Thoughtlessly Splendid

3 is the Magic Number

2006-08-18T09:32:00.000-07:00

After my Bastard, I mean, uhh, Grandfather's death and then my aunt Debbie's death and now my friend Galen's death - I am just pretty damned sick and tired of all this!! They say they come in threes, so I had better damned well be done!! Good God. All of this in the course of like 45 days or something - Shit God-Damn!

It's too much.

Add to that changing jobs, changing relationship status, change, change, change!!

I'm done. Needless to say the blog has suffered. Also because I discovered myspace - the bastard sister of blogging. Such a cheap substitute. This is where I really belong though. This is home. I'm not going too far, don't fret.

Three . . . used to mean something so different to me. Huh.

My Aunt Debbie

2006-08-06T17:04:00.000-07:00

So, we were all at Lake Powell. We had the houseboat docked in this private cove that created our own private lake that we could ski around and kayak in and it was smooth and big and fun and perfect. Well, Debbie wanted to learn to waterski. But she was too afraid to try starting in the water and wanted to start from the beach like in the old Franky and Annette movies. Hopefully you can already smell the disaster of this scenario . . .

She tried and tried and tried. She never skied. The worst part was that she wouldn't let go after each failed attempt - she just held on and belly-flopped around the cove. We were all, of course, laughing our asses off and couldn't believe how willing she was to look a fool just to try to have a good time. She fully sucked the marrow out of life and cared about experiencing and soaking everything in more than she cared about anything else.

That's what made her one of the most beautiful, wise, fun and wonderful people I've ever known.

Then, at Disney Land, she would give the ride attendents a huge sob story and really ham it up when they wouldn't expedite us to the front of the line. She would tell them all about chemo and how miserable it was and how lucky she felt to be having a "good" day, while over their shoulder she's winking at us and giving us the thumbs up. She bought an avaiation micky hat and wore it without her wig. She looked like she was about 7 with the crooked ears perched on her swolen round face.

You couldn't be uncomfortable with her illness, her cancer, because she wasn't uncomforatable - she just wanted to tell you to enjoy life and do breast self-exams and have fun.

That's all.

That was her broken record message. But more importantly was the broken record message she didn't say: the broken record message that she lived. That was the message of unconditional love and NEVER giving a shit what anyone thinks of you - just have fun!

Her baby already misses her. I already miss her. To keep her here would be selfish, but letting go . . . I'm not sure how to do. I'm glad she's in a better place, wherever that is. I just wish that better place could be here.

Hard Day's Night

2006-08-04T22:42:00.000-07:00

It's been a hard day's night . . . after being declined for a minor purchase ($150, I guess I need to transfer money into my checking account) and then losing the aforementioned declined card after dinner when it was time to pay the bill it really set the precedent for a rough evening . . . then I came back to work to bring G. leftover sushi and started crying over my dying aunt and was sitting on the desk and he was standing up between my legs hugging me and our VP of Marketing walked in . . . it's 11:15pm, what the hell is he doing here? I just can't take anymore. I know this was supposed to be a fantasy Tuesday, but it's Friday and I don't feel like fantasizing right now.

My heart hurts.

Last night was so much better. The night before was so much better. Tomorrow night will be so much better.

He is so beautiful. In our new office we sit across from eachother in our own private office. He makes my heart hurt less. That's where I am right now - in my office trying to cope with the hurt effectively by blogging.

Anyway . . . what a bummer this post is. I should be done.

Thanks for listenin' . . .

There is a season . . .

2006-07-31T22:48:00.000-07:00

Turn, turn, turn . . .

So. It's official. This is an altruistic blog - I haven't had a comment in days.

Been having a lot of changes in my life lately, and I've got another one to pile on the heap. It looks like I'm gonna be changin' jobs this week. It's a promotion :) with a new start-up company and they're paying me the salary I asked :) and the very, very, very most bestest part? G is comin' with me!! That's right! We went to this startup company that is a miracle at what they do and know their product well and have a great market and such - but they're a mess operationally! Sooooo . . . my beautiful boy and I are going in to kick some operational ass and implement structure!! I will be the Site Director and he will be the Operations Manager!! How fuckin' cool is that? Oh, he got the salary he asked for also. We keep sayin' we're gonna take over the world and here we are - takin' over!! We are super mcduper excited!! We are thrilled at this opportunity to be creative and be building something important and play key roles and be challenged and all that such stuff . . . we are also super thrilled to be doing it together!! We have the MOST amazing synergy - it's crazy awesome! He compares us to two pyramids; one upside down and one right side up - each of our bases are our strengths and our tips are our weaknesses and since each of us are faced different ways my strengths are his weaknesses and my weaknesses are his strengths and we compliment each other pretty damned perfectly!! Plus, put them together and they make a trapezoid and trapezoids are just plain cool. Do you have any idea how lovely it is to be told how perfectly you fit with someone by the someone you are madly in love with when they are referring to themselves? Okay, this is a mess . . . I'm incoherent and rambling . . .

The point is change. The point is happiness. The point is I'm gloating a bit lately, maybe that's why nobody wants to read.

K - maybe this isn't an altruistic blog - maybe I want to write some erotica or something that will get me some friggin' readers with something to say rather than responding to my endless gloating with "bloody good fuh you ya filfy bugga". Okay, who exactly is it that I think reads my blog and talks that way? I'm pretty sure no one. What am I? I really wonder sometimes. I'm such a weirdo . . .

Fine, erotica tomorrow. It will be Tuesday after all . . .

SUNDAY

2006-07-31T00:38:00.000-07:00

S-Sex. Yep, that's right. And lots of it. Good sex. Great sex. Mind-blowing, earth-shattering, transporting to another dimension of ecstasy and erotic delights sex. Night sex. Day sex. And all kinds of play sex . . . pardon my Dr. Seuss moment - it's just I'm still a little drunk off of the passion of my amazing sexcapades. So good. So happy. So content. So fulfilled.

U-Unsuccessfully trying to block out the "we're taking space" thing in regard to the above mentioned romp. Not sure what this all means - just trying to take it one day at a time and enjoy the moment. There have been many good moments today.

