My birthday party was amazing. I made out like a bandit. I got a laptop and The Dress. I got books and cd’s and hugs and kisses. I felt loved and special and the people in my life rock.

The MSF class is going great! I passed the written portion with a 96% and I’m doing really well on the riding. It is so fun. God I want a bike.

Does 23 feel any different than 22?

Nope.

Still all kinds of mixed up. Can anyone please relay to me the exact age when I will feel like a grown up and not be such a confused bag of emotional whirl-windyness?

I really need to sit down and write a post about my interesting group/loner tendencies. I seem to be unable to be any sort of a group participant at school. I am significantly hostile to the idea. However, ya’ll know just how freakin group oriented I am in my private life. It has been a really interesting thing to obserb. It seems as though I don’t bond if there is 0 sexual energy exchanged. (Not that I fuck everyone I am friends with, but it is ok for the energy to be there.) I’m pondering this a lot.

Now I get to try and stay awake through 3 hours of personal revelations from people I couldn’t care less about. hm. Nap time this afternoon I think.

One hour and 35 minutes until my birthday.

Lately I have been feeling a distinct lack of hope. I have occasionally managed to feel happy; I have felt loved. I haven’t really felt much hope for my immidiate future. Of course I was mostly aware that eventually things would get better, but I thought that big chunks of my life were going to suck for a few years. Mostly, I was worried about housing. I have a shitload of anxiety about moving. Most of this is tied to moving around so much as a kid. Feeling safe and secure and welcome where I live is a much bigger thing for me than it is for most people. I didn’t think I was going to find a housing situation that would fit and be happy.

I think I have. It looks like I am moving in with a friend. Possibly another friend as soon as well when we can actually ask her about it… heh. Two women that I adore and respect and get along with.

I might have a home not just crash space.

Wow, it makes so much about my life better. Just this thing, and all of a sudden… I feel more peaceful. Ok, so I’m bouncing so I don’t look peaceful… But I’m not as scared as I was. Please God… let me have this.

But the hairy fuzzy navel is really nice. And I’m not sure I will actually get the long ramble done. Oh well.

I’m in a class on “Multi-cultural Foundations of Education” and all sorts of stuff is coming up for me. First is my gut reaction to some of the reading, which is: The author (Beverly Daniel Tatum writing Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together In the Cafeteria?) seems to believe that people who are white can never do enough to atone for the inherent “white privelege” in our society and that really really bothers me. She talks about how white people need to form support groups of other whites to deal with their shame and guilt. Which, to me, implies that I should feel shame and guilt. Ack. Ok, but I don’t want to go off on that rant. What I do want to talk about here is that I am very interested by stuff about self-definitions. How we chose to define ourselves.

Most of the people I consider “friends” at this point in time would classify themself as some sort of “alternative” sexuality. (I personally like mistressmatisse‘s term “sexual transgressor”. It just seems fitting to me.) I wonder why we choose to make it such a huge part of our personal identification? Do we just need to have a way to make us vs. them happen?

I know that I am having trouble connecting with anyone in the class. I know that I feel distinctly “different” and I think part of it is that I know that I have to be in the closet. I can’t tell people who I am. I feel like I am denying myself. I feel like if anyone finds out why/how I am different that I will be ostrasized. If

Or girl, or something like that. I went to the gym yesterday and then the Plough. My arms and shoulders are sore, and my legs. Dude. 😀

Right now I feel like I’m looking at the world through a veil. I’m fuzzy and distant. I want something and I don’t know what.

The “one night” is bothering me.

Tom is sleeping even less than I am. He is really upset. I feel like it is all my fault. I wish I could take his hurt away.

Fuck. Life is complicated sometimes.

My nipples are still so freakin painful that it hurts when the water hits them in the shower.

Should I send a thank you card?

I want anyone and EVERYONE who reads this to post in here something they would like to do with me someday.
Then post this in your journal to find out what people want to do with you.

Thank you joedecker

First: a poll…

Me:”If anything were to happen here, would you want it to last a day, a week, or a month?”
Him:…. pause for thought… “A day.”

