I probably shouldn't be surprised that I've been having the dreams I've been having lately. First, everyone seems to be having vivid dreams lately, especially last weekend and in to this week. Secondly, it's been a hell of a week. I'm stressed, but almost touching on euphoric, really.
Monday I worked with Hal again. I like to think our relationship is maturing, seeing as how we are now capable of getting things done while laughing and falling all over ourselves. It's kind of nice, actually.
What was not nice - and I don't mean that negatively, just that "nice" isn't the word at all - was that on Monday, we wound up not talking. Probably because we were busy gazing in to each others' eyes. Like, seriously gazing. There are a number of reasons that Hal is off-limits right now, but oh good lord, that boy is dangerous.
Tuesday, I was in a training session at work that was largely not applicable to me. Being an immature sort, I was chatting away on my BlackBerry. Joseph and I had quite the conversation. Said conversation led to our indulging in a bit of simultaneous naked camera time, which we haven't done in god knows how long.
I always seem to feel particularly vulnerable after engaging sexually with Joseph. Intellectually, I know that he's attracted. He's told me as such - and shown me. I apparently need more aftercare than he's capable of providing from where he is, and I'm not sure if I mean that physically or emotionally. Probably a bit of both, now that I think about it. He's very much a "sensory" type - that is, his focus is on his senses. His writing is full of those sorts of details - how things smell, taste, look, sound. Me? Not so much. And I definitely am feeling vulnerable, four days later!
Basically, I need some reassurance. Have I explicitly mentioned this? Of course not.
But anyway, with the intensity of what's been going on this week, it's probably no wonder that both Hal and Joseph have been making regular appearances in my dreams. I could live without waking up feeling like I'm in a bed surrounded by people.
Of course, I think I could happily live if that happened in reality on a regular basis, so maybe I shouldn't complain too much.
But when your first thought of the day is "jesus god have mercy" or a related variant, it's a little trying, I have to admit.
Showing posts with label whinging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whinging. Show all posts
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
New year! Sweet lord!
My god, when did it get to be mid-January.
Oh wait. After the frenzy of making sure I had Christmas gifts for everyone, including the in-laws (which, oh god, what a challenge - what do you get people you don't know well, aren't fond of, and who have everything they want anyway, especially when your partner is no help?), wrapping and shipping gifts as required, driving two days each way to see my family for the holiday, driving back home for New Years, having Vinnie up for New Years, going back to work, working on two routines for dance showcases at the end of the month, having friends over, attending a couple of birthday parties and OH RIGHT working... yeah.
I really would have liked to ring in the new year with something, oh, KINKY, but with Vinnie up that wasn't going to happen. True, we now have a guest room, and it's not right next to the bedroom, and both doors were closed, but still. And now that Jay and I are both working long hours again, we pretty much get home at night, eat something, vegitate, and go to sleep. We just haven't had the energy to do much else.
Sad part is, we're both working on major projects for work, so who knows when that will change! Seriously, we like our jobs, but UGH.
However, one of my goals for the next year is to blog once a week. SO. Even though I may not be participating in anything kinky, I am going to make the effort to talk about it. That should be a good time, right?
Right?!
Oh wait. After the frenzy of making sure I had Christmas gifts for everyone, including the in-laws (which, oh god, what a challenge - what do you get people you don't know well, aren't fond of, and who have everything they want anyway, especially when your partner is no help?), wrapping and shipping gifts as required, driving two days each way to see my family for the holiday, driving back home for New Years, having Vinnie up for New Years, going back to work, working on two routines for dance showcases at the end of the month, having friends over, attending a couple of birthday parties and OH RIGHT working... yeah.
I really would have liked to ring in the new year with something, oh, KINKY, but with Vinnie up that wasn't going to happen. True, we now have a guest room, and it's not right next to the bedroom, and both doors were closed, but still. And now that Jay and I are both working long hours again, we pretty much get home at night, eat something, vegitate, and go to sleep. We just haven't had the energy to do much else.
Sad part is, we're both working on major projects for work, so who knows when that will change! Seriously, we like our jobs, but UGH.
However, one of my goals for the next year is to blog once a week. SO. Even though I may not be participating in anything kinky, I am going to make the effort to talk about it. That should be a good time, right?
Right?!
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Wait, what?
When did it get to be August?
No, really, when did it get to be August.
I am so not ready for it to be August.
