I just looked at my calendar and realized I don’t have a free weekend until February 4th/5th.

I’m tired already.

Ok, it isn’t entirely true. I have no idea what I am doing for New Years Eve and Day. But I’m sure something will happen. It isn’t as if that will be a restful weekend.

Today is a no talking day. I can tell already.

My throat hurts. My head is fuzzy. I’m crashing really hard. I feel crappy. I’m tired.

So much to get done today.

I just want to hide in bed from the world.

Today, I want a Daddy. Today– I’m 8.

I find it very odd that both of the people I am dating think, “Say, Krissy seems to be off her game today. I better go read her lj.”

What does this say about my abilities to communicate?

So I’m going to be hanging out at home tonight. I will probably put a movie on. I will be baking haphazardly. I will be doing chain mail and/or knitting.

Anyone want to come over?

I have these two boys. And they both want to have Serious Conversations with me.

Oh My God.

I’m going to go hide under my bed now. There is plenty of room. Miss Jenny says she will bring me milk and cookies and books.

No. I’m not going to post about the current political situation. It sucks. End of story.

Moving on to more important things: personal drama.

“Why do you let what people think about you bother you?” I cannot count the number of times I have been asked that in my life. I am only now beginning to be slightly articulate in my answer, though it is still inadequate. People’s thoughts about me bother me because people matter to me. At the very core of who I am is the belief that people matter. That is a big chunk of why I am going into an inter-personal heavy career. People, and what they think, matter to me. Period. Even when I’m angry at/with them. So I obsess about what is going on in my inter-personal relationships. It is just what I do. That being said, lets get into some rambly, round and about background information so I can hopefully make a point without having to do something silly like, be direct.

I was told earlier today (see, here we get back to the “people matter to me” theme), [paraphrased slightly] “You have such a negative view of yourself that you cannot fathom someone envying you. It’s not that it breaks your head, it is that it just doesn’t enter into your mind. You have a full and complete view of your life and you know about all the bad stuff. So you don’t understand that from the outside, all people can see is that right now your life is really great in ways that lots of other people would like to have.” Hm. Yeah. Although, it does break my head when I try to wrap my brain around people envying me. ” Dear lord–you envy me? Why?” Ok, honestly I have a few things right now at this moment that I can understand how some people might envy me. When I stop and think about it, I envy me. How in the hell did this all come about?! But I’m digressing again. I have a horrible view of myself. Horrible, terrible, awful, no good, very bad view of myself. I think of myself as a mean, spiteful, negative, abrasive person. And I often cry thinking about how much I suck. When I am having days of particularly high self-esteem for me I go back over my actual behavior and notice that I’m not actually mean. I am almost never spiteful (and everyone has moments–I mean geez). I am actually incredibly positive and I am told often that I have good people skills, so there goes abrasive. Which is not to say that I am an easy pill to swallow. I am very sharp. That is the word I like the best to describe myself. I am not soft and warm and fuzzy. But I am affectionate, and loyal, and damn willing to go to the mat for anyone who matters to me. I really love people and I work damn hard on my relationships in general. I spend in fact, too much time and energy on people. Cause they rock. 🙂

So, I’m trying like hell to build up an image of myself that is at least somewhat possitive. This is not an easy climb for me. I’ve already posted at length about “oh poor me and my crappy childhood” so I’m going to leave that record off the player. Suffice to say: we all have our demons to fight. Mine involve low self-esteem and bad self-image and such. I have a pretty spectacular temper to go along with my insecurities and personal baggage. I talked to my best friend Anna yesterday about a recent experience I had with anger. I told her the details and the summation of me feeling really upset. She asked me, “Did you call the person a name or turn and walk away?” “I walked away.” “Uh oh… that means you were really really really angry.” yup. Basically. When I pass a certain level of being irritated into being angry, I need to walk away. I need to or I will do physical damage to the person I am angry with. It is much better for everyone in the whole wide world for me to just walk away. It is taking the high road. It is being an adult and dealing with my emotions on my own and not making them anyone else’s problem. The thing is: I get angry. Then I walk away. And I fume. And I bluster to myself (sometimes to other people depending on the situation). Then, I calm down. Then, I realize I’m being kinda stupid. Then, I come back and say… “Uhm… yeah. This situation isn’t so good. Can we fix it?” Most of the time, I don’t sound terribly contrite when I do it, cause I’m still kinda blustery (and also there is that “sharp” thing) but I’m not one for saying things I don’t mean. I just don’t do social niceties well. If I say I’m sorry–I really mean it. If I say I want to fix something–I mean it. The problem is, sometimes I probably need to be told, “You say ‘Can we fix it’ but you sound like ‘You bitch it is all your fault and you should kiss my ass.’ and that isn’t ok.” Cause I probably do sound like that. It isn’t anyone else’s problem or responsibility to tell me this, but I’m human and I don’t do everything perfectly and being told that I’m screwing up helps me to try and make progress. Cause I realy do want to make progress.