Well. ok. In theory I really don’t have a problem with casual sex. Heh. Ok, so in practice I don’t have a problem with casual sex. But how casual is too casual for me? To follow up on this situation is to agree to one day. How do I really feel about that? In some ways I’m ok with it, in other ways I’m having a bitch of a time wrapping my head around it. I’m not sure what part of it is so hard for me to process though. It isn’t as if I haven’t had one night stands. Ok, I haven’t had many, but I have done it. Usually though they are truly casual. Pick-ups in a public place that I won’t ever see them again. Someone with whom I have a brief courtship and then it disappears is an entirely new animal for me. If I were a manipulative little shit I could acknowledge that he is trying to get me into bed, that he only particularly wants it to happen once, and then make him wait for a while. That way I could control getting more attention in exchange for giving him his “cookie.”

That’s just not me though. I guess that if there is a clear, stated goal that I will accept it, either agree or disagree with it, and carry it to completion pretty much immidiately. Now I just have to decide if I am really ok with that as a stated goal. I have come to the conclusion that I really like FWB. I feel extremely comfortable with the paradigm. That way there is a connection of some sort, but it doesn’t have to be artificially romantic. I sleep with people because I like them, and it feels kind of harsh to say that I won’t deal with them after I get the one shag. I will, however, totally honor the request for no additional contact. Even if I want it. Even if I just want him for his ability to help educate my musical palate. 🙂

Lots of things have been going through my head lately. On many levels in many ways. I think I am probably going to hit a lot of “experimentation” stuff in the next segment of my life. I haven’t figured out yet how I’m going to handle a lot of it. I haven’t figured out if I’m going to follow through on some of the experimentation I’m pondering. I feel like I am all primed to take Dad up on his offer to chuck my life and run away to Portland to hide and lick my wounds. It wouldn’t be the Mature, Responsible thing to do though. And I’m all about being mature and responsible. Well, if and only if being mature and responsible includes lots of sex for me. Ok, I’m on a roll today already. Mr Hitachi, here I come… (Heh… come…)

If you can see this, I am not upset about you touching me.

I did get really annoyed at having to tell Joe Blow to stop touching me every 45 seconds for about 15 minutes though. (The advice on the DHP list that I just should have said, “No” is kind of funny. I do say no. I just get sick of saying it every 45 seconds.)

I got a little snippy and eventually started asking even people who can see this to stop touching me because I hit massive overload. But as far as any sort of general rule goes:

If you can see this, you have my permission to do pretty much any form of casual touching. 🙂 I love you! (Yeah, this is a tight filter.)

I was touched. I was held. I was told everything will be alright, I may even believe them.

I was going to have a nice calm sort of date. Sure, of course there would be sex involved. Then a conversation about how I was sad that I had not had the threesome that was planned for the weekend lead to…

A phone call. “You wanna?”
“Hell yeah!”
“Come over.”
“I will be there as soon as I can.”

I took a nap in the interem period. It is truly strange that waking up to sexual activity is one of the most rapid ways to turn me on. But then again, I really wasn’t worried about getting turned on. One boy who excels at my idea of the perfect fucking and another boy who has introduced me to the concept of… *gasp* foreplay. *fan face with hand* The two of them combined truly have to be the perfect shag. They massaged my legs and talked to me for a long while. I think most of the conversation was geared around making me blush. Why do so many people like seeing me blush? There was touching. There was stroking. Once in a while I worried that I wasn’t paying enough attention to both of them, so I verbally checked in. All was well. The sex was really really good. I have never before experienced some of the….combinations… of activities. mmmmm.

In the middle of this act, which I had looked forward to with glee and terror, I was frightened that I would feel like the dirty, horrible, bad whore that I was told I was when I was younger. I didn’t. I have connections with both of these people. They both feel a combination of love, respect, adoration, and appreciation for me. They are friends who were quite happy to combine efforts in my behalf. I was told over and over that I am loved. I was told over and over that I am beautiful. I was fucked hard and fast, I felt used and filled and wanted. I made love, slowly, gently, delicately; I felt appreciated and wanted. Both have their place. Although, I will confess that I am more interested in the slow lovemaking when I have had a good, hard fucking just before so that I am not frustrated with my desire to just come already!

