to weigh the complaints and the frequency of complaints if they're going to say something. Some sympathetic ears simply recognize that they're only getting one small piece of the puzzle, made grander by the immediacy of the frustration, and say nothing. That said, some people are more inclined to take sides and, especially if they are only ever hearing one side of the complaining, refuse to believe that the person being complained about has any redeeming qualities. Not that I'm bitter at all, no, of course not. Good riddance to that so-called friend, certainly.

There are some complaints that warrant action or concern -- namely, abuse. Physical, mental, emotional, even abuse of pets or children in place of the partner; these are major concerns. I have a male friend who related to me an instance when his girlfriend attempted to throw a lamp at his head -- I told him to get out and not look back. I listened to him attempt to explain the situation, tell me how his girlfriend was being overly emotional and didn't mean it, etc., etc., and I asked him what he'd tell me if this situation was playing out in reverse. Sure, maybe I was being too cut-and-dried, maybe she really was affected by medication she was on and all that, but seriously -- if someone tries to throw a lamp at your head, it may be time to rethink the relationship.

I have another male friend who used to relate to me domestic tales that were extremely overwrought and over dramatic and so on. I used to ask how things were going in crazytown, and other equally supportive questions (I'm a peach). He once told me that yes, while his partner was crazy, she wasn't as crazy as his past partners, so it was good. Again, let's change this up a little -- if someone tells me that yes, their partner is abusive, but not as abusive as their past partners, I'm not sure I'm telling them that this relationship is an improvement. And yes, here was a case where I was definitely only getting one side of the story and in select pieces, but... I've never claimed to lack for opinions. And contrary to popular belief, I share only a fraction of them.

Oh yeah, people would have trouble in my head. :/

Sometimes, opinions are formed just from exposure to or general knowledge of the couple. Even in long-term relationships, outsiders can form and share the opinion that the people in the couple either aren't meant to be together or just shouldn't be -- either because of how they interact as a couple, or maybe from genuine dislike of one half of the couple. Sometimes people stay together or take steps together because it's the next thing to do on the Grand Checklist of Life -- and not because they should take those steps together. Sometimes this results in divorce shortly after marriage; sometimes it shouldn't even result in marriage.

But once again, those are outsiders looking in. I've witnessed couples who interacted as though they were barely more than passing acquaintances -- how was I to know how they acted together in private? In this instance, they pretty much hadn't had sex together in two years (and this was maybe a 2 1/2 year relationship), but for all I knew they swung from the chandeliers the minute everyone else left. I've had boyfriends who didn't care to kiss in front of others, who didn't hold my hand, who would grab my boobs in front of my friends... I've witnessed couples who probably would've had sex in front of me if I was okay with it. I know of one couple where the guy masturbated the girl to orgasm behind their friend who was using the computer; there are couples who don't even like to acknowledge to others the frequency of their sexual encounters.

My point being, sure, I can and routinely do form opinions on relationships, and maybe I'm completely correct in my belief that said couple isn't meant to be together -- but in the end, what I know amounts to a pile of very little, no matter how verbosely I may say it.

And you know what? I think I'm going to continue this mental diarrhea on another occasion. While I do have a point, and I'm trying to get at it, the little bastard seems particularly elusive this evening -- and I think I want to do a bit of reading before bed.

Oh, life, how you do get in the way of things.

I’ve noticed a difference in energy or somesuch to the regular bus route vs. the express route in the morning. The days when I miss the express and have to take the regular route, I feel slightly out of sorts when I get to work, as if everything is just slightly out of whack for me. It wasn’t really the case at my previous job, where the regular route was the bus I took more often, but now… now it’s almost palpable some mornings.

I had my birthday last week, and I am now older. Woohoo. Life is going on, and in some ways it’s good and in other ways, not so much. I feel as though, career-wise, maybe I should be further ahead of where I am now, or maybe my promotion should’ve happened sooner. Well, it probably should’ve happened sooner, but I have some bad managers to thank for that. No matter, I’ve moved on and I’m in a better situation.

School-wise, I’m still dragging my ass. I’m plotting my next degree before I’ve even finished this one, and that’s not particularly wise, especially given the debtload I’m carrying; better than some, worse than others. I just hate money and stressing about money.

Lately I have had several people with whom I haven’t spoken in awhile get in touch with me to request hang-outs. I spent some time Friday night with Stefan and Matt, while the DB recovered from a mild concussion at home. No, I didn’t give it to him, though I have since threatened to poke him in the soft spot on his head when he gives me trouble.

I had an appointment today with a career counselor who told me that my values for work include security, creativity, and a good working environment. The security part comes as a bit of a surprise in a way; we never struggled for money when I was growing up (or rather, not that my parents made obvious to my sister and I), and I’ve never really had to do without, yet I’m terrified of being unemployed and would freak out if I had no idea where the next job or paycheque was coming from. It’s been that way for years, and I have no real explanation for it, but there it is.

As for the other two, they weren’t as surprising; I like to be creative in my work, and I work best within certain boundaries, which is probably where I’m struggling with the research paper work – there are almost no boundaries imposed upon me, so I’m at loose ends. When I know in advance what the expectations are, or what the need is I’m to meet, it’s easier for me. Probably in part why this poor blog languishes for periods of time. :) As far as needing to have a good working environment, well, I think that’s a pretty human trait. I don’t think anyone should have to suffer through bad working conditions, and contrary to what the Insane Narcissistic one thought, I fully believe in working for my pay, benefits, privileges, etc.

Today is one of those days that just drags on and on. It's difficult in a new position, where you don't always know how to fill your days -- or you don't always have enough to fill them -- and you feel as though your time would be better served elsewhere, studying or reading or cleaning or sleeping or exercising or whatever. Instead I'm just making plans for things to buy after work -- some more wool for some projects I'm doing and hoping to take with me to Vegas, and possibly some exercise equipment.

It's funny how set in my ways I can be on some things. I first noticed this several years ago when I moved out on my own -- sure, my place was cluttered and untidy, but I knew where everything was, and I got irritated with my then-boyfriend when he'd leave cupboards open, or stuff in places where it didn't belong.

In my second place, I got irritated with my then-boyfriend (he of Smooshy fame) for leaving dishes anywhere and everywhere in my apartment, or not cleaning up after himself, and so on. Again, sure, my place was cluttered and somewhat dirty, but at least I knew where to find things and I didn't have to worry about cats getting into dirty dishes or whatnot. I felt for his roommates; he'd leave pots, pans or whatever in his room for ages at a time, and I'm not sure how often he washed his sheets -- what *is* it with guys and not changing their bed sheets?

Anyhow, here I am in my third place, and officially leaving with someone, as in both of our names on the bills (well, wherever they allow this -- fucked up systems for some billing places), the lease, and an apparently equal division of labour, and I still have to restrain myself from taking over some tasks because I believe my way is the right way. The best part about him is that he feels that his way is the right way, so he can be just as stubborn as I about things and believe it or not, I like that.

I like someone who will stand up to me and stand up for himself. It's so refreshing to be sharing in the responsibilities and the power, because I know that I can have a steamroller personality (I've admitted as much many times on here), and I need someone that will tell me if I'm being unfair or selfish or whatever -- and he's never done any of that, because we compromise.

That said, I'm now responsible for laundry, which is how I want it. It means I have to do it a bit more often because he has fewer clothes than I (shut up, he wears a uniform 5-7 days a week, I don't), but that's fine. I'm just bad at folding/putting it away, but I don't usually fold his.

I do the bulk of the cooking, which I usually don't mind, and we take turns buying that day's groceries. It can be frustrating at times though when I'm waiting on him to cook or it's his day off so he doesn't want to go to the store and wants me to go for him -- then I can get resentful.

But again, compromise comes into play. I'm not easy to live with, and I know that; I leave things lying around a lot (because then I know where to find them again!), and I don't do the dishes the instant I dirty them (not that he does that nearly as much anymore), and I have a thousand different kinds of lotions, body washes, hair care products and books. He thinks I have too much stuff, I think he can be wasteful when it comes to food (rarely eats leftovers, bread products are often left to go bad, have thrown out meat because he didn't freeze it or cook it in time).

I get cranky when he claims I don't do something just because he doesn't notice it -- like cleaning the bathtub, which gets full of cat hair because the cats like to drink water out of it or go through it to get into the window. Or when he says I never use up the assorted hair care products or whatever that I have on hand. I have skin issues that require experimenting for what works best, and rotation based on the season and so on. I'd love to use the same thing year-round.