N-Napped after the big sex-fest and stayed in bed for hours writing, reading, lounging . . . what a great way to end a day of sex. Did you see the "S" today? "S" is for sex this Sunday and boys and girls, it is the greatest "S" there is . . .

D-Did I mention sex? Because I had some - and I even shared it. There's a dirty rap song that has the lyrics "you bring your friends I'll bring my friends we can be friends" and guess what? I brought my friend S and G brought his friend S (I know S and S, don't get confused here) and they not only "can be friends" they are friends. So basically my house hosted a slew of orgasms this weekend! If there was ever a time to be a fly on the wall anywhere - wowee!

A-Applying for a new job with the boy and we are in the midst of putting together a portfolio and presentation packet of what we have done together in the past and what we plan to do with these positions for their company in the future. We are a package deal and it is gonna be a HUGE HIT - if we land this, it is going to be more fun than I've ever had in corporate America.

Y-Yes. That's the synopsis of what I'm trying to program myself to do. Be more positive, enjoy every moment, live in the moment, abandon the fear. Yes, I will work to abandon the fear. I am "with" (loosely put) a man that makes me superbly happy and I will enjoy every moment and relish our time together. I will not be afraid of him leaving me, I will just love without restraint and enjoy every moment because saying yes makes me happy :)

Weekend Wallpaper

2006-07-29T14:08:00.000-07:00

There's a photo of an angel
set as my wallpaper
for the weekend.

A photo of
perfection incarnate,
living,
breathing
perfection . . .

He is still and quiet.

This photo exudes
beauty,
peace,
harmony.

He is silent,
relaxed,
yet curled tightly,
snuggly,
and cozy.

He is asleep.

His long lashes
fanned gently
against
the top
of his cheeks.

His full red lips
gently closed
in the shape of a heart,
his bottom lip
slightly protruding
beyond the top.

His arm tucked
under his head,
his elbow
facing me
as I gaze
at this
weekend
wonder.

His bare shoulders
and chest
peek out the top
of the crisp
white
hotel sheets.

Such an inviting sight.

I miss this pace . . .
time when we can linger
loiter
lounge
together.

Weekend wonderland
of pillow talk
and sex
and baths
and more sex
and laughter
and love.

I want this pace,
this time,
this luxury . . .

Perhaps
space
will
create
this
pace.

Perhaps,
once the pressure
of the other
forces
in his life
is relieved
then
our bond
won't feel
like pressure.

It will be
just
a bond

It will be fun
invigorating
passionate
adventurous
nurturing
safe
strengthening
growth
and love . . .
perhaps.

Perhaps.

But for today I have fantasies,
hope,
love . . .
and weekend wallpaper.

Parachute

2006-07-27T23:09:00.000-07:00

We’re standing on the edge of the Empire State Building with a backpack on – what is inside we have no clue. It may be a parachute, or it may just be a bookbag. How it got strapped securely to your back you have no idea. So there we are, standing on a modern precipice and facing what must be utter disaster below. At this juncture we are asked to jump 127 floors and let go and enjoy the ride down. This is the most ludicrous part of the entire scenario, “enjoy the ride”. Not only is that implausible, but it seems utterly and completely impossible. How do you let go?

Or perhaps a better option is to never fall by just taking the hang-glider that is perched invitingly a few feet away. With the hang glider you can just ride the wind. It is gentle and safe. There is still some risk, although minimal by comparison, as you fly through the air, but it is a soft ride. It is mellow and comfortable. You cannot control the speed, you must be content to float adrift the wind at the pace that life dictates to you.

But falling . . . without falling there is no exhilaration of tumbling into what may be utter bliss as you recklessly abandon your inhibitions and fall into love. You can move as fast as you want, or you can pull the cord and float for a time. You are in control more than you can ever be by floating; you are in control that is, after the initial letting go and falling in.

The thing about falling into love is, you may fear that it will end with a hard thud at the bottom, but it doesn’t. Instead you fall into this molten metallic liquid that is iridescent, smooth, and warm. It envelops you and blocks out all the outside world. It is safe and warm and life-affirming. You, of course, don’t stay in this euphoria forever – but while with your lover, you are free to visit any time.

The choice seems clear. I am a flying leap kind of girl and I don’t want to float through life – I want to fly . . . wanna fly with me?

Fantasy Tuesday

2006-07-25T18:00:00.000-07:00

I am curled up in bed. I have just drifted off and I’m in that hazy place between sleep and awake. Your voice calls my name, “It’s me. Don’t be scared, I’m here, it’s just me . . . ”

You’ve come to crawl into bed with me, to hold me because you needed to see my face and feel my skin under your hands. You left your own warm, cozy bed because you couldn’t stand another moment without my scent, my voice, my heart near yours.

You drove to my house and parked quietly on the street. You crept up the stairs and put your key in the lock. You know, the key I keep conveniently forgetting to ask to get back from you because I’m secretly hoping this fantasy will come true.

You turn the key silently and open the door with the same stealth. Jack perks up, but isn’t too alarmed as you do have a key. You whisper his name and tell him it’s just you and he sighs and lays his weary head back down on his paws. He cocks his eyebrow at you and you reward him with a quick pat on the head.

You then take off your shoes without using your hands and tiptoe downstairs to my bedroom. You turn the hall light on so as not to alarm me as some strange man calling my name in complete darkness. When you open my door it casts just enough light across the room that I will identify you at once when I open my eyes.

You come to the side of my bed and crouch down and say my name in a whispered hush. You repeat it a couple of times and then say “it’s me, don’t be scared, I’m here, it’s just me” and begin to climb into bed next to me. I shake my head a bit and begin to sweep the haziness from my thoughts, “where’d you come from?” I ask with a smile and reach my arm around you to pull you close into the warm cocoon of my down-filled bed.

You don’t say another word, but cover my mouth with yours. Soft and tenderly you kiss me and touch my face with your fingers. Soon, your kiss becomes more. I am kissing you desperately and hard. You are kissing me even harder. I begin to shudder and realize it is because your hand has found its way down to my breast and is kneading it gently. My hands too find their way south and are feeling you, soaking you in. Your mouth leaves mine and travels to my throat, my neck, my chest. I am pulling at your t-shirt and tug it up over your head as you do the same to mine. We both grab for our own pants to remove all the unnecessary excess that is in our way.