Also, as a maintenance note, I know I've kind of dropped off of the face of the internet for a while. I don't know when I'll be back regularly; I'm in the middle of the 18-months-of-weddings. Seriously. It started with a friends' wedding in March. By September of next year, I will have attended no less than FIVE ADDITIONAL WEDDINGS, a couple of which I get to be involved in. Plus, I'm moving, and, I got a new job. It's been a little nuts around here.
No, really, when did it get to be August.
I am so not ready for it to be August.
Also, as a maintenance note, I know I've kind of dropped off of the face of the internet for a while. I don't know when I'll be back regularly; I'm in the middle of the 18-months-of-weddings. Seriously. It started with a friends' wedding in March. By September of next year, I will have attended no less than FIVE ADDITIONAL WEDDINGS, a couple of which I get to be involved in. Plus, I'm moving, and, I got a new job. It's been a little nuts around here.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Still don't want to have sex.
You know, judging by the fact that I took work off today so that I could sleep and avoid it, and reading back on all the entries here about how annoyed at work I am and generally feeling crappy, I have come to the conclusion that it is, once again, time to find a new job.
My current job is not, so not, in the field I want to be in right now. I mostly took this job because it would be easy, low-stress, and something that would not interfere with graduate school. Admittedly, it did that admirably. It also pays me well and is pretty flexible, and my boss is very understanding about little things like health problems.
However, this job is also boring the bejesus out of me. At this point, it's too easy. I feel like I have completely mastered any and everything they've thrown at me in the past year and a half. Also, I have a new boss. Theoretically, this also comes with new duties, which were supposed to happen the beginning of this month, then they were supposed to happen at the end of March, and now they're supposed to be "in progress" right now and totally my deal by the end of March. This is part of the ongoing reorg that the department I'm in is going through, and it's totally being handled poorly. Just like it has been for the past year.
The thing is, even with the new duties, I'm not going to be doing what I want to do, which, right now, is social work. Admittedly, that's easier to do if I finish my degree, and I'm probably not going back to school until next year, at this point, for a number of reasons. But, current job is stable, current job theoretically is giving me a huge raise soon, and theoretically also giving me better benefits soon.
The new duties are also not going to distance me very much from the annoying people that I hate. You know, the ones that are incapable of reading their email, instead preferring to call me six times to ask the same question that I answered in the email to them three weeks ago. Yeah, those people. Still going to have to work with them. All set with working with them. You do not even know how all set.
So at this point, I have to figure I have a couple of options, looking something like this:
The first is right out. I'm already to the point where I'm calling off of work because I hate it, so really, making zero changes ain't going to cut it. I am undecided on the other three. Any bright ideas?
My current job is not, so not, in the field I want to be in right now. I mostly took this job because it would be easy, low-stress, and something that would not interfere with graduate school. Admittedly, it did that admirably. It also pays me well and is pretty flexible, and my boss is very understanding about little things like health problems.
However, this job is also boring the bejesus out of me. At this point, it's too easy. I feel like I have completely mastered any and everything they've thrown at me in the past year and a half. Also, I have a new boss. Theoretically, this also comes with new duties, which were supposed to happen the beginning of this month, then they were supposed to happen at the end of March, and now they're supposed to be "in progress" right now and totally my deal by the end of March. This is part of the ongoing reorg that the department I'm in is going through, and it's totally being handled poorly. Just like it has been for the past year.
The thing is, even with the new duties, I'm not going to be doing what I want to do, which, right now, is social work. Admittedly, that's easier to do if I finish my degree, and I'm probably not going back to school until next year, at this point, for a number of reasons. But, current job is stable, current job theoretically is giving me a huge raise soon, and theoretically also giving me better benefits soon.
The new duties are also not going to distance me very much from the annoying people that I hate. You know, the ones that are incapable of reading their email, instead preferring to call me six times to ask the same question that I answered in the email to them three weeks ago. Yeah, those people. Still going to have to work with them. All set with working with them. You do not even know how all set.
So at this point, I have to figure I have a couple of options, looking something like this:
- Stay in job, suck it up, deal with it, and wait until new duties come along, hoping that the raise goes through and then I will really be able to put away some dough. This is likely to result in an extremely poor state of mental health, if my history is anything to go by.
- Stay in job, and start volunteering again at the agency I was at before graduate school. This would likely alleviate some of the worst pangs of "ugh, this is not where I am meant to be," but still doesn't solve the problem of idiocy. Yes, I know, idiocy is everywhere, but at least if I moved, it would be different idiocy.
