Good news on the work front - well, mixed news, really. One of the supervisors is leaving, and it's the one with the most experience. It's time for her to move on, and I can't blame her for that, but she'll leave a huge hole.
Part of that huge hole is her schedule, which is weekdays, which is where I want to get back to working, which I just talked to the site scheduler about, and hooray! She says I get them. No more weekends for me after mid-May! This means free time that can actually be spent with people other than my roommate. Not that she's bad, but, you know.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
All just a little bit of...
Ever notice how life tends to work in cycles? I'm listening to a song right now that I obsessively listened to in high school, and it's back to being extremely relevant to my life. For a while, it was on my playlist, I listened to it, I liked it, and it reminded me of the period of my life when I first heard it, but now, eight or so years later, it's back to being "Sweet Jesus, this IS my life right now".
Not that that's necessarily a bad thing; if I have to repeat my earlier life (and I can't manage college), high school is better than junior high. At least by high school I'd attained a degree of independence, as well as a good friend, so that I wasn't completely ostracized. Plus, high school was, in large part, a holding pattern before I could get to the awesomeness of college, so if I'm feeling some of the same things, this must just be the holding pattern before something similarly awesome.
I don't necessarily have lots of evidence for this, but I have decided that I would like it very much to be true.
Not that that's necessarily a bad thing; if I have to repeat my earlier life (and I can't manage college), high school is better than junior high. At least by high school I'd attained a degree of independence, as well as a good friend, so that I wasn't completely ostracized. Plus, high school was, in large part, a holding pattern before I could get to the awesomeness of college, so if I'm feeling some of the same things, this must just be the holding pattern before something similarly awesome.
I don't necessarily have lots of evidence for this, but I have decided that I would like it very much to be true.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Are you such
I woke up this morning still dreaming that I was at my high school reunion, I naturally looked fabulous, and the guy I had a crush on all through high school was miraculously divorced, dancing with me (quite well), and interested in dating me now that I'd moved back to the home state.
That was a little disconcerting. I haven't thought about him in years.
That was a little disconcerting. I haven't thought about him in years.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Please stand by
"Hey babe?" he says, looking up from his intense concentration in fingering me.
"mmmm" is all I'm capable of replying.
"I want to fuck you doggy-style, with your bra on, while I'm pulling your hair."
Good thing I don't feel like turning him down, because I'm not really capable of it at this point.
It started after dinner. Jay and I had cuddled on the couch for a while, but he was complaining of being tired, so we changed venues and headed to my bed. The bed is much nicer than what it was when he was still living with me. I bought a new mattress for my birthday, and so my bed is probably the most comfortable place in the house. I couldn't blame him for wanting to relocate.
For once I was hornier than Jay, and as I started kissing him I mentioned the fact that I think he's seeing me too much; he's been far too easily able to keep his hands off of me. He chuckled a bit and allowed as I might have a point, but didn't stop my attempts to entice him.
Soon enough, my clothes were being stripped off - first my jeans and underwear, then my shirt, but not my bra, to my great surprise. Jay has told me repeatedly that he loves playing with my tits, and indeed he was, through the bra, but he usually takes that off too. I asked him about it; he replied that he felt like leaving it on, and that was that. I didn't ask again.
Jay also has this near-obsession with making me cum at least once before he fucks me. Far be it from me to complain. This usually takes the form of fingering. He says that he likes my reaction to it, which usually involves the following: not being able to speak coherently, tensing of muscles, moaning, groaning, toe-curling, and an epileptic-style seizure upon orgasm. It was during this point of the process of foreplay that he made the opening remark to me.
He went over to my dresser to grab a condom, put it on, then flipped me over and informed me that I was to get on all fours. I complied, slowly; I was still a bit caught up in the earlier fun. I'm too tall for that position to be really comfortable for me - everything is too long, not just my legs. I hate to say it, but if you've seen the photos of that statue that's supposedly of Britney Spears giving birth, my position kind of looked like that - you know, with a bra on, and without the whole "pregnant and giving birth" option.
Jay reached up and grabbed a hunk of my hair, making me pull my head up and arch my back, and started trying to fuck me. I hissed a bit; the position was stretching my vulva in less-than-optimal ways, and so the insertion of a hard cock wasn't the most pleasureable thing at that point. Jay pulled harder on my hair and pulled out, and then I heard a soft "well fuck."
I swiveled my head around.
"I hate being a guy."
And why is that, Jay.
"Because orgasm and ejaculation aren't the same thing. My dick is stupid. I guess fulfilling that fantasy was a little too much for it."
The poor boy. He took the condom off and we both watched his deflating dick. I made a remark about having technical difficulties, and cuddled up next to him to reassure him that I was not put out about the matter. I was half-asleep when I felt Jay get up, come back to bed, flip me onto my back, and proceed to fuck me stupid. Apparently the technical difficulties were solved, because we were both rewarded for our patience with a simultaneous orgasm.
And in the morning, he did it again.
"mmmm" is all I'm capable of replying.
"I want to fuck you doggy-style, with your bra on, while I'm pulling your hair."
Good thing I don't feel like turning him down, because I'm not really capable of it at this point.
It started after dinner. Jay and I had cuddled on the couch for a while, but he was complaining of being tired, so we changed venues and headed to my bed. The bed is much nicer than what it was when he was still living with me. I bought a new mattress for my birthday, and so my bed is probably the most comfortable place in the house. I couldn't blame him for wanting to relocate.
For once I was hornier than Jay, and as I started kissing him I mentioned the fact that I think he's seeing me too much; he's been far too easily able to keep his hands off of me. He chuckled a bit and allowed as I might have a point, but didn't stop my attempts to entice him.
Soon enough, my clothes were being stripped off - first my jeans and underwear, then my shirt, but not my bra, to my great surprise. Jay has told me repeatedly that he loves playing with my tits, and indeed he was, through the bra, but he usually takes that off too. I asked him about it; he replied that he felt like leaving it on, and that was that. I didn't ask again.
Jay also has this near-obsession with making me cum at least once before he fucks me. Far be it from me to complain. This usually takes the form of fingering. He says that he likes my reaction to it, which usually involves the following: not being able to speak coherently, tensing of muscles, moaning, groaning, toe-curling, and an epileptic-style seizure upon orgasm. It was during this point of the process of foreplay that he made the opening remark to me.
He went over to my dresser to grab a condom, put it on, then flipped me over and informed me that I was to get on all fours. I complied, slowly; I was still a bit caught up in the earlier fun. I'm too tall for that position to be really comfortable for me - everything is too long, not just my legs. I hate to say it, but if you've seen the photos of that statue that's supposedly of Britney Spears giving birth, my position kind of looked like that - you know, with a bra on, and without the whole "pregnant and giving birth" option.
Jay reached up and grabbed a hunk of my hair, making me pull my head up and arch my back, and started trying to fuck me. I hissed a bit; the position was stretching my vulva in less-than-optimal ways, and so the insertion of a hard cock wasn't the most pleasureable thing at that point. Jay pulled harder on my hair and pulled out, and then I heard a soft "well fuck."
I swiveled my head around.
"I hate being a guy."
And why is that, Jay.
"Because orgasm and ejaculation aren't the same thing. My dick is stupid. I guess fulfilling that fantasy was a little too much for it."
The poor boy. He took the condom off and we both watched his deflating dick. I made a remark about having technical difficulties, and cuddled up next to him to reassure him that I was not put out about the matter. I was half-asleep when I felt Jay get up, come back to bed, flip me onto my back, and proceed to fuck me stupid. Apparently the technical difficulties were solved, because we were both rewarded for our patience with a simultaneous orgasm.
And in the morning, he did it again.
Turn to face the sun, let it warm you through
You know, I've always thought of myself as a winter person, but damn if I'm not happy it's spring. 70's and sunshine have done marvels for my mental health.
There's plenty to write about Jay, and in fact he's why I haven't written in two days. He doesn't know this exists, as far as I know, so I try to keep it that way.
Instead, I will write more about me, and other people that are not Jay.
Here's the deal. Back in February, I applied for graduate school. It's a long story as to why I only applied to one school, but I only applied to one school. The entire process nearly made me ill; I was convinced that I was not good enough for grad school for a variety of reasons, most of which were bullshit, as Vinnie often told me (as well as others). I have a history of thinking I'm not good enough - thanks Dad; it was really helpful for you to never congratulate me for bringing home straight A's for years.
Anyway, I finished the application at the last possible minute, because I like to avoid things that are unpleasant for me. It's one of my big character flaws. I turned in the application, and tried to forget about the entire thing. In the back of my head, I allowed for the possibility that I might get in anyway - I have excellent references, and tons of experience in the field - but more or less had decided that I wasn't getting in.
I got out of the shower today, before going to work, and my roomate had brought in the mail, including a large envelope from the school. I picked it up and there were multiple sheets, so I figured it wasn't a rejection letter. That enabled me to bite the bullet and open the damn thing, and I was correct, it was in fact an offer to attend the school starting this fall. I screeched in joy loud enough to let the entire metropolitan area know, and promptly called my parents to tell them the good news.
Once the initial excitement wore off, the practicalities started asseting themselves. I make a pitifully small amount of money. I live in an expensive area. Grad school ain't cheap. I work in a place that's an hour and a half from my house unless I have a car, which I don't have. The school is about an hour by public transport in the other direction, but again, much shorter time by car. I don't have the money to buy a car, and gas is wicked expensive. I also hate a lot of things about being a supervisor, but I'm not sure if that's just because I'm still more or less trying the role on. Thankfully, I'm only expected to come up with $7,000 per year towards this, but still, it's not like I've got $7,000 sitting around somewhere.
But back to excitement and positive things. This is so far beyond where anyone else in my family has gotten. I was the first person on my mom's side of the family to ever even go to college, much less graduate, and only the third on my dad's side. Hell, four generations ago, both families were still in Europe. Both of my parents ended their education after high school. My brother dropped out of college. This is going way beyond where anyone else has been, and what's great about it is that not only is it fulfilling a dream for me, it's making my parents so unbearably proud. I love that.
I also love that I got in on my own merit. I got in because I'm worthy of going to grad school. Me. Just me. I rock that much sock. It's a huge self-esteem boost. I can totally kick this shit's ass.
The other thing that's wicked exciting about today is that one of my good friends (and now play-hooky-and-ski buddies) from college rang me up today to tell me that she got engaged to her long-term boyfriend, which is amazingly exciting for them and I couldn't be happier. Sure, I still don't think I'm old enough to have friends getting married, but it's not like she's the first. I was the maid of honor for a friend's wedding when I was 19, and my closest friend in the world got married last year, but I am not old enough to have friends getting married (much less get married myself). But I want kids. A lot. But I don't want to get married. Bleah.
Anyway, happiness for friend. And happiness for me. This is so fucking awesome.
There's plenty to write about Jay, and in fact he's why I haven't written in two days. He doesn't know this exists, as far as I know, so I try to keep it that way.
Instead, I will write more about me, and other people that are not Jay.
Here's the deal. Back in February, I applied for graduate school. It's a long story as to why I only applied to one school, but I only applied to one school. The entire process nearly made me ill; I was convinced that I was not good enough for grad school for a variety of reasons, most of which were bullshit, as Vinnie often told me (as well as others). I have a history of thinking I'm not good enough - thanks Dad; it was really helpful for you to never congratulate me for bringing home straight A's for years.