You pull me close and the first thing you want from me is just to feel my skin on yours. I am desperately holding you tight, wanting you to be nearer and nearer. We are kissing again and your tongue pushes deep into my mouth. There is more of you I want deep inside of me. I push to be over you so I can part my legs and you can enter . . .

Untitled

2006-07-24T14:04:00.000-07:00

Hey There,

I know it’s been a while,
but hey!
That’s life,
right?

I’ve been up to no good,
breakin’ hearts
and the like.

I’ve also been gettin’ my heart broken.
Neither
is as
pleasant
as it
sounds.

As much as I’d like to say
that these things
don’t
phase
me,

they do.

I am hurting
and it sucks.
Sucks bad.

What I’d really like to do is run away.

Just get the fuck outta Dodge
and never look back.

Reinvent myself
however
I choose
and let my past be ripped
into shreds
and blow . . .
to the
four
corners
of the earth.

Would I take anything with me?
If so what?
Or whom,
would it be?

Could I be
one of those creepy people
who takes someone captive
and keeps them in a cage
just to be able to pretend
they
possess
them?

Could I be that person?
That mad person?

Perhaps,
especially if I’m letting my former existence
go
to the ends of the world
and becoming . . .
God only knows.

Maybe that’s what I need.

To go to Europe
and backpack
and travel
and hike across the Alps.

Or to South America
and swim the Amazon
and be ravaged
by
Piranhas
until I’m past recognition.

I’ll give you a tale of a white god
if that’s what you fancy.

Could I wander
and adopt
the Quill and Sword motto
that not ALL
who wander
are lost?
Could I?

Could I give
blowjobs
on the beach
of Rocky Point
at twenty bucks a
pop
and sleep
near the surf
and drink
margaritas at 9a.m.

Could I go
to NYC
and check into
the Four Seasons
and pretend to be
society
and murder someone’s child
and replace
the void
and claim
the inheritance
a la the talented
Mr.
Ripley?

Perhaps
I belong
in the South of France
in a bakery
or winery
laboring
as a craftsman
of the palate.
Living
in a ratty bungalow
with a lovely garden
always
too hot
and sticky
drinking
warm wine
and water without ice.

Or,
I could go
to Russia
and pretend
I’m connected
because
I dated a boy once
who’s parents
went to university
there.
I’d become
stoic
and proud
and live
on potatoes
and fuck hard and quick
for another
shot
of
vodka.

I guess
another option
would be to stay
right here
in my half furnished
oversized house
with my too big dog
all half naked
in bed
tapping away at a fantasy
and wanting
to escape my skin
because
you
won’t
touch it . . .

SUNDAY Actualized

2006-07-23T22:41:00.000-07:00

S-Slept in until 10 or so and did lounge around reading and writing

U-Undid any pain the best I could and offered my heart on a silver platter - didn't toss out the "month of space" but did make love this evening. It was GOOD! Hello, biggest understatement of the century - it was earth-shatteringly-a-fucking-mazing!! Did I mention I'm in utter and complete love with this man? Did I mention that at all? Okay, cuz I am, in case you missed that!

N-Nested some - still need to nest more - working on a picture project to update all framed photos in the house

D-Damn, had me some great sex today . . . okay. I know. I already said that one. Sheesh! Okay. What I really did is "dash" out and get the needed TP and such . . . but what I really want to say is DAMN!! Yeah, by the way blogland, did I mention I'm in love? I even did the happy dance (the exact one from Garden State as demonstrated by Miss Natalie Portman herself) when he left this evening . . . did I mention I'm in love?

A-After sex will head to bed with afterglow and drift on a dream (yeah, totally bogarted that line from the new Dixie Chicks song "Lullaby", one helluva love song, check it out)

Y-Yeah, totally blew off the paperwork - will do later. Tomorrow. Sometime. Who really gives a flying FUCK because I am in L-O-V-E love.

*contented sigh*

How was your Sunday??

SUNDAY Proposed

2006-07-23T11:25:00.000-07:00

I know I can't make speculations at noon and expect it to be taken seriously, but it's Sunday, bloody Sunday! So cut me some slack!! This is what I'd like to see happen with my day today!

S-Sleep in until 10 or so and then lounge around in my PJs reading, writing, and generally loafing about

U-Undo any pain I caused G. during his visit this afternoon and mend our relationship and renew our love and toss out this "month of space" nonsense and make love in the middle of the afternoon and promise to give our whole hearts and souls and work through all the pain and drama and confusion and be blissfully happy

N-Nest. You know, when major changes happen (no kids - I promise) you want to just rearrange everything and tidy up and reorganize and make everything nice

D-Dash out for some TP, some new jeans, some fab outfit for the client visit at work this week

A-After the above-mentioned mending of said relationship - go out to some perfect little dinner spot and gaze across the table into each other's eyes and enjoy the afterglow of great sex

Y-Yeah, I do need to finish all of this ridiculous paperwork, so I'll stay up to the wee hours and painstakingly lay out spreadsheet after spreadsheet to be sure that I get this shit done and turned in for Monday morning

Much Too Much

2006-07-22T11:27:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time . . . there was a girl who loved too much. She cared too much. She wanted to give too much. She laughed too hard. She got too excited. She was just too much.

One day she fell in love. She refused to see any natural boundaries and she gave all the too much she had to give. She wanted to give all the too much she had to give for forever until . . .

Another day when she fell in smite. Falling in smite is quite a powerful thing. Being smitten was too much and this dear girl loved having something too much happen to her without her creating it. Her smittenness lead to love. And then she began to give too much again. But this time it was different. She was getting too much too! How she loved giving and getting so much. How she loves too much.

On yet another day she realized her too much to one love was precluding her too much to another. Now this girl hurt too much. She cried too much. She ached too much. She became much too confused.

So this girl needs to decide. Which too much will be her too much. Or, is the best answer to be less. Don't be too much, don't give too much, don't love too much, don't feel too much, just be enough. But she doesn't know how to be just enough.

