beyond the tigers

Grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change

the courage to change the things I can

and the wisdom to know the difference

I'm reminded of this today.

I stopped praying when Christine died. I stopped talking and listening to the God I learned to believe in, and I have not yet gone back. I know it's a large source of what unsettles me on a daily basis. I know it's not what she would have wanted. I'm approaching the one year anniversary of her death and in some ways all I want to do is pray.

The serenity prayer has always brought me back to center in the past. It has always helped get my mindset out of that cluttered space where my life is not manageable. I can apply the serenity prayer to so many situations in my life- in some ways it almost feels like a "get out of jail free" card, if I want to play it like that.

Often time we are weighed down by mistakes we've made. Balls we've dropped and people we've hurt. This morning Mike drove me to work and one of his old favorite songs came on the radio. I listened to him, as I've done a thousand times, sing along to the words. I found myself thinking, "he still knows the words to this song." I guess I just assume that he has forgotten, as he has forgotten so many other 'favorite things'. I noticed he wasn't singing aloud, but more whispering as I could only hear the "s" sounds of the lyrics. His life has become such that I suspect that he doesn't even bother learning the words to songs anymore. He finds joy in nothing. He is weighed down, every day, by his mistakes. He lets them define him. He lets them hold him back.

I am just as guilty. I'm approaching 11 years of marriage to a man that I failed to help, in all of my attempts to save him. I tried to help a drowning man by giving him a glass of water. From the first Al-Anon meeting I stepped into, 11 years ago- I refused to admit that I could not alter his course. I refused to give up the hope that I could help him, save him, rescue him. I could not change this situation. I did not have the courage to walk away. I know that now. Today I reach for my serenity by knowing that I can't change where we are now, even as I take responsibility for my part in it. I have to forgive myself for that mistake. I carry around 11 years of baggage. In it contains bottles that I threw away so we didn't have to talk about it. Money that I pretended not to be missing. Lies that I pretend I didn't tell. Cover up stories to all of my friends and family. I carry it all with me, and it's heavy.

I can't change it. I can't change the 11 years of mistakes I made. I can't alter his course. I can't save his life. Accept the things I cannot change. I can't change this. It's done. I need to wrap it in a blanket, put it in a boat and let it go. I'm not perfect. I tried, I swear I tried. I failed at a task I could never succeed at. My marriage was my Everest, and it's not a mountain I want to die on.

It takes courage to move on from my mistakes. People tell me how strong and brave I am, but I always remind them not to confuse bravery with the lack of courage to walk away from it. Am I facing the tigers, or just too afraid to turn and run out of fear they will get me in the back? The brave ones are the ones who get out alive. Not the ones who stand and wait to be eaten. I still struggle knowing the difference between what I cannot change, and having the courage to change what I can.

But Serenity, it calls to me like a sweet song. I know it's out there.

words

Sometimes I wonder how I can call myself a writer. My words are not eloquent. My thoughts are not deep. My experiences not unique.

I am nothing special. I will never write a great novel about overcoming adversity or reaching the impossible dream. Chances are, I will never put an erotica submission together for one of Rachel Kramer Bussel's anthologies. I read other peoples words and I wonder- why was I not gifted with such beautiful language?

My dear friend @Mollena just twittered this:

Jasmine trees are blooming & even in this evening's chill they are so beautiful to smell & elicit memories complex as cartographs of my heart.

In 140 characters she has made me wonder, "what memory is this? Why is it complex? What is it about?" Cartographs? My simple brain would have said "map" even thought I know that just the word brings up a different feel. Words like blooming, chill, elicit, cartographs. A good vocabulary separates the simple from the truly beautiful.

Maybe someday I will get there, but until then- I will simply envy those that do.

Things that bug me

Fat free mayo- what's the fucking point?

Asking me for thing I don't want to give you, like cigarettes or money for cigarettes.  However once you've asked and you can see that I'm annoyed, don't UNASK, because I'm already annoyed. No need for both of us to miserable.  

Cruelty- I really don't see the point in hurting people's feelings. Not EVERYTHING needs to be said outloud.

People who think that you have to be 100% honest all the time. Sometimes its ok to just shut the fuck up.

People who say that their pets are their kids? Really? Why can't I say the same in reverse? Why can't I let my kid eat meat that has falled on the floor. I get that your pets are important- of course- but let's have some perspective.  If my son has an illness with really high medical bills, I never have the option to just 'put him down'.  

Water snobs- look I prefer a good bottled water, but if you can tell the difference between Evian, Dasani, and Arrowhead, you just have too much time. Get a life.

People who insist on putting down the things that I'm in to.  Hey, I am a blogger and I also like Twitter and Facebook.  If you are not in to those things, then don't do them, but don't hate on me because I like to do them.  Why do I need to incessantly tweet everything I do??  Why do YOU have to question and put down the things that other people like to do?  Suck a fat one.  Click away.

Now, maybe your pet is your thing....  I'm not gonna put that down- however.  Don't push your little dog on me, and I won't MAKE you read my Twitter Feed.  

You do your thing.  I'll do mine.

Oral Surgery- a D/s scene

I was in the chair. Mentally prepared. In the interest of time, I opted not to take the drugs Something in my mind wanted to get the over with, even if it meant that I would experience it all. I had my iPod and opted on The Hold Steady, all three albums to get me through this.

Without warning, the chair went backwards. I turned down the music so I could hear her. Open your mouth, said the voice. She was neither warm nor cold. Just so. My eyes saw the stick and the white ball going towards me, entering my mouth and the the rubbing. The taste. The tingling. She kept on for short seconds and then reached behind her.

Fuck, already?