Anyway, I finished the application at the last possible minute, because I like to avoid things that are unpleasant for me. It's one of my big character flaws. I turned in the application, and tried to forget about the entire thing. In the back of my head, I allowed for the possibility that I might get in anyway - I have excellent references, and tons of experience in the field - but more or less had decided that I wasn't getting in.
I got out of the shower today, before going to work, and my roomate had brought in the mail, including a large envelope from the school. I picked it up and there were multiple sheets, so I figured it wasn't a rejection letter. That enabled me to bite the bullet and open the damn thing, and I was correct, it was in fact an offer to attend the school starting this fall. I screeched in joy loud enough to let the entire metropolitan area know, and promptly called my parents to tell them the good news.
Once the initial excitement wore off, the practicalities started asseting themselves. I make a pitifully small amount of money. I live in an expensive area. Grad school ain't cheap. I work in a place that's an hour and a half from my house unless I have a car, which I don't have. The school is about an hour by public transport in the other direction, but again, much shorter time by car. I don't have the money to buy a car, and gas is wicked expensive. I also hate a lot of things about being a supervisor, but I'm not sure if that's just because I'm still more or less trying the role on. Thankfully, I'm only expected to come up with $7,000 per year towards this, but still, it's not like I've got $7,000 sitting around somewhere.
But back to excitement and positive things. This is so far beyond where anyone else in my family has gotten. I was the first person on my mom's side of the family to ever even go to college, much less graduate, and only the third on my dad's side. Hell, four generations ago, both families were still in Europe. Both of my parents ended their education after high school. My brother dropped out of college. This is going way beyond where anyone else has been, and what's great about it is that not only is it fulfilling a dream for me, it's making my parents so unbearably proud. I love that.
I also love that I got in on my own merit. I got in because I'm worthy of going to grad school. Me. Just me. I rock that much sock. It's a huge self-esteem boost. I can totally kick this shit's ass.
The other thing that's wicked exciting about today is that one of my good friends (and now play-hooky-and-ski buddies) from college rang me up today to tell me that she got engaged to her long-term boyfriend, which is amazingly exciting for them and I couldn't be happier. Sure, I still don't think I'm old enough to have friends getting married, but it's not like she's the first. I was the maid of honor for a friend's wedding when I was 19, and my closest friend in the world got married last year, but I am not old enough to have friends getting married (much less get married myself). But I want kids. A lot. But I don't want to get married. Bleah.
Anyway, happiness for friend. And happiness for me. This is so fucking awesome.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Long Cool Woman
For the winter and my singledom, I admit, I got lazy when it came to shaving my legs. I had no one to impress, and my work isn't the kind where I need to wear a skirt on a regular basis. So, by the time the beginning of this month hit, my mother was calling me saying they'd spotted a Yeti in my area, and was that me? Did I need some razors or something? Because she'd send me some. Or some of that Veet stuff. Or maybe I should come back home.
It can't have been me, Mom; I've been wearing pants all winter.
Anyway, last week I finally broke down and bought myself some of that Veet stuff, thank you very much I am an independent woman. And oh, the smoothness. The very smoothness. I'd nearly forgotten what it felt like.
So yesterday, when I was at the portion of my weekly activities that did require me to wear something other than blue jeans, I decided hey! I have the smoothness. And it's spring. Let's wear a skirt!
I had completely forgotten just how fucking awesome skirts can be. And how nice my legs look in hosiery and high heels - and how nice my butt and hips look in the skirt, especially now that I've lost around forty pounds. Hot damn, I may have to keep up with this girly shit, because damn if it doesn't get lots of appreciative looks from people.
What can I say? I'm an attention whore. I like when guys (and a few girls) check me out.
It can't have been me, Mom; I've been wearing pants all winter.
Anyway, last week I finally broke down and bought myself some of that Veet stuff, thank you very much I am an independent woman. And oh, the smoothness. The very smoothness. I'd nearly forgotten what it felt like.
So yesterday, when I was at the portion of my weekly activities that did require me to wear something other than blue jeans, I decided hey! I have the smoothness. And it's spring. Let's wear a skirt!
I had completely forgotten just how fucking awesome skirts can be. And how nice my legs look in hosiery and high heels - and how nice my butt and hips look in the skirt, especially now that I've lost around forty pounds. Hot damn, I may have to keep up with this girly shit, because damn if it doesn't get lots of appreciative looks from people.
What can I say? I'm an attention whore. I like when guys (and a few girls) check me out.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Who wouldn't stand inside your love?
For the past month or so, I've taken to seeing Jay pretty regularly. Since I unceremoniously dumped his ass (on his birthday! That still entertains me, in a very perverse sort of way), I've kept up with talking to him and whatnot, as I have mentioned. But since he was living half an hour away with his parents, I didn't see him very much.
Last month, Jay got himself a car, and as soon as he possibly could, offered to pick me up from work on a Friday night and spend some time with me. Not having to face the rigors of public transportation after midnight appeals to me, so I accepted his offer graciously and thankfully, and proceeded to spend my workday slightly gleeful that I was getting a ride home. Jay picked me up, took me home, and we proceeded to fuck each other senseless, repeatedly.
Did I mention that there's still plenty of sparks there? Okay, good.
Since then, I've seen him once or twice a week. Anyway, the point of this entry was a visit last week, on Tuesday. I wound up working until 6 in the evening, which is highly late for Tuesdays for me, so Jay picked me up directly from work. I was exhausted, and starving. We came home to my place, ordered up some food. I devoured a chicken caesar wrap, after unwrapping it and stating that it was far too large to ever be completely consumed. We ate on one of my couches in the living room, because at the time my dining room table was covered with assorted crap that I hadn't gotten around to cleaning up and putting away somewhere in the past nine months.
After we ate, we sat on the couch, me leaning my head on Jay's shoulder, his arms around me. I can only take so much silence, so after a while I asked "What are we doing?" Jay being a literalist with a sense of humor, answered "Sitting on the couch." "That's not what I meant and you know that."
More silence ensued. I had asked becuase I've been pretty adamant that I don't want to date Jay, at least not right now. When I broke up with him, it was with the understanding that I wasn't going to get back together with him like last time - or if I did, it would be years down the road, after he grew up and started matching my maturity and responsibility level. I've been wavering on that position. A lot. Jay's been reminding me of all the things I really do love about him, and now that he's got a job... well, it's hard, okay?
"Nothing," he answers.
"Nothing?"
"Well," he says, "I know you're not ready to date me right now. And that's okay. I'm ready to wait until you are. And in the meantime, do nothing."
I wouldn't exactly classify what we've been doing as nothing, although we have specifically said that it is without strings, and each of us is free to do whatever - which is part of the reason why I've been going out on dates with non-Jay people.
"Who's waiting for who?"
"What?" he asks.
"Well, I've been waiting for you to grow the hell up."
"So have I. I guess I'm waiting for both of us, then."
Last month, Jay got himself a car, and as soon as he possibly could, offered to pick me up from work on a Friday night and spend some time with me. Not having to face the rigors of public transportation after midnight appeals to me, so I accepted his offer graciously and thankfully, and proceeded to spend my workday slightly gleeful that I was getting a ride home. Jay picked me up, took me home, and we proceeded to fuck each other senseless, repeatedly.
Did I mention that there's still plenty of sparks there? Okay, good.
Since then, I've seen him once or twice a week. Anyway, the point of this entry was a visit last week, on Tuesday. I wound up working until 6 in the evening, which is highly late for Tuesdays for me, so Jay picked me up directly from work. I was exhausted, and starving. We came home to my place, ordered up some food. I devoured a chicken caesar wrap, after unwrapping it and stating that it was far too large to ever be completely consumed. We ate on one of my couches in the living room, because at the time my dining room table was covered with assorted crap that I hadn't gotten around to cleaning up and putting away somewhere in the past nine months.
After we ate, we sat on the couch, me leaning my head on Jay's shoulder, his arms around me. I can only take so much silence, so after a while I asked "What are we doing?" Jay being a literalist with a sense of humor, answered "Sitting on the couch." "That's not what I meant and you know that."
More silence ensued. I had asked becuase I've been pretty adamant that I don't want to date Jay, at least not right now. When I broke up with him, it was with the understanding that I wasn't going to get back together with him like last time - or if I did, it would be years down the road, after he grew up and started matching my maturity and responsibility level. I've been wavering on that position. A lot. Jay's been reminding me of all the things I really do love about him, and now that he's got a job... well, it's hard, okay?
"Nothing," he answers.
"Nothing?"
"Well," he says, "I know you're not ready to date me right now. And that's okay. I'm ready to wait until you are. And in the meantime, do nothing."
I wouldn't exactly classify what we've been doing as nothing, although we have specifically said that it is without strings, and each of us is free to do whatever - which is part of the reason why I've been going out on dates with non-Jay people.
"Who's waiting for who?"
"What?" he asks.
"Well, I've been waiting for you to grow the hell up."
"So have I. I guess I'm waiting for both of us, then."
Monday, April 10, 2006
Terminated abnormally.
I realized the other day that my old template looked like it was from about 1999. Not that 1999 was a bad year (it was probably the last time I coded anything completely independently), but since I was back, I figured it was time for a new look.
Changing my template made me remember why I gave up and left it the way it was last time.
I am not doing that again any time soon.
Moving on to the fun stuff.
My beloved laptop is back, after an absence of nearly a week. It needed a new motherboard, despite being less than a year old.
See, my birthday was back in February, but I work with kids, and they have a week of vacation off in February, that just happened to coincide with the week of my birthday. Now that I'm a manager at work, I knew for damned sure that a time-off request for that week would never fly; considering that I worked twenty extra hours that week to make sure everything was covered. So I had planned from the start to take a week off in March to celebrate my birthday. This worked out much better for all concerned.
I did however take the actual day of my birthday off; my boss is nice enough to allow that at the least.
Anyway, I took a week off in March, and invited some people out to the homestead to celebrate with me. The guest list was pretty typical me: nearly all guys. It included Jay, Vinnie and Mike, Joseph, Lawrence (who lives in England and who I see every five years or so), Cecil, and my close friend Elizabeth and her boyfriend. I also invited my roommate Rabbit, who I like, and didn't invite my roommate Chris, who I hate. Naturally, those that had to travel (which was all but Jay and Elizabeth) couldn't make it. Well, no, Vinnie and Mike drove out, so it wasn't a complete loss. I wasn't expecting most of the rest to visit - which is probably for the better. An event with both Jay and Joseph at it would probably be a poor idea.
The entire month beforehand, I agonized over what I wanted to do. Back in December, I had become obsessed with downhill skiing, after trying it for the first time. I desperately wanted to go skiing again, which would make the sixth time in the season. Jay, who has been a skier since small times, and Elizabeth and boyfriend were on board with the idea, as was Rabbit (who snowboards). Vinnie told me in no uncertain terms that he would never, ever ski, and being me, I figured that left sking right out.
I had a long talk with Vinnie, and he finally told me, as he so often does, to stop fucking worrying about making everyone else happy, because he was coming up here to visit with me, and if I wanted to go skiing, that was just fine by him. He'd gleefully check out hot guys and get drunk in the lodge, and laugh at me if I broke something.