On yet another day still this girl decides once and for all. She'll probably try to be just enough, but she'll still love and give too much. She chooses one love to give too much to and for the rest of the world she'll try to be just enough. Perhaps that will be her happily ever after . . .

And she gave her one true love too much, and to the rest she gave just enough. And then they lived happily ever after.

The End

Bonus Night

2006-07-21T09:43:00.000-07:00

It was shallow.

That's the word that keeps jogging through my mind. Shallow. Followed closely by 2-Dimensional, lacking, flat, wanting, waning . . .

What cruel thoughts. How can I think them? How can I feel this way? What kind of beast, monster, creature can view attempted intimacy as flat.

Is it me? It was never flat before. It was never wanting for that much.

It was enough.
I got there.
The right buttons were pushed and like a machine all systems were go and I went.

But then when I got back, I was sorry I'd been.

This isn't about regret. It's just about not getting to where I thought it would take me. I mean I did go. I went. But I didn't get as far as I could have. Vomiting in the upstairs bathroom while she held back my hair took me further. It felt more complete.

That's what I want from her.
She is my soul's mate.
She is my bosom friend.
My heart's twin.

That is all true. But while I am just gay enough, I'm not quite gay enough.

I wasn't satiated. I wasn't sated. I wasn't satisfied. I was left wanting . . . it was a lack-luster experience. It was good on paper.

I wasn't alive with every cell screaming for more and to stop and to go and that it can't be vaulted any further into ecstasy and intimacy and . . . and the word I won't say . . . the word I can't say . . . the word that seals my fate . . .

love.

I know now. And I know what to do with that knowledge. I can't get what I want from this because it means depriving her of what she wants from this. I just have to disconnect permanently. How? Nearly a decade . . . how do you do that?

All because I live in the wrong dimension.

This doesn't feel like much of a bonus at all.

Lemonade time: The bonus is that now I know where to look. What I'm looking for. What I want, need, crave, desire . . . now I know that I can be satisfied. Now I know that I can pursue a lifetime of satiation. Perhaps that is why the weight is evaporating - I'm filling my needs with the nourishment that can sate them.

I will be happy and healthy. I will. I will. I will.

Will I?

Watching You Walk Away

2006-07-20T13:02:00.000-07:00

I know.

I vowed no more talk of the boy.

I know.

I lied.

So kill me. What am I gonna do - I can't help it. He happens to be a pretty consuming force in my life right now. It's pretty ridiculous actually . . . what am I? Oh well - at least this time I'll make it count and actually do some real writing! Look at me, makin' lemonade and such!

I watch your confident gait as you stride across the small parking lot. I shift in the window to see you move behind the trees.

You do know you are taking a piece of my heart with you each time you go; don't you?

In a small package with foil wrapping and crimson ribbon you carry it away . . . What you will do with this precious gift I know not.

I try to keep from giving you these tokens but I cannot restrain myself. My heart offers them willingly and without constraint. I try to caution it to beware. It does not understand weariness. It only understands wreckless abandon. It wants to give and love and adore and . . .

How do I control such an altruistic piece of my soul? I cannot. I cannot stop it from doing what I've told it will bring me the most joy and allow me to live the fullest life. If I make it stop now, it may not give so freely in the future.

So I allow you to walk away with these guilded packages with such priceless parts contained within. I have no guarantee that you will ever walk back. No promise that you'll gather my heart together carefully and piece it with yours and return it all to me. No vow, no pledge, no hint even that giving me your heart to keep is your intent.

But even without the promise, I will give and give and give . . .

For at least a month ;)

PS
I know you said you wouldn't read this - if you do it's okay. Just please at least comment or let me know you did. I cannot bear the thought that you're seeing my naked soul and my not even knowing it . . .

Torn

2006-07-19T11:46:00.000-07:00

As I sit down to write today I feel torn. Torn between talking about what I want to talk about (the boy) and what I think will get my blog read (not the boy). As I am just re-entering the blogosphere, it's probably pretty important to impress my readers. As I am writing for myself, it's probably pretty important to write whatevuh-the-hell-I-wanna.

What have we learned so far? I am seriously confused about everything and also cannot get away with using the word "whatevuh", even in hyphenated form.

Okay, so the boy. Because fuck you - you don't have to read this. And what I mean by that is please do :) and think I'm witty while you're at it.

Why do I feel like a transvestite crying out "They like me, they really like me"? (If you don't get the reference, you need to work on your midnight movie trivia)

Okay . . . the boy! And, the girl. What kind of person is torn between a boy and a girl? This is so not me!! Yet it most certainly is . . . Well, let's get one thing straight (pun intended), I love them both very much. The question is how?

The real question is why? The boy wants space - he wants a month. A goddam bloody month to sort out his life and make sense of why and how he can be falling in love so completely. And the girl, well - she's a girl. And you know what they say- once you've had dick, going lesbian is a trick.

Err . . . actually no one says that. Only I say stupid stuff like that.

Meanwhile, I just want to be loved and adored by an olive-skinned, curly headed boy with hazel eyes and perfect lips. I also want the safety, security, warmth and friendship of soft arms and a soft bosom to curl up in and make sense of everything in the universe. I want my best friend.

Is that so wrong?

Maybe I should just wrend myself in two - and give a part to each. And have the two parts of me walk in opposite directions and leave this conglomeration of desires and wants and aches in the past.

Excellent. That is the plan. Shortly I will tear myself in two and pursue both desires simultaneously.

I just don't know which half will maintain the blog . . .

Back Again

2006-07-18T17:44:00.000-07:00

I began this blog nearly two years ago when I was seriously exploring (and coming to terms with) my sexuality - and here I am again. How ridiculous is that? Such is life. This is where I'm at again - I've made some progress perhaps. Perhaps no. I was with a woman, whether I was willing to admit it or not, for nearly 9 years. Then one day I woke up a lesbian and went to bed with a crush on a man. A boy actually. He is 7 years my junior and 19.

Now is the part where you gasp, shake your head gravely, and judge me completely. It is your right as a member of the blogosphere.

