Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Yarn
It's my 150th post, and I've decided that I'm boring. I've been doing entirely too much whining on here lately, and really, I don't have that much to whine about. I just like whining.
I also happen to love the 100% superfine alpaca yarn that I bought to make myself a gorgeous berry red sweater. It is so soft that I almost want to curl up and sleep in it. It also has some lovely natural slubs in it, so it's extremely interesting.
Unlike me, who is extremely tired. To bed it is!
I also happen to love the 100% superfine alpaca yarn that I bought to make myself a gorgeous berry red sweater. It is so soft that I almost want to curl up and sleep in it. It also has some lovely natural slubs in it, so it's extremely interesting.
Unlike me, who is extremely tired. To bed it is!
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Ugh.
So my anxiety has been through the roof lately, and I don't know why. It's so bad that I woke myself up - woke myself up - in the middle of the night by dreaming about an inconsequential thing from work, that for some reason I was losing my shit about.
Not okay with that.
It didn't help that on Sunday, my car didn't start. Now, I'd used the car on Sunday morning, to haul my ass and the asses of four other people, Jay included, around. Sunday night, I get nothing from the car. I turn the key, and I get a hum - I don't even get a click from the starter. We hurried over to Jay's car and used that to ferry ourselves around, but when I got back on Sunday night, I tried to get my car to work and I couldn't, and, well, that was apparently it. And after I'd fixed something else that was wrong on it! I had fixed the issue with my wipers myself, and then two days later it decides it's being bitchy again.
Owning a car fucking sucks, yo.
Jay and I had been trying to have sex all weekend, although looking back on it, I think most of my desire for sex was that I felt obligated to. We hadn't for a while, you know? So I felt like we needed to. But it wasn't working - he'd move too fast, or I'd get distracted, or I'd tell him to back off and he would completely stop and we'd go to sleep. So we tried again Sunday night, and me being me, my brain was waaaaay too busy flipping out about my car and about my phone and about work and about a million and one other things, and I couldn't concentrate enough to shut it up. I couldn't even muster up the concentration to do some of the muscle relaxation exercises I sometimes do. Not even some of the visualizations I learned as a therapizing person were helping me out.
I was anxious and moody and about ready to goddamn cry, so I tell Jay that I can't concentrate or pay attention - because through all this, the man is trying to seduce me for the purpose of having sex. Clearly, it was not working. He says to me "Do you need some help with remembering what you need to pay attention to right now?" and I fucking wail "I don't KNOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!" and burst into tears, as he looks confused and puts the collar back in the drawer.
That is correct, I burst. Into tears. There was a small part of me, buried deep inside, that was saying "Yo, what the fuck bitch. What the fuck is wrong with you. Stop this shit right now," but that didn't actually solve the issue, which was that I was watering Jay's chest quite prolifically.
So I cried on his chest for a while and went to sleep.
Monday, he picks me up from work, since Monday morning I have to get my car goddamn towed out of my driveway because it won't start and I have exhausted my bag of tricks for getting it to do so. I, am the goddamn weepiest bitch EVER while I'm sitting on the couch with him once we got back to my place. Like what the fuck, okay? I don't cry. I'm not even sure why I'm crying at this point, because it's not like I have anything to really cry about, but I, oh yes, am crying. For whatever reason, everything is just wrong, and I am not feeling like I can fix it.
He tells me that no, I'm not allowed to have french fries again, as I've been eating them way too much lately. He also says that yes, I do have to come with him to the gas station so he can buy milk. I, in an attempt to be funny, remark that clearly he doesn't trust me alone in the house, to which he replies, "You know, that's probably not a bad idea, 'cause you are NUTS, bitch," which makes me laugh in shock and disbelief, and hit him for being impudent, hurting my flipping thumb on his watch in the process (that oughta learn me).
I am, however, allowed ice cream after dinner, while we watch reruns of CSI, so he feeds me some ice cream and we cuddle and he goes home. And I am sad, and tired, and looking entirely too woebegone for someone of my stature, so I crawl myself into bed and try to get some sleep.
I am still a sad, tired panda today - but at least I'm not fucking crying. I hate that shit.
Not okay with that.
It didn't help that on Sunday, my car didn't start. Now, I'd used the car on Sunday morning, to haul my ass and the asses of four other people, Jay included, around. Sunday night, I get nothing from the car. I turn the key, and I get a hum - I don't even get a click from the starter. We hurried over to Jay's car and used that to ferry ourselves around, but when I got back on Sunday night, I tried to get my car to work and I couldn't, and, well, that was apparently it. And after I'd fixed something else that was wrong on it! I had fixed the issue with my wipers myself, and then two days later it decides it's being bitchy again.
Owning a car fucking sucks, yo.