Once he said that, I immediately called up Elizabeth and we planned out a place to stay for everyone, and the game was on. Vinnie and Mike came up a day before we left for the mountain, to stay with me as they always do when they visit. We stayed up late the first night, drinking decent red wine and playing video games and gossiping.
When we finally went to bed, I put my laptop on the floor - right-side-up and mostly closed. Usually I just leave it open and set it on its side. I was pretty toasted, and I had a half a glass of red wine sitting on my bedside table. It was close to the edge, and in a position where it could fall on the laptop, and the thought occurred to me that it would probably do so at its earliest opportunity. Being lazy, I shoved it further back on the table and went to sleep, once again being stupid and ignoring that voice in the back of my head.
The morning dawned bright, warm and sunny, and having two extra male persons in the room made it way too toasty for me to sleep. My bed's close to my windows, so I reached over and shoved open the closest window, which just happened to be the one over my bedside table.
What I forgot was that a few months ago, I had stuck a bottle of soda in the window. Well, maybe in the window isn't the right term; I have double-hung windows, and it was sitting on the top of the lower sash. I had been sick, and I stuck it up there so it would stay cold. And promptly forgot about it, in typical french fashion. When I shoved open the sash, that fell into the wine glass, toppling it over, where it broke right next to my laptop, spilling some of its contents on the top and onto me.
I hurridly tried to sop up the wine, but still ended up with a fragrant laptop for my troubles. It had been on at the time, and once I got the wine off of it, it was still on, but there was no video. I turned it off and prayed that nothing had gotten inside - it didn't look like it, but I wasn't sure, 'cause the entire thing still smelled like the bags of empties my hated roommate likes to leave in the kitchen.
I waited a few minutes, turned it on, and again, no video. I turned it off, repeated, and this time got nothing. Since I don't have too much respect for the phrase "no user-serviceable parts inside", I set about taking apart my laptop to see what I could see.
A small amount had leaked inside, and gotten on part of the internal frame, but the motherboard looked clean. I wiped up the wine, checked out everything else, and put it back together to try starting it up again. It failed, I needed to leave for the mountain, so I left it to dry over the weekend, determined to figure it out when I got back.
When I got back, it still wouldn't even come close to booting. I called Jay and asked for advice, which is usually my plan when my computer woes outstrip my IT knowledge. After talking to him, I completely disassembled the thing, and sprayed down the motherboard with some water. I was horrified when the water running off of it was pink.
I left it to dry for a day or so, and tried again. FAILURE. I was pissed at this point. I could still smell wine from one of the vents on the side, so I sprayed some more water in there and waited a day. That must have gotten the last of it out, because the next time I tried starting up, I was greeted with my desktop, which is currently a night shot of my favorite skiing mountain in the world.
I was overjoyed.
Until the screen went completely black and the computer went unresponsive.
This prompted me to creatively swear, and restart. I also went through some of the troubleshooting stuff on Dell's website, and discovered that it was booting just fine. Great. So now who knew what the hell the problem was, because it was happening randomly, both inside and out of Windows.
I put up with this for a couple of weeks, and finally got fed up. This decision was in part influenced by the fact that the warranty expires the end of this month. Since I value my sanity and low blood pressure, I chose to not call Dell tech support, but instead email them, describing the problem and steps I had taken to fix it. By now, I figured something on the motherboard was fucked.
My suspicions were confirmed when I received an email a few hours later from Dell, without the usual "Have you tried this? What about this?", but instead, instructions on what to do with the box that would shortly show up on my doorstep so that I could ship the laptop to them for repair.
I put off sending it in for a few days, because I am pathetic and can't bear to part with my beloved laptop. It came back this morning, with a brand spanking new motherboard.
I am a happy motherfucker.
Changing my template made me remember why I gave up and left it the way it was last time.
I am not doing that again any time soon.
Moving on to the fun stuff.
My beloved laptop is back, after an absence of nearly a week. It needed a new motherboard, despite being less than a year old.
See, my birthday was back in February, but I work with kids, and they have a week of vacation off in February, that just happened to coincide with the week of my birthday. Now that I'm a manager at work, I knew for damned sure that a time-off request for that week would never fly; considering that I worked twenty extra hours that week to make sure everything was covered. So I had planned from the start to take a week off in March to celebrate my birthday. This worked out much better for all concerned.
I did however take the actual day of my birthday off; my boss is nice enough to allow that at the least.
Anyway, I took a week off in March, and invited some people out to the homestead to celebrate with me. The guest list was pretty typical me: nearly all guys. It included Jay, Vinnie and Mike, Joseph, Lawrence (who lives in England and who I see every five years or so), Cecil, and my close friend Elizabeth and her boyfriend. I also invited my roommate Rabbit, who I like, and didn't invite my roommate Chris, who I hate. Naturally, those that had to travel (which was all but Jay and Elizabeth) couldn't make it. Well, no, Vinnie and Mike drove out, so it wasn't a complete loss. I wasn't expecting most of the rest to visit - which is probably for the better. An event with both Jay and Joseph at it would probably be a poor idea.
The entire month beforehand, I agonized over what I wanted to do. Back in December, I had become obsessed with downhill skiing, after trying it for the first time. I desperately wanted to go skiing again, which would make the sixth time in the season. Jay, who has been a skier since small times, and Elizabeth and boyfriend were on board with the idea, as was Rabbit (who snowboards). Vinnie told me in no uncertain terms that he would never, ever ski, and being me, I figured that left sking right out.
I had a long talk with Vinnie, and he finally told me, as he so often does, to stop fucking worrying about making everyone else happy, because he was coming up here to visit with me, and if I wanted to go skiing, that was just fine by him. He'd gleefully check out hot guys and get drunk in the lodge, and laugh at me if I broke something.
Once he said that, I immediately called up Elizabeth and we planned out a place to stay for everyone, and the game was on. Vinnie and Mike came up a day before we left for the mountain, to stay with me as they always do when they visit. We stayed up late the first night, drinking decent red wine and playing video games and gossiping.
When we finally went to bed, I put my laptop on the floor - right-side-up and mostly closed. Usually I just leave it open and set it on its side. I was pretty toasted, and I had a half a glass of red wine sitting on my bedside table. It was close to the edge, and in a position where it could fall on the laptop, and the thought occurred to me that it would probably do so at its earliest opportunity. Being lazy, I shoved it further back on the table and went to sleep, once again being stupid and ignoring that voice in the back of my head.
The morning dawned bright, warm and sunny, and having two extra male persons in the room made it way too toasty for me to sleep. My bed's close to my windows, so I reached over and shoved open the closest window, which just happened to be the one over my bedside table.
What I forgot was that a few months ago, I had stuck a bottle of soda in the window. Well, maybe in the window isn't the right term; I have double-hung windows, and it was sitting on the top of the lower sash. I had been sick, and I stuck it up there so it would stay cold. And promptly forgot about it, in typical french fashion. When I shoved open the sash, that fell into the wine glass, toppling it over, where it broke right next to my laptop, spilling some of its contents on the top and onto me.
I hurridly tried to sop up the wine, but still ended up with a fragrant laptop for my troubles. It had been on at the time, and once I got the wine off of it, it was still on, but there was no video. I turned it off and prayed that nothing had gotten inside - it didn't look like it, but I wasn't sure, 'cause the entire thing still smelled like the bags of empties my hated roommate likes to leave in the kitchen.
I waited a few minutes, turned it on, and again, no video. I turned it off, repeated, and this time got nothing. Since I don't have too much respect for the phrase "no user-serviceable parts inside", I set about taking apart my laptop to see what I could see.
A small amount had leaked inside, and gotten on part of the internal frame, but the motherboard looked clean. I wiped up the wine, checked out everything else, and put it back together to try starting it up again. It failed, I needed to leave for the mountain, so I left it to dry over the weekend, determined to figure it out when I got back.
When I got back, it still wouldn't even come close to booting. I called Jay and asked for advice, which is usually my plan when my computer woes outstrip my IT knowledge. After talking to him, I completely disassembled the thing, and sprayed down the motherboard with some water. I was horrified when the water running off of it was pink.
I left it to dry for a day or so, and tried again. FAILURE. I was pissed at this point. I could still smell wine from one of the vents on the side, so I sprayed some more water in there and waited a day. That must have gotten the last of it out, because the next time I tried starting up, I was greeted with my desktop, which is currently a night shot of my favorite skiing mountain in the world.
I was overjoyed.
Until the screen went completely black and the computer went unresponsive.
This prompted me to creatively swear, and restart. I also went through some of the troubleshooting stuff on Dell's website, and discovered that it was booting just fine. Great. So now who knew what the hell the problem was, because it was happening randomly, both inside and out of Windows.
I put up with this for a couple of weeks, and finally got fed up. This decision was in part influenced by the fact that the warranty expires the end of this month. Since I value my sanity and low blood pressure, I chose to not call Dell tech support, but instead email them, describing the problem and steps I had taken to fix it. By now, I figured something on the motherboard was fucked.
My suspicions were confirmed when I received an email a few hours later from Dell, without the usual "Have you tried this? What about this?", but instead, instructions on what to do with the box that would shortly show up on my doorstep so that I could ship the laptop to them for repair.
I put off sending it in for a few days, because I am pathetic and can't bear to part with my beloved laptop. It came back this morning, with a brand spanking new motherboard.
I am a happy motherfucker.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
That really wasn't what you were asking, was it.
Monday night, I was home from work, and probably should have been asleep. No, scratch that, I should definitely have been. I was exhausted, and on Tuesdays, I have to get up at 6:30 to get to work by 9. But instead I stayed up having a long conversation via journal comments with a good friend of mine. Good for me.
In the meantime, I was checking email, and oh look! Here's a new one from Peter, asking if I'm free Tuesday evening. I was, although I was already planning on staying at work until around five or so to catch up on some things, so I promptly emailed him back saying "Sure! Let's get dinner. Seven-ish okay?"
Not five minutes later, Jay IMs me. Oh, hi Jay, how was work wait you want to come over tomorrow night? Couldn't you have asked me this about ten minutes earlier?
I sat on the decision for about five minutes, and of course talked to Vinnie about it. What are fags for, if not for advising their Queen. He said that I should make my own decision (he's saying that a lot lately; I think I am looking for too much advice).
Now, I was already exhausted, I was stressed over work - to the point where I was nearly in tears in supervision! - and knew that Tuesday wasn't likely to make me feel better. That right there made my decision. There was no way I was going to be up to looking nice and making nice with a near-stranger in a public place with lots of complete strangers. Being social is difficult. It's taxing, and drains my reserves even on a good day. Sure, going out for a few drinks with Peter would be fun, but I don't know him well enough to be stupid with him, if that makes sense.
So I told Jay "give me five minutes", and emailed Peter. Sure, it was a lie. I said "Or maybe I could be a COMPLETE IDIOT and look at the wrong date on my dayrunner. Tuesday's not good. Is there another day this week that works for you?" and then made plans with Jay to pick me up from work and come hang out with me.
This was, by far, the better of the two options. I fell asleep in Jay's car on the way to my house. He then proceeded to buy me food and solicitously put me to bed. After the mad monkey sex we had. And oh, it was mad, and it was monkey.