- Stay in job, and see if I can't get back in to grad school for this year. Part of the reason I left grad school, was that they would not work around the fact that I had a 9-5 job, even though I was in the program specifically for people with jobs. Part of the reason I'm not back yet is because I want to make sure that if I go back into a program, they really are going to work around the fact that I work, and not just give lip service to the idea.
- Get a new job.
The first is right out. I'm already to the point where I'm calling off of work because I hate it, so really, making zero changes ain't going to cut it. I am undecided on the other three. Any bright ideas?
Thursday, September 20, 2007
What if I say I'm not like the others?
First, the doctor-bullshit update:
Shoulder MRI? Completely normal. So I say to the doctor, "So if it's normal, why does it hurt?" His answer? "I don't know. Do you want to do PT, or see the guy in the office who specializes in shoulders and is in fact giving a lecture on shoulders at a conference at this very minute?" I opted for the shoulder guy, and spared a minute to wonder why the receptionist didn't book me with him in the first place - considering I told her I needed to have my shoulder checked out!
Other stuff: I went to the new doctor, and holy god, my blood pressure and pulse were normal. That hasn't happened at the doctor's office for years. She sat, listened to everything, asked some questions my other doctor didn't bother to ask, poked and prodded, and is having me set up for a CT scan. She is much more willing to work with me to find an answer - but, was honest enough to tell me that nothing in medicine is 100%. I looked at her, and said "Yeah, but I'd settle for like, 75 or so", and she laughed and said "I'll bet we can at least do that."
So I feel better about that. Still hurt, still feel like crap, but, progress has been made.
This weekend, I'm going to a bachelorette party and the wedding - the party being the one I mentioned the scrapbook was requested. I still don't do overly emotional stuff, so I am opting to stop at the liquor store and bring my friend a very nice bottle of something alcoholic. I figure it's still in line with the bachelorette party theme, but does not make me want to vomit to think about it. And, I know it won't be unappreciated. I talked with Rabbit, who is one of the bridesmaids, and she agrees that a bottle of booze would not come amiss - being as how our mutual friend s well aware of how I view things like "scrapbooking" and "special memories" and "girly shit", and also happens to share my taste in beverages.
I don't like bachelorette parties anyway. Well, not ones with OMG PENIS PENIS PENIS LET'S DO RIDICULOUS THINGS IN PUBLIC PENIS PENIS PIE themes, anyway. Honestly, for mine, I am content to get together a bunch of my friends, of all genders, and go out to a bar and drink. That's it. Not a club, no games, nothing. Or maybe, go to a casino, drink, and gamble. That's it. Like, we don't need to giggle over the fact that I'm going to have sex; we're not sixteen and I've had it before. Nor do we really need to make fools of ourselves in public. It is really just unnecessary.
Also, why the hell is it that whenever I find a pair of jeans I adore, they promptly discontinue them? Like, my Gap boot-cut button-flys? Discontinued. My Venezia Supremes? Discontinued. Swear to god, they wait until I buy it, then stop it. Hate that.
Other than that, Jay's coming over tonight, which is nice, so he can keep me warm. I am enjoying the fact that the nights have been chilly again. Very much so.
Shoulder MRI? Completely normal. So I say to the doctor, "So if it's normal, why does it hurt?" His answer? "I don't know. Do you want to do PT, or see the guy in the office who specializes in shoulders and is in fact giving a lecture on shoulders at a conference at this very minute?" I opted for the shoulder guy, and spared a minute to wonder why the receptionist didn't book me with him in the first place - considering I told her I needed to have my shoulder checked out!
Other stuff: I went to the new doctor, and holy god, my blood pressure and pulse were normal. That hasn't happened at the doctor's office for years. She sat, listened to everything, asked some questions my other doctor didn't bother to ask, poked and prodded, and is having me set up for a CT scan. She is much more willing to work with me to find an answer - but, was honest enough to tell me that nothing in medicine is 100%. I looked at her, and said "Yeah, but I'd settle for like, 75 or so", and she laughed and said "I'll bet we can at least do that."
So I feel better about that. Still hurt, still feel like crap, but, progress has been made.
This weekend, I'm going to a bachelorette party and the wedding - the party being the one I mentioned the scrapbook was requested. I still don't do overly emotional stuff, so I am opting to stop at the liquor store and bring my friend a very nice bottle of something alcoholic. I figure it's still in line with the bachelorette party theme, but does not make me want to vomit to think about it. And, I know it won't be unappreciated. I talked with Rabbit, who is one of the bridesmaids, and she agrees that a bottle of booze would not come amiss - being as how our mutual friend s well aware of how I view things like "scrapbooking" and "special memories" and "girly shit", and also happens to share my taste in beverages.