But hey, that's what relationships are about. As I said to K and H a few weeks ago, it's been in this relationship that I finally understood how you can be furious or insanely frustrated with someone, yet still want them around and all of that. Or maybe I'm just passive-aggressive. But it's also been the first relationship I can remember where I wasn't making a list in the back of my head of all the 'can't accept this' behaviours that eventually reaches the 'time to break up' cut-off point. It could be just because I'm growing, but I like to think it's because I'm dating someone right for me, despite his faults and frustrations.

I've certainly never felt inclined to hit him with my shoe, like with the previous guy, even when he's been driving me nuts. I just give his crabby right back at him.

Anyhow, none of this is especially important or driven by anything, just me musing and reflecting for the sake of it -- and trying to keep myself from stuffing my face. I've been feeling off the last few days, and I'm wondering if perhaps my blood sugar is out of whack.

Time for a bit more granola, I think... and only about 20 minutes until I get to go.

Well, nuts to you former manager, but my promotion came through and is official as of July 17th (yeah, I'm slow at updating).

You know what this means? This means that someone who met me once, for a 20-minute interview, was willing to make more concessions than someone who managed me for nearly 3 years (about 6 months of that was under the useless twit). I had another interview within my former organization at the same time, where they were willing to send me for french training to get my oral french up to C level -- another concession I know would never have crossed your mind in a million years, especially as I had coworkers who couldn't get sent for training despite having been on the list for years.

It's so nice to work for someone consistent and rational, someone whose decisions last longer than it takes one to fart.

Anyhow, enough about work, I have four days of work left until I'm on vacation. The DB and I are going to visit his folks for a day or two, then drive to Toronto to fly to Vegas. Yes, this trip has been announced to all and sundry for quite some time, and no, we're not going to get married -- or if we are, it's news to me. A friend of the DB's is getting married on 08/08/08, and we were invited, so we're making a roughly 5-day trip out of it.

We're staying at the Flamingo, and I was checking out the hotel online; there's a spa, a wildlife section, a pool, and a gym, so it sounds pretty good to me. You can even rent cabanas to watch tv by the pool at roughly $150/pop -- I don't understand why you'd bother, but what do I know about luxury?

I'm just looking forward to getting away. Last week was a long, brutal one, and isn't the norm for a lowly peon like myself. I'm sure there will be more of them, but it's still draining, especially when you're not really expecting it. I did have a nice mani/pedi session with K on the Monday, and though I destroyed my manicure before evening leaving the salon, it was nice at least to have a professional shape my nails for me, a task to which I am ill-suited. I make a terrible girl.

I'm stressed about school and finances, which is nothing new. My finances are in decent shape, it's not as though I'm going broke, but I do still have at least one more semester of school to pay for, and I have my bike insurance now due. Fortunately I was able to save some of my tax return to cover it -- despite the DB's attempts to spend it.

As for school, I sent in my revised paper proposal, I got comments back, I haven't read them yet. Much like checking my bank balance, I figure what I don't know can't hurt me. I never thought I'd grow up to be in denial to this extent, but there you have it. I'm a chicken.

I'm also fairly boring, though I do often think about things to post. Some of my friends are getting to be more active again in their posting, so I figure I should do the same, especially when I have friends tell me they like to read what I write because I'm blunt and honest.

I had a post on my LJ (pretty much tied to my last emo post here) that prompted a girly session a few weeks ago, which was nice and supportive. The long and short of it is that there's often stuff I don't post here because I don't want to admit to people that something's wrong, or that something's upsetting me, either because I don't want to colour how they view things, or because I don't want to admit to something that feels like failure to me, even if rationally I know it isn't.

Yesterday, I worked from 8:00 a.m. until 5:15, was getting emails on my blackberry until 7, and responded to emails until about 7:30 (I was only able to get to them as of about 7, and I only responded to a few).

Today, I was in at 8, and it's now 10 to 7 and I'm about to leave. I like being busy, but... wow. :D

I really wish I could turn off this over-analytical, paranoid mind of mine sometime. I suspect I’d be happier and better rested.

I also wish I could stick to goals I set, be they completing a knitting project, exercising more, reading for school, writing or even cleaning. At least I got through all the laundry on the weekend – so long as folding it doesn’t count.

In other news, my appointment has been posted, and barring any objections between here and the end of the week, I will have (FINALLY) been promoted. It may not be the prompt ‘nuts to you’ I had been hoping for, but it’s better than nothing – and it certainly never would have happened in my past role.

I have to say, it can be very challenging dating someone who feels that talking about an issue once or twice is sufficient, even if it’s a problem – at least for one of you – that seems to come up semi-regularly (or at least, that’s when I end up obsessing about it). There are times I don’t even bother raising my concerns anymore because I’m fairly certain all I’ll get is a “we’ve talked about this before” in response, which admittedly is a fair response, even if it doesn’t resolve anything more.

Sure, life would be easier if I just learned to let go and stop over-thinking things, but I don’t want to be unhappy, and I don’t want to go around in a delusional state thinking everything is fine until one day it’s not and it’s simply too late. So, where’s the middle ground?

Maybe it really is with therapy, like my gf M suggested, and which I’ve also considered. Goodness knows I don’t know how else to express myself, or if there are other ways of looking at it that I haven’t considered. I see things from my perspective, so automatically I’m biased. And I’m frustrated, because part of me doesn’t want to acknowledge that this is frustrating and making me unhappy, or tell others that there are problems. I also get frustrated that I have friends who’ve said in the past, “we should all be able to talk about this stuff, so that we might be able to help one another,” yet it seems as though any attempts I’ve made to bring up the subject go nowhere. And I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to have one-sided conversations of that nature – I feel there should be balance, and it should be equal or relatively equal sharing, not just me off-loading and that’s that. After all, I have the internet ether for that.

And I’m continuously frustrated by the state of my body. I am fat, and I don’t like the way I look naked, and I can’t help but think that I’m not the only one that feels that way (although I don’t think I’ve actually gained much if any weight in the last year, so yay at least on that). I keep making resolutions, and I don’t think I’m eating *that* poorly – I make a fruit smoothie for breakfast most mornings, and I often have celery and peanut butter as my afternoon snack (though I forgot to pack it this morning). I’m trying to snack on melba toasts and other reasonable snacks when I am hungry, and I know, I need more vegetables.

I also need to get moving, and I think I just need to get out of the house and get me time, so that’s what I’m going to be trying to do. I can mope about and feel the way I’ve been feeling, or I can try to do something about it, and I’m choosing the second option. I just wish I didn’t feel … all of this.

Happy Canada Day my peeps!

I can’t decide if my advancing years are making me more conservative, or they’re just bringing out my feminist side. Maybe, it’s neither – and it’s simply a measure of my strengthening character that allows me to recognize stupidities and address them.

See, I’m a big fan of fark.com. I think the site is a great deal of fun, the stories are often quite interesting, and it’s great to see other people recognize the same absurdities or stupidities in the news or stories that I sometimes see (the DB gets annoyed with me when I’m in one of those particular moods, and wind up telling off all of the commercials).

I’m also a member of totalfark, which is the paid membership area that allows you access to all kinds of ridiculous conversational threads, and some genuinely helpful advice. I’ve gone for computer solutions on a few occasions, and the other members are a great resource, if you can take the snark in stride (sometimes more, sometimes less).

But, like any internet community, there can be a real downside. And of course, I recognize that some people create persona for themselves online, and they get to pretty much role play a character that isn’t their own, and I can respect that. The problem, however, arises when the misogyny gets so thick you can choke on it – and that seems to happen regularly, even in threads that start out having nothing to do with gender relations.

As one example, there was a news-masquerading-as-an-ad article recently (yeah, I read Drew Curtis’ book, and this article personifies said category), wherein a young girl was being promoted as the next J.K. Rowling, based on nothing but her publicists’ hype – the book hadn’t even had a release or anything else, it was all hyperbole to try to drum up advance excitement about the book and get people out to buy it. However, aside from a few commenters focusing on the article’s stupidity, most of the posters were all about whether or not they’d hit the girl – sleep with, that is. The thread degenerated (if I may say so) into a discussion of the girl’s looks, and nothing more.

Now sure, I’m petty enough that I can enjoy this when they’re doing it to celebrities I dislike, but at the same time, I recognize that it’s just kinda sick. Normally I ignore it, or I stop reading the thread, but that day, it just really started to depress me.

I recognize that human beings judge one another based on looks pretty much 100% of the time. I did it when I started my new job – saw all of the attractive people here, all the girls/women who weigh next to nothing, and felt a little envious. I like to think that I don’t treat someone differently if they don’t fit my personal notion of what constitutes attractive, but speaking realistically, I’m sure on some level I do. I’m sure I get treated differently for the same reasons, and that’s just human nature.