I'll go out with Peter next week. This week I needed a little TLC, and Jay was the perfect person to provide it.
In the meantime, I was checking email, and oh look! Here's a new one from Peter, asking if I'm free Tuesday evening. I was, although I was already planning on staying at work until around five or so to catch up on some things, so I promptly emailed him back saying "Sure! Let's get dinner. Seven-ish okay?"
Not five minutes later, Jay IMs me. Oh, hi Jay, how was work wait you want to come over tomorrow night? Couldn't you have asked me this about ten minutes earlier?
I sat on the decision for about five minutes, and of course talked to Vinnie about it. What are fags for, if not for advising their Queen. He said that I should make my own decision (he's saying that a lot lately; I think I am looking for too much advice).
Now, I was already exhausted, I was stressed over work - to the point where I was nearly in tears in supervision! - and knew that Tuesday wasn't likely to make me feel better. That right there made my decision. There was no way I was going to be up to looking nice and making nice with a near-stranger in a public place with lots of complete strangers. Being social is difficult. It's taxing, and drains my reserves even on a good day. Sure, going out for a few drinks with Peter would be fun, but I don't know him well enough to be stupid with him, if that makes sense.
So I told Jay "give me five minutes", and emailed Peter. Sure, it was a lie. I said "Or maybe I could be a COMPLETE IDIOT and look at the wrong date on my dayrunner. Tuesday's not good. Is there another day this week that works for you?" and then made plans with Jay to pick me up from work and come hang out with me.
This was, by far, the better of the two options. I fell asleep in Jay's car on the way to my house. He then proceeded to buy me food and solicitously put me to bed. After the mad monkey sex we had. And oh, it was mad, and it was monkey.
I'll go out with Peter next week. This week I needed a little TLC, and Jay was the perfect person to provide it.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
I need some sleep.
Over the weekend I wound up working a double on Sunday, which, as I previously mentioned, probably wasn't a good idea. I got out of work late on Saturday, lost an hour of sleep that night, and then had to be at work at 8 am, which is about three hours before I normally think about getting up. A recipe for exhaustion, is what that is.
But, it did give me the opportunity to not only spend some quality one-on-one time with the kids, it gave me the opportunity to spend some time with the staff, too. Particularly Lee.
Lee is sort of an odd duck - she and I get along fabulously on a personal level, but we definitely clash on a professional one. She's a black dyke with dreads, who's studying some sort of therapy, and has been working at the house for a few years. We've always had great conversations about relationships, and naturally, I availed myself of the opportunity to bounce my current situation off of her.
It all started when I mentioned how Peter, the so-called "new guy" stood me up on Friday night. We'd been planning to meet after I got out of work, but he totally forgot and oops, there's me standing outside the bar looking like a schmuck. I wasn't too pissed though; I was tired and kind of just wanted to go home anyway, and it worked out well, because Saturday, well, shit. Let's just say that Saturday spawned another great "So this one time at work" story to tell over beers.
So I wound up telling her all about Peter - he's 29, lives in the city, works at a political action group, liberal as fuck like me, takes his martinis dirty and dry. He's definitely my type - tall and skinny and soft-spoken, and we'd had a marvelous time on our first date. Which reminds me - I need to write about me and dating some time.
Anyway, I then mentioned how I'm still talking to Jay, my ex, and how we'd remained friends. Regardless of what has or will happen, I will always be fond of Jay. Meanwhile, since we've broken up, he's mentioned to me that yes, he does want to get back together with me once he gets his shit in order, and right, that marriage thing? He'd like that as well. When I told him that I'd been out on a date with Peter, and had a good time, he was quite honest and told me that his reaction was happiness for me, but also a good helping of "OHSHIT".
Jay then proceeded to ask me out on a date, which I gleefully accepted, because I am not above using men for car rides, drinks, and dinners.
I've definitely been using Jay for the car rides lately; he's taken to picking me up from work one night a week, and usually staying over. When he does, we proceed to have lots of amazing, fantastic sex, which I think will be my downfall. I always attach tons of emotion to sex, but it's hard not to when you still feel guilty for losing your virginity before marriage, and when the thought of sleeping with anyone else usually makes you ill. I think it would psychologically break me to fuck someone else - although I might manage to get over that with JS, which is the story of an entirely different entry. It's also hard to detach yourself from sex when you feel home, you feel complete and so fantastically alive when you have it with someone in particular.
The crux of the problem is that there were no "sparks" with Peter, and there's still plenty with Jay. I still can't forget the first time I saw him - it was from across the room, I picked him out of a group, and said "Mine." And proceeded to make him so.
Lee and I discussed the entire thing, and one thing she said really stuck with me. I've been broken up with Jay for almost a year, but we've still talked, we've still sexed, we've still seen each other, and the previous five years are nothing to sneeze at. Despite all the things I hate about him, and hated in our relationship, he still makes me smile. She called my attention to that, pretty fiercely.
Most days, I'm pretty okay with the fact that I'm pretty much still in love with Jay.
But, it did give me the opportunity to not only spend some quality one-on-one time with the kids, it gave me the opportunity to spend some time with the staff, too. Particularly Lee.
Lee is sort of an odd duck - she and I get along fabulously on a personal level, but we definitely clash on a professional one. She's a black dyke with dreads, who's studying some sort of therapy, and has been working at the house for a few years. We've always had great conversations about relationships, and naturally, I availed myself of the opportunity to bounce my current situation off of her.
It all started when I mentioned how Peter, the so-called "new guy" stood me up on Friday night. We'd been planning to meet after I got out of work, but he totally forgot and oops, there's me standing outside the bar looking like a schmuck. I wasn't too pissed though; I was tired and kind of just wanted to go home anyway, and it worked out well, because Saturday, well, shit. Let's just say that Saturday spawned another great "So this one time at work" story to tell over beers.
So I wound up telling her all about Peter - he's 29, lives in the city, works at a political action group, liberal as fuck like me, takes his martinis dirty and dry. He's definitely my type - tall and skinny and soft-spoken, and we'd had a marvelous time on our first date. Which reminds me - I need to write about me and dating some time.
Anyway, I then mentioned how I'm still talking to Jay, my ex, and how we'd remained friends. Regardless of what has or will happen, I will always be fond of Jay. Meanwhile, since we've broken up, he's mentioned to me that yes, he does want to get back together with me once he gets his shit in order, and right, that marriage thing? He'd like that as well. When I told him that I'd been out on a date with Peter, and had a good time, he was quite honest and told me that his reaction was happiness for me, but also a good helping of "OHSHIT".
Jay then proceeded to ask me out on a date, which I gleefully accepted, because I am not above using men for car rides, drinks, and dinners.
I've definitely been using Jay for the car rides lately; he's taken to picking me up from work one night a week, and usually staying over. When he does, we proceed to have lots of amazing, fantastic sex, which I think will be my downfall. I always attach tons of emotion to sex, but it's hard not to when you still feel guilty for losing your virginity before marriage, and when the thought of sleeping with anyone else usually makes you ill. I think it would psychologically break me to fuck someone else - although I might manage to get over that with JS, which is the story of an entirely different entry. It's also hard to detach yourself from sex when you feel home, you feel complete and so fantastically alive when you have it with someone in particular.
The crux of the problem is that there were no "sparks" with Peter, and there's still plenty with Jay. I still can't forget the first time I saw him - it was from across the room, I picked him out of a group, and said "Mine." And proceeded to make him so.
Lee and I discussed the entire thing, and one thing she said really stuck with me. I've been broken up with Jay for almost a year, but we've still talked, we've still sexed, we've still seen each other, and the previous five years are nothing to sneeze at. Despite all the things I hate about him, and hated in our relationship, he still makes me smile. She called my attention to that, pretty fiercely.
Most days, I'm pretty okay with the fact that I'm pretty much still in love with Jay.
Monday, April 03, 2006
I am dumb.
Why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to sign up for a double on the day after DST starts?
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Oh, well shit.
Look at me, I haven't updated in over a year! Wheeeeee!!!
I don't really have any good reasons. Sorry. All I can say is that I did this with my other journal too, and now that I'm past that year of letting it languish on the vine, I'm much better about updating it. Hopefully that holds true over here, because there are somethings that my actual, real-life friends just don't need to read.
Probably the most important thing that happened was that in May of last year, I broke up with J. On his birthday, which was so unbelievably classy I don't even have the words to describe it. I had finally gotten fed up with the fact that he was still living with me, and hadn't worked in over a year. Over a year, people. This was a long time coming.
My least favorite thing about him has always been his irresponsibility. I'm one of those damned older children that is hyper-responsible, so someone who was an only child (an only child! Aren't they supposed to be hyper-oldests?) who was completely irresponsible and unmotivated drove me completely nuts. I was turning into a shrew of the highest order, and quite frankly, I didn't like it. So for the both of us, I ended it.
I actually cried, which is highly unusual. He didn't, but I didn't really expect him to. It's been at least six years since I've met him, and he hasn't cried once. And I tried a lot when we were together.
He lived with me until the end of August, when the lease was up. I shamelessly still had sex with him. Lots of it. Lots of very, very good sex. Which was probably my worst idea to date, but it was fun, and it drove my other roommate up the wall. I have a healthy streak of schadenfreude, it seems. My other roommate, who still hates J very much so.
Anyway, J moved out in August, taking his huge desk with him, and went back to his parents' house, because, oh right, he still didn't have a job, nor did he have any money left to pay rent. We talked once in a while, because despite everything, I still can't bring myself to hate him and cut him out of my life. Some days, I get really angry with myself about that.
Which brings us to the present moment. In the past month and a half, J has suddenly turned into, well, an adult. He has a job - salaried, no less! - where he does actual work, which could actually be, you know, career-related. And he's leasing a car. A brand-spanking-new car. It's pretty hot. I'm jealous of the car.
I'm disconcerted by the change. Is it what I wanted? Oh, absolutely. But it was a little sudden, and it's a big adjustment. It's still a little weird, although I can pull off "so how was work today?" much easier now. Not really sure how I feel about the whole issue, though. I'm stuck in a position of "wait and see", which I damn well hate.
I'm also still gainfully employed, with the kids, except that I got myself promoted, so now my hours are completely different, I have way too much more responsibility, and still not enough pay. Some days I like my job. Some days it makes me physically ill. And that's about all I can say about that.
Back to work. No rest for the wicked (okay that's a lie; wicked people rest all the time).
I don't really have any good reasons. Sorry. All I can say is that I did this with my other journal too, and now that I'm past that year of letting it languish on the vine, I'm much better about updating it. Hopefully that holds true over here, because there are somethings that my actual, real-life friends just don't need to read.
Probably the most important thing that happened was that in May of last year, I broke up with J. On his birthday, which was so unbelievably classy I don't even have the words to describe it. I had finally gotten fed up with the fact that he was still living with me, and hadn't worked in over a year. Over a year, people. This was a long time coming.
My least favorite thing about him has always been his irresponsibility. I'm one of those damned older children that is hyper-responsible, so someone who was an only child (an only child! Aren't they supposed to be hyper-oldests?) who was completely irresponsible and unmotivated drove me completely nuts. I was turning into a shrew of the highest order, and quite frankly, I didn't like it. So for the both of us, I ended it.