I have my baggage. Unfortunately though, big chunks of them look like trash bags–so other people don’t recognize them as baggage. They think I am just taking out the trash and no big deal. No, actually, I keep that baggage. I don’t know how to let it go. So this means that sometimes, someone will come along and kick a piece of my baggage, thinking that they are just clearing a walkway. But no, you bastard! You kicked my baggage! And I get upset. And I try to walk away and calm down. Sometimes, I don’t do this in the most reasonable way. I really really really suck at saying in the moment, “I just need to calm down and I will talk to you later.” Because I will calm down. I’m pretty remarkable like that. I get over things fairly easily actually. I hold very few grudges. Although when I do, I am freakin psycho about it. Don’t even bring up Erin Stagnero. Fucking bitch.

But anyway. Yeah. I deal with shit. I move on. Just ask Yani. I was mad at her about something I didn’t know how to talk to her about. So I kind of disappeared for a bit. Then, like a bad penny, I turned up. Saying, “Hey, I know I suck and everything–but do you still have any interest in being my friend?” Sometimes it doesn’t happen as rapidly as people would like, but it happens. I am very serious in my loyalties. Very Serious. Once I have decided that someone matters, they matter no matter what. Even if I get mad at them sometimes. I take people into my heart, and they are stuck. They have to push me away really really hard before I will go away. Jenny didn’t manage to get rid of me. I kept after her, and now… years later… I live with her! Awesome. And to think, we didn’t talk much for five years. Didn’t matter. I still loved her. I do that. I love people.

There was more I wanted to say. But in reviewing the post, it doesn’t seem like a good idea. Discretion is the better part of valor and such. *sigh* I fucking hate that.

And it is so amazing how posting that leads to really intense, interesting conversations with both Noah and James.

heh.

Cool.

First: Dinner with Dad

It must not suck to be my housemate.

“So, what would you like for breakfast?”

Never.

I repeat: Never Ever touch me against my will. If I tell you to take your hands off of me. Do it. NOW. No one has a right to touch me against my will. Period.

I keep thinking, “I should write about how dinner with Dad went.” I also keep thinking, “I should do x,y, and z homework assignments.” I am also thinking, “I should do laundry.”

I’m not doing much of anything. My brain is numb. I am so tired. I am so tired that I feel sad. This is no good.

I was asked to post this.

http://www.marryanamerican.ca/

Things that have been said to or about me.

“You are cute.”
“You are a keeper.”
“I like you, but you knew that.”
“Wow, you are a bitch.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I trust you.”
“I hate you.”
“I want to fuck you.”
“I’ve climbed in bed with you and you didn’t jump me.”
“I will never forget you.”
“I’ve thought about you often over the years.”
“OHMYGOD you are good at this!!!”
“I miss you.”
“When can I see you?”
“You look like shit.”
“Go take a shower; you smell like sweat and sex.”
“I die in peace knowing your suffering has just begun.”
“It is all your fault.”
“I had a big crush on you.”
“I always respected you; I just didn’t know how to talk to you.”
“You were always so angry.”
“I have never heard you say you disliked anyone, so this is significant.”
“I am looking for the One. The one I will love and settle down with and marry. You will never be it.”
“You are intimidating.”
“I love you.”
“Welcome home.”

Overall, mostly positive. I guess I’m not as depressed. This is what I remember when I try to think of what people think of me. This means that my self-perception is currently rather positive. Yay.

Tonight I got to go to the Plough. I showed up late and stayed late. I skipped a birthday party I had intended to go to. It was wonderful. I danced and danced and flirted and flirted. I felt these fresh bursts of love over and over for the wonderful men and women who call me friend and express their extreme delight in seeing me. I felt connections reforming and I welcome them. I felt so much love for so many people. I have the greatest friends. I often say that I am loved more than I deserve, tonight it was evinced once again.