But… to be solely reduced to whether or not I’m fuckable is just depressing. Yet I was on many dating sites for a long time, and I’m sure that was the main basis for whether many of the guys contacted me – would they fuck me. Sure, I chose whether or not I would respond to the guys based on whether or not I found them attractive, but interesting ranked up there just as highly. If I couldn’t have a conversation with them, I couldn’t be arsed to continue talking to them.

But I’m drifting. I was not a particularly attractive child. I was fairly shy (shut up, I still very much can be), I was smart, I was insecure, my best friend became one of the pretty, popular ones, and I got picked on – which totally helped the insecurity, I tell you. I wasn’t into sports, and I was always a bit bigger than many of my friends – or maybe I weighed the same as them, but because I was short, it was more noticeable.

Whatever, that was then, right? Now, I’m older, I’m smarter, I’m usually less shy, I’m fairly attractive though definitely not by society’s standards, I’m insecure, I’m not that into sports, and I’m still not in shape – in fact, I can definitely stand to lose weight now. I’ve had people comment that they’re impressed by my self-confidence, but so much of it is put on that I don’t always know where I end and the fake begins.

But it seems to work. In some situations, like job interviews, I have lots of confidence. At work? Well, I have a lot more now that I’m out from under my last boss’ thumb. In my personal life, I’ve been with a great guy for over a year, and it looks like it’s going to carry on being just as strong a relationship as it has been, and that’s great.

And yet… some of my biggest insecurities have come out while we’ve been together. It seems as though the more I like someone, the more insecure I get when I’m with them. How does that make sense? I guess it’s a byproduct of caring – if I care about losing them or whatever, then I’m more paranoid about things.

That said, I do trust the DB, and ultimately, I’m not concerned that he’s going to leave me or cheat on me or any of those things. I’m just apparently rather analytical, and I know I overthink things, and that gets me to where I am now.

I wasn’t a pretty popular girl in elementary school or high school. I have never been overly concerned about fashion, and I definitely don’t have the ‘ideal’ body – too much stomach, hips and thighs. I’ve been told by one ex- that a great deal of my attractiveness stems from my personality – I’m reasonably certain he meant it as a compliment. For the most part, I like my personality and I like who I am.

But sometimes, when I’m surrounded by skinny people, or attractive people, or bombarded with things like that fark thread, I get depressed, and I get frustrated, and the self-doubts and the insecurities come out. I know it’s unrealistic, but sometimes I want that romantic ideal I’ve read so much about, where I am someone’s everything, and they are my everything.

And sometimes I have to back up and short of shake out my brain. Why? Because while I can find someone else attractive or interesting or smart or funny or whatever, I still want to come home to the DB. Why should I assume he feels differently? Perhaps because in my past I dated guys for whom I was a convenience instead of a desired partner. Of course, throw in the strip club lapdance debate and my insecurity level rises exponentially, but…

I don’t know. I know I have unrealistic desires, but that’s the joy of being rational and emotional – my emotions want one thing, and my brain keeps telling them they’re being ridiculous. Like, I’d love it if I could be somewhere where women – or people in general – didn’t have their hittability factor as paramount.

*sigh* I don’t know where I’m going with all of this. At this point, I think I’m just rambling incoherently.

Anyhow, life is still good-ish. Some stress about school, some waiting on job news… otherwise, it carries on. Though I think I finally got my phone working fully, so that’s nice.

Hokay. Time for a life update before I get into the introspective emo stuff.

First, a few weeks ago, the DB and I visited his little nephew, and nephew’s parents (i.e., his brother and sister-in-law). We had a lovely visit, the nephew, aged a whole 3 ½ weeks at the time, was very cute and very easy-going, and I spent lots of time, along with everyone else, holding him and talking stupid to him, and all of that. The DB’s parents were also present (Mamère and Papère were very happy to see their first grandchild), and Papère said to DB at one point that he’d best watch out – this was upon seeing me with little nephew sleeping on my chest while I was stretched out on the couch. I assured him that my biological clock only ticks about once a year at this point, and while yes, it was ticking now, there was no strong urging going on. Babies are cute, right now I think kittens are cuter, and I’m quite happy to have neither.

We flew back in on a Tuesday night, to the tune of a screaming child for the length of the 4 hour flight. Any biological clock I might’ve had going on was very quickly turned off as a result. Arrived around midnight, greeted the kitties, off to bed.

Cue Wednesday morning, where I started my new job. This was what I was alluding to previously – new job. Free from the shackles of the past and all that, chances to form new opinions, get treated with respect, be appreciated, etc., etc., etc. I almost don’t recognize myself anymore, in that I’m not angry, I’m not tense and paranoid, and I don’t hate nearly everyone in my eyesight. It’s amazing how things can turn around.

That first week, despite being only three days long, was a fairly long one, not aided by the lack of sleep, major PMS and migraines I was experiencing, and the general stress of a new job.

Wednesday night I arrived home, had a bit of time to greet the DB, and then just took it easy for awhile. I did notice however that Venus was acting oddly. She wasn’t really responding to being pet – not moving into it or away from it, not purring, nothing – and she had no appetite, would stay still when held, would stay in one place if you set her down there, and so on. I, in my ever-rational state of mind, particularly as it concerns my kitties, went from being somewhat concerned to being convinced that she was dying of cancer.

The DB came home, and I expressed my concerns (and at this point, I had cried a little but was holding it together), and he tried to soothe me by saying that maybe she was just feeling quiet or some such. When I told him she wouldn’t even take chicken, her absolute favourite treat in the world, he also showed some concern.

I went upstairs to bed, and took Venus with me, placing her on the bed. She ended up curled up on the DB’s side, while I tried to curl up near her, but not crowding her. I also bawled my eyes out for maybe a half hour, repeating my belief that my cat was dying of cancer or some other fatal disease, and so on. Rational to a fault, I am.

When the DB came to bed, he managed to make some space for himself, moving her slightly – she ended up stretched out between us – but couldn’t get enough covers. So he went downstairs to sleep on the couch so that the kitties and I could have the bed for ourselves. I’m still using this story to illustrate that he’s incredible, even if he drives me mental, and will probably do so for some time to come.

When I got up the next morning, the DB stole back into the bed, and Venus stayed there with him. We were both able to get some purrs out of her, so I felt better. I went to work, booked her a vet appointment for Friday just in case, and picked up some baby food on my way home to try to tempt her. The DB was off the rest of the week, so he was able to keep her company.

She ate some baby food, she ate some kitty food, she made her point that she was pissed at me for being away and then not having a weekend or something to pamper her upon my return. I’m still not sure quite what happened, but she was back to herself a day or two later. Little bugger.

Thena, incidentally, is perfectly fine and her usual goofy self. The two of them have been struggling a little – much like the people in the house – with the heat, but there’s a possibility that they figured out last night that sleeping in the basement is cooler. I know they were both down there in the morning when I got up, but that might’ve just been because they have to watch me in the morning, lest I try to sneak out without feeding them. They have their priorities – and they’re valid concerns, given that I have left without feeding them once or twice.

As far as everything else in life is concerned, there’s nothing too major going on. The DB and I have recently started talking about buying a house together, and I raised the issue of how this represents a major commitment, and maybe we should talk about the other major commitment. He asked me which one, with a grin on his face, and I said I was concerned we might have the sex, and that would change things. Men.

So no, no rings, no babies, no mortgages… yet. We’ve talked in the past of how he doesn’t like to be pushed, how he does think about the same things I do but doesn’t necessarily bring them up (which was evidenced when he started telling people that he’d been looking at condo listings with the idea of renting them out to pay the mortgage), and how I usually am the one to bring things up before he does – though he still thinks of them, too. What this means for future commitments, I don’t know. At this stage, there are still things that I’m biting my tongue on, but I’m thinking that’ll have to stop soon. After all, few people get far in life sitting around waiting for good things to happen.

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So yeah, a post a month seems a pretty reasonable number compared to before. Right? Yeah, right.

It's not like I don't have things to say -- my brain is filled on a regular basis with inane rants and trivialities with which to entertain my (one?) reader(s). But yet after spending all day in front of a computer, trying to look busy and thrilled with the tasks I've been given, I seem to have a hard time doing the same when I get home -- especially when there are things like baby blankets to finish knitting, video games that require playing, and cats that don't understand "get out of my lap Mommy's busy." Oh, I can't wait until I have kids.