I actually cried, which is highly unusual. He didn't, but I didn't really expect him to. It's been at least six years since I've met him, and he hasn't cried once. And I tried a lot when we were together.
He lived with me until the end of August, when the lease was up. I shamelessly still had sex with him. Lots of it. Lots of very, very good sex. Which was probably my worst idea to date, but it was fun, and it drove my other roommate up the wall. I have a healthy streak of schadenfreude, it seems. My other roommate, who still hates J very much so.
Anyway, J moved out in August, taking his huge desk with him, and went back to his parents' house, because, oh right, he still didn't have a job, nor did he have any money left to pay rent. We talked once in a while, because despite everything, I still can't bring myself to hate him and cut him out of my life. Some days, I get really angry with myself about that.
Which brings us to the present moment. In the past month and a half, J has suddenly turned into, well, an adult. He has a job - salaried, no less! - where he does actual work, which could actually be, you know, career-related. And he's leasing a car. A brand-spanking-new car. It's pretty hot. I'm jealous of the car.
I'm disconcerted by the change. Is it what I wanted? Oh, absolutely. But it was a little sudden, and it's a big adjustment. It's still a little weird, although I can pull off "so how was work today?" much easier now. Not really sure how I feel about the whole issue, though. I'm stuck in a position of "wait and see", which I damn well hate.
I'm also still gainfully employed, with the kids, except that I got myself promoted, so now my hours are completely different, I have way too much more responsibility, and still not enough pay. Some days I like my job. Some days it makes me physically ill. And that's about all I can say about that.
Back to work. No rest for the wicked (okay that's a lie; wicked people rest all the time).
Sunday, January 09, 2005
KIDS, people
I'm really not a big fan of doing a retrospective at the end of every year, although maybe I should be. It might actually give me a sense of closure and perspective on things. Then again, I haven't before, and my memory doesn't show signs of decaying anytime soon, so I'm sure I'll remember what I need to, when I need to.
To tie up the last story arc on here, JS has fallen off the face of the planet again, and really, that's for the best. I have enough to focus on here (ooh, look at me rationalize!) without focusing on that. Sure, ignoring your problems is healthy. Trust me, I'm a professional - and they let me work with kids, of all things.
That at least is going well - the working part, anyway. I highly enjoy what I do, and so, it seems, does everyone else. The problem is that it is a high-stress job, and my schedule is such that I work Sunday evening, Monday overnight, Tuesday day (just a meeting, though), Wednesday evening, then Friday evening. So I get two days off a week, just not in a row. This means that both of them are usually "I'm damn tired, so I'm staying in bed" days, and that means that shit and fuckall get done around the house. My table? Still not finished. Laundry? Large enough to have its own gravitational pull. Dusting? HAHAHAHA.
On the plus side though, today before work J and his mother and I went about an hour south of here to pick up a five-year-old portable dishwasher, for an amazing $75, from a woman I met online. It's a little loud, and it was bulky to move, but oh gods, it works, and now maybe dishes won't be a fight in this house anymore, because no one will have to actually physically wash them.
About all that's happened otherwise is that I couldn't fall asleep last night, so I was up for three hours in bed just thinking of things, and I think I thought of a side-business I could get started. If I ever, you know, get some capital to invest in start-up costs, and get off my ass. Basically, I'm a fairly good seamstress, and a pretty damn good embroiderer, and you can sell the products of both of those things. I could go one of two ways, I think. I could A: sell specialized embroidered pieces and other fabric pieces for the members of my sorority, or B: sell costuming and custom-made garments, with or without embroidery and other details. Both could be very nicely profitable, if done right. There's certainly a market in both of those places, but I'm unsure of how to tap into it, and also how to get off the ground. For now, I think I'll stick to cross-stitching for my own entertainment.
It's not even as if I don't make enough money to live on from my job - because I do, even though it's not as much as I made in the, quite frankly, more lucrative research field. But the thought of extra money coming in... ooh. Tempting.
Speaking of tempting, J is on the couch, playing video games, and he kicked my ass earlier in two-player Katamari Damacy (well, he does have the advantage of playing for the last three days straight, while I just started last night - still, dammit, I hate losing), so I think I'll go get him back for that.
To tie up the last story arc on here, JS has fallen off the face of the planet again, and really, that's for the best. I have enough to focus on here (ooh, look at me rationalize!) without focusing on that. Sure, ignoring your problems is healthy. Trust me, I'm a professional - and they let me work with kids, of all things.
That at least is going well - the working part, anyway. I highly enjoy what I do, and so, it seems, does everyone else. The problem is that it is a high-stress job, and my schedule is such that I work Sunday evening, Monday overnight, Tuesday day (just a meeting, though), Wednesday evening, then Friday evening. So I get two days off a week, just not in a row. This means that both of them are usually "I'm damn tired, so I'm staying in bed" days, and that means that shit and fuckall get done around the house. My table? Still not finished. Laundry? Large enough to have its own gravitational pull. Dusting? HAHAHAHA.
On the plus side though, today before work J and his mother and I went about an hour south of here to pick up a five-year-old portable dishwasher, for an amazing $75, from a woman I met online. It's a little loud, and it was bulky to move, but oh gods, it works, and now maybe dishes won't be a fight in this house anymore, because no one will have to actually physically wash them.
About all that's happened otherwise is that I couldn't fall asleep last night, so I was up for three hours in bed just thinking of things, and I think I thought of a side-business I could get started. If I ever, you know, get some capital to invest in start-up costs, and get off my ass. Basically, I'm a fairly good seamstress, and a pretty damn good embroiderer, and you can sell the products of both of those things. I could go one of two ways, I think. I could A: sell specialized embroidered pieces and other fabric pieces for the members of my sorority, or B: sell costuming and custom-made garments, with or without embroidery and other details. Both could be very nicely profitable, if done right. There's certainly a market in both of those places, but I'm unsure of how to tap into it, and also how to get off the ground. For now, I think I'll stick to cross-stitching for my own entertainment.
It's not even as if I don't make enough money to live on from my job - because I do, even though it's not as much as I made in the, quite frankly, more lucrative research field. But the thought of extra money coming in... ooh. Tempting.
Speaking of tempting, J is on the couch, playing video games, and he kicked my ass earlier in two-player Katamari Damacy (well, he does have the advantage of playing for the last three days straight, while I just started last night - still, dammit, I hate losing), so I think I'll go get him back for that.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Bother and damnation
Not that he actually was, just that I'd had a vision thereof. JS is still firmly ensconced on the opposite side of the country from me.
We talked on the phone only once - for about two hours. I'm not a huge phone person, but a plea of "I'd just like to hear your voice", and it being 2 am and having nothing better to do, was hard to resist.
The thing was, J and I were back together by that point. It was difficult to admit that I loved J, but was still attracted to JS. I didn't do much of either, really. JS tried to call me on a few times, which I can't blame him for. What I did with him after J and I got back together wasn't necessarily right, but it was certainly enjoyable.
Oh, we never had another naked webcam show, but we'd still flirt, trade sexual innuendos, even a few risque pictures and the like. We're still very, very attracted to each other.
After I moved, JS dropped out of sight for a while, but I wasn't worried - I tend to do the same. Then I started getting hints that he had a girlfriend, or at the very least a woman he was seeing semi-regularly. I honestly can say that I was happy for him, because I knew that for a good long time, nothing could come of the "romance", as it were, between us, and that he needed someone who actually lived near him.
I talked to him soon after. Sure enough, he did have a girlfriend. Who was supposed to be a fling, but was a month pregnant. Who has the same name as me.
Well isn't that just a delightful turn?
He's always wanted children, and I know he'll be an excellent father - he's too committed to the idea of raising children right for him to be anything else.
The thing of it is, it hasn't really changed our relationship much. He came right out and said that he fully expects that, all of our other relationships aside, he and I will wind up in bed together someday, and that's the very least we owe each other. He also said that he'll always have some love for me, no matter what, no matter when.
It was touching, and reaffirming - I'd more or less expected a good sweaty bout of sex with him in the future myself, and it was good to know that I was on the same page still. But the comment about love really got to me. Yes, I'll always feel fondly about him, and it doesn't surprise me that he feels the same. But at the same time, I can't help but think that I'm setting up his current relationship to fail - never mind my own. I certainly don't want to lose touch with him, but I don't want to talk to him too often, because I don't want to be that woman, and have another female with my name (and who I have a sneaking suspicion resembles me) after my ass for breaking up her relationship. I'd be pissed in her shoes.
I don't think she suspects what has gone before between JS and myself - I know that J doesn't know, and I want to keep it that way. There's nowhere that JS and I can go, so why should I have the argument and strife with J? Anyway, I don't think the anti-french - or is that other-french? - knows. Or, if she does, she's remarkably tolerant. I know she's seen some of the things I've said to him over IM since I found out about here, and while they weren't risque, they bespeak a familiarity I have with him. I get the impression that she and I would get along perhaps a little too well for the liking of any male in the vicinity.
Ah well. For now, JS has to be a dream - a lovely one, at that, and one I find myself having on a regular basis - but a dream nonetheless. The time isn't right, but someday it will be. Hopefully I'll figure out what's going on with J before then.
We talked on the phone only once - for about two hours. I'm not a huge phone person, but a plea of "I'd just like to hear your voice", and it being 2 am and having nothing better to do, was hard to resist.
The thing was, J and I were back together by that point. It was difficult to admit that I loved J, but was still attracted to JS. I didn't do much of either, really. JS tried to call me on a few times, which I can't blame him for. What I did with him after J and I got back together wasn't necessarily right, but it was certainly enjoyable.
Oh, we never had another naked webcam show, but we'd still flirt, trade sexual innuendos, even a few risque pictures and the like. We're still very, very attracted to each other.
After I moved, JS dropped out of sight for a while, but I wasn't worried - I tend to do the same. Then I started getting hints that he had a girlfriend, or at the very least a woman he was seeing semi-regularly. I honestly can say that I was happy for him, because I knew that for a good long time, nothing could come of the "romance", as it were, between us, and that he needed someone who actually lived near him.
I talked to him soon after. Sure enough, he did have a girlfriend. Who was supposed to be a fling, but was a month pregnant. Who has the same name as me.
Well isn't that just a delightful turn?
He's always wanted children, and I know he'll be an excellent father - he's too committed to the idea of raising children right for him to be anything else.
The thing of it is, it hasn't really changed our relationship much. He came right out and said that he fully expects that, all of our other relationships aside, he and I will wind up in bed together someday, and that's the very least we owe each other. He also said that he'll always have some love for me, no matter what, no matter when.
It was touching, and reaffirming - I'd more or less expected a good sweaty bout of sex with him in the future myself, and it was good to know that I was on the same page still. But the comment about love really got to me. Yes, I'll always feel fondly about him, and it doesn't surprise me that he feels the same. But at the same time, I can't help but think that I'm setting up his current relationship to fail - never mind my own. I certainly don't want to lose touch with him, but I don't want to talk to him too often, because I don't want to be that woman, and have another female with my name (and who I have a sneaking suspicion resembles me) after my ass for breaking up her relationship. I'd be pissed in her shoes.