Testing boundaries. I am getting myself into situations lately that are concerning people who love me. In all honesty, my first reaction was, “I don’t give a fuck.” But then I stopped and thought about it. All of the concern is motivated by love. Ok fine. I will explain then. Because I love the people who love me and I do understand the concern.

I am pushing limits and testing boundaries of what I have always said and thought I wanted for myself lately. In major, big, scary ways. I am taking the itty bitty shreds of rebellious/dangerous thoughts I have always had and I am expanding on them and acting on them. Why? You might ask… For lots of reasons. Because, “You should do one thing every day that scares you.” And I don’t scare easily. Because I want to see what pushing these boundaries will lead to. Because frankly, I have very little to lose right now. Ok, so people could decide to stop loving me because I am doing things they don’t approve of, but I don’t think I want that kind of love anyway. I have always done things that one person or another disapproves of. Because I want to see what I am capable of. Because I like hard core strange twisted things. Because the opportunities are coming up right when I am capable of following through with them. Because I have turned down many opportunities in the last few years because Tom wouldn’t approve and I don’t have that hanging over my head anymore. Because I’m not as good as people think I am. Because I am fucking sick of trying to be perfect. Because I want to have made mistakes of my own so that I don’t always wonder, “what if?”

I am taking risks, but not risks that are any more severe than any I have taken before. Really. I am doing my homework before I choose to take calculated risks. I don’t tend to talk about some of the really heavy duty sm I have done. I don’t talk about the physical risks I have taken. I don’t talk about the heavy duty humiliation play I get off on. People, I do all sorts of fucked up things. Don’t think that just because I haven’t talked about things that squick you before now that it means I don’t do such things. Relax. Everything will be ok. I go through phases. Every few years I need to take a bunch of big scary risks within a short period. In a few months I will chill out and it will be back to freakiness as usual.

“rolling around on the floor” I hate how that sounds, but it was essentially true I suppose.

I did dextromethorphan. Why did I do it? Because at this point in time I am going rapid fire through new experiences and drugs seem to be one of them. No, I am not going to try pcp or heroin. Jesus. I am doing my homework before I try things and I am staying away from things that are addictive, and I am watching doses to make sure I physically safe. I am also only experimenting when there is someone around who can help me stay safe. Most of the time, I am pretty confident in my ability to keep myself safe, but help is good sometimes.

Again, why did I do this one? I was told that it is a disassociative drug. What does that mean? You will feel cut off from everything around you. You will not experience any of your normal connections with your body. Hmmmmm. Weird. I tend to really like my body and focus on it almost to the point of ill-health. 🙂 So this would be something totally alien to me. The drug isn’t terribly toxic. I was very unlikely to damage myself long-term either physically or mentally so if I hated the trip I would just not repeat it. Things like acid often have flashback experiences later–that is scarier to me.

I had intended to only do a recreational dose and enjoy the “fun” feeling. After being on it for a few hours I wasn’t impressed with the recreational level and had a booster. (The low level dose originally was also to see if I had an enzyme that would have made my life suck while on the drug. Don’t have it. Yay.) I think that as far as recreation goes, I would rather drink than do dxm. It just wasn’t that impressive. And the puking was a decided disincentive. Yes. I threw up because of something I did recreationally. No, I’m not crazy. I had been told that I wouldn’t mind throwing up on dxm, and he was right. It was not nearly the unpleasant experience it normally is. In fact, it felt almost good. It felt good because my stomach had been hurting and I got to instantly feel better! That was kind of nice actually. The physical experience of vomiting was not anything like it usually is. Nothing grody in it. The vomiting associated with my booster really didn’t bother me at all. I was very particular about cleaning it up as well. *nod* I take such things seriously!

The first part of the trip was nothing to write home about. enh. Whatever. The second trip (when I hit the third plateau like a bullet train) was amazing. I hallucinated quite a bit. I understood what it meant to be out of my body. I had the most amazing dream-like experiences over and over. I had dozens or hundreds (I don’t remember well enough to know) amazing mini-trips. The patterns on the backs of my eyelids were entrancing and magical. I was encouraged down the hallway into the shower and that was the most incredible experience!!! The physicality of the drug was unparalleled and fantasmagorical as far as I am concerned. I loved it. Mentally it was a bit harder. I was told in advance that I would feel more distance from people in my life. I wasn’t sure how that was going to manifest. For me it manifested as, I intellectually know I love you, but really–I have no emotions toward you whatsoever right now. This barely existed during the trip and was mostly felt yesterday during the hangover. During the trip I didn’t have much interaction because I was firmly in my head.