So, I then put aside 9 years of love and intimacy to explore the world of the breeders. Pretty damned fantastic place BTW. Ya'll really clean up nice . . .

This puts me at today. I am now officially single - and not so much lovin' it. I dated the boy for 2 months (to the day) and now we're taking "space" and will re-evaluate in one months time. I find myself feeling like I should want to re-explore life with my K. and see if it is a gay/straight issue I'm dealing with, or really more of a secret/truth issue. K has come OUT since our breakup and she is happy and out and proud and living life. What if that was all that was missing? What if I'm not waffling between gay and straight - I just needed someone who didn't leave me physically starving? But my heart says I already know the answer, and it's not what she wants to hear. I don't know what to think . . . I'm a confused girl.

Now, the real reason I started this blog was to sharpen my writing skills. As cathartic and fulfilling as it is to talk about myself and my hopeless relationship drama, I really do want to hone my writing skills. It's just so much easier to write drivel and avoid any hint of skill or style. It's easier to ramble incoherently about myself and languish in the thought that dozens will reassure me that I'm wonderful and brilliant and interesting . . .

Enough for now. I'm clearly rusty. More soon. And more and more after that.

Eve's Eve

2005-12-23T22:11:00.000-08:00

Once this tale of immaculate conception is spun, she quickly becomes intriguing to those around her. She seems young and fair enough, could it be her?

Of course he returns as the faithful beau who never left her side.

She still likes him so much she shares her new-found infamy.

But can they really maintain this forever. Surely when the child is born it will be clear that it is not a god, but a mortal child. People will expect miracles that her child will not be able to produce. Will they murder her baby?

Even worse, what if she bares a daughter?

What we hold Sacred

2005-12-22T08:16:00.000-08:00

She's only 14. Not really old enough to fully understand the consequences. She just likes the way he looks at her. The way he makes her feel. He's much older.

He takes advantage. Doesn't force, but definitely pushes. She likes him so much. She wants to please him. She thinks that if she does this, then he'll never leave. But he will.

The classic tale.

But this time there's a twist.

She get's pregnant.
(That's not the twist)

He refuses to admit that it's his. He leaves and she's all alone. She hides it for months. She can't hide it any longer. Now she has to do something. Everyone she knows will disown her. They'll turn their backs. This isn't acceptable.

She has an idea.

She claims it isn't her fault. She claims that she's done nothing and doesn't know how this happens. She doesn't claim brutality, that still seems sordid. She doesn't want to be tainted. She clings to the only superstition in this culture that will allow her to make such claims. She knows it seems absurd, but she thinks it just might work.

Immaculate Conception.

I am BACK!!

2005-12-20T21:58:00.000-08:00

My goodness I am feeling like the tin man squeaking oil can through a locked jaw.
Tiiiinnnnnnnnnn Roof!
Rusty.

Two allusions are more fun than one. For those of you (who don't exist because I let my blog starve to death) who don't get those witty references, then don't worry. You will begin to follow my twisty-turny trains of thought after a while. The idea may frighten some of you younger readers, but never fear.

Pogo. That's what we decided in my family our thoughts do. They aren't neat little trains riding along a one-way track, but pogo sticks bouncing from idea to idea in a seemingly random pattern with no connection between them. Individual thoughts. But there is a connection and method to the thoughts, just like a pogo stick isn't completely random as it may first appear. The connection may only be the overriding principles of gravity, but that is connection none-the-less and arguably a quite intense connection.

Lisa is an inspiration to us all. Three years and going strong. You'd think she must be glued to her blog. Not so. I've seen her come out to bathe, eat, even parent her twins - "A" and "B" both. I haven't figured out how she does it, but she does.

Last night I had a dream. It was about my assistant. But he was another man. A bad man. But it looked like my assistant. Very odd. I managed to retain my composure around him and feign complete normalcy. That's improvement.

S. and I went and saw "Chronicle of Narnia" tonight - it was pretty good. A little too biblical for my tastes, but I can pretend not to see through the very thin disguise of a children's fantasy story. It's a lion, not Jebus. But it was Jebus. No a lion, no Jebus, a lion, a Jebus. Doesn't matter, it's all pretend.

I guess that ends this pogo stick ride for the evening folks. Remain seated until your car comes to a complete stop and your shoulder harnesses are locked in place above you and then exit to your right so others may enter the ride. Thanks for coming to Pogo Playground and enjoy your vacation.

;)

6 Months

2005-08-22T16:49:00.000-07:00

It has been far too long since I've posted. So long in fact that I'm sure this will no longer be read. But, perhaps that's better for this time. Maybe it shouldn't be read. Or maybe it just shouldn't be read right now. I'm out of practice I can feel it. I don't trust my blog the way I was beginning to. I don't feel completely at ease just telling it the truth. I don't know if I can be so candid.

Perhaps a little structure to get things started . . . an update is in order.

K - WONDERFUL! That's pretty much how I'd sum up our entire relationship right now and how it's been for the past 6 months.

Work - Great for work! Not perfect, not bad. Very flexible which is pretty crucial for me.

Family - Good and getting better. Still awkward with the whole no-longer-Mormon-and-also-lesbian thing. But, we're all working on it together. Plus my brother got a medical discharge from the Navy which he (and the rest of us) are thrilled about for him.

Writing - No need to even address that one right?

Diet - Ahh that elusive weight loss plan. Maybe I should just make peace with the extra weight, but I won't! I deserve to be as confident naked as I am clothed!

I'm sure you can see how rusty this is for me. I need to keep it up to get back into the swing of things. It's been a while, but hopefully it too will be like riding a bike. I look forward to getting back into my blog. It was good for a while there and I want the good back.

SUNDAY

2005-02-13T14:44:00.000-08:00

S - Scooped Jack's poop from the back yard. Uugghh. It rained yesterday. Enough said.

U - Uhhh, called and talked with my mom and a good friend on the phone because I hadn't talked to them in a while. It was good to reconnect. Yes, beginning my sentence with "uhhh" is cheating but too bad!

N - Need to pick up some groceries to do some baking for Valentine's Day tomorrow, I think the office deserves some monogrammed sugar cookies.