The very best part (though I am not disparaging the sex, lord no) was being snuggled between them and listening to them talk over me. I was there, and part of the moment, but I wasn’t the center. They were enjoying their friendship and I was just incidental. But I was encased with acceptance and love anyway. Being involved, but not the focus, is wonderful for me.

I almost feel sated. It may take a bit more effort though. 🙂

Thank you. Thank you for everything.

Pulled from tshuma. (I’m not on my computer, so no links or tags cause I’m not slick enough to remember them manually.)

“Leave a comment with your name if you want to know what I really think of you, and I’ll reply and tell you. No lies, all honesty.

***

Note: Some of you I barely know, and I’ll say this. Some of you also know of any… reservations I have about some of the things you do, and I’m not going to rub it in your face in public.

Having said that, don’t ask if you’re not prepared for Brutal Honesty. I have some very good friends on LJ – and I have some people I just consider acquaintances. People in the latter category aren’t necessarily those I feel warm and fuzzy towards all the time. ”

I may leave these screened. I may not. Let me know if you would prefer me to do so.

Do not. I repeat: DO NOT tell me that my answer to a question isn’t complete when you haven’t done the reading and can’t contribute to the conversation.

Stupid fucking bitch.

I’m feeling a lot of things right now. I’m very confused. But, one part of it that sucks is the word drama. I really hate feeling dramatic and just in the process of dealing with my shit I feel like I’m being dramatic. So I’m trying like hell to stifle all the stuff going on in my head and I’m ending up feeling like shit. I want so much and there is so much I need. I don’t know how to go about getting any of it right now.

I’m not actually trying to cut sex out of my life and I’m very sorry it seems to be the impression people have. Ok, so I don’t feel that comfortable having sex inTom’s house. I have never felt very comfortable about sex in his space. It doesn’t mean that my libido went to sleep. I’ve been feeling guilty about the fact that my libido is still very much present though. I really don’t want to find a new partner right now because I’m worried about the emotional dynamics of getting involved with someone when I am so completely vulnerable, but my body is letting me know that YES I still really want sex. I’ve been doing stupid push/pull things with people I am already involved with though that seems to be cutting off what sources I have. [insert picture of me beating my head against a wall here.] The threesome I was supposed to have this weekend didn’t happen. By the end of the night I felt really shitty because it didn’t. I found out that one of the people involved thought I wasn’t in the mood, so no one asked. Uhm, thanks for your concern I guess. I’ll just go sit in the rejected corner. *sigh* Although the girl under the sheet helped with the feeling rejected bit. Hell, even writing this feels like I’m being passive aggressive because more than one person I sleep with will read it, but that isn’t the point. I’m just sad. I’m frustrated. I’m really feeling like I’m not doing anything right at this point.

I know that part of what is hurting so bad is that I have been shutting down emotional connections. I am trying really hard to create more space between Tom and I and it is ripping me to pieces. I love him so much, and I have loved him so long that I feel like I’m ripping out pieces of myself. Yeah, as it has been stated elsewhere- moving out before January might be a smarter idea. Staying here is going to kill me. I’ve created more space between myself and Noah as well because I’ve been very worried/conscious of leaning too heavily on him in a way that might interfere with other things in his life. So I find myself missing not only my primary, but my secondary as well. I really feel like a dumb girl.

Tom and I have started having a conversation about Daddy. I don’t know if that part of the relationship is going to go away as well or what. I just know that I’m feeling very lonely right now. I want comforting and I don’t know who/how to ask for it. Hell, hey Rachel? Want someone to sleep over?