I don't like bachelorette parties anyway. Well, not ones with OMG PENIS PENIS PENIS LET'S DO RIDICULOUS THINGS IN PUBLIC PENIS PENIS PIE themes, anyway. Honestly, for mine, I am content to get together a bunch of my friends, of all genders, and go out to a bar and drink. That's it. Not a club, no games, nothing. Or maybe, go to a casino, drink, and gamble. That's it. Like, we don't need to giggle over the fact that I'm going to have sex; we're not sixteen and I've had it before. Nor do we really need to make fools of ourselves in public. It is really just unnecessary.
Also, why the hell is it that whenever I find a pair of jeans I adore, they promptly discontinue them? Like, my Gap boot-cut button-flys? Discontinued. My Venezia Supremes? Discontinued. Swear to god, they wait until I buy it, then stop it. Hate that.
Other than that, Jay's coming over tonight, which is nice, so he can keep me warm. I am enjoying the fact that the nights have been chilly again. Very much so.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
seriously
Yo rice. You done been in the slow cooker with the chicken on high for three hours, with extra liquid in the sauce so that you could soak it the fuck up. Is there a reason you're not done besides "I hate you"?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Two cranky thoughts
Can I just share, and I know it's TMI, but having a kidney infection really is not helping my sex life in any way, shape, or form. I am not in to pain, especially not bad pain.
Also, on a similar whiny note, what the hell is it with asking people to bring a scrapbook page "with a special memory and 2-3 pictures" as a shower or bridal gift? Okay, 1, I don't take pictures, and, if I do, it's because I'm on vacation alone and I saw something awesome. I can count on one hand the number of pictures I have of my friends, and 2, I seriously do NOT scrapbook. Like, for reals. Knitting, embroidery and cross-stitch, sewing, baking, cooking, painting, oh hell yeah, but scrapbooking? Please god save me. And this is the third one this year.
Also, on a similar whiny note, what the hell is it with asking people to bring a scrapbook page "with a special memory and 2-3 pictures" as a shower or bridal gift? Okay, 1, I don't take pictures, and, if I do, it's because I'm on vacation alone and I saw something awesome. I can count on one hand the number of pictures I have of my friends, and 2, I seriously do NOT scrapbook. Like, for reals. Knitting, embroidery and cross-stitch, sewing, baking, cooking, painting, oh hell yeah, but scrapbooking? Please god save me. And this is the third one this year.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
fuck it, i'm listening to muse
Jay was on a business trip this week, and is supposed to get home tonight. I've missed him, a lot. He doesn't live with me, so he's normally not here during the week anyway, but there's something different about him being a few towns over and not here and being in an entirely different state and not being here. It feels different, and I've slept for shit all week.
He was supposed to get in at the airport around 8 tonight, and was then going to come over. I kind of feel bad for whining and sniveling badly enough that he was going to come over after a day in airports and on planes, but not badly enough to tell him to just stay home and go straight to sleep.
Clearly, he is not getting in at 8 - instead, it's going to be closer to 11:30 tonight, which means that he wouldn't get here until 1 at the earliest, which is too late for him. So no Jay tonight, and I am sad. Life's just a little bit better when he's nearby - although, truly, it will at least be nice to have him in the same state again.
It doesn't really help the fact, though, that I have been beyond unsettled the past, oh, week or so. I'm having the devil of a time figuring it out, too. I shouldn't be too surprised though; this happens once in a while anyway. There's no reason for me to be upset or sad or anything, and I just am. Work is good, the house is good, life is good, and it's like I'm uncomfortable with success or something because I want to crawl out of my own skin.
I just want... something else, I suppose. And really, that's a neat explanation for why I desperately wanted to call Joseph last night; he's most certainly something else. A bad idea, to be sure, but feeling like this makes me want to do something dramatic and monumental. It's just that when I shoot for those things, it usually winds up being monumentally horrible. And doing, oh, just about anything with Joseph with perfectly fit that bill.
Tempting enough that at 2 in the morning I was still awake and thinking about doing it, though, which, yeah, that was really unspeakably awesome, okay? It's not like I've slept well all week, and then to be up past 2 in the am with strained effort to keep my hands still and under my head... well, I can think of more fun things.
The best part? I thought I had totally shaken him off, for good, finally. Oh, but no no no. He's ba-ack. Bastard. Clearly the lesson I'm supposed to learn here isn't nearly learned enough.