All of that said and done, here I am. One of the major factors in my not updating lately has been insane amounts of stress and frustration associated with my place of employment. And since I long ago instituted a policy of not discussing my work in anything but the most general terms online, well, it really left me with very little to say -- other than perhaps stupid little cryptic comments that led the world to believe that I was still alive. Voila, a contribution.

However, the light at the end of the tunnel appears to be a positive one, for a change, instead of the oncoming train. I can't say much at this point, since I don't yet have the concrete details in place, but I should have a good announcement to make possibly even later today.

On the personal front, the Dear Boyfriend and I are a week away from our one year anniversary -- which also marks six months of cohabitation. There have been tears, and swears, and other complaints at times, but there's also been the joy of getting to go to bed beside someone I like somewhat on a regular basis, which overrides the rest of it -- except when it's 4 a.m. and I'm lying there awake listening to his weird irregular sleep breathing wondering if I'm ever going to be able to fall asleep again... however, he claims I snore (though in a delicate, feminine manner), so I guess I get him back sometimes. We've been discussing how we'd like to celebrate our anniversary, and we have a bit of a one and a half-day thing planned; he's suggesting paintball on the Sunday (the actual date), and it's up to me to pick the Saturday activities. So far, my suggestion has been dinner and a comedy club, or Iron Man, which opens that weekend. We are truly too cool for school.

The kitties continue to do well. Now that the snow has finally abated (I guess my offers of anal sex were tempting after all), the backyard is pretty clear, though a bit damp, and Thena is able to enjoy the outdoors on pretty much a daily basis. On one of the nice days, I set out a canvas folding chair -- for me, originally -- and now that's Thena's regular perch when she goes outside. No one would say my cats are spoiled, for certain.

I've had some interesting conversations on relationships as of late as a result of a number of different things going on, some of which are mine to discuss and some aren't. I realized the other night that it's been over 6 years since JJ and I dated, and he's getting married very shortly, which is great. The guys have gone to the strip clubs the past two weeks, which has resulted in my doing some introspection on where I stand on strip clubs and how they can affect relationships -- and it's led me to realize that on some issues, I'm just not as progressive as I like to think I am.

In principle, and in a relationship, I have no issue with strip clubs. I'd have a problem with it if my significant other was interested in going on a weekly basis, for example, but as a once-in-awhile thing, no big deal. Let's face it, I have excellent high speed internet access in my house; if someone wants to look at naked ladies, they don't have to go out to a club to do so.

Where my issues come into play is in the arena of lap dances. Now see, I've never had a lap dance myself, either from a male or female dancer (and yes, I've been to both kinds of clubs). Again, on principle, I have no issue with lap dances. I understand that's where the bulk of a dancer's take-home pay/salary originates. Where I start getting uncomfortable is the area of another woman touching my significant other, and/or him touching another woman -- as it's been told to me that it's pretty much a free-for-all as far as touching goes, though some places will say only the girls may touch the guys. I wouldn't enjoy my significant other touching another woman (or another woman touching my significant other, especially with the intention of arousing him) outside of a strip club, so why it is suddenly supposed to be acceptable to me when money changes hands?

Which leads me to the next point -- my irrational brain, when presented with the idea of my significant other purchasing a lap dance, turns the notion into, "I find this girl attractive and would like to spend my money to have access to her boobs and have her grind on me," and I don't particularly care for that notion. I like to delude myself that I'm the one that he finds attractive and none other, so...

And I know that last point isn't a fair one; after all, there are guys I encounter that I find attractive, so I don't expect my significant other to be blind to the charms of other women. Hell, in the last year alone, I've met two different guys that, had it not been for the Dear Boyfriend, I would've been interested in pursuing. I hardly claim to be a saint, and I think the blogs I've written attest to that fact. But, because I care about the DB and have no interest in pursuing something different, it's a non-issue to me. They were very lovely guys whose company I greatly enjoyed, and it certainly didn't hurt that they were both quite easy on the eyes.

That said, this is not a trust issue with me in the least. I trust the Dear Boyfriend implicitly, and even in my insane moments of paranoia (of which this was not one), I know that he cares about me and would not cheat on me. It's simply that I would like his hands to be on my body and not that of someone else's, especially if it's in a sexual environment.

And this is a sentiment that goes both ways. In our discussion on this subject (I'm sure you can tell this lengthy diatribe stemmed from one, or is practically a transcription of one), I stated that I had no problem with him going to strip clubs, and I would never ask him not to go to one, or even not to get a lap dance; I just didn't have to enjoy the idea of it, and asked how he'd feel in the reverse situation. We've both acknowledged there are things that the other does that aren't the most comfortable for one another -- my semi on-going friendship with an ex- being his example -- but we wouldn't ask the other to stop the behaviour, as we trust one another and know that isn't the issue.

I was asked if I'd rather he had lied about it, and I told him no. I would rather know the truth and know that I can trust that what he said to me was the truth, rather than have him try to spare my feelings. I can always come up with something worse than the reality, so I've always wanted to know even the bad news to its fullest extent.

I also realized that in my past dating history (extensive as it certainly is), I've had relationships where I probably wouldn't have cared if the boyfriend in question had lap dances or not. Hell, I'm fairly certain that towards the end of my relationship with the UBFM, he was cheating on me, and I really don't care at this point (yeah, yeah, especially as it ended nearly ten years ago -- even then, it was pride that was involved, nothing more). It seems as though when I genuinely care about someone, that's when I care about their actions. Maybe this is when I should trust them more, which I do, but I just don't seem the type of person to be dismissive of the 'intimacy' of lap dances and other things like that, much as maybe I should be, given my progressive nature in many other areas of life.

It's been an interesting time, learning about myself through living with someone else. For example, I learned that at my last place, I was a borderline slob as far as the cat hair everywhere went. We discussed it before we moved in together, and as he wanted the place vacuumed on a near-daily basis (or three times a week, which realistically translates into once a week), the Dear Boyfriend took on that role. But don't worry, I do the bulk of the cooking as compensation -- with the resulting dish cleaning. He takes out the trash, I get the mail and bring the trash cans back in usually. I'm trying to wean him away from doing laundry, as it often results in disaster (such as him washing his passport about a week after our return from Cuba), but so far no luck. It's mainly because he has fewer clothes than me, so needs them more often -- whereas, in combination with my stocked freezers and pantry, I could outlast nuclear winter with my clothes.

Anyhow, speaking of laundry, I meant to get some started, so I think I'll head off for that now. Exciting things are on the horizon (other than laundry, I mean), and right now, I'm in denial about them.

I really hate when I'm being stupid and/or hypocritical, and I know it rationally, and yet... same goes with passive-aggressiveness. I hate it in other people, yet I know I can be just as prone to it, and I hate it when I do it.

Maybe that's why I hate it so much in other people -- because it's a trait I recognize within myself that I hate.

Argh. I hate being an idiot.

I laughed at this -- and it's not a RickRoll.

Dear Mother Nature,

Saturday morning, when I went out to shovel the 15cm of snow you’d granted us Friday evening, I was considering offering you anal sex as a way of convincing you to stop. That’s a pretty big deal, you see, especially since the Dear Boyfriend and I don’t practice anal sex.

However, by the time I completed my shovelling – then went back to shovel some of what you were giving me as I was shovelling – I felt as though I’d already been anally-raped by you, and was feeling a bit less generous. That was with me having to go back over some of what I’d done when I first started. Then the Dear Boyfriend shovelled that evening when he got home from work. Then we got snowed in at his cousin’s place, and came home to… well, you know.

I confess, I cried when I tried to get through a lot of it. I couldn’t figure out where to put the snow, on snowbanks already above my head. I couldn’t figure out how to deal with having no place to stand to start on the walkway or the driveway, beyond the patio that I’d already cleared. I didn’t enjoy the novelty of standing in snow that was well past my knees, especially as I knew I had to move that snow somewhere. And I didn’t enjoy the fact that my back hurt, I was exhausted, and coming down with a cold from the plague twins at my office.

But I managed. I managed to clear a one-shovel-width path from our front door to the driveway. I even managed to clear a wider than one-shovel-width path from the top of our driveway to the foot. As the DB was at work, dealing with the lack of staff, I made the executive decision to start piling the snow against the garage. It seemed to work, in that it wasn’t under my feet anymore.

This morning, when I went to catch my bus to work, I was heartened at the fact that a path seemed to have been stomped for me already, as the city hasn’t yet seen fit to clear the path properly. However, that path turned right, towards the shopping complex; only brave and hearty souls had ventured forward, towards the bus stop – which, curiously enough, had a higher snowbank than anywhere else along that road. Granted, it was a novelty to stand six feet in the air and try to decide whether or not to cross the street for the bus (it loops around near me), or stay where I was… but I was also afraid that any moment, I’d sink into the snow below me and wind up with a boot, sock and pantleg full of the miserable stuff.