I don't think she suspects what has gone before between JS and myself - I know that J doesn't know, and I want to keep it that way. There's nowhere that JS and I can go, so why should I have the argument and strife with J? Anyway, I don't think the anti-french - or is that other-french? - knows. Or, if she does, she's remarkably tolerant. I know she's seen some of the things I've said to him over IM since I found out about here, and while they weren't risque, they bespeak a familiarity I have with him. I get the impression that she and I would get along perhaps a little too well for the liking of any male in the vicinity.
Ah well. For now, JS has to be a dream - a lovely one, at that, and one I find myself having on a regular basis - but a dream nonetheless. The time isn't right, but someday it will be. Hopefully I'll figure out what's going on with J before then.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Visions
The story so far: french is, for all intents and purposes, having some kind of messed-up e-affair with Joseph.
Now, I wouldn't have even consented to set up the webcam in the first place if I weren't absolutely sure that Joseph wasn't on the other end, taking screencaps, and then proceeding to post them on the internet. The same went for him - we trusted each other to keep this personal and private.
That didn't mean that the entire time we were naked for each other, I wasn't in a constant state of disbelief - disbelief that I was actually doing this, disbelief that there were now two men on the planet who have seen me naked (and still find me bizarrely attractive), disbelief that there was a guy showing off his very naked, very delicious body to me.
By entire time, I mean, "entire time that I wasn't too aroused to be thinking about anything other than sex and sex-type things". I feel that's a distinction that needs to be made here. Especially since poor Joseph, who is very literate and very written-word-oriented, was trying to IM me, and I couldn't really respond in coherent fashion for a while. Luckily, he took it in stride, and was flattered.
At the time, Joseph was working nights, so he was at the end of his day, while I had just gotten up. Therefore, everything ended after an orgasm for him and when he needed to go to bed. I didn't even care that I hadn't so much masturbated as had a visual feast - I felt good that he'd quite obviously enjoyed himself, and that was okay.
Afterwards, I was almost in a state of shock. Did I just do what I think I did? I must have, because there were the IM logs (which I have sadly lost to a dead hard drive, which makes me want to cry). That was... that was depraved! And I did it! Holy fuck! And I was ridiculously happy about it. I reasoned that even if it were depraved, that it couldn't be too bad if both parties had enjoyed it as much as they did. That didn't mean that I told a single person about it - this blog is the first time I'm in any way talking about or admitting to this with anyone other than Joseph. I just told my friends that we were still hardcore flirting.
I didn't get the chance to talk to Joseph for a few days afterwards, which despite all his assurances, sent me into a minor panic. I couldn't bear to think that he was having second thoughts, or didn't want to speak to me anymore, or anything like that. Logically, I knew that he wasn't online because he was either at work or sleeping, and that he slept when I was awake, so it was okay.
It was, of course, or I wouldn't be in the state I am today. He IM'ed me a few days later, tentative. I'm sure we were both feeling out where the other stood. The impression I got was that he was just as overjoyed as I was that we didn't hate each other or have any regrets. That of course set us up for another, similar naked-webcam encounter within a month of the first, with much the same results - except that he was worried that I wasn't enjoying myself, which led to me masturbating on cam.
Time has robbed me of the reason that those two times are the only times we ever saw each other naked. Both of us, in later months, expressed happiness that we'd done so, though. Regardless. After I graduated and moved to a new apartment, Joseph and I kept up our correspondence. What drew us together was keeping us together - high intelligence, a love of the written word, an appreciation for humor and wit, and a general loathing for the majority of the population. We also had the same tendency to forget correspondence for a while, and be able to pick up where we left off a month or three later. I was the first one to see the draft of his new novel, he was the first one I told that I was fed up with biology and wanted to go into social work. We bitched about our jobs, about our lives, shared little joys and major sorrows, and bounced ideas off of each other. But there was always that little current of "sex" under the covers.
I knew that this was something I had to pay attention to when I had a vision of him getting off the local mode of public transportation in front of my house as I watched from the kitchen window.
Now, I wouldn't have even consented to set up the webcam in the first place if I weren't absolutely sure that Joseph wasn't on the other end, taking screencaps, and then proceeding to post them on the internet. The same went for him - we trusted each other to keep this personal and private.
That didn't mean that the entire time we were naked for each other, I wasn't in a constant state of disbelief - disbelief that I was actually doing this, disbelief that there were now two men on the planet who have seen me naked (and still find me bizarrely attractive), disbelief that there was a guy showing off his very naked, very delicious body to me.
By entire time, I mean, "entire time that I wasn't too aroused to be thinking about anything other than sex and sex-type things". I feel that's a distinction that needs to be made here. Especially since poor Joseph, who is very literate and very written-word-oriented, was trying to IM me, and I couldn't really respond in coherent fashion for a while. Luckily, he took it in stride, and was flattered.
At the time, Joseph was working nights, so he was at the end of his day, while I had just gotten up. Therefore, everything ended after an orgasm for him and when he needed to go to bed. I didn't even care that I hadn't so much masturbated as had a visual feast - I felt good that he'd quite obviously enjoyed himself, and that was okay.
Afterwards, I was almost in a state of shock. Did I just do what I think I did? I must have, because there were the IM logs (which I have sadly lost to a dead hard drive, which makes me want to cry). That was... that was depraved! And I did it! Holy fuck! And I was ridiculously happy about it. I reasoned that even if it were depraved, that it couldn't be too bad if both parties had enjoyed it as much as they did. That didn't mean that I told a single person about it - this blog is the first time I'm in any way talking about or admitting to this with anyone other than Joseph. I just told my friends that we were still hardcore flirting.
I didn't get the chance to talk to Joseph for a few days afterwards, which despite all his assurances, sent me into a minor panic. I couldn't bear to think that he was having second thoughts, or didn't want to speak to me anymore, or anything like that. Logically, I knew that he wasn't online because he was either at work or sleeping, and that he slept when I was awake, so it was okay.
It was, of course, or I wouldn't be in the state I am today. He IM'ed me a few days later, tentative. I'm sure we were both feeling out where the other stood. The impression I got was that he was just as overjoyed as I was that we didn't hate each other or have any regrets. That of course set us up for another, similar naked-webcam encounter within a month of the first, with much the same results - except that he was worried that I wasn't enjoying myself, which led to me masturbating on cam.
Time has robbed me of the reason that those two times are the only times we ever saw each other naked. Both of us, in later months, expressed happiness that we'd done so, though. Regardless. After I graduated and moved to a new apartment, Joseph and I kept up our correspondence. What drew us together was keeping us together - high intelligence, a love of the written word, an appreciation for humor and wit, and a general loathing for the majority of the population. We also had the same tendency to forget correspondence for a while, and be able to pick up where we left off a month or three later. I was the first one to see the draft of his new novel, he was the first one I told that I was fed up with biology and wanted to go into social work. We bitched about our jobs, about our lives, shared little joys and major sorrows, and bounced ideas off of each other. But there was always that little current of "sex" under the covers.
I knew that this was something I had to pay attention to when I had a vision of him getting off the local mode of public transportation in front of my house as I watched from the kitchen window.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Running through my head
My choices for this entry were either post a three-page novel, or split it up. Since I have the attention span of a gnat right now, you get a split.
Today's story: the backstory.
About, oh, January of 2003, perhaps, I broke up with J. At that point, we'd been going out for three and a half years, give or take, and I was fed up with his lackadaisical attitude towards responsibility and upward mobility. So, at the beginning of my last semester in college, I broke up with him. I'd threatened to do so at Halloween, but didn't work up the resolve until January.
He of course wanted to remain friends - and get me back, if he could. Our relationship was odd. I was so used to having few boundaries with him, and it was difficult to put some in there. But at the same time, I didn't want him around. I recall being surprised and sad that he showed up to my departmental graduation ceremony that spring, after we hadn't been dating for four months already.
During that time, though, that halcyon semester of freedom and complete disregard for studies (once I'd figured out that I could flunk everything and still graduate), a few weird things happened.
The most important for the purposes of this story has to do with the return of JS into my life. JS is a male 8 years older than I am, who I originally met on a very prominent and popular internet forum attached to a humor site. For the savvy, that narrows it down to two, really, and there's one that I won't even link to. Anyway, we met in person about a year after I started posting there. J and I drove out to where he lived - in the same state, but an hour or two away - picked him up from work, ate dinner, went to a diner, and then retreated to his apartment. We met his snakes and his cats, and I fell asleep on the floor with the cats as the menfolk played some game or other until sunrise.
We had a great time, and after that, I occasionally heard from him. I'd relegated him to the fringe of my mind for a while, until we were both tapped to be writers for a humor site run by our mutual friend, Cecil (another person I met from the internet). We traded barbs and the occasional private message on the forums attached to that site, and I usually got first crack at reading anything he wrote. We were close, in that not-close way. Deepest secrets weren't shared, but average stuff was. Eventually we moved to emails, so that we could express longer thoughts, as well as have an easier way for him to transmit his novel and short story attempts to me. Contact was still infrequent, but he still rated above some of the people I knew from school in terms of the close-friend hierarchy.
I didn't publicize my breakup with J in any way at all - in fact, most people thought we were still going out. We still had the same circle of friends, activities, etc. JS found out that I'd broken up with J from Cecil, whom he was visiting at the time.
Out of the blue, JS IMs me. The story is he's bored because Cecil is sleeping, and just wanted to say hi. Oh, and to let me know that he had always thought I was phenominally attractive and that he wished he still lived in my state because then he would really have a chance, now that I was free again.
I was flattered, of course, and taken aback as well. It wasn't that sexual tension had never been an element of our relationship before, it was that this was more than I was prepared for. I expected a bit of sexual undercurrent in my relationships with any straight male, from my closest friend right down to the guy in my biochem study group. It was odd to me, that men found me attractive - that didn't happen until college - but not bad. Just... interesting. Anyway, JS and I got into some hardcore flirting and sexualized conversation before I had to leave for class or something and cut it off.
Since men in general fascinate me - and men who are apparently interested in me are even more fascinating, of course - the next time I saw him online I took the opportunity to flirt a little bit. The conversation got to the point where I mentioned that I was still naked. "Still naked?" he asks, and it comes out that I sleep in the nude, and was sitting in front of my computer in such a state. All bets were then off, and we wound up setting up our webcams for a little naked show-off mutual masturbation show across a few thousand miles.
Tomorrow: fleshing out the relationship dynamics further: why I like JS, and why JS likes me. Also, what happened after that first little episode of web debauchery.
Today's story: the backstory.
About, oh, January of 2003, perhaps, I broke up with J. At that point, we'd been going out for three and a half years, give or take, and I was fed up with his lackadaisical attitude towards responsibility and upward mobility. So, at the beginning of my last semester in college, I broke up with him. I'd threatened to do so at Halloween, but didn't work up the resolve until January.
He of course wanted to remain friends - and get me back, if he could. Our relationship was odd. I was so used to having few boundaries with him, and it was difficult to put some in there. But at the same time, I didn't want him around. I recall being surprised and sad that he showed up to my departmental graduation ceremony that spring, after we hadn't been dating for four months already.
During that time, though, that halcyon semester of freedom and complete disregard for studies (once I'd figured out that I could flunk everything and still graduate), a few weird things happened.