In the pit of my stomach is this big knot of fear. I know that is most of what it is. I’m afraid. I can’t fully articulate what it is that I’m afraid of. I’m having very mixed feelings about so much of myself. I worry that I am poised to change big chunks of myself out of fear rather than a desire to really change them. Will I ever find the kind of relationship I want (settled, have kids) if I am such a slut? You know, sex parties really might be a bad hunting ground. Parties centering around poly networking may not be the best hunting ground. Yet, that is where most of my attention seems to be these days. Well, sort of. Then there are dance people. But I’m slightly more reserved at dance events. It takes a while before I tell individuals what I do with my extra time. I don’t want to be seen as too out there. The people who know, know. But I am trying to not let things be completely open. I’m not sure if it is working. *sigh*

I want to be fucked. I want to be held. I want to believe everything is going to be alright.
Wow, 0 out of 3. This sucks.

Last night a gorgeous man leaned over and smelled my hair and asked me if I smell like vanilla. I told him sometimes. So of course this means that when I woke up early this morning… out comes the vanilla lotion. Ok, so it won’t be period for the ren faire today. I’m ok with that.

It was a weird sort of flirtation. I tried to pick him up at St. Stephens Green several months ago and he just wasn’t interested. I guess he doesn’t appreciate me when I’m flighty and flakey and airheaded at dance events. Is it possible to be grounded while doing Irish dancing?! After we talked for a few hours he suddenly announced, “You’re not crazy.” I said nope. Then he said, “You don’t want me to rescue you.” I snickered and told him no. My shit is my shit, let me have it. So he said, “This could be something.” Why does a few hours of flirting have to turn into “something?” I don’t understand. I told him that it very probably wouldn’t turn into something because I’m very fresh out of a really good, long-term relationship and no one can replace my partner in my life. It is going to be a while before I am ready for “something.”

That being said, he is bloody gorgeous. The kind I look at and drool. Of course it turns out he is an engineer. And very toppy. And into suspension. And other forms of bondage. He’s geek chic. 😀 Although there are things that make me less interested. Like him offering me a ride and saying, “Too bad I don’t shag on the first date.” I said, “What makes you think I do?” “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” Hm. uhm. Well. Not enough to write him off yet, but enough for me to be waiting for his next inappropriate thing.

Or maybe he is the asshole of my dreams who is inconsiderate and mean and will treat me badly and I will be like every other woman in my family and follow him to the ends of the earth. *sigh* *beat head against wall* Really. I want to believe I’m not that stupid, but sometimes I wonder…

Upbeat: I got a ride to and from the pool party with a very hot guy who is sane, fun, toppy, and cute. Yeah! I’m so happy I got to enjoy his company on the way home. Must get to know hot boy more. 🙂 I’m surrounded by hot guys! Wow. This doesn’t suck.

Homework for Monday:
done
Homework for Tuesday:
Almost done.

Go me.

It is too damn hot. *whine*

I’m sitting here nekkid.

hmmmm. hey… Mr. Hitachi? How are You doin?

I woke up this morning at 6:30. I went to bed at 10. That means I got more than 8 hours of good sleep. (Yay Vicodin!) I didn’t have to be up until 7:30/7:45ish. What did I do? Come on people… guess…. Did I roll over like a normal person and try to get an extra hour of sleep because I haven’t slept much in a few weeks? No! I jumped out of bed feeling plucky and well-rested and energetic. I started laundry. I finished cleaning up my bedroom. I cleaned the kitchen. I put the finishing touches on my bathroom. I did some paper work. My house is finally clean! I am so proud of me!!! These last few bits have been dragging on forever and I have been feeling really shitty about it. I can’t stand living in a mess. It makes me feel frazzled and discontent. Although, anyone who comes over to my house on any sort of regular basis laughs at me about my idea of living in a mess. I am a pretty serious neat-freak. For me a mess is cleaner than many people ever get their house. heh. Doesn’t matter. We all make our own standards.

Now, my house is really spic and span. I am dressed and ready to go for the day. My cat is fed and watered. Laundry is mid-process. I have another 20 minutes until I need to leave the house. Hey! Maybe I can send some of the emails I’ve been putting off!