So, thank you Mother Nature, for your bounty and blessing. If this has anything to do with me leaving you behind when I went to Cuba, I apologize. I did miss you, if only because I assumed you’d be taking your winter wonderland away and blessing us once more with summer, or at the very least, spring. I brought you back some presents, but I’m afraid that since, at the moment, we don’t appear to be speaking – for some reason, I feel as though you’re upset with me – I’m not sure they’ll be properly appreciated. I do hope you’ll see fit towards forgiving me soon, as I do enjoy your company… and especially your sense of humour.

Love,
jen

I don't know what to think when it comes to you.

Okay, I vaguely remember what this place looks like.

Gah. I keep setting updating goals for myself, and then I start a post full of awesome stories about my cats and how much I adore them and how adorable they are and all that other stuff you love to read, and then I get sidetracked, or I get given work to do, of all things, and the post either languishes in the 'draft' folder or it just doesn't look as good anymore, or I can't put the words on paper.

Screen, whatever.

I'm taking two classes right now in an attempt to get back into my school mode (and move from the thesis option to the research paper), and I've written three papers so far for the class. The first was just a critique of some readings we did, but the second was a research proposal that I completed on Thursday, and the last was a discussion of trends in the alternative dispute resolution field that I wrote in an hour and a half. It's probably crap, but they're all done and turned in, which is the important thing.

All of this to say that between the turbo writing for school and some writing/re-writing I'm doing for work, I seem to once again be getting unblocked. I know pretty much every post I write lately seems to consist of the same thing, but there it is.

Anyhow, one of the other reasons I wanted to update today is because I'm leaving for Cuba in about 8 hours, and I'm not expecting to have any kind of internet access while I'm away -- but there will be photos and so on galore upon my return, especially since the DB has purchased a digital camera of his own, and I'm bringing mine. Of course, I may be too busy sleeping on the beach to be willing to rouse myself for pictures, but I'll make the effort. :)

Otherwise, I don't seem to think there's much to say. The kitties are funny, Venus has finally started to relax again around the house and boss us around. She likes to have her little freak outs around 11:30 at night, when we're either both occupied with computer/television, or I'm trying to get ready for bed. She's back to being talkative and demanding, and as annoying as it can be at times, I'm really pleased to see it. Thena has reverted to her kitten habits of waking me up 20 minutes before my alarm is set to go off, if she hasn't already done it sometime in the middle of the night. *sigh*

I realized yesterday that it had officially been four years ago that I brought Thena home -- Valentine's Day in my first apartment. She was a tiny little bundle of fluff that nuzzled my chin and purred and rolled around on my chest as I laughed and cried out of happiness for my new little kitten. I'd debated naming her Valentine and calling her Tiny for short, but I waited to see what personality would emerge, and I wanted to go with something Greek-themed. I liked the name Thena (from Athena, if you've never picked up on it), and while I didn't initially pick it for the warrior goddess associations, it certainly proved to be true. :P Thena Demon Beast is her extended name, when she's annoying me.

One of these days I'll get around to updating my flickr account with the photos that are currently in my buzznet account, but today is not the day for that.

Anyhow, I'm going to wrap this up here. I'll be back in a week, full of pictures, Cuban food, possibly a sunburn, and lots of booze. Enjoy the cold and snow. ;)

Dear people of the world:

If you put it on the Internet, it's not private. This applies to everything from UseNet to blogs to Livejournal to Facebook to picturesofmyass.com. If you choose to make information publically available, even if your definition of 'public' is 'one other person,' if it involves the Internet in any way, you have thereby given up all rights or expectations to privacy.

If you're worried about people googling your name and turning up nefarious activities, don't use your real name. If someone writes in the "How do you know this person?" section of Facebook something that implies you two have had sex and you don't want the world to know, don't accept it. Or, perhaps, don't add them as a friend. Or get over your prudish self. Or something, I don't know. But if you put it online or allow it to happen, get over yourself when someone else finds out.

Signed,
Someone who's tired of explaining this over and over again.

Secondly, things I learned at Microplay (a used video game store):
It's not always necessary to buy the largest memory card available for use in your PSP. For example, as long as you're not downloading tonnes of music or saving UMDs (universal media discs -- game/movie cartridges used in the PSP) directly to your memory card, a 1 gig will more than likely be plenty large for you. For example, if you look at this here game, you can see that it only requires 512kb -- that's kigabytes -- worth of space to save. There's one hundred kigabytes in a megabyte, and either a hundred or a thousand megabytes to a gigabyte... so it'll be quite awhile before you use it up.

Fortunately, she wasn't addressing this to me, and I was too amused and apathetic to jump in and correct her.

Okay, so I've already blown my semi-serious intention of updating more regularly; go me.

Christmas went well at the homestead, with a nice combination of hectic and quiet. I did a lot of housework (this is where friends and coworkers alike have said I'm turning into a good housewife/domestic person/Martha Stewart, though where they're getting that last one I'll never know), and I snuggled the kitties, did some crafts and spent time with friends. Maybe not as much as I might've liked, but it was good to see Andrea and the Arrogant Bastard (not together), and later Heather and a few other faces, new and recognized.

I'm starting back up classes this semester, and tomorrow is actually my first class. For those not in the know, I pancaked on my thesis portion of the masters' degree, so now I'm picking up two more classes and going back to work on a research paper. By the fall, or end of fall semester (i.e., by this time next year), I should have my masters degree. If not, well, I fail ultimately.

Merry Christmas and happy other holidays, everyone!

(A picture of the kitties and us will hopefully be here later. For now, prepping for the next few days/hours of craziness must ensue).

With lots of additional love from ^..^ & ^..^

Canadian revenge:

This idiot's been parked at the end of our driveway for a few days. There's been an overnight parking ban in effect. I think most of this is the plow, but I don't think the DB made too much of an effort to avoid piling snow on his car as he shovelled our driveway.

I'm thinking of printing out the overnight parking regulations and leaving them on his windshield, just to rub it in a little.

Normally I don't care much at all about celebrities, but this is pretty upsetting:

Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's.

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I’m going to write something that’s going to come off as extremely arrogant, and there really doesn’t seem to be a better way to express it.

I’m a relatively intelligent person. This has its advantages and disadvantages, one of the chief among them being that sometimes, I smart myself out of doing things – like fad diets (for the most part; I did try South Beach for two weeks), or other potentially self-destructive actions.

One of these self-destructive actions happens to be passive-aggressive behaviour. It’s interesting when I can see myself contemplating something that I recognize to be passive-aggressive, and having to fight the urge to follow through with it. Sometimes, I’m successful – other times, I give in, even when I know the whole time that it’s stupid.

I know this would be more exciting with examples, but the best I can really do is something like not talking to someone because I’m mad at them, or doing something deliberately to upset someone – I really don’t have anything juicy to relate at this moment, unfortunately. It’s just something that came up recently where I was irrationally upset with the DB for something likely stupid and didn’t really speak to him for a few hours as a result. As a general rule, I will speak up when something upsets me, because I don’t want to let frustrations fester, and this is a behaviour I’ve been practicing for a number of years.

Other times, I bottle things up (hello, work!), and then get annoyed to pieces except when I vent to other coworkers. Case in point? If my boss announces to anyone one more time that I’m going to be the next person on our floor who’s pregnant (although that’s already passed, so hah!), I’m going to tell her… I don’t know what. One coworker said that I should tell her to stay out of my vajayjay, which then became my vajenjen. *sigh* I want to tell her that I/the DB is sterile, that we’re against children, that he’s Catholic and so doesn’t believe in sex before marriage… my mom pointed out that most religions are the same way, but I told her that since I’m not religious that it doesn’t really carry the same weight. Maybe I’ll just tell her I’m not having kids until after I’m married; given that she and her husband aren’t actually married (and she generally avoids calling him her husband as a consequence), maybe that’ll get her off the subject.

In other news, I’m actually completely and totally done my Christmas shopping. I’ve given my aunt the gifts for the Nova Scotia branch of the family, my mom has the gifts for my New Brunswick relatives (i.e., my nanny), the family gifts are at my parents’ place, and everything is purchased for the DB and his folks. I still have to finish the scarf for his mom, and I’d like to knit up something for his brother and sister-in-law, but that’s really it. If you’d like to receive a Christmas card (I have to mail out *something* on the 24th, after all!), feel free to contact me via email (litterboxjen at yahoo dot ca) to get a card. I have a selection of cat cards, and this year’s new acquisition (and theme, it seems): penguin cards. Oooh! I promise not to use your mailing address to sign you up for anything *too* awful.