D - Didn't shower today - was too busy around the house and now it's too late! Cleaned/Organized K.'s room as a gesture of love for Valentine's weekend.

A - Ate lunch at The Olive Garden and have leftovers to take to work for lunch tomorrow!!

Y - Yesterday we celebrated romance and had our Valentine's Day and I'm still floating around drunk from the bliss of sharing my life with such an amazing human being.

Tis The Season

2005-02-11T19:12:00.000-08:00

It came in a padded white envelope. Two or three envelopes actually. Inside all of the paper and bubble wrap was a small black velvet satchel. I was so taken with all the packaging – all of that careful safekeeping just for me. And it was even overnighted. I’d never had anyone overnight anything to me. Thinking back it should have been sent to him, but to me it wasn’t about him – it was about what was inside that little pouch.

I had been waiting for it to arrive. It was going to give me the validation and security and I suppose I thought it would give me everything I was wanting at that time. I needed a lot then. I had a lot, but I didn’t have access to it. That sounds strange. But, that was my life then. This was my key to happiness and peace. They told me it would be. I believed them.

I took the package back into the bathroom – the only room that you could truly be alone in. I was excited, but a little crushed as well. I dismissed it as nerves. I carefully, almost reverently opened the draw string and reached inside. There it was. It was perfect. A tiny white, leather box. I gingerly opened it to see my treasure inside. It hinged back and revealed the most sparkling perfect diamond ring I’d ever seen. It was more breathtaking than I’d even imagined. It was bigger than I’d thought it would be. I slid it on and felt that I’d found the missing link. Now. Now I could be happy.

I brought it out to show my mom and to show her. They oohed and aahed. But something about it lost its magic once it was on my finger. I took it off to call him and tell him it had arrived. I felt a bit better. He came over immediately so that we could go to the temple so that he could give it to me. I already had it. But, he wanted to come get me, get the ring, and go ask the question. The mere presence of the ring answered the question – but we had to do the dance. It was all so contrived. So forced.

There was nothing magical about that day – nothing magical about the ring that was supposed to be the answer. It wasn’t. In fact, I was more impressed that it was sent overnight from Utah without any additional charge than by what he said to me while he was down on his knee.

It ended within a few weeks. I gave that prized jewel back. Yes it was gorgeous and valuable, but it lacked the magic it was supposed to possess. It didn’t change my life. I needed to do that. That ring, nor its bearer would assist me in that either. She would.

It’s been five years since I’ve been in that jeweler’s store. I went back recently and found another ring. This time it isn’t the key – it’s just a token of something that’s already there. It’s just to show her that she is the key, that she is the magic, that our life together is the treasure. It symbolizes who we are and what we’ve become.

Blogging at Work

2005-02-08T14:00:00.000-08:00

This is all I could fit in at work - this will take more finesse than I currently posess. Maybe I'll try again another time - for now, this is the best I could do. I guess I'll have to do more at home. Such is life!

don't ask me

2005-02-06T10:59:00.000-08:00

I have no idea where the creepy story came from - it just came. I was actually getting ready for work when the first bit came, and then when I got home and started writing it the rest came out. It scared me to death to write it (of course I couldn't sleep for a week after watching The Mothman Prophesies) so maybe I'm not the best litmus. I don't know how Stephen King does it!

It's so good to be back in blogland. I hope to figure out a way to incorporate it into my work day so that I get it in every day. How do you veteren 9-5ers do it? Blog in the workplace?

Today is Super Bowl Sunday and as a disgrace to my sexual preference group I couldn't care less. Don't get my wrong - I'm so happy for all of you who enjoy football to get to enjoy this annual sports orgy - but for me, well it's just another Sunday, bloody Sunday. Although, I am going to a Superbowl party and I will watch the commercials. I really ought to bring a book or magazine, because I know if I try to talk during the game I'll drive K. nuts! Or I could bring my crochet (how spinster-ish does that make me sound??) but I'd be mercilessly mocked for that one.

Okay - I'm officially rambling incoherently and not doing enough reading of other blogs - better get out there.

One last thing - I saw Million Dollar Baby this weekend and it was phenominal!! One of the best acted films I've seen in a long time. And such a tear jerker!! I do wish Hillary Swank was on my team, I'd love to claim her. You must see this film - that's right I said film. It was so much more than a movie - it was fantastic.

Alright - now I'm really done!! Hugs and kisses and thanks for stickin' through the slow times!!

The Dark

2005-02-03T15:45:00.000-08:00

6 am

The sun was just barely beginning to peak over the the top of the mountains to the East. The bathroom light was on and her husband was in the bed across the room. She reluctantly shut off the hot water and stepped out of the tub and onto the bathmat. While she was drying off she was making mental notes of everything she needed to do before she left for work. She wrapped the towel onto her head and streaked out of the bathroom and into her closet to get dressed. She kept the bedroom light off so her sweet husband could sleep his last 30 minutes before he had to get up and start his day.

Once she was half dressed she walked over to the vanity and turned on the lamp. She caught a chill on her still-damp back - she liked to get ready before she put her top on. She sat on her stool and brushed her hair. She felt very content today, it was a good day. Last night she had made love to her husband for hours. They were so in sinc lately, it was beautiful. She woke up today feeling happy to be alive.

She was putting moisturizer on her face when she caught another chill. A different chill. A red flag went off in her head, but she dismissed. Her sweetie was right there in bed, she was wearing her favorite slacks. She was fine. She began humming and fishing for her make-up brushes in her bottom drawer.

Another prick of fear at the back of her neck. She knew something was amiss. Maybe she had a bad dream last night. She looked over at the bed at her darling, he was there looking content. Well, actually looking dead asleep. His mouth was hanging open - he was sound asleep. She giggled at how sweet he was when he slept. But as she looked back towards her reflection in the mirror a thought struck her and she looked back at her husband. He was a little more than usually still. She panicked - he wasn't breathing.

No sooner than she had this thought a chill crept up her spine and the lamp went out. The house became pitch black. Blacker than midnight. The rising sun was no longer peaking through the blinds on the window, the hall light wasn't visible through the crack of the bedroom door. There was no light anywhere.