Jay and I had been trying to have sex all weekend, although looking back on it, I think most of my desire for sex was that I felt obligated to. We hadn't for a while, you know? So I felt like we needed to. But it wasn't working - he'd move too fast, or I'd get distracted, or I'd tell him to back off and he would completely stop and we'd go to sleep. So we tried again Sunday night, and me being me, my brain was waaaaay too busy flipping out about my car and about my phone and about work and about a million and one other things, and I couldn't concentrate enough to shut it up. I couldn't even muster up the concentration to do some of the muscle relaxation exercises I sometimes do. Not even some of the visualizations I learned as a therapizing person were helping me out.
I was anxious and moody and about ready to goddamn cry, so I tell Jay that I can't concentrate or pay attention - because through all this, the man is trying to seduce me for the purpose of having sex. Clearly, it was not working. He says to me "Do you need some help with remembering what you need to pay attention to right now?" and I fucking wail "I don't KNOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!" and burst into tears, as he looks confused and puts the collar back in the drawer.
That is correct, I burst. Into tears. There was a small part of me, buried deep inside, that was saying "Yo, what the fuck bitch. What the fuck is wrong with you. Stop this shit right now," but that didn't actually solve the issue, which was that I was watering Jay's chest quite prolifically.
So I cried on his chest for a while and went to sleep.
Monday, he picks me up from work, since Monday morning I have to get my car goddamn towed out of my driveway because it won't start and I have exhausted my bag of tricks for getting it to do so. I, am the goddamn weepiest bitch EVER while I'm sitting on the couch with him once we got back to my place. Like what the fuck, okay? I don't cry. I'm not even sure why I'm crying at this point, because it's not like I have anything to really cry about, but I, oh yes, am crying. For whatever reason, everything is just wrong, and I am not feeling like I can fix it.
He tells me that no, I'm not allowed to have french fries again, as I've been eating them way too much lately. He also says that yes, I do have to come with him to the gas station so he can buy milk. I, in an attempt to be funny, remark that clearly he doesn't trust me alone in the house, to which he replies, "You know, that's probably not a bad idea, 'cause you are NUTS, bitch," which makes me laugh in shock and disbelief, and hit him for being impudent, hurting my flipping thumb on his watch in the process (that oughta learn me).
I am, however, allowed ice cream after dinner, while we watch reruns of CSI, so he feeds me some ice cream and we cuddle and he goes home. And I am sad, and tired, and looking entirely too woebegone for someone of my stature, so I crawl myself into bed and try to get some sleep.
I am still a sad, tired panda today - but at least I'm not fucking crying. I hate that shit.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
The day that she left me
I haven't had much sex lately, much less anything kinky, so it's not really all that surprising to me that I wake up dreaming about canes and such. I don't even like canes, I just really want a good beating.
For the most part, Jay and I have been out of town on the weekends, with other people around, so it's not like we can just get kinky. Or do anything, really. I tend to be on my very best, non-kinky behavior around other people, so it really limits the possibilities.
The other night, though I went to bed with a scarf tied around my head, to keep my hair back, as it was bugging me. The scarf fell off, as it usually does, which interested Jay, god alone knows why. He started playing with it, and eventually laid it over my eyes.
My first, immediate, gut reaction was to freak. the fuck. out. I absolutely abhor things on my face or head. I am that person you see outside with nothing more than ear muffs on my head when the wind chill is 20 below. There are two things I can deal with: earmuffs or ear bands, and ski goggles, and the latter only when it is bitterly cold and it's the only way to keep my face warm.
I took a deep breath and didn't freak out, and he eventually took it off, only to put it back on again. I could feel a rising sense of panic, but I thought that I was in control of it, that I would be okay. And for a while, I almost was. I really wasn't though. When he tried to fuck me, it hurt - a bad hurt. My body was clearly saying "Nope, not okay", even as my mind desperately tried to assert the opposite.
Cannot stand things on my face. Pissed off because I have not been put in my place at all recently, and it's way too easy to sit down. Naturally, my mini-meltdown put a halt to any and all activities, so I got to wake up this morning to absolutely brutally brilliant images of being cuffed, gagged, and caned *fans self*.
I am hoping for birthday spankings. Having a social life sucks.
For the most part, Jay and I have been out of town on the weekends, with other people around, so it's not like we can just get kinky. Or do anything, really. I tend to be on my very best, non-kinky behavior around other people, so it really limits the possibilities.
The other night, though I went to bed with a scarf tied around my head, to keep my hair back, as it was bugging me. The scarf fell off, as it usually does, which interested Jay, god alone knows why. He started playing with it, and eventually laid it over my eyes.
My first, immediate, gut reaction was to freak. the fuck. out. I absolutely abhor things on my face or head. I am that person you see outside with nothing more than ear muffs on my head when the wind chill is 20 below. There are two things I can deal with: earmuffs or ear bands, and ski goggles, and the latter only when it is bitterly cold and it's the only way to keep my face warm.
I took a deep breath and didn't freak out, and he eventually took it off, only to put it back on again. I could feel a rising sense of panic, but I thought that I was in control of it, that I would be okay. And for a while, I almost was. I really wasn't though. When he tried to fuck me, it hurt - a bad hurt. My body was clearly saying "Nope, not okay", even as my mind desperately tried to assert the opposite.
