Yes, I'm still alive.
Yes, I'm still unemployed.
Yes, I am going through crazy traumatic life changing situations.
Yes, I still hate my life.
Yes, I still hate my mother.
Yes, I'm still suffering from severe cabin fever.
Yes, I'm currently without any form of contact to the outside world (cell phone, computer, car...)
Yes, I'm broke.
Yes, I'm frustrated and yes, I mean sexually too.
Yes, I've given up on relationships that satisfy.
Yes, I admit that I am cursed to meet the right guy at the wrong time EVERY TIME.
Yes, I am uncollared.
Yes, I am generally unhappy.
Yes, I feel trapped, more than ever.
Yes, I resent my cousin, who is pregnant, for the happiness her family feels about it.
Yes, I resent my new friends for their freedom.
Yes, I resent being constantly alone.
Yes, I regret the last six months of my life.
Yes, I believe that the only person who would care if I left the state today would be my daughter because the court says she can't come with me.
Yes, I believe the system is out to get me, because there is obviously no way of getting around it.
Yes, I wish birth control wasn't a placebo.
Yes, I wish I had good news...

Laissez-fucking-faire once again...

Yes, my life is a roller coaster and not the fun kind.

I wish I could be online writing to you all much more often, as it is therapeutic to me. Unfortunately, it seems that's not something allowed in my life right now, thanks to kids, being unemployed, being under my mother's thumb, and being very close to severe depression... I hate life, I really do. Confusion, circumstance, and a complete loss of something that meant a lot to me...

Is it easier to learn everything about someone right away and decide based on this whether a relationship is good? Or is it better to have the relationship and find things out slowly, realizing two years later that everything you thought you had in common might not necessarily be right??

Blah.

Restlessness is BAD!!!!

That is all...

Yes, I am alive.
No, I'm not really happy with my lot in life.
Yes, I had shitty holidays that are technically still happening.
No, I'm not married, pregnant, or having an otherwise traumatic change of lifestyle.
Yes, I am still collared and happy about it.
Yes, I still get restless.

So it has come to my attention that this journal address has made the rounds at my job. After much, MUCH soul-searching regarding it, I have decided to say:

Fuck it.

I don't care if this gets read. I actually think it might shake up a few of those assholes who just plain had the wrong idea about me. I kind of feel like saying to them, "Fuck you all, you didn't want to know about all this, or you would have gotten to know me."

All kidding aside, I really hope this does shock them, surprise them, hell even horrify them. It would be nice to be acknowledged as the mysterious one. I mean, if all this lurks under the surface of the way I am, it might make them look or think twice to others they meet. Might make them think again before they say something stupid...

So, friends from work, welcome. Enjoy. Judge if you have to, but just remember that you were the ones who decided this was important enough to read without my knowing it... Don't blame me if you find something you don't like.

There is something unavoidably sexy about thunderstorms... Here are a few of my thoughts on why:

All that cosmic, universal power
The deep rumbling sounds like a growl that echoes deep in your chest
Everyone looks sexy in the rain
The possibility that stepping outside could be fatal makes people feel alive...

I don't know, maybe it's just that feeling of renewal, of fresh-faced rebirth...

Anyway, with all this in my head, I still have room for the image of an ethereal beauty, face tilted into the rain and highlighted by the shocks of lightning. Her breasts heave against the dress soaked to translucence even as he lifts her, positions her, penetrates her... She seems like nature itself living and breathing as they fuck, embracing the elements around them even as she clutches him in the more intimate embrace of her body. He orgasmic scream parallels the rumble of thunder above them.

I love rain, have I mentioned that one?

So I am alive, confused as usual, writing because I'm hormonal (again, as usual), and so glad to have Internet back, even if it is something that is only available to me on occasion...

I miss reading all of you and hate that I've been away so long.

Things are still crazy, but the constants are here:

Still love Master
Still dealing with work and commuting
Have decided that I love T, but in an entirely different way... it's a really confusing sentiment right now.
And am currently living int he house I grew up in... Suck.

So I've decided that I love late-night booty calls again... because right now I am sore but happy!

And then I decided I hate them again... because I kind of have to be up in two hours to get ready for work...

The inner battle ensues: love getting fucked late at night, stripes all down the back, furrows from fingernails dug in along the spine, slight crease marks from the stiff leather cuffs... hate getting no sleep after a previous night of getting little sleep... ouch...

