Vacations, etc.

So what have I done in the past two months?  Gone on vacation, and gone on another vacation, and booked plane tickets for yet another, and in between worked a lot.

I did go to the public kinky event I was freaking out about, and it was actually okay.

And then I worked some more.

I am still working with Hal, I am still talking with Joseph, and Jay and I finally finished the space we were working on converting in to a play room.  I even bought a bench to put in there, now I just have to figure out where to put the hooks on it so that someone can be restrained on it easily.

And then I worked.

And now I do actually have to get my ass to work, but I did want to post on here - no I am not disappearing for good, I was just super-busy.

Well fuck me.

I've discovered that there is certain music that I really, really shouldn't listen to at work.

Backing up a moment.  As a coping skill, I frequently have my iPod going at work, with my headphones on.  It provides a layer of isolation from the environment that I really, desperately need right now.  I am so not capable of dealing with hearing people's conversations and being aware of when people are walking past and etc. and so on.  So it helps keep my stress level down, as well as helps me concentrate on work.

Problem is, there are certain songs that really, really get me thinking about things I probably shouldn't at work.  See, I'm a dancer, and dancing?  Dancing is just socially acceptable public foreplay.  Really good dancing is dirty.  And I can do hell of dirty dancing.

So, there's a lot of music I have specifically because it's very danceable, and lately, when I hear certain of the songs, good goddamn, my brain is treating me to all sorts of very, very dirty dancing scenarios, usually either with Hal or Jay.  And it frequently evolves from dancing - again, see also foreplay - to very explicitly sexual situations.

Apparently my brain thinks I need to make use of a very specific chair in my house.  For sexual purposes.

And apparently my brain thinks that I'm not having enough sex (actually, I agree with it on that).

You know, which is all well and good, except for the whole part where one, I don't have an office with a door, and two, I'm supposed to be, you know, working.  One of these days I'm going to have the wrong look on my face when the wrong fucking person walks by and that is just going to be a bad scene, y'all.

And here you thought you were predictable!

For a long time I would have said that when I'm mightily stressed, I'm completely uninterested in sex.  This week - well, this past month, really - seems determined to prove me wrong.

I work full-time, as does Jay.  I'm not in the field I'd prefer to be, but I do something I'm damned good at, and I like my boss, so that helps.  Work's been... busy.  Really busy.  I don't have enough hours in the day, etc. and so on, blah blah blah.  Added on top of the busy bullshit, this has been the week of my name getting associated with shit that is so not even close to my demesne.  I have job duties.  I'm pretty clear about them with people.  And no less than four times in the past three days has my name been listed as the responsible one for things that I don't even have the slightest clue about.

That is intensely frustrating for me.  If I might indulge in a bit of bragging, I know a fuckton of things.  I am a wealth of knowledge, which is actually part of my job description.  But I don't lie about what I don't know - I'll be very blunt and upfront when it comes to telling people I don't have a fucking clue.  And I'll also be blunt and upfront when it comes to telling people that it's not my job, and they need to speak to the person who does own it.

So when others fuck up and put me on the hook for things I shouldn't be, I am irritated.  I am even more irritated when it results in hundreds of emails and phone calls to me (oh, if only I were kidding).  Let's talk about the fact that answering my phone is pretty much my least favorite part of my job, hmmmm?  (And how my voicemail is now changed, and I don't have to answer it this week, with my boss' permission.)

So a lot of things have been conspiring to make me stressed.  And I, oh, I am all about the sex.

Jay and I have had sex every night for the past week, and almost every night for the past month.  Joseph is all up in my business again (shocking, I know) and that is totes okay with me.  Hal's been on his game as well, and let's talk about the lovely comments we've made to each other.  The imagination?  In overdrive.  And the dreams I've had!  Good lord!

And yet I am so stressed that rather than join Jay at an activity tonight that we both enjoy and I adore, I opted to stay home.

What.

To be sure, I am not complaining.  I am slightly confused, but I am not complaining (okay, maybe I'm complaining about not being able to go two nights without dreaming of Hal in an inappropriate way, but other than that...).  Perhaps my self has decided that since sex is a highly effective stress-reliever, it does not behoove us to not indulge?  Who knows.  But good lord!

I'm told the term I'm looking for may be "Saturn Return"

I've been working my way through the Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2009, and discovering lots and lots of fantabulous new reading material.

My blogroll is sadly out of date.

Hell, this blog is sadly out date. Yes, it's been well over a year since I've posted here. At the time I really dropped off, August of 2008, I had moved with Jay to a crappy tiny apartment, I had a crappy job that sucked the life out of me (almost literally; I wound up distressingly ill while working it), my life was a mess.

Clearly, some things have changed.

There's so much to write about! 2009 has been the year of men in my life! We moved to a brand new apartment that has a room we're seriously considering making a semi-permanent playroom! There are hooks more or less permanently attached to the head and footboards! Jay and I got officially married! I have a much better job, that while I hate it, doesn't make me sick! I have been thinking about and wanting and having sex again!

Seriously. Part of my adult identity has been my libido and sexual tastes, and for a while they were just... gone. It was fairly distressing. Added to all of the other things that were fucking my shit up last year, and the tail end of 2008 and, if we're honest, probably the first half of 2009 were a head-fuck of gigantic proportions.