Cannot stand things on my face. Pissed off because I have not been put in my place at all recently, and it's way too easy to sit down. Naturally, my mini-meltdown put a halt to any and all activities, so I got to wake up this morning to absolutely brutally brilliant images of being cuffed, gagged, and caned *fans self*.
I am hoping for birthday spankings. Having a social life sucks.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
It's why I bought my bed
For my birthday, Jay and I are spending a weekend in a B&B and skiing. This feels like an impossibly adult thing for me to be doing at this point in my life, but I'm doing it anyway, because it's my birthday and I want to.
We were trying to figure out which place to book last night, and wound up booking the one with the in-room jacuzzi. Afterwards, we were discussing, and I said "Is it wrong that one of my, admittedly minor, criteria for judging was the style of the bed and/or headboard?" to which he vehemently replied in the negative.
We are crazy, but we are at least a matched set.
We were trying to figure out which place to book last night, and wound up booking the one with the in-room jacuzzi. Afterwards, we were discussing, and I said "Is it wrong that one of my, admittedly minor, criteria for judging was the style of the bed and/or headboard?" to which he vehemently replied in the negative.
We are crazy, but we are at least a matched set.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Hang me up to dry
Oh my god, I wanted to be in bed like an hour ago, but now I'm awake and I was doing things and AAAAAGGGGG.
This weekend sucked. I was sick with a disgusting stomach bug on Saturday, so there went the plans of spending the day in bed together. Instead I kicked Jay out at like, 10 with demands for ginger ale, to hydrate my nauseous ass. It's a good thing the man loves me, 'cause he went and got some, and it was good.
Sunday we chilled out, I still kind of felt meh, and then we watched the Super Bowl, and the Bears, for whom I was rooting, started off flipping awesome and then apparently went home, 'cause Indy kind of kicked their asses. I gave up and did laundry in the fourth quarter, and truly feel like I didn't miss much, including the commercials, which sucked.
Yesterday I did household crap, today I had a lecture to go to and stopped and bought ski stuff (including goggles, which almost makes me want to cry, because I hate having things on my face) and now it's almost eleven and I should sleep because my allergies or sinuses or SOMETHING is fucked up because I had the headache from hell, am sneezing, and am all kinds of sniffly.
This sucks.
This weekend sucked. I was sick with a disgusting stomach bug on Saturday, so there went the plans of spending the day in bed together. Instead I kicked Jay out at like, 10 with demands for ginger ale, to hydrate my nauseous ass. It's a good thing the man loves me, 'cause he went and got some, and it was good.
Sunday we chilled out, I still kind of felt meh, and then we watched the Super Bowl, and the Bears, for whom I was rooting, started off flipping awesome and then apparently went home, 'cause Indy kind of kicked their asses. I gave up and did laundry in the fourth quarter, and truly feel like I didn't miss much, including the commercials, which sucked.
Yesterday I did household crap, today I had a lecture to go to and stopped and bought ski stuff (including goggles, which almost makes me want to cry, because I hate having things on my face) and now it's almost eleven and I should sleep because my allergies or sinuses or SOMETHING is fucked up because I had the headache from hell, am sneezing, and am all kinds of sniffly.
This sucks.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Nervous to say so
I have been beyond ridiculously busy this week. This is the only night that I don't have something penciled in, and even then I need to finish up some laundry, and I did some grocery shopping. And I have to pay the rent. And this weekend I'm doing taxes. And...
Augh, christ jesus, make it stop.
I don't mind being busy at work, and I am. Now that I'm really settling in to the position, more and more tasks and meetings and what-not come up. But it's good, and people are talking about me (and not just at my site, at our headquarters, which are out-of-state, as well) in a very good way, so it's great.
But then to come from work busyness to home busyness is just too much. I just want to sit and do nothing, but I'm freaking out about everything I have to do.
Fuck it. Going to write my rent check, then buy some yarn. And hope Jay gets here soon so I can go to bed early.
Augh, christ jesus, make it stop.
I don't mind being busy at work, and I am. Now that I'm really settling in to the position, more and more tasks and meetings and what-not come up. But it's good, and people are talking about me (and not just at my site, at our headquarters, which are out-of-state, as well) in a very good way, so it's great.
But then to come from work busyness to home busyness is just too much. I just want to sit and do nothing, but I'm freaking out about everything I have to do.
Fuck it. Going to write my rent check, then buy some yarn. And hope Jay gets here soon so I can go to bed early.
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I'm a 20-something feminist switch who tends toward the sub side, living with my hetero life mate/fellow switch/husband, and just trying to figure out what the hell's going on. This is a sex blog, but not strictly a sex blog, because sex is but a part of my life, even though it all ties together. Since I do talk about sex and other related topics, this blog is for adults only, please.