The most important for the purposes of this story has to do with the return of JS into my life. JS is a male 8 years older than I am, who I originally met on a very prominent and popular internet forum attached to a humor site. For the savvy, that narrows it down to two, really, and there's one that I won't even link to. Anyway, we met in person about a year after I started posting there. J and I drove out to where he lived - in the same state, but an hour or two away - picked him up from work, ate dinner, went to a diner, and then retreated to his apartment. We met his snakes and his cats, and I fell asleep on the floor with the cats as the menfolk played some game or other until sunrise.
We had a great time, and after that, I occasionally heard from him. I'd relegated him to the fringe of my mind for a while, until we were both tapped to be writers for a humor site run by our mutual friend, Cecil (another person I met from the internet). We traded barbs and the occasional private message on the forums attached to that site, and I usually got first crack at reading anything he wrote. We were close, in that not-close way. Deepest secrets weren't shared, but average stuff was. Eventually we moved to emails, so that we could express longer thoughts, as well as have an easier way for him to transmit his novel and short story attempts to me. Contact was still infrequent, but he still rated above some of the people I knew from school in terms of the close-friend hierarchy.
I didn't publicize my breakup with J in any way at all - in fact, most people thought we were still going out. We still had the same circle of friends, activities, etc. JS found out that I'd broken up with J from Cecil, whom he was visiting at the time.
Out of the blue, JS IMs me. The story is he's bored because Cecil is sleeping, and just wanted to say hi. Oh, and to let me know that he had always thought I was phenominally attractive and that he wished he still lived in my state because then he would really have a chance, now that I was free again.
I was flattered, of course, and taken aback as well. It wasn't that sexual tension had never been an element of our relationship before, it was that this was more than I was prepared for. I expected a bit of sexual undercurrent in my relationships with any straight male, from my closest friend right down to the guy in my biochem study group. It was odd to me, that men found me attractive - that didn't happen until college - but not bad. Just... interesting. Anyway, JS and I got into some hardcore flirting and sexualized conversation before I had to leave for class or something and cut it off.
Since men in general fascinate me - and men who are apparently interested in me are even more fascinating, of course - the next time I saw him online I took the opportunity to flirt a little bit. The conversation got to the point where I mentioned that I was still naked. "Still naked?" he asks, and it comes out that I sleep in the nude, and was sitting in front of my computer in such a state. All bets were then off, and we wound up setting up our webcams for a little naked show-off mutual masturbation show across a few thousand miles.
Tomorrow: fleshing out the relationship dynamics further: why I like JS, and why JS likes me. Also, what happened after that first little episode of web debauchery.
Friday, October 08, 2004
I need more Crystal Light
Is this blog about sex, or is it about anything but? Sometimes I wonder.
Then again, all of that "anything but" decidedly impacts the sex. God, sometimes it's just great to be a woman.
As of right now, I am the only gainfully employed resident of the house. That's absolutely stunning, and it makes me glad that we're only one week into October. V has an interview tomorrow, and is temping steadily for the next two weeks anyway, so I'm not worried about him.
J, now, J I am slightly worried about. You see, J lost his job today, which should have been obvious in the last paragraph. Mostly, I'm pretty happy about that, and no, it's just just my bad case of schadenfreude that makes me say that. It's also my "Queen of Tough Love" persona, who has been waiting for something to come along and kick J's ass like this for about three years now. I had to figure, if he didn't learn to get up like a responsible human being, and show up for work/class/rehearsal/meeting/whatever just by my prompting or other intervention methods, he needed to get kicked in the ass. To use a trite phrase, sometimes you have to hit the bottom before you can reach for the top, or something like that.
Naturally, when his supervisor called him today and told him not to bother showing up tomorrow, J went right into his usual depressive state, curling up on the couch underneath a fleece, eating some ice cream, and watching tv, neglecting to talk to anyone else. He's very good at avoiding things through these and other methods. Granted, I can't imagine I'd be too happy if I were fired, but at least if I were in his shoes, I'd have been expecting it. I'm kind of aware of the fact that repeatedly no-showing at work isn't acceptable behavior. Neither is showing up late three to five days a week, or "calling off" the rest - and by calling off, I mean the supervisor called me to see where I was, and someone shoved the phone in my face so I'd actually answer it for once.
I already know that tomorrow, he won't even be awake by the time I leave for work at 12:30, and that despite saying he will, he won't have even looked for, much less applied for, a new job. And what does it say about me that I'm not even willing to help him look? Besides that I don't even know how someone would go about getting a new job after getting fired, because it's not an experience I've ever had.
V and I are seriously discussing the finacial feasability of kicking J out, and each of us paying $900/month for this apartment. It's doable, although we'd have considerably less around for saving and spending. It would also mean, at this point, that J would go back to his parents', which I don't like as an option. I largely blame them for the state he's in right now - I highly disagree with most, if not all, of their parenting methods.
And that's another thing. J, as recently as yesterday, says that he still wants to marry me. But do I really want to marry him out of anything other than complacency? Do I really want to marry into a family where I would pretty much outright hate my parents-in-law? And do I really deserve to hitch myself to someone who, honestly, for all of the years I've been with him, is going in nearly the exact opposite direction of me?
Then again, all of that "anything but" decidedly impacts the sex. God, sometimes it's just great to be a woman.
As of right now, I am the only gainfully employed resident of the house. That's absolutely stunning, and it makes me glad that we're only one week into October. V has an interview tomorrow, and is temping steadily for the next two weeks anyway, so I'm not worried about him.
J, now, J I am slightly worried about. You see, J lost his job today, which should have been obvious in the last paragraph. Mostly, I'm pretty happy about that, and no, it's just just my bad case of schadenfreude that makes me say that. It's also my "Queen of Tough Love" persona, who has been waiting for something to come along and kick J's ass like this for about three years now. I had to figure, if he didn't learn to get up like a responsible human being, and show up for work/class/rehearsal/meeting/whatever just by my prompting or other intervention methods, he needed to get kicked in the ass. To use a trite phrase, sometimes you have to hit the bottom before you can reach for the top, or something like that.
Naturally, when his supervisor called him today and told him not to bother showing up tomorrow, J went right into his usual depressive state, curling up on the couch underneath a fleece, eating some ice cream, and watching tv, neglecting to talk to anyone else. He's very good at avoiding things through these and other methods. Granted, I can't imagine I'd be too happy if I were fired, but at least if I were in his shoes, I'd have been expecting it. I'm kind of aware of the fact that repeatedly no-showing at work isn't acceptable behavior. Neither is showing up late three to five days a week, or "calling off" the rest - and by calling off, I mean the supervisor called me to see where I was, and someone shoved the phone in my face so I'd actually answer it for once.
I already know that tomorrow, he won't even be awake by the time I leave for work at 12:30, and that despite saying he will, he won't have even looked for, much less applied for, a new job. And what does it say about me that I'm not even willing to help him look? Besides that I don't even know how someone would go about getting a new job after getting fired, because it's not an experience I've ever had.
V and I are seriously discussing the finacial feasability of kicking J out, and each of us paying $900/month for this apartment. It's doable, although we'd have considerably less around for saving and spending. It would also mean, at this point, that J would go back to his parents', which I don't like as an option. I largely blame them for the state he's in right now - I highly disagree with most, if not all, of their parenting methods.
And that's another thing. J, as recently as yesterday, says that he still wants to marry me. But do I really want to marry him out of anything other than complacency? Do I really want to marry into a family where I would pretty much outright hate my parents-in-law? And do I really deserve to hitch myself to someone who, honestly, for all of the years I've been with him, is going in nearly the exact opposite direction of me?
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Fweee!
The benefit to overtime, as I've mentioned, is that I get lots of extra money in the paycheck. That means that I have money left over after I pay rent.
Better yet, I also got a $500 bonus from work this week, so I have tons of money left after paying rent.
That means it was time to go shopping.
I've wanted to refinish my table for a long time. I got it for free from a close friend of mine, who absolutely did not have room for it in her apartment. It's pine - the top and seats of the chairs were shellacked, and the legs and chair backs were painted Wedgwood blue. Now, I like blue, but Wedgwood? I'm not so much in to that. And neither is the Mission furniture I have in my living room.
So, I've been planning to refinish it, well, since I got it. It also needs a little work; some of the legs are coming loose on the chairs. So finally I was able to buy the supplies I needed for it. Vinnie and I went to Home Depot, where he stood with the cart in confusion as I first picked out stains, then grabbed all of the supplies.
I'm planning on keeping the same style - stain and color - but it's going to be all stains, no paint. The original shellacked parts are going to be a light red oak, and the colored parts are going to be a navy water-based stain. It fits a lot better both with the decor and me - I don't so much do anything pastel-ish.
So tonight of course after I cooked dinner for the menfolk, I put down the dropcloths, took down the glasses from their racks, and started stripping the table. Honestly, I'd forgotten how much of a fucking pain in the ass this shit is. I'm trying to remind myself that after I'm done, I'll have a beautiful table. But I got most of the table top finished, and barely one of the legs, and I'm fucking tired. Admittedly, it's the end of the day, and really, I only worked for about an hour, but JEE-zus.
Scraping old finish and stripper off really works up a sweat, and I can think of many things I'd rather do to work up a sweat.
Perhaps I'll have to engage in some of them tonight. Sex raises endorphins, right? Maybe that'll help my sore back.
Better yet, I also got a $500 bonus from work this week, so I have tons of money left after paying rent.
That means it was time to go shopping.
I've wanted to refinish my table for a long time. I got it for free from a close friend of mine, who absolutely did not have room for it in her apartment. It's pine - the top and seats of the chairs were shellacked, and the legs and chair backs were painted Wedgwood blue. Now, I like blue, but Wedgwood? I'm not so much in to that. And neither is the Mission furniture I have in my living room.
So, I've been planning to refinish it, well, since I got it. It also needs a little work; some of the legs are coming loose on the chairs. So finally I was able to buy the supplies I needed for it. Vinnie and I went to Home Depot, where he stood with the cart in confusion as I first picked out stains, then grabbed all of the supplies.
I'm planning on keeping the same style - stain and color - but it's going to be all stains, no paint. The original shellacked parts are going to be a light red oak, and the colored parts are going to be a navy water-based stain. It fits a lot better both with the decor and me - I don't so much do anything pastel-ish.
So tonight of course after I cooked dinner for the menfolk, I put down the dropcloths, took down the glasses from their racks, and started stripping the table. Honestly, I'd forgotten how much of a fucking pain in the ass this shit is. I'm trying to remind myself that after I'm done, I'll have a beautiful table. But I got most of the table top finished, and barely one of the legs, and I'm fucking tired. Admittedly, it's the end of the day, and really, I only worked for about an hour, but JEE-zus.
Scraping old finish and stripper off really works up a sweat, and I can think of many things I'd rather do to work up a sweat.
Perhaps I'll have to engage in some of them tonight. Sex raises endorphins, right? Maybe that'll help my sore back.
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Drivin' in his best friend's car
The past month, I've been pretty much sleeping and working - sometimes time is taken up by my commute. That's just not healthy for anything but my checkbook. I have to admit, french enjoys getting checks for amounts of over $1000 net. She enjoys it a lot, as do her various bank accounts and creditors. French's roommates, however, don't like when she's not home, because things don't get done.