I closed my eyes and in went the instruments. I turned up my music. Poking. Once, twice. She gave me a quick warning before each pinch, but worked quickly. "It's ok, honey" she said. But never stopping.

Hands out, and then back in again, "This one will hurt the most. Well second to the worst." Sharp and deep, but she rubbed my nose. "Focus on your nose. On your nose." She demanded. It was twisted sensation play. Focus on another body part while I tear up this one. Hands out, and then back in. "OK- this is a big one." The needle felt enormous going into the tender skin. I winced, maybe it was a groan. She ignored me, she was not concerned. Hands out, chair up and she was gone.

Alone. I stared into my surroundings. I grabbed my blackberry, twittered, texted. While the sensation left me. I was alone for what felt like a long time- but I'm sure it wasn't.

Then the girl entered the room, the assistant. I could only see her emotionless eyes and the pink streaks in her hair. The girl didn't speak, offered no comfort or calm. The chair went back and She returned. Her fingers went into my mouth again. Why this comforted me, I don't know- but it did. The latex gloves maybe. Perhaps it was because I felt safe with her in control. Confidence that she knew what she was doing- and she was going to do it without any word from me.

Music on- and we begin. It seemed simple enough to begin with. She moved between the difference spaces, going to each area, digging, pulling. The girl with the vacuum in my mouth. She seemed to rub it across my tongue a lot. I felt a design. I focused on it. I focused on the music, on the tapping of my feet. I was not there. Do as your told, Julie- and focus somewhere else. Behave. Don't struggle. Be a good girl.

Yes somewhere- my sick and twisted mind turned this into a crazy D/s scene and that is what calmed my brain. She was in control and the girl was her sub assistant. I would open my eyes to see instruments, the girls eyes behind her mask. The rubbing of the vacuum across my tongue. Fingers in my mouth, pressure, pain. Music. It was fast and hectic. It hurt, but was not torturous. I always knew when it was the big pliers. Something about the feel of it as it grabbed me. I knew. Then pressure. More pressure.

My hands grabbing on the arm rest- clenching. I was shaking from the shots, heart racing, more pressure she said, no kidding-bitch?? More pressure... closer, shaking, pressure, and give. It was like an orgasm- but without the pleasure. She was raping my mouth and I was paying for it.

When she spoke to me, I would turn down the radio but she mostly didn't other than to command me to move. Wider, Up, Open. She moved quickly, and without reason that I could determine. Some parts more stubborn than others. Then the drill.

I turned the radio loud, trying to drown out the sounds until the music was piercing my ears. I wanted to be gone from this. I wanted to stop but there we no safe words in this scene. It had to just be finished. Almost over, honey. She said. Hands out and they left the room.

Don't call me honey, you bitch. I thought. My eyes still closed and there was a bright light behind them. I put my hand over my eyes and waited for their return. I felt that they were gone a long time. Giving me a break so she could go to the victim in next room, I supposed. Until she returned again. My blood still on her gown. New gloves and her fingers back in my mouth.

The drill again, but this time I felt it more. I heard it louder. It was in my head and I could not escape it. She was pushing with the big tools, pushing lower. Why all the damn pushing, was she putting them back IN- or taking them out. I knew not to ask questions, but I wasn't sure. But I was feeling this. Wincing went to groaning, louder, until she stopped. She punished me for stopping her with the needles again. Big needles, under my tongue- in my cheek, jaw, roof of my mouth. The assistant stared down at me. Emotionless and focused. Like she was enjoying this. Perhaps if she tried to help me, she would get the needles too. I didn't blame her for following the lead. Clearly neither of us were in control of this situation. She just held the vacuum, sucking out all my blood. Not once did she comfort me. Not once did she grab my hand, or stroke my arm. No, she was enjoying this. Watching me helpless, violated.

Again. She was frustrated now- more forceful and impatient with my lack of cooperation. She was pushing against me, my neck straining, my face sore. I tried to will myself to let go. So it would stop. Please stop. No.

To the other source of her frustration, on top. She drilled, and pulled. Drill. Pull. Fuck, I wanted to stop. Please, just leave it. She grabbed and pulled- there was no more needles. This was all. My eyes started to tear, but she did not stop. I moaned out, but she did not stop. Drill. Push. Pull. "It's just a tip" she said, finally stopping.

I wiped my eyes as she went back to the bottom. My eyes closed, I did not want to see. I felt the big tool again. I was frustrated and trapped. I was done with this. I turned up the music. The Hold Steady, Yeah Sapphire. Loud.

My head was spinning. Loud music. She held my mouth open at my front teeth, I focused on the latex against my lip. The vacuum brushing, hard metal against my tongue. The bitter taste from the needles. She pushed harder this time. I felt it on the other side of my face. More. More. I held my breath and grabbed on to the arms. More.... Harder. I heard it when it happened. Release.

"There it is...." she said.

Vacuum, suction, rinse. She finally seemed slightly pleased with me. Fucking Bitch.

"One more- this tip." and she went in once more. One more, I told myself. I was pissed off now. Willing my body to cooperate. Drill. Loud, echoing in my skull and I could not drown it out. I couldn't feel it, but I could hear it- louder than anything. The big tool again- I decided, for the last time. I was so exhausted I wanted to sleep. I hurt to open my mouth, but I did as I was told. Just fucking do it, I thought to myself. Just do it and leave me the fuck alone. Pressure... harder, more. It was killing me and it felt like she was draining my eyeball though my gums. It was sadistic torture, she kept going and I didn't wince or moan. I was stoic, quiet, angry.
Just fucking DO IT!

and release.....

Fucking finally.