He was supposed to get in at the airport around 8 tonight, and was then going to come over. I kind of feel bad for whining and sniveling badly enough that he was going to come over after a day in airports and on planes, but not badly enough to tell him to just stay home and go straight to sleep.
Clearly, he is not getting in at 8 - instead, it's going to be closer to 11:30 tonight, which means that he wouldn't get here until 1 at the earliest, which is too late for him. So no Jay tonight, and I am sad. Life's just a little bit better when he's nearby - although, truly, it will at least be nice to have him in the same state again.
It doesn't really help the fact, though, that I have been beyond unsettled the past, oh, week or so. I'm having the devil of a time figuring it out, too. I shouldn't be too surprised though; this happens once in a while anyway. There's no reason for me to be upset or sad or anything, and I just am. Work is good, the house is good, life is good, and it's like I'm uncomfortable with success or something because I want to crawl out of my own skin.
I just want... something else, I suppose. And really, that's a neat explanation for why I desperately wanted to call Joseph last night; he's most certainly something else. A bad idea, to be sure, but feeling like this makes me want to do something dramatic and monumental. It's just that when I shoot for those things, it usually winds up being monumentally horrible. And doing, oh, just about anything with Joseph with perfectly fit that bill.
Tempting enough that at 2 in the morning I was still awake and thinking about doing it, though, which, yeah, that was really unspeakably awesome, okay? It's not like I've slept well all week, and then to be up past 2 in the am with strained effort to keep my hands still and under my head... well, I can think of more fun things.
The best part? I thought I had totally shaken him off, for good, finally. Oh, but no no no. He's ba-ack. Bastard. Clearly the lesson I'm supposed to learn here isn't nearly learned enough.
Monday, May 14, 2007
sad day
We have not eaten anything in common, but both Rabbit and I have had stomachaches all day. I also had the bonus of cramps so bad that I actually got out of bed early. Why I have cramps the week after my period is anyone's guess.
Also, the drain in my shower is backed up with disgustingness (seriously, there is what looks like honest-to-god dirt in there), which is not my fault, since we didn't clog the plumbing in the first place, and my landlord has not fixed it yet. This means I did not get a shower this morning.
/whining
How's YOUR Monday?
Also, the drain in my shower is backed up with disgustingness (seriously, there is what looks like honest-to-god dirt in there), which is not my fault, since we didn't clog the plumbing in the first place, and my landlord has not fixed it yet. This means I did not get a shower this morning.
/whining
How's YOUR Monday?
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.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Correction: Fuck Windows
I poked around with my wireless some more tonight, being as how I've mellowed out some. Card was using the most recent drivers and utilities. Network was working fine. Hmm.
*poke poke poke*
Well what have we here? Windows managed to turn on its firewall! Oh goody! Why on earth do I need a software firewall when I have a perfectly good hardware firewall sitting over there on my desk?
I turn off the firewall. Magically, my wireless connects.
Fuck you, Windows.
*poke poke poke*
Well what have we here? Windows managed to turn on its firewall! Oh goody! Why on earth do I need a software firewall when I have a perfectly good hardware firewall sitting over there on my desk?
I turn off the firewall. Magically, my wireless connects.
Fuck you, Windows.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Give me fucking steam, already
Now, I like to consider myself an intelligent person, but there are certain things I don't like (like fire), and certain things that are categorized under "I push the button and it works". My heat is under the latter, and the boiler that powers it is under the former.
My expectation, then, of the fucking heat, is that when I push the little switch on the thermostat to "heat", and program the temperatures on the thermostat to "not freezing", the heat will automagically kick in and make my house comfortable.
In large part, this is exactly how it works. My house is very comfortable. Except for my bedroom, which is fucking arctic.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people that likes their house to be eighty in the winter and still wears a sweater and wool socks. 70 is the highest my thermostat is ever set, and that's in the am so that we have extra hot water. That's really all I ask.
I investigated, because leaving my door open all the time to benefit from the heat in the rest of the house is clearly not an option. I put my hand on my radiator, and was thankful that it wasn't quite cold enough that my hand would stick. I put my hand on the other radiators, and quickly jerked it back because they were very hot. Not cute.
I go online and start trying to educate myself about steam heat and radiators (since that's apparently what I have, who knew) and am confronted with a miserable morass of obscure terms and incomprehensible troubleshooting instructions. I can't very well do anything if I don't even know what you're referring to, now can I. There was much waving of hands and whining and frustration and girliness.