*bounce*

*bounce*

It is amazing how everything in life can look better after getting some sleep. I’ve been really horribly depressed and just not functioning for a while. Today, I feel like my life is ok. So things are going to be weird and funky for a while. I’m ok with that. I can cope. I will survive and not only survive, but thrive. I will always be ok. I’m strong and capable and I am more loved than any person has a right to be. Thank you God.

Oh baby oh baby. Earlier today I got my ass beat. Quite a bit. Quite well. Now I’m feeling all mellow and happy and giggly and very very horny. I consider this a nice change.

I don’t handle stress very well. It is a major problem I have. When I get more and more upset I turn it inward and I start beating myself up about things. Even when the stress is entirely external and has nothing to do with me. Noah pointed out that part of my downward cycles involves me feeling like I am inadequate in some way. I guess I never realized how much that figures in. This particular downward cycle started with Noah’s accident. I got very anxious when it happened, and even after the crisis was over I didn’t manage to come down. Then I found out I was flunking Spanish. I have never flunked a class before and I really came down hard on myself even though I wouldn’t change how I reacted to the situation. Even though I was doing something that I felt was right for me and for the situation… I still failed. So I beat myself up about it. Then kind of snowballing being at Noah’s all the time and falling behind on things that needed to get done at home (I feel like I’m failing if I’m not perfect at everything at all times). Then the break-up. Then a series of well-meaning rather vanilla sexual encounters…

Frustration. Lots of frustration. Vanilla sex is nice and all, but I usually finish up feeling like I didn’t quite… get… something. I can’t put my foot on it. It isn’t that I didn’t enjoy it. It isn’t that I didn’t have orgasms. I just somehow feel like a piece is missing. So here I have a month straight of massive anxiety without relief. Last night I hit a bad place. My lower back, where I store a large majority of my stress, completely decided it has had enough. Spasms. Agony. Crying in a fetal position. I really hate it when my back decides to do that. My stomach has hurt for the past week to the degree that I would like to get punched really hard in the stomach just as a distraction. I’m eating sugar like crazy despite the fact that I don’t generally care for sugar much because it feels like the only thing that helps handle the horrible stomach ache. Noah tried working on my back, but he is considerably limited right now. He did help some. Taking a vicodin and going to bed helped some. Getting fucked hard in the middle of the night helped. However, what helped the most was talking to a really great sadist and asking him if he would be willing to hurt me. He was! He had time available! Wow. A date for a beating within 24 hours. That rocks pretty hard. Previous history has taught me that getting the crap beat out of me will help neutralize a lot of my anxiety.

So I went over this afternoon (in between doing way too many other things. I need a break.) and he paddled me and caned me for a while. Not that severe of a beating, it is the first time we have played together… but certainly enough. I’m feeling much more relaxed and I’m in a better mood. Not all of my anxiety is gone, but I’m ok with where I am right now. I’m no longer feeling panicky and anxious and like I’m going to break into a million pieces. I don’t want to cut right now. That is a big deal. I have been wanting to cut pretty much constantly for the last month. I don’t think I have had 5 minutes go by in which I haven’t thought about cutting. I don’t want to right now. Right now I want a serious massage and a glass of wine. Ok, and a lot more fucking. Really hard fucking. I want some D/s energy. (There was no D/s involved in this beating, lamentably, and I was sad at the absence.) That would make my day complete. But it isn’t going to happen. I’ll see what I can do about soliciting back rubs tonight though. It is the best I can do right now, and really nothing to complain about.

I am so glad I know the people I know.

Did I mention I had a really really intense orgasm while he was caning me? Oh dear god. I come a lot. I come easily. But yeah… orgasms caused by pain… they are just better.

Ok, all the guys I know can stop telling me that it is my fault they are thinking about sex. It isn’t just my fault. Dude.

And no one else needs to call me or run into me and greet me with some version of, “You bitch,” or “Damn you,” or “Fuck you.”

Ok? Yeah. I’m really done with the greeting.

If you want to tell me you are thinking about me while you masturbate, yeah… that’s fine. Don’t greet me with a swear word though. I’m not reacting well to it.