The rest, I practically slept through. The bone file, the sutures. This was just for her sadist pleasure now, and I didn't care. I was done. I was exhausted.

She shoved padding into my mouth, gave me some directions and left the room. She was done with me. The assistant sat me up and wiped of my face with a wet towel. She smiled at me, finally. "All done" she said, her eyes warming. She was pretty.

Sore, exhausted and dizzy, I was still somewhat shaking as I left the room.
What the hell just happened?

California Season

I often don't open my mouth when people are in conversation about the weather. I don't use the term weather as a metaphor for mundane topics. I mean, 'the weather'. People get really frustrated with my uneducated, and simplified meteorology/ weather tactics.

I'm from California. Born and raised, and very rarely have I ever left. I've lived probably 90% of my life (that's a fast calculation) living within 15 miles of the house I grew up in. My son is going to the Jr. High School I went to. I drive past my high school every day that I drive to work. Being from California- Southern California- things are different here. One thing that is different here, than it is in many other parts of the world, is the weather.

I would guess that it's usually between 60-85 degrees on any given day. That's what it seems like in MY world. A little research would tell me that the winter months are get down in the 40's, and of course we months get into three digits. In my little world, I'm cold when it's half a degree below 70. Just as the thermostat reaches 80, I'm hot. I think many (but not most) people who have always lived in California have always felt that way. We are climate controlled.

Weather snobs always piss me off. Those who tell me, "Oh you don't know cold." Ummm, yes I do. When I feel that chill on my skin and my nipples are sticking out through my very PADDED bra- I'm cold. Don't tell me I don't know cold. Maybe I've never had to walk through the snow, but you know- I live in Southern California. Don't blame ME for the awesome fucking weather here. I didn't create it, I just enjoy it so put on your snow boots and drudge away, Mr. McFreezy.

That being said, I was having a conversation with my best friend Ed who lives in Colorado, who started our most recent conversation with, "They said it wasn't going to snow, but it's fucking snowing."

"Is it supposed to snow this late in March?" I asked him? "If it's still snowing the first few months of spring, why don't they just change the damn dates of the seasons?"

My friends on the East Coast are still freezing thier pretty tits off as well. On Friday here in Cali, I swear it was 85 degrees. I made sure to tell them all about it. Winter is WAY over here- even though it was a very chilly 60 something degrees last night and probably in the 50's this morning. Winter is over.
O-VER

So as the conversation went, we identified the 'seasons'- of a non traveling, temperature controlled, California girl/ parent such as myself.

• "Summer" starts on the 'last day of school', and ends on the 'first day of school'
• "Winter" starts the Monday after Thanksgiving and ends around the December 28th. (Whatever day the Christmas Decorations start coming down.)

The rest of the time, is just California time.

It's all pretty simple. It's going to be about 72 degrees today. That seems about right for California Season this time of year.

25 things

I know I know... I've done these a few times, but my cousin tagged me and I just never say no to her cause she never asks for anything. I'm gonna do it here on my blog and not Facebook cause I need something to post here anyway and I'm not gonna tag anyone cause if I tagged you, you probably did it already. So here's my 25 things that maybe you did or did not know about me.

1. I cry at movies. A lot. I cried watching Bolt, and today I cried at the end of Rocky II. I cry more over movies and TV shows than I do about real life.

2. When I do cry about real life, I find it really hard to stop and I will cry on and off all day.

3. I still cry about my husband, more often than I care to admit, but he doesn't (and won't) know about it.

4. I starting blogging three years and 4 months ago. The blog was dedicated mostly to my journey in Al-Anon.

5. I have written more than 1500 blog posts between all the blogs I write and write for and there are people who have read every word I've ever written- or at least come very close to it.

6. To my knowledge, my husband has never read anything that I've written nor has he taken an interest in doing so. Probably a good thing because I tend to be seen quite often in various stages of undressed.



7. I was a dancer when I was younger. I've never loved any hobby or pastime more than when I was a dancer- but I stopped after highschool and haven't taken a class or performed since.

8. ...except for my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary.

9. My roots are grounded in my family. They are the hardest ones to turn to when I need them, but I know that they are always there. Always.

(this is my most favorite picture in the entire world)

10. While I am not making enough money to adequately support my family, 95% of the time, I LOVE my job and I LOVE the people that I work with. I finally feel like I'm doing something that matters.


11. I am trusting and forgiving to a fault. If you tell me you're sorry, I will believe you. Even if I should never forgive you, I will- I'm just that way.

12. ...unless you are now or were ever my husband.

13. I didn't want kids when I was a teenager. It wasn't until I dated someone who told me he couldn't have and didn't WANT kids that I even considered it.

14. A boss I had said something to me that quite often helps me make hard decisions. He said, "When you are an old woman and you look back on your life, what do you want to see?"

15. I have had sex with four of my supervisors. (Person from #14 was NOT one of them)

16. How I met my first husband: I gave him a job. Scheduled him to work with me all the time and hit on him the first chance I got. I married him later...


17. The weirdest toy I ever got to review was a big round egg shaped vibe that had these plastic nubby things on it that were kinda pokey. I looks like a blowfish and I was tempted to put eyes on it and throw it in a tank of water.

seriously right???

18. There is rarely an important decision I make in which I don't first consult my best friend Ed, it's been like that since I was about 19.

19. Oh my god, really.... twenty five????

20. I have not decided if I want to go to the 20 year high school reunion.

21. I have realized that I sometimes talk about things in MY world that don't translate the same in YOUR world. For example- me talking about dildo's is about as normal as talking about kitchen appliances or lampshades. I forget that for most people, sex is something they just don't talk about.