The one thing - the one thing - I manage to figure out is that my radiator needs to be tilted towards the pipe going into the floor, so that water can run down it. Okay, that I can handle. I dig around and come up with a piece of cardboard, which I fold in half and attempt to place under the far end of the radiator. Mind you, I wasn't even aware of the fact that the radiators were not actually secured to the floor. (I told this to Jay. His response? "Well where the fuck are they going? Nowhere, that's where.")
I manage to heft up the end of the much-heavier-than-it-looks radiator and shove the cardboard under, all by my lonesome, and I realize that the cardboard will compress and thus be useless. I find a useless trade magazine and shove it under there too.
I am soon rewarded with mild warmness in perhaps 10% of the radiator. This is better than before, so I am gratified. The rest of the radiators in the house were cool, so I wasn't expecting lots of heat at that time. I slept with my door half open, to again benefit from the heat in the rest of the house and also freak my shit out, and went to work today.
I came home to discover the house toasty-warm, and my room, not so much. Once again, I had a cold radiator and no one else did. God fucking dammit. Okay. The knob is open, the system is on, I almost burned my thigh in the bathroom again (the radiator is RIGHT. NEXT. to the toilet. Seriously). What the hell else could it be?
Okay, maybe it's the air vent. I don't feel comfortable with actually taking it off, so instead I get the brilliant idea that maybe it's clogged and I can poke around with a pin! So I do. Thankfully, steam did not come rushing out at my hand.
However, the radiator heated up. Hooray! I enjoyed warmth and closed the door to my room.
And then froze my ass off, because for some reason, my room is determined to be cold.
I fucking give up. I pushed the button. Where is my heat.
My expectation, then, of the fucking heat, is that when I push the little switch on the thermostat to "heat", and program the temperatures on the thermostat to "not freezing", the heat will automagically kick in and make my house comfortable.
In large part, this is exactly how it works. My house is very comfortable. Except for my bedroom, which is fucking arctic.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people that likes their house to be eighty in the winter and still wears a sweater and wool socks. 70 is the highest my thermostat is ever set, and that's in the am so that we have extra hot water. That's really all I ask.
I investigated, because leaving my door open all the time to benefit from the heat in the rest of the house is clearly not an option. I put my hand on my radiator, and was thankful that it wasn't quite cold enough that my hand would stick. I put my hand on the other radiators, and quickly jerked it back because they were very hot. Not cute.
I go online and start trying to educate myself about steam heat and radiators (since that's apparently what I have, who knew) and am confronted with a miserable morass of obscure terms and incomprehensible troubleshooting instructions. I can't very well do anything if I don't even know what you're referring to, now can I. There was much waving of hands and whining and frustration and girliness.
The one thing - the one thing - I manage to figure out is that my radiator needs to be tilted towards the pipe going into the floor, so that water can run down it. Okay, that I can handle. I dig around and come up with a piece of cardboard, which I fold in half and attempt to place under the far end of the radiator. Mind you, I wasn't even aware of the fact that the radiators were not actually secured to the floor. (I told this to Jay. His response? "Well where the fuck are they going? Nowhere, that's where.")
I manage to heft up the end of the much-heavier-than-it-looks radiator and shove the cardboard under, all by my lonesome, and I realize that the cardboard will compress and thus be useless. I find a useless trade magazine and shove it under there too.
I am soon rewarded with mild warmness in perhaps 10% of the radiator. This is better than before, so I am gratified. The rest of the radiators in the house were cool, so I wasn't expecting lots of heat at that time. I slept with my door half open, to again benefit from the heat in the rest of the house and also freak my shit out, and went to work today.
I came home to discover the house toasty-warm, and my room, not so much. Once again, I had a cold radiator and no one else did. God fucking dammit. Okay. The knob is open, the system is on, I almost burned my thigh in the bathroom again (the radiator is RIGHT. NEXT. to the toilet. Seriously). What the hell else could it be?
Okay, maybe it's the air vent. I don't feel comfortable with actually taking it off, so instead I get the brilliant idea that maybe it's clogged and I can poke around with a pin! So I do. Thankfully, steam did not come rushing out at my hand.
However, the radiator heated up. Hooray! I enjoyed warmth and closed the door to my room.
And then froze my ass off, because for some reason, my room is determined to be cold.