Death.

Darkness.

Panic.

She screamed. She thought she screamed but no sound came out.

Then she woke up. She was still in the pitch black box six feet down waiting to really die. Left with nothing but nightmares to haunt her the last few hours of her mortal life. Her husband wasn't dead . . .

But soon she would be.

Routine eh?

2005-01-27T19:53:00.000-08:00

Well it's not quite numb yet - still feelin' it. Such is life. Good to be back in blogland in spite of it. In spite of the not-quite-numb-yet-routine-of-commuting that is!

Tonight I'm heading back up to the Queer Lounge up at Sundance for the Homos away from Home party - it oughtta be fun, but to be quite honest I'm a little scared. The whole party hardy bar scene has never been my thing. I'm much more of a coffee house kinda girl. Trying to wax philosophical and play Scrabble. Or at the very least be able to carry on a conversation with the people within 3 feet of me! But - it'll be fun tonight - a grand adventure!

I just pitched my first ad proposal to a potential client today (solo I might ad) and I fucking nailed it! Not the client, the proposal - ya big dirties! I am the official rock-star of my office and riding my 5 minutes of fame to the hilt! It's fun!

Well, better go get dolled for the soiree! I'll talk to ya'll soon!

Kisses!

For the Record

2005-01-25T20:00:00.000-08:00

I've been reading all of your posts - but haloscan hasn't let me make comments. I guess it's just getting back at me for neglecting it . . . bitch.

Loving work - I really think I could be a rock star at my job if things keep going as well as they have been going so far. Love my K. Had wicked awesome sex last night - aaaaahhhhhhh. That's really all there is to say about that.

Told a woman in my office that I have a girlfriend - it's getting easier and easier to be candid about, and to think - my blog is where the candor began. Memories.

Need to pull together the next chapter of my story about Mallory so I can post a bit of it - might be some fun.

Been struggling with the fucking inversion all over this damned place - I don' t even remember what the sky looks like because all I've seen for days if fucking nasty pollution. Rant: finished.

Exhausted in the evenings since I started the new job and the commute - tell me I'll eventually adjust and actually get something done around the house on week-nights! Please tell me that. Please?

Rambling and incoherent - but full of resolve! Signing off . . .

Sundance Sunday

2005-01-23T20:51:00.000-08:00

K. and I spent the day volunteering at The Sundance Film Festival's Queer Lounge - how cool is that?? I guess I'm bona fide if I'm attending gay events - my packet came in the mail just last week!! I'm in - or out - or whatever!!

Anyway - guess who I met?? Only the lesbian icon Indigo Girls very own Emily Salliers!! Can you believe it?? And, I didn't know who she was (even though I own 2 of her CDs) so I asked her name and made her spell it for me - I was mortified. It was so embarassing! 17 different shades of crimson flashed across my face.

So, that's my excitement for the week - well, I guess just the week-end rather because . . . I had my first week of work this week! Plus Monday was K.'s birthday - such a big week for me! And I looooovvvve my new job - it was a very good decision it turns out. I'm so glad.

I managed to embarass myself there too - I fell down an entire flight of stairs on my first day. I know, with this post you'd think I was the most klutzy, awkward chick ever. Typically I'm at least remotely smooth, but this week . . . not so much. Yet I still loved it. I didn't break anything but my ego - and bruised myself quite a bit. Other than that - aint no thang. Did I mention it was a marble staircase?? No carpet for me, only solid rock. Pleasant.

I miss you. Every last one of you. I feel so disconnected when I don't know what's going on with you - I hate it. I love peeking into your life. I love hearing about your ups and downs. I love the sense of connectedness I have with a community of people so diverse whom I'd never even recognize if I passed them on the street. Yet I know some of your deepest thoughts. I do miss you.

I am feeling deeply satisfied with my life. Hope you are as well. Or that you will be feeling it soon. You are good. And wonderful. And I am lucky to know you.

2005: Resolved

2005-01-15T13:26:00.000-08:00

Well, I’m coming to you as a very different person. This New Year’s season was a pivotal turning point in the story of my life. I uhh, came out to my parents. Yikes! If you ever want to add a bit (or a boatload) of drama to your life, just tell your parents that you’re gay.

Anywho, I think the ripples are dying down and I can enjoy life again. Maybe even more than ever. We’ll see. I am definitely enjoying authenticity like I never have before in my whole life. It’s comforting and disarming all at once. Perhaps I can convert these complex emotion into novel fuel – hmmmmm.

Another big change is I've made a major career change as well. This has been a tricky thing to maneuver. I think it’s for the best. I needed it more than I was willing to admit - so here I come corporate America, watch out! I'm working in a highrise office building in downtown Salt Lake with marble floors and a doorman and everything - I'm feeling very big and important. Who knows how long the novelty will last . . .

We’ll see how all of these changes affect things – I think it will all be good stuff.

And of course, my blog. It is of course one of my New Year’s top priorities. That is after regaining my sanity, and adjusting to my new career!! Then comes the creative respite of my blog. It’s such a cup of cocoa on a blustery day. Or a steamer – have any of you ever had a caramel steamer?? If not, rush to your nearest coffee shop, you’re in for a treat!

That's all for now - more later . . . I know, I know, you've heard that one before.

Merry Day after Christmas!!

2004-12-26T17:04:00.000-08:00

Hope your holiday was lovely . . . filled with gingerbread and sugarplums and loved ones and warm cozy fires and peppermint sticks and carols and laughter - hope that you got everything you wanted or needed from Santa and that your stocking was filled with goodies. I hope that your looking forward to the New Year with renewed enthusiasm and commitment to your goals and dreams and that everything that you want or need will come to you. You deserve happiness and hopefulness and love and warmth and good things. I hope you get them. This season is the season of pollyanna-ish belief and faith and integrity and I hope you enjoy it, wallow in it, and get it stuck all over you. Merry Christmas!!

Locked In

2004-12-24T10:05:00.000-08:00

I'm here in my dad's home office and I locked myself in so nobody would disturb me and I could have a few minutes to breath and be myself.