22. I have also realized that by letting people know that I am totally open in talking about it, people will open up to me and often feel good about admitting things they think are weird or crazy. Trust me, nothing shocks me.

23. I have a girl friend who I let tie me up with ropes, cause she needs the practice.



(that is a chest harness and a spreader bar)

24. It's 12:30, one more gratuitous picture of me and I'm going to bed.



25. Goodnight.

the trashy sex blogger....

So there was a list that went around a few weeks ago of the top 100 sex bloggers, and I hate to be a fucking baby, but I was kinda irked that I wasn't on it. Not me here, but me there... if you know, you know... I won't link. I could have promoted it, asked for votes... all that- but I didn't. I didn't think I gave a damn, but then I didn't show up on the list, and I admit I was kinda hurt.

Friends say it is not a big deal. It's a popularity contest and I was never the prom queen type, but still, even amongst the sex bloggers, the ones that are 'my people' - am I still the slut with her bra strap hanging off her shoulder?

There were quite a few left off the list that I was shocked about... the #1 was right on though.

Sinclair is my butch fantasy.

No great depression

Yesterday, the e-husband saw me reading Shampoo Planet by the edge of the pool and asked me, "You're still reading that book? What is it about?"

"Well, it's about this guy and...well, fuck- I'm not really sure!"

I read him the inside cover- and told him it's a very Generation X book, you know- about.... um... fuck, I don't know.

Someone help me, I'm half way through it. Is there a plot line that I'm missing? Am I supposed to be acutely aware of his struggles, cause so far- he just seems observant, but not very passionate about anything. Ok, so I see that some mysterious woman is about to enter the picture- so ok, maybe there is something to grasp on to- but I'm half way through, shouldn't I know already?

Maybe I've been too preoccupied to acknowledge my Generation X-edness. Perhaps I'm just somewhat closed off to the ideals that my generation is supposed to care about. Perhaps I am have been too concerned in my adult life with the 12 steps and the Big Book and breast feeding that I never took the time to get a good political point of view or develop a hatred for the government. Maybe I am too self centered to have an emotional opinion on the environment and offshore drilling and stem cell research. Not that I don't have an opinion, or that I don't feel this issues are important, but I have heard friends talking, and having heated debates about these things, causing them to openly abhor those who may oppose their views. I wish that I was that passionate about it so I could at least join in the conversation instead of listen quietly, and nod my head- and more often than I care to admit, ask "what does that mean?"

And if you are one of the few people who have to constantly school me on what the hell you are talking about, I appreciate you never making me feel stupid for not knowing and not being judgmental. It's not that I don't care- but perhaps I am still of the school of thought that in general, society is too selfish to do the things that need to be done to make long term positive changes. Like in the movie Singles, which I did see, once:

People love their cars.

I feel this way about most things- and if you know me, you know that I'm not one to go against the grain and be confrontational. Maybe I am part of the problem, because I don't know what the solutions are. It's not that I don't want to care, I just don't what to care ABOUT!!

Go ahead, kick me out of the generation. It's ok. I probably won't notice.

Our Generation has had no Great war, no Great Depression. Our war is spiritual. Our depression is our lives. ~Chuck Palahniuk

Hey wait, maybe I belong here afterall.....

When you die, nothing happens...

I don't usually get into too much talk about religion, but lately it has been somewhat on my mind. I met a guy who is an athiest. I had to look up the difference between athiest and agnostic. I think I'd prefer to say I was agnostic, claiming that I could not confirm not deny the existence of God. You know, walk the fence, so you're covered. I think it's an interesting comment to state that you are an athiest. I tried to delve a little deeper and ask if he had ever looked, you know, for a higher power. Did research, read books, something... anything. It just seems like before you decided that there was no God, you would go ahead and make sure. He said that they never really looked for it, and that it was childish and irrational.

I decided then and there to stop the conversation because it was clear he did not want to talk about it. I don't think that looking for the existence of a high power is not childish OR irrational, but I took it as a sign of, I don't want to talk about it. Perhaps lots of bad things have happened to make him think there is no God.

While I don't consider myself a religious person, I am spiritual to a sense. I do believe in God and I guess I simply don't get too much deeper into the meaning of that- because it's too much to wrap my head around. Perhaps it is albeit on a much larger scale, the same way that children believe in Santa. They are told about it. It makes them feel good, and they wake up and there is proof of him in the form of presents, eaten cookies, and such. My belief in God is probably very different than the next person. God, as I understand him. (Spoken like a true 12-stepper.)

Yesterday in the hospital I heard someone saying, "I think the doctors don't know what they are doing. God didn't create sickness, and if I believe in God, then that means I don't believe in what the doctor said cause it's not from God."

Yeah.... I was following her for a the first 5 or six words, and then I just wanted to say, "Hi... excuse me. You DO know that you are on the oncology floor right?" No, God did not create cancer- but he also did not create the automobile, or smog, or cheesecake (although that is debatable). I did not bother to respond to her comment, or the fact that someone was listening intently and shaking his head in agreement.

God, as I was told, created the heavens and the earth. Adam and Eve. I think the rest was up to us. That includes sickness, cancer, and cheesecake.

Do I believe that God has a plan for me? I sure hope so. Sometimes I think He intervenes, simply by a tap on my shoulder, sometimes a nagging feeling that I should make a phone call, or just in the way that I can be occasionally compassionate to the e-husband after everything that has befallen us. Sometimes I think he sits back and watches me spin my wheels. I don't thinks I'm supposed to know what the plan is, I think that spoils His fun.

It's ok that my friend does not believe in God. I do, and I think He will watch over my friend, regardless of he believes in Him or not.