So went to an awesome show last night and am feeling creative...

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I feel so disgusting right now... raw throat, swollen sinuses, cramps, and so tired... stupid period. Stupid sinus infection. Stupid work. Stupid roommates... I just want to go back to sleep.

So I tried drinking a couple nights ago, as suggestions came... *laughs* I knew it wouldn't make the problems go away, but I figured it might help me sleep... yeah, not so much.

Why do some e-mails have to archive automatically so you can relive your complete humiliation over and over again in some kind of sick self-destructive cycle?

Love drunken e-mailing... and drunken texting. And if any of you got something confusing from me, please ignore it...

I'm a lunatic...

As I have mentioned to a couple friends today, after a day with my kids and my mother, I would gladly pay a million dollars for one full day, twenty-four blissful hours, of absolute peace...

Now given that to achieve said miracle, one would have to know how to empty my head of every single thought, be able to deter every confrontation and otherwise keep me in a state of complete and utter euphoria...

Any ideas, I'm obviously open to suggestion...

So here I sit watching one of the worst movies made in quite a while, Grease 2, trying to figure out why I'm subjecting myself to it. I am drinking bad Sauvignon Blanc, eating Chubby Hubby... I think I'm PMS-ing. That said, naturally I am over-analyzing as usual. And it's good that I've already had three-quarters of a bottle because I doubt I would say these things because the people I'm going to talk about are the most likely ones to read this stuff.

Why is it that once a man is labeled a 'boyfriend' he stops doing boyfriend-type stuff?? Or perhaps the better question is why are some men more adept at the boyfriend stuff than others?

So a couple months ago, I was given a gift. It was a bottle of wine. A really good bottle of wine. For no real reason, other than he thought I'd like it. I don't think he knows how much I appreciated that.

Last night, just as I was falling asleep, I got a text message. It said "I know it's late, but if you're still up, call me. I'll be up a while." And while that's not exactly the most romantic of boyfriend things, it came from the guy who takes the time to text every holiday and texts me the funniest things. He just takes a minute out of his day to do that, and that's really nice...

Today while I was at work, I got a call I had been half-expecting. The unexpected part was that I didn't end up with a movie watching friend tonight, but instead was treated to the, albeit slight, excitement on the other end. It wasn't just sharing the good news he had, but once again, the fact that he took just a couple minutes out of his day, which was entirely busier than it had any right to be, to talk to me.

*sigh*

I mean, there doesn't seem to be anything to any of these actions... not really. But when I think about them, the compartmental part of my brain puts that type of activity into considerate, emotional... boyfriend stuff. Like when he holds doors open, even though he knows he doesn't have to. Or when he slides down so you don't have to have the squeaky movie theater seat. Or puts up with your snobby foodie habits. Puts up with complete jibberish that makes no sense, listens to you ramble on and on about inane shit that makes no difference in the big picture of life, and laughs wih you when you realize what a dork you're being... listens to the confusion you have concerning other guys, only feeling slightly guilty or awkward. Is still attracted to you, despite your complete lack of sex-goddess stature. Can somehow seem completely innocent, but hint at the deeper darkness that makes you ever so curious... Or will listen to you waffle endlessly about what kind of food you want, walking from one end of downtown and back while you decide. *laughs* Okay, two downtowns... Puts up with endless random questions about favorite clothing and obscure music collections...

That clinches it... I'm definitely premenstrual.

... pull back the curtain.

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Happening as if in a dream, the blow would connect.
He expects her to wilt.
Instead, she seems to swell-
Not as a bruise.
The air around her shimmers as
Energy seeps into her,
Drawing her taller, broader.
Looking down her nose at him,
a Queenly stare,
He is dismissed with injury.

***
Eyes meet,
Reach,
Dance around the tension.
Smiles spread,
widening,
freezing in realization.
Hands touch,
tremble,
caress in fleeting ardor.
Bodies press,
clutch,
surrender.

***
I lay today, half-dreaming in my langorous state. Words floated through my consciousness, detatched and definition-less. The heaviness of my chest made breathing a struggle as I fought to make sense of the meaningless phrases. Tears came to my eyes, showing the futility of my battle. I woke to hear spoken clearly in my mind, "And now the one you once loved is leaving..."