I haven't the faintest what I did on Saturday, but I borked my ankle something nice. It looks fine, but feels horrid -- keeping it elevated is about the only thing that keeps it from aching (and even that, not all the time), and trying to straighten it or turn it to the side sucks. *sigh*

What did I do on Saturday? I got up at 10, ran around getting myself ready, had a massage for an hour, then went home and played video games all afternoon. Granted, I'm incompetent enough that I can get a sliver from dried chocolate, but seriously, a borked-out ankle from sitting on a couch all afternoon? It's about time to give up on my body, 'cause I think it's thrown in the towel.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about various relationship-related issues over the last few days. I had dinner with the AB the other night; it was the first time we'd seen each other in about 8 months. Oddly... the evening went fairly well, but it's left me with various memories and other thoughts over the last few days. Good memories, but... hrm.

Several months ago, the DB had a dream that I was cheating on him, and it bothered him when he woke up. Understandable; I've had some crappy dreams myself. Well, sometime last week, I had a dream that he was being hard-core pursued by a nursing student, who hated me because I was with him -- and he was considering leaving me for her (which he told me in the dream). Often when I wake up, he wakes up too, and so I shared this dream with him. His response? "Only one? Nursing students always travel in packs of four." Yeah, we have different methods of reassuring each other. :P

Although, to be honest, I'm the one regularly sticking my foot in my mouth. I had a cold last week, and now the DB's dealing with it. Coincidentally, the AB has a cold as well -- so I told DB last night that if it made him feel better, the AB had a cold too, and I was claiming responsibility. Apparently, telling your boyfriend that you're claiming responsibility for an ex-boyfriend's cold isn't all that reassuring. Who knew?

I have to admit, I'm impressed with myself a bit this year. I've managed to finish pretty much all of my Christmas shopping, and I spent time yesterday wrapping everything. I still have to pick up a gift card for the DB's father, finish the scarf I'm working on for the DB's mom, and get some keychains for my uncle, but I'm miles ahead of where I normally am this time of year. Many of the gifts that I'm giving people came from the two craft shows I went to (including the citrus sea salt that I bought for the DB and gave to him early). I don't feel that I have any real "wow" gift for the DB, but I'm just going to have to accept that I might not find something of the sort -- especially since he's being no help whatsoever for ideas ("I don't want anything; save the money you'd spend on my gift for our trip"). Ah well.

In other news, work is driving me insane, bit by bit. I make a practice of not discussing work on my blog so as to minimize any kinds of problems, but let's just drop one big hint that sort of summarizes things: one of my coworkers (who pulls shit like this daily), went into my boss' office, crying, because she disagreed with how I'd placed commas and hyphens in a document that she had originated and I'd edited for web-posting/completeness.

Oh, how I wish I were kidding... god, some days I seriously miss retail.

It takes a special person to give themselves a splinter from dried chocolate.

Fortunately for me, I am that special person.

Okay, so I'm finally moving out of this lethargy or depression or whatever you want to call it that I seemed to be experiencing for the last several months.

Ironically, I started this post some time ago and never really got around to finishing it.

What's there to say? Well, the DB and I have pretty much finished all of the unpacking and setting up that we're going to do. Most of my books (say, 97%) are in storage, which is frustrating, but saved time on unpacking. I got rid of a fair bit of stuff, though probably not as much as the DB might've liked, but whatever, I did what I was ready to do.

The kitties handled things fairly well, or at least as well as could be expected. I had them shut up in a room in the basement (yes, we now have multiple floors!), and I let Thena out to explore a little bit when the guys were packing up the DB's place. She was putting on a brave face, but stuck really close to her mommy and acted extremely sucky for the duration. Venus stuck her head in a corner, tried to hide in a little cubby area, and finally settled for hiding under the stairs and staying there as long as she could.

We gave them access to the house after everyone had left, and they spent most of the night under the bed. I woke up during the night to see Venus sleeping on the bed, which was encouraging, but she was back and hidden in the morning.

In the end, Venus ended up with a bladder infection, so the money that I 'saved' on my first month of cohabition and then some went into paying for her to get tested and treated. Fortunately, they love her at the vet, because she's so placid and freaked out when she's there that they don't have any difficulty doing horrible things to her (that visit: a urinalysis, which consists of a big needle in the bladder; x-rays, which means kitty has to be held on her side while loud noises go on; and an enema, which is just plain rude, no matter how you feel afterwards). Apparently when they picked her up after one of the tests, probably the x-rays, she rested her head on the person's shoulder, which is heart-melting no matter who you are.

Shortly after that, the DB's parents came to stay with us for a weekend, bringing with them a huge couch that belongs to Venus and took a lot of effort to get into the house, a coffee table and two end tables. The stress of that visit and commotion (which included the DB's uncle drunkenly yelling at Venus to come up and hang out with everyone) led to some problems as well, but nothing bladder-related. DB's mom was completely understanding; cat people are great. The DB's a cat person as well, but his patience with this stuff is shorter than mine. Ah well.

My folks came out to the house (which they'd seen the previous weekend) for a brunch with DB's folks. Everything went well, there was no bloodshed and everyone seemed to get along quite well. My parents took the opportunity to tell stories about how horrible I was as a child -- though they refrained from telling the ones involving poo -- and I think DB's folks did the same about him. It's since gotten back to me that my parents have talked to coworkers/my sister about the visit, and I guess they were impressed -- both at my culinary feats, though DB did most of the cooking that morning, and at the overall tidiness of the house. I was telling DB about this last night (since I only learned of some of it from my sister during our Christmas shopping expidition), and yadda yadda yadda, I think I now have permission to nag at him about stuff. And yes, I'm ashamed of myself for using a Seinfeld-ism.

Last weekend was the DB's work Christmas party, and pictures from that have yet to surface, but I hope shall soon. I saw at least one or two of us that were taken that looked quite nice -- of course, that's in miniature. Who knows what ridiculous faces I'll be making when the pics are seen full-sized?

I've been doing a lot -- a lot -- of thinking lately about relationships and people I've dated and such the last while, but I'm not going to relate it all here now. I think this is going to be long enough to test most people's tolerances as it is. I think in a lot of ways the internet and email and instant messenger programs frustrate the crap out of me. I've saved many past chat logs or letters or emails for various reasons, and sometimes if I happen upon them and read them, I wonder why I didn't speak up more forcefully? But when it comes to certain personality types or people, there's just no winning. I've dated the victim mentality types, and I've dated those who had the world on their side and nothing short of marriage would've sufficed (and still not won over the friends), and I've ... blah. I don't even know where I'm going with this, or what I'm trying to say. I guess the short version is that life isn't fair, people aren't always going to like you, and no one really wants to see that they have personality flaws that can contribute to the demise of a relationship -- myself included. I've acted well in the past, and I've acted poorly in the past. I can be an amazing girlfriend, and I can be a very remote, distant one. I'm not an ice queen by anyone's stretch of the imagination, but the very fact that I don't always act as emotional as some (i.e., Smooshy, drama queen extraordinaire), has meant that I've been incorrectly labeled as such (UBFM, Smooshy, coworker, to some extent the AB). The problem with me is that I can be determined (bull-headed, I think my mom has said), and sometimes, though not always, I will act in the way I best see fit, even if it means hurting people's feelings. If it's for the greater good of a friendship/relationship/person's sanity, sometimes it's better to hurt someone and move on.

I think; like I said, I don't know what I'm saying, and as always, I'm trying to cast myself in the best possible light. Is it a strength that I can admit to past misdeeds and learn from them, or is it a character flaw that I've acted poorly?

People bug me. Even my friends bug me at times. I dislike hypocrisy, and I dislike when people try to impose their life view on me. Just because you have chosen a particular path as the ideal one for you does not mean it will have the same benefits or results for me.

No, supervisor of mine, I will not be having children in the near future just because a) three women who work directly around me are pregnant; b) I'm living with someone of the male persuasion; c) our parents have met. It is not inevitable, particularly as I am well-acquainted with birth control, I can keep my knees together (shut up, it happens), I have no desire for children at this point in my life, the DB is in no rush to have children at this point in his life, we have not discussed having children together, and I'd rather like to be married for a little bit first, before I start having children.