Ruminations after the funeral

I went to my brother in laws funeral yesterday. The e-husband was too sick to go and I am still seething at him over that. I can't even talk about it. It was a lovely ceremony, save for the fact that there was no mention of my sister in law. Let me make this disclaimer, they were not technically married. They were living together long enough that it was considered common law, they had joint everything, domestic partnership status for insurance purposes. Just no actually ceremony where you kiss the bride. They were together for about 11 years, at least, had two kids and had struggled through a lot together.

"He was survived by his mother, his siblings, and his children." I wanted to scream. This is not what he would have wanted. He would have wanted her mentioned first. He loved her, adored her. The tension between his family and her is apparently serious and out of my realm of understanding, but for them to just go against what I'm sure his wishes were... oh it just kills me. I heard that his mother actually pushed my sister in law away when she tried to hug her at the graveside. I sat next to my mother in law and she sat between her parents. Holding one hand. Never thinking that she would be there in that place. Her true love, in a casket in the front of the room. It was heart breaking and made sure to hug her as tight as she hugged me, and told her how sorry I was. How much I know he loved her. How much I love her.

During the ceremony I did my best not to break down. It was a spectacular California day and Rose Hills is truly a spectacular place to be laid to rest. I looked out the window during the particularly heart wrenching parts and watched their daughter, my niece playing outside in her pretty blue sun dress. After the service, I made a quick exit after going out side to hug her tight. I have a very hard time with graveside services and I don't go when I don't have to. It takes me back to my step dad's funeral, at the same cemetary, and a time that I can remember feeling the worst I've ever felt- watching them put him in the ground. So I hugged my family and made my exit. Leaving gate 17 and driving directly to gate 1. Up the hill, to the left, and up the hill until I reached Fir Lawn where my dad's are buried

Every time I drive up there, I see that dark rainy day. The tent. No matter that it was 78 degrees and blinding outside this day, I still remember THAT day. I sat down between the sites and talked to my dads. I told them, probably for the third or fourth time... about Alex, and Gabriel, and Daniel. How much my dad would have liked Alex, he is kinda goofy sometimes, like dad was. How my step dad would go crazy over Gabe and Danny. Danny's mischievous ways and how smart and polite Gabriel is. He would have loved them to death, he would have made them laugh.

I sat quiet for a long time, trying to explain about my husband. They would have both like him early on, and hate how things have turned out for me. Both of them having had ailing health in the last few years of their lives, I know they would not have wanted me to choose a man, and a life much like the one my mom had with them. Funny how that happens. I sat and cried for a while, apologizing for my lack of.... life.
Me and my daddy issues.

In my brother in laws ceremony, the officiator talked about a bible passage in James 4:14.

Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.

It settled into my heart and I can still feel it there like a weight. I don't get religious often, but I do find some things in the bible so terribly moving that they rock my core. This did. A mist. Just a brief flash, enough for some people to feel as it passes by them, and then gone. My life should be more than this, and as I was sitting at my fathers' graves, I could not deny that it simply was not.

bitching

E-husband has been sick all week. Not diabetes, vomiting sick- just...sick. I don't know. I have not been paying a lot of attention to him. He has a Dr. appointment this morning with the pain specialist, and he wasn't to sick too drive himself there.
Thank God he is going home on Sunday. He won't be back for at least a week. I'm hoping longer. Maybe my mother is right and maybe I am just 'using him' when it works for me. But it doesn't work that well and I'm tired of seeing him over medicated for days and then a withdrawing jackass for days after. The flu, right.....
This morning I said, "you know I'm more broke than you are." and he said, "how do you figure?"
Ummmm.... cause I have no money, and BILLS to pay. You just have no money.
--

Have you ever been so bored with yourself you don't even want to have conversations in your head??
--
What do you think of writing prompts? I have read somewhere that if you need a writing prompt, you should be writing. But fuck that person. I am tired of my daily bitching. I know others are tired of it also. So maybe I will try writing prompts. I found a website that offers them, very simple ones that they use for students who have to write in their classroom journals daily. I think I will try that for a month.

Maybe I will find myself to be more interesting. School has only been out for a week- how can I be bored already??

So did ya see the link?? (18+)

To the left, to the left.....

There's a link there for my online adult store. It's sponsored by Adam&Eve so you know it's good quality stuff. I placed my first order (woo hoo) and got a fancy vibe with the Adam & Eve logo on it for $4, plus ANOTHER smaller vibe for free. Hey, one for the car you know... ha ha.

I'm not sure why people would really opt for a $20 vibe that has the logo on it, but maybe it's like buying Nike's- you want them to say NIKE! I don't usually do e-commerce, and I really started doing this for my other blog. Ha Ha- you thought it was a link didn't you?? Hee hee, just fuckin with ya. Anyway, I decided to take advantage of my mega traffic on the other blog and affiliate. Since I was able to have more than one 'campaign'- I decided to link here as well. So you know, if you are in the market for some toys- or a gift (don't be shy- a dildo makes a PERFECT gift for most gals!) then click on over to my store, sponsored by Adam & Eve. I am also trying to work out a product review deal, like that wouldn't be the most AWESOME gig ever!!

I joined the ERWA a while back, and while I don't participate much on their site, I do get frequent emails regarding places I can submit my writing and such. The most recent was a company looking for copywriters for their toys. I need to send them three samples. I had fun with the first one.






I'm still trying to imagine the idea of 10 inches long and 7 1/2 inches around. Can you say "forearm". Holy cock, Batman- that is one big dildo!!! I also need to write a LONGER (hee hee) description for the same toy. I am tempted to just write.... "Oh yes oh yes oh yes"- about 50 times. That might get the point across huh??