Today marks the first day in almost two months that I'm going grocery shopping. In case that isn't clear to anyone, I'm slightly food obsessed. Cooking is one of the ways I show people that I care about them. Food's also one of the things I need in the house in decently large quantities to feel safe and secure - and to not resort to just ordering out all the time, which isn't good either. So for me to not have bought any groceries at all for two months is nearly panic time.
It wouldn't have even happened if I'd had more than one day off every two weeks or so for the past while. Admittedly, that's my own fault - I don't need to pick up all those extra shifts, but they really need help, and I could use the money... what finally stopped it was when I realized that before today, I'd been at work every single day for the past 13. I was going to make it 15 in a row, if I'd gone in for a meeting today, but since it wasn't absolutely essential, I decided fuck that, french needs a full goddamned day off.
What this also means is that my sex life is about nil again. Partly that's because I took a voluntary break for a while after the last serious set of incidents with J, and partly because I'm literally not home and awake for more than about an hour a day. Now that I've sworn off picking up extra shifts for at least a month (or else V will seriously maim me, he says), and J and I are starting to work through some of our issues, that might pick up a bit again.
My other excuse, if you can call it that, for not blogging in the past month has to do with other blogs. It seems that nine times out of ten, when I come up with an issue to talk about on here, I start making the entry, but then I check other blogs, and two or three of them just addressed it, and expressed what I wanted to say in such fine fashion I feel like there's no point in my posting. Not only would I be repeating other people's things, but I don't feel that I could even improve upon it. Rather frustrating, really, because I don't want this to just turn into "Oh hey, check out this blog because they already said stuff I wanted to", but at the same time, I really hate even the illusion of plagiarism or hackney.
Maybe what I need to start doing is make a list of things I'd like to blog about, wait until a few months after other people have done it, and then do it myself. Of course, that would require organization, which isn't always a strong point outside of my work life.
Either way. I need to start posting again.
Today marks the first day in almost two months that I'm going grocery shopping. In case that isn't clear to anyone, I'm slightly food obsessed. Cooking is one of the ways I show people that I care about them. Food's also one of the things I need in the house in decently large quantities to feel safe and secure - and to not resort to just ordering out all the time, which isn't good either. So for me to not have bought any groceries at all for two months is nearly panic time.
It wouldn't have even happened if I'd had more than one day off every two weeks or so for the past while. Admittedly, that's my own fault - I don't need to pick up all those extra shifts, but they really need help, and I could use the money... what finally stopped it was when I realized that before today, I'd been at work every single day for the past 13. I was going to make it 15 in a row, if I'd gone in for a meeting today, but since it wasn't absolutely essential, I decided fuck that, french needs a full goddamned day off.
What this also means is that my sex life is about nil again. Partly that's because I took a voluntary break for a while after the last serious set of incidents with J, and partly because I'm literally not home and awake for more than about an hour a day. Now that I've sworn off picking up extra shifts for at least a month (or else V will seriously maim me, he says), and J and I are starting to work through some of our issues, that might pick up a bit again.
My other excuse, if you can call it that, for not blogging in the past month has to do with other blogs. It seems that nine times out of ten, when I come up with an issue to talk about on here, I start making the entry, but then I check other blogs, and two or three of them just addressed it, and expressed what I wanted to say in such fine fashion I feel like there's no point in my posting. Not only would I be repeating other people's things, but I don't feel that I could even improve upon it. Rather frustrating, really, because I don't want this to just turn into "Oh hey, check out this blog because they already said stuff I wanted to", but at the same time, I really hate even the illusion of plagiarism or hackney.
Maybe what I need to start doing is make a list of things I'd like to blog about, wait until a few months after other people have done it, and then do it myself. Of course, that would require organization, which isn't always a strong point outside of my work life.
Either way. I need to start posting again.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
they're not gonna get us
One of the downsides to my job is that I get to listen to the "pop" and "top 40" crap that teenagers nearly invariably listen to, which is very much not along my usual musical tastes. Pity me, for I have far too excellent of a memory for music. I find myself singing songs I don't even fucking like, simply because they're stuck in my head. On the other hand, they're all impressed how after a few weeks I can sing along with everything on the radio as well as they can, so maybe it's not all bad.
On our way home from picking me up after work, V asked if I wanted to play cards - his euphemism for me giving him a tarot reading. Since work tends to get me to close down that aspect of myself - the subject of another ramble - I agreed, as I figured it'd be a good way to get back in touch with that side of myself again.
I ate dinner, V did some dishes, then we lit some of my incense and one of his candles, and we did up some tarot. I gave him a reading - which is usually never hard, because I know what's bugging him even if he won't articulate it - and he reciprocated. I didn't have anything in particular in mind, but surprise of all surprises, got what I was thinking about anyway.
My relationship with J isn't always as good as I'd like it to be, or even as good as I have sometimes made it out to be. When I'm honest with myself, I admit that there are needs of mine that he just doesn't fulfill - like having a mature partner who doesn't need reminders to get up in the morning and go to work. A partner that doesn't leave dishes and belongings and just crap all over the house all the time, expecting someone else to pick up. A partner that can remember what they're supposed to be doing from one moment to the next. A partner that is going somewhere in life. A partner that I feel comfortable and trusting in submitting to, who wants me in that position, and can take that gift and do something with it. J has his moments, but at times like these they seem particularly few and far between.
Admittedly, we had a great time in California, for my brother's wedding this past weekend, but even then, there were little reminders - evidence that he has a nasty habit of not thinking beyond himself and the moment. It really bothers me at times that I need to think for two people. That's not my job in this relationship, and even if it were, I wouldn't feel comfortable doing it unless I'd seen that he could do it for himself.
It just feels like I need to take care of him - not as a lover and submissive to her lover and Master, but more as a mother to her child. I don't mind cooking dinner, doing laundry, keeping a clean house. I do mind cleaning up after, prompting to go to work or do work, repeatedly reminding about appointments, repeatedly prompting about minor details like new clothes, haircuts, etc. and so on, and a million other little things that make me feel as if I'm mothering him. I don't want to - and he swears he doesn't need it - but his behavior persists and I don't know what to do about it anymore.
Those things - and other circumstances surrounding the relationship - were heavy on my heart as I shuffled, and sure enough, they came out in the cards. I have been putting off making a change or decision in this case. I can't come up with one that's perfect enough for my tastes - well, other than a drastic overnight change on J's part, and I know that won't happen - so I don't want to make one at all. I know that's just letting other things or people make the decision for me, but it's so much easier to blame them if it goes wrong.
V was right though, a change needs to happen. The thought of finding an online - or local - dom and fulfilling that need in that manner occurs to me far too often lately. While I hesitate, because sharing intimacy like that feels so badly like cheating to me, still, it's a need I have, that isn't getting met. Yes, I submit to J on occasion. But I don't think it's often enough, and given that we're in a relationship anyway, I don't feel that he's capable of that. I don't think, in a lot of ways, that he's capable of being an adult with me, and the rest of his peers.
On the other hand, he does have positives - I have to be fair here! He's extremely, extremely intelligent. He cares very deeply for the few people he does feel close to. He's very unflappable, which is good when I'm flying off the handle - he's my ground, which I sometimes need. He's pretty handy around the house (when he gets around to it, usually after a month of, well, nagging on my part) (and not to say that I'm not, but sometimes it's nice to have someone else do it because I'm busy with other stuff). He really is like a big ticklish puppy-dog in some ways. And let's not forget the sexual compatibility.
This blog entry is really just another way to put off making a decision. Deep down inside, I'm already sure of the decision I want to make, I just don't want to admit it to myself and implement it. Perhaps that speaks to a lack of maturity on my part. But the current status quo is the devil I know, and I already know his tricks, and how to put the chains on. The devil I don't? Who knows what he would bring.
Something needs to change, though.
On our way home from picking me up after work, V asked if I wanted to play cards - his euphemism for me giving him a tarot reading. Since work tends to get me to close down that aspect of myself - the subject of another ramble - I agreed, as I figured it'd be a good way to get back in touch with that side of myself again.
I ate dinner, V did some dishes, then we lit some of my incense and one of his candles, and we did up some tarot. I gave him a reading - which is usually never hard, because I know what's bugging him even if he won't articulate it - and he reciprocated. I didn't have anything in particular in mind, but surprise of all surprises, got what I was thinking about anyway.
My relationship with J isn't always as good as I'd like it to be, or even as good as I have sometimes made it out to be. When I'm honest with myself, I admit that there are needs of mine that he just doesn't fulfill - like having a mature partner who doesn't need reminders to get up in the morning and go to work. A partner that doesn't leave dishes and belongings and just crap all over the house all the time, expecting someone else to pick up. A partner that can remember what they're supposed to be doing from one moment to the next. A partner that is going somewhere in life. A partner that I feel comfortable and trusting in submitting to, who wants me in that position, and can take that gift and do something with it. J has his moments, but at times like these they seem particularly few and far between.
Admittedly, we had a great time in California, for my brother's wedding this past weekend, but even then, there were little reminders - evidence that he has a nasty habit of not thinking beyond himself and the moment. It really bothers me at times that I need to think for two people. That's not my job in this relationship, and even if it were, I wouldn't feel comfortable doing it unless I'd seen that he could do it for himself.
It just feels like I need to take care of him - not as a lover and submissive to her lover and Master, but more as a mother to her child. I don't mind cooking dinner, doing laundry, keeping a clean house. I do mind cleaning up after, prompting to go to work or do work, repeatedly reminding about appointments, repeatedly prompting about minor details like new clothes, haircuts, etc. and so on, and a million other little things that make me feel as if I'm mothering him. I don't want to - and he swears he doesn't need it - but his behavior persists and I don't know what to do about it anymore.
Those things - and other circumstances surrounding the relationship - were heavy on my heart as I shuffled, and sure enough, they came out in the cards. I have been putting off making a change or decision in this case. I can't come up with one that's perfect enough for my tastes - well, other than a drastic overnight change on J's part, and I know that won't happen - so I don't want to make one at all. I know that's just letting other things or people make the decision for me, but it's so much easier to blame them if it goes wrong.
V was right though, a change needs to happen. The thought of finding an online - or local - dom and fulfilling that need in that manner occurs to me far too often lately. While I hesitate, because sharing intimacy like that feels so badly like cheating to me, still, it's a need I have, that isn't getting met. Yes, I submit to J on occasion. But I don't think it's often enough, and given that we're in a relationship anyway, I don't feel that he's capable of that. I don't think, in a lot of ways, that he's capable of being an adult with me, and the rest of his peers.
On the other hand, he does have positives - I have to be fair here! He's extremely, extremely intelligent. He cares very deeply for the few people he does feel close to. He's very unflappable, which is good when I'm flying off the handle - he's my ground, which I sometimes need. He's pretty handy around the house (when he gets around to it, usually after a month of, well, nagging on my part) (and not to say that I'm not, but sometimes it's nice to have someone else do it because I'm busy with other stuff). He really is like a big ticklish puppy-dog in some ways. And let's not forget the sexual compatibility.
This blog entry is really just another way to put off making a decision. Deep down inside, I'm already sure of the decision I want to make, I just don't want to admit it to myself and implement it. Perhaps that speaks to a lack of maturity on my part. But the current status quo is the devil I know, and I already know his tricks, and how to put the chains on. The devil I don't? Who knows what he would bring.
Something needs to change, though.
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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.