I also do not view children as the ultimate by-product of my existence on this earth; if it should happen to pass that I or my future spouse are sterile, then so be it. I refuse to feel like I'm less of a person because of it. I do not view children as a miracle, I view them as a product of biology. We are, as a species, meant to reproduce. It's something our bodies were designed to do, much like bleed, breathe, sleep, run, walk, pee, shit, fart, and so on. Granted, I don't equate having kids with peeing (FSM save me if I give birth as often as I pee), but having had several women liken childbirth to taking a giant poop, well... it's hard not to draw a comparison somewhere.

As a general rule, any two idiots can create a child together. I've known many idiots who have. It takes a real person to be a good parent -- and I've known many of those, too.

Just because I have a uterus does not mean that my destiny is to have children. That is my choice, and the choice of my future spouse's, and is no one's business but our own. And I just know that this person is someone whose head would more or less explode if I sat down some day and explained that I would never be having children, if that was the choice I made. Again, it's no one's business but my own, and it shouldn't be a conversation I have to have with a supervisor at work unless it's to say that in x number of months I'll be needing maternity leave, but if it comes to pass... I'll just get the "you'll change your mind" speech that will make my blood boil, I'm sure.

Some of this is coming about because two different friends/acquaintances have recently discussed having themselves surgically sterilized to combat problems they've been having for years with regards to their reproductive organs. And I thought about it last night and thought how unfair it is to have to make that decision at what constitutes a relatively young age (they're both around 24, if memory serves), and how unlikely it is that a man would ever have to opt to be sterilized to address a problem he'd been having with his reproductive tract. Yes, girl parts, in and out, are much more complicated on the whole than boy parts, but boy parts are also much more researched and studied and understood. It wasn't that long ago that science assumed that women were basically men turned inside out.

Anyhow, this stream of consciousness has been brought to you by my cold (and lack of cold medication), and I think I'll end it here before I start babbling about how unfair it is that some of the seats on the bus are too high for my feet to touch the ground, so any sharp turns result in a rather precarious bracing exercise for me, especially if I'm in an outside seat. But I do enjoy busing again, because I get to read once more.

Incoherence, ho!

Also, it's really nice to look at a moderately healthy bank balance and realize that all of that money is actually yours, because you've already set aside the money you need for rent, and don't have to worry about surviving for two weeks on the leftover. Take that, old expensive noisy apartment!

Finally (I promise, I really am leaving soon -- all of this babbling has really made me have to pee, never mind the large coffee I drank before starting this), I thought moving to the suburbs meant a leave from noisy neighbours and ridiculous parties. The DB and I were woken a few weekends ago at 4 a.m. by the neighbours across the street having a brawl that included someone chasing another with a 2x4. I'm pretty sure I've heard them many times since, and I have to wonder if they aren't frat guys sharing a rental space. Ah well, that was a few weeks ago, and there haven't been problems since, *knock wood*.

I had dreams last night about two different exes. That was a strange coincidence, and neither of the dreams was especially welcome.

ETA: Neither of the dreams was erotic or sexual, just the exes featured in the dreams were not the ones of whom I have a lot of fond memories. Some of the Smooshy, none of the coworker -- if you wanted to know about whom I was speaking.

Dear Internets:

Once again, I have caught up with you. Please, do not update anything for a little while so that I can rest once more.

Thank you,
jen

Okay, I have many things I want to write about/relate that I do plan on writing/relating, but right now, there's one particular feeling that's overriding it all:

I hate people.

Good news and bad news all around, but the good news is twofold now:

1. Got into the competition for the job promotion at work, so that's a first step.

2. Got the townhouse we applied for, and I'm moving at the end of the month.

So many things to arrange over the next while, including getting rid of a tonne of my crap...

Well, that's just frustrating. I've just spent the last few weeks working on a new template for my blog, only to find that there is an updated version of this template that I could use that would incorporate some of the changes I want to make.

Ah well, at least it's been good practice with the stupid CSS, and I've learned important lessons, like if, in the process of going back and forth between Dreamweaver and the Blogger template preview, you somehow manage to copy-and-paste your code so it appears twice in the same file, it'll be very difficult to get your page to display properly, and it may even appear twice on the page, leading to some vast confusion on your part. That will also explain why some of the CSS appears twice, and why it doesn't seem to disappear, even if you've removed a whole bunch of the classes.

What else? Nothing much exciting comes to mind at the moment, or at least nothing I'm willing to commit to at the moment. ;) For now, I'm going back to the template, and it may even be up before many of you make it to this post. :)

Good God, I seem to keep going a long time between updates. Urgh.

Partly it's because I don't have a lot of new and exciting things to complain or talk about; really, my life is fairly routine at the moment. I go to work, I hang out with the Dear Boyfriend, I sometimes see friends (who also seem to all be hiding out with their Dear Significant Others, or they hate me, your choice as to which), I stress about not doing anything for school, I try to exercise, and I poke the kitties.

I have gotten addicted to The L Word, so my path to becoming a lesbian is pretty set, and I have finally gotten my hands on ichaseboys.com and whoresboudoir.com as my own, personal, I own all the rights and you can't have them fucker URLs, so that's kinda nice. The hosting company Gord had originally purchased them through is a bunch of useless fucking asshole bastards, so I don't recommend you use them, and if I was at work where I had the contact information, you'd better believe that I'd be posting it all over this site right now. But I don't, and my memory sucks, so I just get to rail about it.

DB switched gyms the other day (finally), and we checked out the facility he's most likely going to be using at the same time. It has a women's-only section, as well as the co-ed area, and I was telling him I was tempted to keep working out in the co-ed section, as opposed to my quickie one, because no women were there. I'd also pointed out to him that he was the smallest guy in the place, because I'm nice that way. This is partly because DB stands 5'9" and weighs, according to the scales that he stood on while we were there, 135lbs. Me, on the other hand, I stand 5'2" (yeah, I'm wee and I like it), and according to the scales, weigh 160lbs... so it's time to kill myself.

*sigh*

I did a run that night, and while it started out sucking a bit, I was able to find my rhythm and go at a steady pace and a decent length of time. Including the 5-minute cooldown, some of which is still done while running, I went for 28 minutes, and covered about 2.2 miles -- which isn't exactly fast, but it was a pace I was able to maintain, and I'm happy about it. DB wants me to be able to participate in the 5km run for the cure run with him, but we aren't exactly doing much in the way of training to get to that point. Thursday's run was the second for me that week though, so I'm doing okay -- just need to get out more. Story of my life.

Anyhow, I need to grab a shower and get moving on the day (also story of my life), as I have to meet DB for lunch and steal his car for errands. Apparently the kitties get upset when they don't have litter to do track around my apartment.

Everyone go learn how to Jennif.

Updated the Whore's Boudoir.

And here I am, another year older (and a few days). What has the last year brought us? Several failed relationships, some more debt, some more mileage on the bike, some schoolwork (and subsequent ignored schoolwork), some work stress... all in all, another year in general.

I was trying to remember where I was this time last year, and it involved the Newf and my unwilling abstinence. From there I dated the AB, then the car boy who disappeared, then the AB, then the French Boy. And now? Well, now I'm dating the Dear Boyfriend, a guy who snuck completely under my radar and yet seems quite right for me. Who would've thunk it?

And just because I won't remember to post this later:



I thought it was Sunday this morning when I woke up. Very depressing to learn otherwise. Also, having your cat lick inside your nose to say she loves you is sweet, but ultimately very gross.

I saw SuperBad with the Dear Boyfriend on Saturday, and I bought a new helmet that same morning. It's white with purple and blue and has butterflies on it. It's rather girly, and that's why I got it.

I also horrified some pre-teen kids at this petting zoo setup on Sunday by telling Dear Boyfriend about JJ's tales of goat castration; apparently they scream like people when you do it, which makes it fairly disturbing. Warping young minds, that's me.

OMG ponies. In my next life, I'm totally coming back as an otter, and I will be irresistible.

Found via Cute Overload.

In the annual Bulwer-Lytton contest for deliberately bad writing, Bob Millar of Sweden won in the detective category with, "I'd been tailing this guy for over an hour while he tried every trick in the book to lose me: going down side streets, doubling back, suddenly veering into shop doorways, jumping out again, crossing the street, looking for somewhere to make the drop, and I was going to be there when he did it because his disguise as a postman didn't have me fooled for a minute."

One from June (see, I promised I was writing!):

Tuesday night, I apparently snored for a bit (it happens; I’m usually just a very loud breather), and talked about something, sounding rather annoyed or angry.