See me writing....

So I have decided, with some encouragement from some...um...fans, to put together a collection of my posts from my other blog and publish them. I have gotten feedback from some other self-publishers on a site/company to use and I am in the process. It's weird reading my own stuff in one sitting while I am going through and editing.

It's written in a blogging format. Informal. Strange grammar. Words that sort of hang there. Excessive use of the words throbbing and aching. Using the word "cock" too many times in once sentence. And reading one story after another, grouped together by topic, it seems repetitive. Blowjob after blowjob after blowjob... enough with the blowjobs already!! My thought was to group the tales (two to six pages each) by category so you can flip to the 'sections' you like, even though no story focuses in just one category. But then maybe I should rank them from Vanilla to Violence.

I considered, why would anyone buy it, if they can read it for free. This is a very good point, but I know what people are usually doing, or getting ready to do when they are cruising sex blogs- so maybe it might be easier to do if you have a book. I always prefer it. I mean, the minute I take my laptop to bed with me, the e-husband knows what I'm doing.

I'm excited about it, and even though probably won't make me rich it's still something cool to do to prove I've done something. I just have to think of a pen name although I'm tempted to use my real name. I mean, who gives a fuck, right? I doubt my mother is going to be googling my name anytime soon. And if she does, well, she used to read Jackie Collins. Although my last name doesn't quite roll off the tongue.

Any thoughts??

My, what beautiful arteries you have!!

Today was the Stroke Awareness day in the hospital. By all accounts, I must say that it was a HUGE success. Our target attendance was 300. We decided we would be happy if there were 200.

We had 520.

FIVE HUNDRED AND TWENTY PEOPLE came down to our humble little Stroke Awareness event and we (our team of wonderful nurses who volunteered thier entire day to do this) educated 520 people about the signs and symptoms and risk factors for stroke. We had blood pressure and blood sugar checks as well as Carotid Ultrasounds (all free). So all day I walked around and talked to people and asked them, "Did you get your screenings? How are your arteries?" And the tech who does the screenings for us, this gorgeous boy, is so sweet and kind of flirty. He was telling these 50 year old veteran nurses that they have the arteries of a 21 year old, and they come out of the screening area blushing and going on about their beautiful arteries. Personally I think the opportunity to get behind the privacy screen with him was the main reason most of us bothered.

We did identify at least 5 people with diabetes (meaning that thier blood sugar was above 200) so they will hopefully be following up with their physicians too- and you know, if we helped to avoid a stroke or even some other diabetes related complication in these three people, then the day was totally worth it. There is something so rewarding about this type of community education. For all the hard work, and the fact that my feet are so sore I can hardly walk, today was, without a doubt, my best day at work at any job I've ever had. This kind of thing is why I took this job and why I want to work in health care- even if I'm not a nurse. We reached people and educated them, 500+ of them, and I was so proud of how well it turned out. I coordinated the majority of the entire event and there were NO snags. It could not have worked out better and I am so so SO proud of myself for what we did today.

At least five peoples lives were changed today. At even though diabetes is not exactly good news, catching it, before it catches you- certainly is. I hear or see these big events when people say, "if I help just ONE person, it's worth it" and I think, those are not very good statistics. But I think those five people are grateful and it was worth it to help them.

I'm exhausted now, and I could sleep for a week, but I have to finish this paper. My finance final is just going to be a casualty. Studying would just be a waste of precious sleep time.....

I'm going off the rails...

God damn- Ozzy Osbourne is performing on Jimmy Kimmel. Damn, he still fucking rocks!!!

I am taking a break from studying and then I'm going to cram for one more hour. I've got two more days of studying but I needed a quick pick me up cause the soda and two cups of coffee were not quite cutting it.

So I had myself a quickie, and now I'm ready for more... studying that is.

Have I mentioned that May is Stroke Awareness Month?? I'm sure I did. I'm sure I've mentioned the signs and symptoms of stroke- and what you should do when you think you're having a stroke right?? Facial Droop, Arm or Leg Weakness, Sudden trouble speaking or understanding... call 911. Right- we covered that?? ok. good. just so you know. Just so I've done my part to educate blogland on the #1 cause of disability. but you know that right??

So today I got a bit of bad news. Really it wasn't bad news for me, but bad news for my brother, and really it was just unfortunate news for him- nothing that really changes his life. Someone he cares about is in trouble, and he knows he can't help her- even though he wants to. It's all very co-dependent and if anyone knows co-dee, it's me!!! So at one point in this evening, I got very angry at the boys. Of course at the moment, I cannot recall why- but I know that was very frustrated. So I stopped for a moment and thought- ok, what can I do to calm down? So I reached out, just like learned so long ago in program. I called my brother to see how he was doing. I told him that I was thinking of him, and wanted to see how she was doing, and how HE was feeling. Regardless of if problems are or are not ours to solve, we still care. I know that many of the sibs and certainly not my mother do not always understand the thought process of the co-dependent person. It simply is not so easy to just accept that it's not my problem, and feel nothing. We feel what we feel, you can't tell us how to feel- as long as we don't DO anything, turn ourselves inside out to try to FIX things. Sometimes we still try to fix, but nobody is perfect. But anyway, I reached out to my emotionally stunted brother and told him that I was sorry, and that I understand how hard this must be for him to feel helpless. I think he was glad that I called, and glad that I did not tell him what he should do.

I have learned to despise being told what I SHOULD do, what I SHOULD think, what I SHOULD feel, or how I SHOULD react. It's taken me a long time to be able to do, think, feel and react without being afraid of how it will affect someone else. Don't should on me.