So I spent some time yesterday sitting at Miss Jenny’s feet. Some time on the phone. Some time trying to feel my normal connections. It was hard. I think I was upset early in the day because my emotional connections are so important to me and I didn’t like not having them. But they came/are coming back. Given the after effects, was the trip worth it? Yes. Why? Because actually I kind of like the feeling that I am reestablishing that these people are important to me. I am going through a mental roster of people in my life and I am very consciously thinking about what kind of emotion I want to have toward them and I am thinking over and over why I want to feel that way towards them. I think it will take a few days. I like being deliberate in my connections though and so this is a very cool prompt for me.

Why do I love Noah? Why do I love Miss Jenny? Why do I love…. I actually really like this feeling. I am choosing my connections rather than having them just be unspoken. I get to decide if I love ‘x’ person. In an odd way I really like it.

I am ok!

I didn’t mean that last post to sound so frightning for people! So I pulled it.

I was trying to accurately reflect the hodge-podgedness that was in my head. On one hand, I did reflect it fairly well. On the other hand… I guess other people are worried by what can go on in my head. I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t freaked out. I am probably going to write more about it, but that is going on the filter.

Really. I’m fine.

I have created a new filter after some of my comments to the last entry.

If you want to read about stuff I am doing that may worry you, you can opt in. You can ask to opt in and I may decide that in this instance, I don’t want you knowing what I am doing.

Mostly this filter will be for recreational things I am doing that are questionably legal. In the main, if you ask I will assume you are an adult and you can handle it.

In and out of focus. Shower, huddling, not scared.

Lights and patterns and distorted sound. I have heard this sound before but I do not know where or why. I have seen this before! Look! It is deja vu all over again!

Curled up in the fetal position. Every part of my body feels more alive than it has ever felt before. I can’t open my eyes. Yes I can; I just can’t see. A conversation. Feelings revealed: No. She does not want children. No. She doesn’t really want to align her life with them. She does not want to make the accomodations that are required. Will she do it anyway? Maybe. Depends on how much she loves the grown ups. More talking later. Communication. All of a sudden a family is born. It has been progressing that way for a while, but something flipped, befored the OJ so it wasn’t the OJ. We are Lost and Found. Are we? It fits. It feels right. So much feels right about this set-up. More communication needs to happen.

Arriving at the house. They are sleeping. They look so sweet asleep. I find myself loving them both, for different reasons in different ways. I don’t love her any more because she is his beloved, but just because she is worthy of being loved. Yes yes, everyone deserves love. Not everyone deservesmy love. She does. He does. Petty irritations of the past week and some aren’t so important anymore. Yes. I choose this. Yes, I want to be here. I was lost, and now I’m found.

“Welcome home,” said after sweet sex, I want to call it love-making, but it wasn’t gentle. Does it have to be gentle to be love-making?

Trips, and trails, and puppy dogs tails. That is what my Saturday night was made of. Ok, no puppy dog tails. Instead, admiring glances at the tail of a boy I have quite a high opinion of.

Cold, hot. wet. dry. Where am I? I have been here. I know here. I have never been here. Why do I know here?

“You can’t fuck me because there is no moisture left in my body.” Why don’t you know that when I say that I mean you should go get lube? Oh yeah, because you can’t read my fuzzy mind. Damn clarity. Pins and needles and scratchy itchiness. My head aches from the savageness of my nails across my scalp. My neck and back hurt, there are probably marks from my own nails.

Now:
Confused. Not really sad, but not quite happy either. Disconnected, connected, disaffected. But to whom/what do I direct my disaffectedness? I know not. Me maybe? I want. I want to be held and have my head stroked. I want to be talked to and not with. I want love and approval. I didn’t need to leave them, but I had to go home. This is my home now. Space. Inviolable space. Mine. Not to be shared. Well, at least not my room. The rest is shared. But that is inconsequential.

I want to be stroked and loved in my space. It isn’t going to happen tonight though. And that is ok. I don’t need it–it would just be nice.

The rave got rained out. I’m so sorry Kikipopo.

I have spent way too much time in the car today. ew. and for nada.

Now I’m off for more Noah and Raven time. Yay.

Maybe a few people noticed my last entry. It came down because Raven is the coolest thing ever.

Noah is smart for dating her.

Rave is on.