Last night, Thena was in a pissy mood and kept growling when I tried to pat her before sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, Dear Boyfriend awoke and was speaking to me about something that of course I can’t remember now; at the time, it made sense, except for the middle part, which I kept having him repeat. I think I eventually realized he was demented and just went back to sleep.

We had our annual work BBQ today, and because he had the day off and lives nearish my work (actually, my work is pretty much right between our places), I invited him to join. When I say work BBQ, I mean the entire building is part of this – over 500 people – and people often have their significant others and children join in, because there are always games and other activities planned.

He readily agreed, and we spent the time walking around and talking. I was actually shocked that he was not only willing to come, but did so and really seemed to enjoy my company -- which goes to say something pretty telling about some of my ex-boyfriends.

And, clearing out the archives, a post from May:

Quickly, because I don't have the time or brain for a proper, full-length update:

I have a new temporary roommate. I'm nervous about it, because I've never lived with anyone else before and I know how fussy I can get about some things (and completely uncaring about others), but we'll see how it goes. It's only for 2, maybe 3 months at worst, so it really shouldn't be that awful.

I'm a mean mom and tossed out a bunch of cardboard boxes that Venus liked to hide behind. She still hides in the same location, but it doesn't seem to be nearly as effective.

I saw Pirates 3 on the weekend. Didn't stay through the credits, but I found a clip of the scene at the end, and I found discussion on what it means. Be warned, the movie is long -- including the five million commercials and trailers we saw, it ends up running 3 hours. It's also somewhat confusing, and feels like it's lacking some of the character that really helped set the tone for the first movie, and somewhat for the second, too.

I saw Shrek 3 last weekend, disappointing as well. I liked some of the musical touches -- Danse Macabre, "One" from A Chorus Line, the original Snow White song, "My Favourite Things," but overall... eh.

I watched Epic Movie with R and N. Not a good movie, which was about what I expected. Possibly slightly better than Date Movie, but not by too much.

Dear Internets,

This is pretty awkward -- it's been so long, I don't really know what to say. I've wanted to write, many times, but I just kept getting tongue-tied, or distracted, and then the moment was lost.

I've missed you, I really have. You were always there for me, through so much, and I feel like such a jerk for abandoning you like I have. Please don't think you haven't been on my mind, because you have been.

It's just... it's just hard. See, I want to talk to you about work, but I've always made a policy about keeping you and work separate. It's not fair of me to only complain to you about my job, when I know that you aren't really full-time and so it would only seem like bragging or something.

Then, well, then I wanted to tell you about this guy I've been seeing, but again, I didn't want it to seem like bragging. I like him, internet, I really do, and as much as I'd like to write all kinds of details about him, I don't want to be all creepy about it. Suffice it to say, he's a good guy, he makes me laugh, and we're happy together. I'll share photos soon, I promise.

Finally, the cats. Oh, the cats and how they amuse me, as always. Recently, Venus was trying to knead her paws on me (otherwise known as giving me a belly massage, or a butt massage, depending on where she's pressing) during a fairly private moment. She then settled down, half on me and half on the bed, quite content with her lot in life. I think she was a bit upset when I dislodged her, but really, what should I have done?

The girls made me laugh another day, but of course I can't remember the reason at the moment. I do know that having a cat attack your head from your headboard right as you're winding down from a good orgasm is a tad distracting, but really, who hasn't been there?

I threatened to lock Venus in the spare bedroom last night if she didn't let me sleep, and I think the threat took -- she was quiet, and we slept the night away, undisturbed. It was quite lovely, really.

Otherwise, what to say? I accompanied the Dear Boyfriend to his brother's wedding in Toronto a few weeks ago. It was a bit of an all-over-the-place trip; I spent a few days with him and his parents in his hometown (I'd met them before, don't worry), then we spent a night with a cousin of his and the cousin's family, and then it was off to Toronto for the wedding and other associated festivities. Dear Boyfriend's family really knows how to party, and they're very warm and friendly people -- they quite liked me, or seemed to, even the ones who had never met me before. They'd apparently already figured out who I was though, and several took the time to tell me they already had my wedding scheduled. Dear Boyfriend said they were doing the same or similar to him even when he wasn't dating anyone, but I still chose to take it in a positive light. :)

Aside from Dear Boyfriend's massive alcohol intake and subsequent ensuing toilet-hugging, the week away was quite nice. We wrapped everything up with a trip to Wonderland on the Monday, organized by the bride and groom. In all of my previous visits to Wonderland (and there've been a fair number), I've always been hesitant to go on any of the big rides, because I really dislike the plummeting feeling I get in my stomach on anything with a big hill. This trip, I went on every major rollercoaster except the Bat (which none of us went on), and DropZone (which I vetoed completely, and Dear Boyfriend let me get away with that). Top Gun, the first coaster of the day, was the worst one, and DragonFyre was fun except for when it bashed my ears up at the end of the trip and made my still-healing piercing bleed.

Many of the new rides have cameras facing on each set of seats, and the video for us on Vortex shows Dear Boyfriend looking over at me, realizing I have my eyes closed, and laughing. He didn't seem to realize until that point -- in the afternoon, I might add -- I had been doing all of the rides with my eyes closed. I did open them for brief moments on a few, and I had them open for about half of DragonFyre. He was busy telling me each point we were going through, and when he mentioned we were on the first corkscrew, I decided to open my eyes -- to discover we were upside down. I yelled a bit about that, but wasn't actually upset, just was having fun. Being upside down doesn't bother me; it's the deep valleys that does. So, the next trip will involve coaxing me to ride with my eyes open, I believe he's decided.

There are a few more possible trips in our future; he has tickets to a football game in Buffalo in the fall, which would entail a trip to and stay in Niagara, and a friend of his is getting married in Vegas next summer... plus there's the trip to some tropical southern location in March with one of his cousins here in the city, and that's something else to eagerly anticipate. We're also figuring on a trip to Montreal at some point, but without a clear date in mind; I want to show him the Biosphere at the least. Yay, penguins!

I made friends with a butterfly at the science centre in his hometown; it flew on to my map, and I carried it around for a good five minutes or so before it decided it had had enough. I felt honoured. :)

I've also been watching a lot of wedding-themed shows lately; damn you, Slice network. Party Mamas just makes me homicidal at the sense of entitlement of the mothers and daughters on the show -- I want to smack the lot of them. There was one episode with a woman throwing a circus-themed bat mitzvah party for her daughter that just seemed to play into almost every Jewish stereotype I've heard about... made me want to pull my hair out.

Why do I watch shows that make me mental? Because I'm an idiot, and it gives me someplace to channel my frustration. Of course, I went to a yoga/pilates course last night to try to channel those frustrations and release them, so maybe watching those shows isn't the best of ideas for me.

I've gotten somewhat frustrated at some of the presumptions of people, and some of them may recognize themselves in this post and for that I apologize, but I need content, and I need to vent:

• Just because I have a motorcycle does not mean I'm going to let you ride bitch.


• Corollary: just because you have a motorcycle license and need to practice riding does not mean I'm going to let you ride my bike.


• Corollary the second: just because you have a motorcycle license does not mean I'm going to let you ride my bike.

There are so many reasons that the above frustrates me, but the major part that I have to question is simply why people would presume the above. Why would someone assume I'd let them learn how to ride on my bike? Why would someone assume I'd give them my keys to let them ride my bike? Why do people assume I'll let them ride bitch on the back of my bike? Seriously, why? Is it just me that would think to ask, 'hey, do you take passengers?' instead of 'when do I get to ride on your bike?' Maybe not, maybe I'm just making stuff up. But to the people who don't have experience, or don't have experience with larger bikes (not that mine's huge, but...), why would you think I'd be willing to just hand over my keys and wave you on your way? I've got a fairly serious amount of money invested in this bike, and not just the purchase price, but the insurance as well (which, over the three-year span I'll have paid it, will amount to the same as what I paid for my bike now), and this is the first motor vehicle I've owned... I'd never assume I could borrow someone else's bike, and I have experience! Argh.

Okay, rant over for now. Moving on.

And to wrap up, a reason why I'm fun to have at a party: because when someone points out that one of my nipples is hard and visible through my quite-thin t-shirt, rather than get upset about it or try to hide, I start pinching and pulling at the other one so as to have a matched set. The damn things get hard in a stiff breeze -- it's a hell of a lot easier to get both hard than convince one to soften.

Anyhow internet, I really should log off; I don't even know if you're going to read this far, but if you do, I guess you get the payoff of reading about my nipples. Yay you, huh? I just want to wrap up by reminding you that I do love you and miss you, and I promise to make more efforts to keep in touch more. Okay?

Take care,
jen x