Pour me a drink, and I'll tell you some lies.

I downloaded some old wounds from iTunes last night. I'm not sure what made me do it. I have an iTunes credit, so I feel like I HAVE to use it.

It's funny how some times a song can reach right into your depths of your soul and pull well stuffed pain right to the surface, exposed barbs and all. That's what Neil Diamond does to me. His voice reverberates through my skin and literally pulls my guts out.

It's not about the guy... I have well come to terms with Trever and all the bullshit. I understand what happened, how it happened, why it happened and all that. I learned from it. I moved on. It's not the agony of having lost him. It's not the painful memories of an overwhelming, somewhat psychotic, dark and tawdry affair when I was far too young to understand the damage that I could do, but old enough to recognize that a man is, at the core, just a man. When someone like me comes at him with all she's got, he rarely stood a chance against me. It's not the embarrassing admission that I was lost, obsessed, needy and morally flexible. It's not even about regret I eventually felt for hurting all the people I hurt.

It's just the memory of the pain that comes back to ache when I let it.

















It's like when you have a leg amputated. It still itches. It still aches. Even though it's not there. You can't get rid of what isn't there. You just have to feel it until it goes away. I can't even remember what Trever looks like. I just remember the pain. Trever is my amputated leg.

So I will sit and listen to Neil. It will pass. It always does.

The story of my life
Begins and ends with you
The names are still the same
And the story's still the truth

Objects in the rear view mirror

Karma is a big cunt. I am having one of those weeks in which every mistake and bad decision I've EVER made is coming screaming back at me. I can count my errors in judgment every time I turn around and I think I'd feel better to just close my eyes.

I try not to regret the past too much. Just accept that it is what it is and learn from it. But there are other days that the mistakes are too hard to ignore. I'm thinking back on a relationship that I think I had negative feelings about for a long time. Even though he and I have long since made our peace, I think what I did was stop being mad about it and forgave him for "treating me bad." But looking back now, it seems different. My issues were:

He didn't want to marry me.
He didn't want kids.
He had a bad temper.
I felt he treated me like a child.
I felt that I was last in line.
I didn't think he respected me.
While I treated him badly in the beginning, we stayed together for YEARS after that and while my 'sins' were forgiven, that came with a hefty price.

That is how I saw it.

But in reality:

I was 22 years old when we finally broke up, and I was not ready to be a wife.
I was clearly not mature enough to have a child.
While I was a decent girlfriend, I was a horrible roommate. I never did take well to domesticity.
I was irresponsible.
I had no direction and very few goals.
He was driven, and ambitious and responsible and I just wanted to screw around and have fun.








It's funny how the view changes as you get older. I can't say that I blame him for leaving, and really had I gone back when he did come to me and tell me he did want to marry me and have kids with me- it would have ended badly. I see that.

I resented him for wanting me to learn the lessons that I eventually learned the hard way. I can see that now. It's clear as day.

Why is the past so fucking crystal clear, but the future is so blurred???

Home is where.... where???

Yesterday was half Nekkid Thursday (see post below). Os said "it's steak and bj" day. I don't know if that's every Thursday, or it's a monthly thing, or yearly. I guess it depends on who you are married to.

But last night, after Grey's Anatomy was a new show

october road.

I loved it. Maybe it's the way Bryan Greenberg looks so sad and troubled, even when he's smiling. Maybe it's because I like Laura Prepon, cause she's hot it in a less obvious way. I think I have nostalgic ideas about friendships. I am curious how you can leave and not come home for 10 years. I can't imagine needing to escape my life so badly that I would stay away for 10 years.

The premise of the show seems to be about where you find yourself. And I've been looking for years. Any hints will help.


I currently live about a mile away from the house I grew up in. Yesterday I filled my gas tank at the same station that I filled the gas tank of my very first car. The owner has a crush on me, every time I go in and see him, he calls me the love of his life- and tells me he's going to marry me someday. (As I get older, I find him cuter.) The guy at video store has known me since I was 8, when they first opened, I guess. My oldest son went to the same Boys and Girls club that I went to. My youngest sons play at the same park I played at.

I have lived farther away from here, farther from my mom, who lives about 1/4 of a mile away from me. It was maybe 45 minutes away. It's not that I wouldn't live far. That I wouldn't live in another state or something, I just have never found a reason to.

For all the crap between my mom and I, I just feel better knowing that she's around the corner. But I wonder what it'd be like, if she wasn't. If I packed up me and the kids and drove away, in search of life, love, who knows?? Maybe the reason I don't feel like I fit, is because I've never left long enough to not fit someplace else. Can you really appreciate where you are, if you've never been anywhere else.

How important is it to leave home??

Confessions of a recovering drama junkie

I don't know that I would call myself a drama queen, at least not any more. I have my share- maybe the share of a few people. But it's a lot less than it used to be. I have questionable judgement sometimes, but I own it. And yeah, sometimes I am attracted to "the hard way" of doing things. Sometimes I like to cause a ruckus, just to know I'm still breathing. But it's not the same as the 'drama queen' I once was.

I suspect drama happens when people don't OWN the stupid decisions they make.

Back in the day, my 20's. Actually from about 19-22. I "dated" ("dated" being a loose term) a married guy, and it was a big tangled web of lies and deception that involved TOO many people- and I was not sorry for it- cause you know, I was in LOOOOOVE. yeah, shoot me. But it was my lack of owning up to the crappy behavior that made me continue with crappier behavior and in comes the drama. I slept around, I treated people badly and refused to admit that I was ever in the wrong. Jason, Bill, Steve, Robert, Bob, Trever, Paul... the list goes on and on.... and I was surrounded with drama. Got into fights, been hit (seriously HAD IT COMING), practically left on the side of the road. kicked out of places, lost friends, been the topic of MAJOR gossip in the workplace. Hmmm, is it gossip if it's true??