***
Poetry to the side, I researched a little into these words I've laid on the page and am slightly disturbed by what I found. I'm off to think about them a bit and perhaps just dwell in them for this lazy Easter Sunday...

So why is it that when you're trying to detach from something, everything you see reminds you of it...?? Yeah, works with people too... I saw the same damn truck four times today and I'm trying not to think about it... yes, cryptic... whatever...

Oh and Happy St. Pat's, everyone... have a green beer for me!

Seriously, what is the deal??

So I commented that everyone I've spoken to in the past couple days seems to have sex on the brain. The guys at work are making dirtier conversation than usual and even being a little suggestive in a personal kind of way. (Example, "I'll do anything you want me to... and I mean that in a dirty way." "Do you intend for it to sound dirty, or do you really mean that in a dirty way?" "I meant it in a dirty way...")

So ever since my shower Saturday morning it's all just been that much more twisted. I went to work Saturday afternoon and just kept getting reminded of my slightly sexual frame of mind. Had a conversation late Saturday night with Master, who added to it all by teasing and making me talk about how badly I wanted to just be thrown down and fucked hard, like hard enough for it to be nearly painful. Sunday it continued through my nephew's birthday party and on to work again that night, where I dealt with comments like the one above. Then got a hold of T, thinking that perhaps I would just vent or maybe even get it all out of my system easy... Nope, we talked for too long and he had to get home so he could work this morning. So two nights in a row where I practically beg to get fucked and I get denied.

Suck...

Are Once Upon a Times better than Happily Ever Afters??

That's all... just wondering about popular opinion, really, so please tell me which you like better.

Oh, and it has to be coincidence, but has anyone noticed that Once Upon a Time gives a person a great O.U.T.?? Stupid, but something that just occured to me.

So recently quite a few people have labeled me (accused me of being, whatever) an endorphin addict, a neophiliac, and an infatuation junkie... I've laughed it off, but I'm wondering how true it is?

I watch the patterns I go through in new relationships, whether they are romantic or otherwise, and I just seem to get enthralled by this new presence in my life. I try not to make it obvious to those I am in the relationship with, but it seems that I am much too obvious to those around me. I don't entirely understand this excitement, and adversely the utter depression when things don't turn out the way I would like, that is present in these situations. I mean, we as humans meet new people practically daily and for some reason I find myself attaching so wholly to a few of these people and becoming what would be labeled obsessive about their acceptance of me.

I am guilty of putting out the best of my personality traits, or at least those that are the most widely appreciated, in hopes that they will induce the curiosity to try to solve the mystery that is my confusion. Maybe in all this I'm just looking for the person who is able or wants to look past it. Maybe I'm looking for the person who looks at the happy-go-lucky, eager puppy syndrome me and says "Yeah, right, let's see what's really under all that denial." Maybe I'm looking for someone who will be enthralled in their own things, allow me to be caught up in them, and then will turn around and say "What is it you obsess about?" Maybe I'm just looking for someone who is accepting of all my crazy...

And it bothers me sometimes... it bothers me that I listen and support and I don't get the same in return. You know how your parents are supposed to support you... yeah, not really. Your friends are supposed to support you, right? No, they've all kind of drifted away. And it's so hard to accept support from people you have just met, because in the back of your mind you think "Yeah, they don't know the whole story..." In other words, if support was hard to come by when one is young, it's even harder as we age.

I find myself doing things to draw attention. Not all of them blatant, only some of them corny, and the scariest of all are the ones I find myself doing unconsciously. Of course the ones I don't realize I do are the ones that are caught on to, making me uber-aware of them and completely self-conscious. For instance, my food reactions... and my underwear drawer... and the necklace... But if it's something we aren't aware of, can we really be doing them for attention?

I think that's what makes these things scary. Is Freud right; do we really have that baser urge of our psyche that can come forward and dictate things we do, say and ways we act? Is our subconscious mind really so powerful to affect us in such ways? Is there really a part of our soul that we can't control? That's what scares me... I wonder if people have over-active id syndrome?

All right, all this said, it could explain why I have been inspired yet again by one of my dreams...
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So I'm not enough... that's got to be it.

I don't really understand it all, but everytime we talk now I feel like I'm just not enough, that I'm just not right, that I'm not what he wants. I honestly thought I was past those feelings.

Blah.