I fucking give up. I pushed the button. Where is my heat.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Ugh
Reasons I do not want to get up this morning:
1. Getting up will eventually involve leaving the house and my bed, neither of which I am really interested in.
2. I have a four-page paper due at 5:00 that I have not even started.
3. I hate my job and it makes me want to die.
4. See #3.
5. I don't want the oral surgeon to tell me that I need to get my wisdom teeth extracted.
6. No matter how much sleep I "catch up on", I'm still tired.
7. See #4.
8. I have no idea where I'm going to park for my appointment at 10.
9. I still don't have a new job.
10. I really, really hate my current job, and cannot leave it fast enough.
1. Getting up will eventually involve leaving the house and my bed, neither of which I am really interested in.
2. I have a four-page paper due at 5:00 that I have not even started.
3. I hate my job and it makes me want to die.
4. See #3.
5. I don't want the oral surgeon to tell me that I need to get my wisdom teeth extracted.
6. No matter how much sleep I "catch up on", I'm still tired.
7. See #4.
8. I have no idea where I'm going to park for my appointment at 10.
9. I still don't have a new job.
10. I really, really hate my current job, and cannot leave it fast enough.
Friday, June 11, 2004
And the Girlies Wanna Scream
Gods, got back from my parent's yesterday and I want nothing more than to turn around and go right back. Which is the first time that's ever happened, as I recall.
Vinnie and I had an absolutely fabulous time. We didn't even do so much of the touristy stuff - which we were thinking about, as Vinnie's never been to my hometown - but instead pretty much sat around the house, slept, ate, and completely ignored any and all worries. I needed that. Desperately. We played video games, watched my brother's DVDs of Family Guy and Aqua Teen Hunger Force, ate far too much of my mother's food, and slept at random times in random places.
The only problem was that Vinnie and I were so relaxed and slow-moving by the end of our week, we wound up missing our flight back here - well, the plane was still there when we got to the airport, except that they'd already locked out the flight and we had luggage to check. We got put on the next available flight, which left at 7 in the morning, and called my mother to turn around and pick us back up.
In our infinite, mature responsible adult wisdom, Vinnie and I decided to stay up all night, because we had to be at the airport at 5 the next morning. I was sick with a lovely sinus infection resulting from allergies, so my brain wasn't working too well. That's why I agreed. We flew back here and finally got back to our house at about 11 in the morning.
It was pretty good - sure I was tired as fuck, and sniffling and in slight pain, but the house was all cool, despite the sweltering heat. I'm figuring, awesome, we'll just run to the bank a minute, then come back here and go to sleep in the excellent coolness of brick and tree-shading.
But see, then I walked into my bedroom, to find the week's newspapers scattered all over the floor, and the desk covered in glasses and food wrappers. Then I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water for my dehydrated self, and was greeted by a sink full of dishes, with satellite settlements on my counters. Being full of sick and tired and hormones, I burst into tears.
So no, I have not jumped Jay's bones yet, which I had been planning on doing all week. About all I have done with him is cry and yell and be bitchy, because it is beyond me how in over a week it could not have occurred to him at all to maybe put the papers into the bag in the living room so conveniently set up for that purpose, or to maybe wash a dish or two because he knew his flatmates were coming home and perhaps they'd want to cook. That level of blatant disregard of other people's needs and concerns is just foreign to me - especially when it comes to people I'm relatively fond of.
I'm not entirely sure he understands why I'm so upset either. Okay, sure, it is amplified in part because I'm sick and emotional now anyway, but even without that I'd be irritated. It really would have been nice to come home to a place that was around the same level of clean as I'd left it. He said "sorry" to me last night - not "I apologize for messing up the place and being an inconsiderate boor" but just "sorry". I asked why he had said that. He stared at me. I'm one of those people that thinks that if you're apologizing, you should know what you're apologizing for. Kind of gives it more meaning, you know?
He continued to stare at me as I started crying my eyes out again. I find that helpful, the staring at me. It really does a lot to make me feel like a worthwhile human being with thoughts and feelings of my own, as opposed to some machine that has started malfunctioning for no apparent reason and with no apparent way to fix it.
We've discussed this in the past. We've also discussed how I can be a very scary person even when I'm a good mood - I'm not a small person by any stretch of the imagination, and I know how to throw both my physical and emotional weight around. But what Jay doesn't seem to realize, no matter how many times we go through it, no matter how many times I tell him, is that just staring at me - essentially ignoring me, which he has also done - just makes things worse.
When I am angry and hurt, the best possible course of action is to have it out with me, and let me vent. Then we can get through the argument and get back to the sexing. The worst possible course of action is not responding to me, because that just screams "I don't care" to me, and that hurts worst of all.