But now that things have started progressing again, it occurs to me that having this self-created safe space to verbally work out some of the things in my head and in my life is probably a helpful, useful thing, and it probably behooves me to utilize it.

So. I'm back.

And updating my damn blogroll, jaysus christ that thing is a mess.

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:

• 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?

Where I have been the past week

Last Thursday, I flew home to go to my cousin's wedding. That was... interesting. Got home from that on Sunday.

Monday, went to work.

Tuesday, flew to the US headquarters for my company, for a meeting today. Just walked back in the door.

I have been home a grand total of about 48 hours in the past seven days. That is awesome.

Tee-hee!

Maybe this just makes me a dork, but I am entirely too gigglingly pleased at the fact that I am taking a business trip in two weeks.

Now, when I travel on my own, I am definitely a shoestring type of person. I find the cheapest way to get there, I rent a bike or walk or take public transport to get around, I stay in hostels, I cook my own meals... like, we are trying to avoid spending money, so that we can stay longer, you know? I spent a week in Canada, going to two cities, and spent less than $500. US.

Now, this work trip. I am flying to my company's headquarters the night before a meeting, going to a meeting all day, and flying back that night. I will be staying in an upscale hotel, I will have cars to pick me up from the airports and take me to the hotel and to my house and to the headquarters, my meals will be paid for, etc. I am a little shocked and awed at the amount of money that the company is spending to fly me there for a single day.

It's AWESOME.

(blah blah blah, corporate excesses, blah blah blah.)

Also, I hope that this kind of travel never becomes so routine and ordinary that I start thinking it's my due, or something. I like being entertained by the fact that I'm staying in a $200/night hotel room with a king-size bed, and that it's 100% okay with my company. It kind of makes me feel like a six-year-old trying on Mom's clothes. Look at me! I'm a grown-up! (No, no I am most definitely not).

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.

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.

Head a 'splode

So the new job, right?

It's extremely strange to me to be in the corporate world. The last time I didn't work for a non-profit organization was also the last time I had a dress code, which was in high school. I worked for a department store. That was a completely different experience than this.

I have my own desk, and it is huge. I have a brand-new computer, and flat-screen monitor, and my own printer, and a work cell phone (I could have gotten a Razr, but I don't like them). Tomorrow I will ship out approximately $15,000 worth of computer parts for an RMA, and in turn, order about $20k more. And no one will bat an eye. I, I, have power. I make things happen. I make things happen quickly.

The budget is a concern, and everyone wants to make sure that the company stays in a good place, but money, really, is not an object. We need it for the business? Great, order it. No months of justifying even minor expenses. No wrangling for non-existent funds. No dealing with half-broken, jimmied equipment that's worse than the stuff I buy for personal use - no more working from home because my laptop is better and more reliable than any computer in the organization.

It's craziness. I still walk around a little bit dazed sometimes at work, when I realize that I'm doing half the work (if that) for twice as much money. That's what kills me the most. The easy, easy crap I'm doing right now is worth, in this society, twice as much as the vital and brutal work I was doing with kids just a few weeks ago. How fucked up is that?

I'd say that I don't know what to do about it, but I do. I, of course, am the Woman with a Plan. I am going to work that bitch for every fucking dime that I can, and sock away money like there's no tomorrow, to finance my next foray into the undervalued and overworked field of social work, so that maybe people who actually do important stuff get paid for it.

And save some children too, you know.

Jaysus.

Things that have happened in the past 2+ weeks (jesus fuck!)

Wisdom teeth out: successfully. I ate solid food that night. Jay was unspeakably jealous, as he was a chipmunk for the weekend he got his done a few years ago. I wound up with a bruise on my jaw that looked like someone socked me. It was pretty rockin'. Definitely enjoyed having the week off of work for it, though, especially on Friday night with the vicodins. Quality medication. I literally sat on my couch watching tv with nary a thought in my head. It was so quiet.

I also dropped an unspeakable sum of money on new clothes, because I was freaking out that my new job had a dress code that more or less forbade jeans, sneakers, and t-shirts. Every time I turned around, I was buying new slacks, shirts, sweaters, you name it. I'm doing okay with the wardrobe - especially since my boss said that jeans are fine, just no looking like a completely schmuck with t-shirts and sneakers and holes and shit - and now I need shoes. Shoes are a bit harder, because there are not nearly as many places where I can buy them in person. Dammit.

Left the old job and started the new one last week. That went well; my first two days of work I sat around doing more or less nothing and getting paid a ridiculously large sum of money for it. I know it's rude to talk about money, but it's my blog, so fuck you, and seriously? I am getting paid a ridiculously large sum of money for this job. I'm making more money than my mother. I'm making more money than Jay. I'm making more money than just about all of my friends, except for maybe the one that's working for a huge pharmaceutical company. I can't quite wrap my head around it. I am, however, determined to enjoy it.

I'm also an ass, and forgot not only Hannah's birthday (Happy belated, dear), but also my little sister's. Clearly, I am so fucking awesome there are no words.