I've been thinking about this today. I have a friend at work who seems to get getting into this type of thing. There is nothing wrong with dating around, playing the field- but I suspect there is a smart way to do it. For one, tell the people that you are dating other people. Don't tell all three guys where you are going to be on Saturday night- and then get all shocked and "dramatized" when they all say they will see you there!!! Use condoms. Don't assume that visually clean, means STD clean?!?!? Don't get naked and in the shower with a guy and then be suprised when he sticks it in. Use your head girl!!! Like you didn't feel that sneaking up behind you?? Who are you trying to convince??

But I realize that I played that game. That was me when I was younger. Hooked on the drama and did all that I could to make sure it stayed around for the duration. Kept the focus on me me me- it made me feel somehow important. I must have exhausted my friends. And the ones who were not caught up in the same kind of drama, shook thier heads at me- wondering why I was such a fucking idiot, while I cried, drunk at thier doorstep at 3AM- wondering 'how did this happen to me?"

Anyway, now, I still make questionable decisions. Things I am not proud of, situations that are over my head. Moments that are not my best. But the reason why it's not the same kind of drama, is because it's MY drama. I own my fucking issues. I don't get other people sucked into it, other than just having knowledge about it and maybe ask for an ear to cry to if I need it. I used to spend hours on the phone, get others involved. Try to rally around my cause. And while sometimes, I find myself wanting to do that- I don't- at least not often. I acknowledge the shitty decisions I've made. I own my mistakes and I don't ask why things happen to me. They happen cause I was stupid about something. I believed something I should not have, I trusted someone untrustworthy, or I just got unlucky. It happens, but I think the way to avoid drama, is to just accept that every decision (good or bad) comes with a consequence (good or bad)- and it usually isn't anyone elses fault.

Perhaps it's something many of us go through. That drama phase, where we just don't know which way is up and still feel like we can get through life with good looks and get out of trouble with a well timed blowjob.

Yeah, that doesn't work anymore.

And really, it didn't work very well then either.

dance, pause, dance, pause

I was thinking today about getting a second job to help pay some bills. I feel like I somehow have time for this. Like I cannot afford to NOT have time for it. For all my stagnation, I'm always jumping around. Dancing from one thing to the next, it seems.

I used to dance a lot when I was younger. I was on drill team in high school, and danced with a studio. We used to compete. Yeah, back in the day I was all that. Dancing was in my blood I loved to perform. You'd never think this dark and twisty broad used to get out there at football games and pep rallies. And because I was short, I was always in front. Oh yeah, I used to be peppy! I used to wear a little skirt and cute top to school with a ponytail on the side. I was not a cheerleader, because I was small and afraid of heights, and everyone knows, the little ones are always thrown around. No thank you. So I danced. Danced my ass off.

Outside of daily drill team practice, I took 4 jazz classes and a ballet class that hated, because I had the grace of a mack truck and I got bored. We HAD to wear the traditional pink leotards to ballet. And really I preferred the high cut sexy ones that showed off my great ass back then.

About 5 years ago I saw myself on video, my aunt had some of my performances on video. And I watched them. Amazed that I was ever so thin, flexible, light on my feet, coordinated. I had a smile that went from ear to ear and I looked like I was having a great time. I remember watching it and thinking, damn, who was that girl?? I don't know if I have ever enjoyed anything as much since.

I stopped dancing after graduation. Never took another class or performed again. I was done. Some of my friends were going to try out for the Laker girls. But you know, I don't know that I was THAT good. And really, I was done. I did so much my senior year in high school. I had a boyfriend I worked with and was fucking my boss (who was NOT my boyfriend.) With drill team, and the 5 dance classes a week for the studio. The school competitions and the studio ones as well. I was a busy girl.

It occurs to me now, that perhaps I have always spread myself thin. Maybe that is why I always end up hated whatever it is that I'm doing. For several years I worked, went to school, and had a home based business as well. It's like I had to fill up every possible waking hour with SOMETHING, otherwise I get restless. My life is insanely busy right now, with work and school and the kids. And I find myself often looking into home based business and home parties I could do. For 'something to do'. I always have so much going on, that I can't focus or do anything WELL enough- and I get bored, or I start to despise it.

Maybe I have a delayed version of ADHD. Maybe I simply have not found anything that I truly love, that I am truly passionate about. I like who I am most of the time, and the roles I have. But none of them are anything that I truly feel I was BORN to do. My job is great, my kids are great, school is great- but I don't know that I'm GREAT at any of those role. Am I a great writer?- well that depends if you like what I write (different blog) enough to CALL me a writer. Some people would call it pornographic and offensive and call me disgusting and trashy. Some people have told me that I was their favorite erotica blogger. Which to me is a great compliment, but there's a certain amount of shame that comes along with getting so much joy out of something in which I would never give out my real name. Even if I COULD make lots of money from it. Hell, even enough money to pay the electric bill from it would be wicked cool. But ff I could not CLAIM it, how long would I enjoy it for??

E-husband is an artist. It's what he's passionate about. He has gone through phases where he simply did not, or could not draw or paint or create anything. But I am always amazed when he does. I don't have that. There are things I'm good at, but they aren't things that I love. And eventually I get overwhelmed, bored or just start to hate it. Dancing, candles, stamping.
Marriage.

So I guess it leave me looking, and waiting for the next song to dance to.