Unfortunately, that is Jay's strategy for everything - back away, leave it alone, don't say anything, let it go away on its own. And in four years together, with the occasional fight to prove the points I articulate to him on a regular basis, this has not changed one iota. It makes me want to take my dullest wooden spoon and scoop out his entrails via his eye socket.
So I am pissed and hurt and frustrated, and as I said earlier, I want to turn around and get back on a plane to my parent's house, despite my general tendency to want to stab people after a week there. My mother has food, she has central a/c, and she knows how to pay attention to people when they need it. Maybe instead I should send Jay there for a month, so perhaps he will finally learn something.
Vinnie and I had an absolutely fabulous time. We didn't even do so much of the touristy stuff - which we were thinking about, as Vinnie's never been to my hometown - but instead pretty much sat around the house, slept, ate, and completely ignored any and all worries. I needed that. Desperately. We played video games, watched my brother's DVDs of Family Guy and Aqua Teen Hunger Force, ate far too much of my mother's food, and slept at random times in random places.
The only problem was that Vinnie and I were so relaxed and slow-moving by the end of our week, we wound up missing our flight back here - well, the plane was still there when we got to the airport, except that they'd already locked out the flight and we had luggage to check. We got put on the next available flight, which left at 7 in the morning, and called my mother to turn around and pick us back up.
In our infinite, mature responsible adult wisdom, Vinnie and I decided to stay up all night, because we had to be at the airport at 5 the next morning. I was sick with a lovely sinus infection resulting from allergies, so my brain wasn't working too well. That's why I agreed. We flew back here and finally got back to our house at about 11 in the morning.
It was pretty good - sure I was tired as fuck, and sniffling and in slight pain, but the house was all cool, despite the sweltering heat. I'm figuring, awesome, we'll just run to the bank a minute, then come back here and go to sleep in the excellent coolness of brick and tree-shading.
But see, then I walked into my bedroom, to find the week's newspapers scattered all over the floor, and the desk covered in glasses and food wrappers. Then I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water for my dehydrated self, and was greeted by a sink full of dishes, with satellite settlements on my counters. Being full of sick and tired and hormones, I burst into tears.
So no, I have not jumped Jay's bones yet, which I had been planning on doing all week. About all I have done with him is cry and yell and be bitchy, because it is beyond me how in over a week it could not have occurred to him at all to maybe put the papers into the bag in the living room so conveniently set up for that purpose, or to maybe wash a dish or two because he knew his flatmates were coming home and perhaps they'd want to cook. That level of blatant disregard of other people's needs and concerns is just foreign to me - especially when it comes to people I'm relatively fond of.
I'm not entirely sure he understands why I'm so upset either. Okay, sure, it is amplified in part because I'm sick and emotional now anyway, but even without that I'd be irritated. It really would have been nice to come home to a place that was around the same level of clean as I'd left it. He said "sorry" to me last night - not "I apologize for messing up the place and being an inconsiderate boor" but just "sorry". I asked why he had said that. He stared at me. I'm one of those people that thinks that if you're apologizing, you should know what you're apologizing for. Kind of gives it more meaning, you know?
He continued to stare at me as I started crying my eyes out again. I find that helpful, the staring at me. It really does a lot to make me feel like a worthwhile human being with thoughts and feelings of my own, as opposed to some machine that has started malfunctioning for no apparent reason and with no apparent way to fix it.
We've discussed this in the past. We've also discussed how I can be a very scary person even when I'm a good mood - I'm not a small person by any stretch of the imagination, and I know how to throw both my physical and emotional weight around. But what Jay doesn't seem to realize, no matter how many times we go through it, no matter how many times I tell him, is that just staring at me - essentially ignoring me, which he has also done - just makes things worse.
When I am angry and hurt, the best possible course of action is to have it out with me, and let me vent. Then we can get through the argument and get back to the sexing. The worst possible course of action is not responding to me, because that just screams "I don't care" to me, and that hurts worst of all.
Unfortunately, that is Jay's strategy for everything - back away, leave it alone, don't say anything, let it go away on its own. And in four years together, with the occasional fight to prove the points I articulate to him on a regular basis, this has not changed one iota. It makes me want to take my dullest wooden spoon and scoop out his entrails via his eye socket.
So I am pissed and hurt and frustrated, and as I said earlier, I want to turn around and get back on a plane to my parent's house, despite my general tendency to want to stab people after a week there. My mother has food, she has central a/c, and she knows how to pay attention to people when they need it. Maybe instead I should send Jay there for a month, so perhaps he will finally learn something.
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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.