And finally, I went to the grocery store tonight to pick up some things, because I'm spending Thanksgiving with Elizabeth's family, and I needed chocolate chips desperately. So while I'm there, I browse, which I always do, which was a particularly bad idea because it was stupid busy and I really hate people. I looked good though, in some of the aforementioned new clothes. I digress. I couldn't find three things I wanted, which pissed me off. Seriously people, tapioca? Come on. But I did wander down the dairy aisle, when what should appear but egg nog.

Now, I love the nog. This is my favorite time of year, and not just because of the snow, okay? And since it's a few days before Thanksgiving, they can be forgiven for getting the nog season started a bit early. So I'm looking at egg nog and thinking, you know, do I really want to buy this? (hell yes) when what should I see but this interesting orange container marked "Pumpkin Egg Nog". I'm thinking to myself, I don't know how I feel about that. But who cares it's only a few bucks, what the hell. If it sucks it sucks.

Oh. my. GAWD. It is liquid pumpkin pie, complete with crust and whipped cream. It is better than sex, and I do not say that lightly. I am clearly going to be THE fattest bitch EVER after this holiday season, because sweet jesus, I am contacting the nurse at work tomorrow and setting up an IV of this stuff. Holy god, it is that good. I am making Jay stop and bring me some when he stops by tonight, because clearly the quart I bought is not even close to enough.

Definitely my new favorite thing, possibly ever.

And in between I have been cranky and bitchy and not really having sex much. I'm on new BC and it made me spot all month which pissed me off. And I had to make some expensive repairs to my car, which irritated me. And I love the fact that I have a new job. It still has that new job smell to it. Delicious.

I won't update over the weekend; I'll be out of state and out of internet access, so Happy Thanksgiving to you all, and I hope it's a wonderful holiday for everyone.

Panic!

I'm getting ready for my second interview about this job I desperately want, and it reminded me of the post I made. I don't have the time to fully flesh this out, but I wanted to get something down (oh god, I'm placeholding on my blog. This is sad.)

I am very. dominant. in my non-bedroom life. All of my friends assume that I wear the pants in my relationship with Jay. I'm a supervisor in my current position. I frequently get asked to take charge of things. I handle the bills in my apartment. My friends defer to me on a number of matters. I am in charge, people, and that is just the way I like it.

Except in bed. I want nothing to do with being in charge in bed.

So essentially, Jay and I switch, every single day.

On that note, time to put on my high heels. Mmmm, I heart high heels. I just bought this fabulous pair of red suede ones... MUST GET DRESSED oh god I am going to interview.

Sign in to the Blogger in Beta

Seriously people, what the fuck. "The Blogger"? Reminds me of "THE Ohio State University". Seriously.

Today was marginally less sucky than I expected it to be. One of my appointments this morning was to go to the local Planned Parenthood and get myself some pap smeared and pills, and lo and behold! No pap smearage for me. That always makes my day, but not because it's unenjoyable. Oh no, not at all. It's quite the opposite really, and the fact that I'm having a good time is just not something that I want to be obvious enough to have to discuss it with my doctor. I'm probably thinking the same thoughts as someone who hates them - "La la la, that is NOT a speculum in there, la la la, I don't have anyone looking at my naughty bits" etc. and so on - but for completely different reasons.

So far, I've been relatively successful. But still, not in the space to really test that right now.

And, they gave me pills, so that means no more condoms, which means a much happier me (Jay too, but I'm allowed to be selfish today, because... well because I said so). Stupidly, last time I broke up with him, I stopped the pill, because right, I was done dating him for good. Right. No, not right at all, I am clearly an ass. But I did, however, abstain for over a year, which I am perversely proud of.

More sucky was the fact that I do have to have my wisdom teeth out, and that there's only one day a week the oral surgeon is in the office, and it's on the first of the two days I have class. Fucking bastard; his office hours should revolve around me, dammit. But, it is a handy excuse for a week off of work, so I will be doing that as well.

Jay has known for as long as I have that my two wisdom teeth need to come out, and without my even asking informed me that he will in fact be driving me around that day. Sometimes, I really hate when he reminds me just how wonderful he is.

Again on the sucky list, I hate my paper. I normally hate papers and exams after I turn them in, but they usually turn out okay. I'm hoping that the pattern holds true, because this is a bit more severe than usual. I have a lot more specific complaints about it, and while writing it, I never really felt it come together. Too bad it's 20% of my fucking grade. Good thing I still have another 75% in papers coming up to help improve it. My professor loved my first one, which naturally, was ungraded, so hopefully she'll like this one too.

On the positive side again though, I clearly have a new best friend in class, and he's gay and devious and snarky and hilarious, and we spend all of our social policy class being pissy, because it sucks it hardcore. Love it.

One more positive - I have a rewritten resume, and applications in to like, four or five jobs already. I need to tweak it a bit more for the other potential job area I might go for, but still, much better than it was. Hopefully one of them will pan out soon, because really, my current job cannot be over soon enough.

Jay is coming over on Friday; too bad I'll be exhausted from work. Still, might ask for a good beating anyway. Amazing how having the outlet of not being in charge makes me feel better about life.

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.