My mom keeps asking when I'm going to come out . . . does anyone else see the irony of the situation I'm in right this second??

Last night I stayed up until 4:30 talking to my 20 year old brother and 22 year old cousin and it was lovely . . . until the whole gay issue came up - and believe it or not, I didn't bring it up. My brother said that "nobody is born gay", being gay is "morally wrong period", and that it is "the worst sin out there". Needless to say there is NO FRICKIN' WAY I can communicate with these people. (can you tell I'm in mormon mode - I said frickin', sorry I meant fuckin'!)

Tell me, who wakes up one day and says "gee, I think I'll pursue a relationship that makes me a social parriah and alleged moral-less bugger"?? Nobody. Okay, I'm preachin' to the choir but, sheesh, I got some pent up feelings here!

I'm so glad to be home for Christmas other than all of the ignorant things my family spews on a fairly regular basis. But, jokes on them because I have some lesbian friends coming down for the Fiesta Bowl and they're staying with us. They would freak if they knew I was turning their home into Lesbian Fiesta Bowl hot spot! Heh, heh, heh.

Baahhh.

Now I sound like one of those people who only talks about gay stuff - I swore I'd never be that person.

No more.

So, thanks for all the welcome backs - it's good to be here. I missed you all terribly. I've been imagining what you're up to - I like to pretend I could guess. Although, what I'm imagining probably pales in comparison to the real mischief you're into. Right?? Tell me I'm right!

When I leave this little office sanctuary (which has the deep freeze in it so technically I never have to leave, I could live on icecream for the rest of my holiday) I will work on wrapping last minute gifts and putting the last touches on the tree. My mom and I are baking cinnamon rolls today too - doesn't that sound fun? I'll even put on some Christmas music and we'll be a regular Norman Rockwell. It will be nice.

I'm sure I'll have to run to the store after some last minute ingredient we've forgotten. I'm sure it will be crowded and traffic will be aweful. I'm sure people will be rude and cranky. But, I'll do it with the top down under a blue sky and smiling sun - Merry Christmas indeed!

Back For Christmas

2004-12-21T19:05:00.000-08:00

Hi All!

I'm back for Christmas - and back for good!! I sure do miss you all and look forward to seeing what you're all up to for the holiday season - hope all is well!

I'm in Az in the sunshine and already have the top down on my convertable and am soaking up the sun! Love it!

Will write more tomorrow after I've read and feel like I know what's up with ya'll - and I'll have to add more to Mallory's story, b/c it is definitely there - so much is happening for her. She does live in my head you know.

I told a friend that in response to the question "where do you get ideas for your stories?" - I told her that the characters are just born in my head and I just write down what happens to them and she said I was crazy - tell me you are crazy too.

Well, BIG SLOPPY HUGS N' KISSES for now!! More manana!

Mallory's Story: 5

2004-12-08T21:10:00.000-08:00

Right as Dr. Schmidt left and closed the door to room 814 Sidney gasped "Mallory, you have a crush on Dr. Schmidt!"

Mallory’s eyes widened in shock "Uuhh, No-oh" she replied, making no into a two syllable word to emphasize her rebuttal.

"C’mon" continued Sidney "It’s written all over your face – ya know, you two would make a beautiful couple. The nurse and the doctor – quite a match. What a fun cliché you two would be."

Mallory was stunned. No one had ever accused her of having feelings for any doctor, much less Dr. Schmidt. She stuttered ". . . uuuhhh, I’m not really interested in Dr. Schmidt like that. You must have had too many pain meds last night." Mallory tried to make this into a joke but Sidney wasn’t laughing so Mallory went on to explain "we’re just friends – we’ve been friends for years. We go to lunch together sometimes, but it’s always just friendly."

Sidney finally relented "oh, are you dating someone else then?"

"Well . . . no . . . but I’m not interested in Dr. Schmidt, not like that."

"Oh c’mon" Sidney teased, "I saw the way you watched that lab coat swish down the hall. You were practically drooling over the good doctor! Meds or no meds, I know what I saw. I know that look – my sister is getting married next month and I’ve been watching her and her fiancée stare into each other’s eyes for nearly a year now. I know what women in love look like. I still am one too ya know?!"

"Yes, I’d imagine you and Ron are . . . probably . . . still . . . uuuuhhh, uuuuuhh . . ." her throat was dry and she tried to swallow. She couldn’t get the image of them against the tree out of her head. Mal, she had no idea, just relax.

"We’re probably still what? Mallory? Earth to nurse Mallory??"

"You’re uuuuhhh" Mallory swallowed again and found her voice "You’re probably still very much in love. I’m sure of it."

"So you noticed?" Sidney cocked her eyebrow at Mallory.

"Noticed? Noticed uuuhh, what? I didn’t see anything. Nothing. I didn’t see anything." Mallory stammered.

"Oookaaay, I just meant you noticed that Ron still dotes on me like he did when we were first married almost ten years ago. You seem nervous Mallory. Thinking about Dr. Schmidt again aren’t you? The hot doctor with the dark hair and green eyes that you could get lost in . . ."

"Um, I really need to go. I appreciate your interest, but umm, Dr. Schmidt really isn’t my type, umm, I’m not a ummm, I’m not a, uhh, I need to go – I’ll check back later."

Mallory couldn’t believe what she had just heard. She was not into Dr. Schmidt and she was fairly certain that Dr. Schmidt didn’t have the slightest interest in her. They were just friends. They had talked about dating before, but each had been talking about their own individual dating lives. They never would consider dating each other. They weren’t the type. Well, Mallory certainly wasn’t the type at least.

Mallory's Story: 4

2004-12-07T20:25:00.000-08:00

Mallory was nervous as hell. She was jittery and stuttering. She hadn’t been this nervous approaching a patient since she was a student. Mal, they don’t know what you saw. They don’t know what you saw. Maybe you don’t even know what you saw! Maybe it wasn’t even them. But Sidney’s long thick red curls just aren’t that common place and her perfectly smooth and creamy fair skin is unmistakable. Mal stared at Sidney. No, it’s her alright. Slight figure, long legs, pixie shaped ears, freckles across her nose. It’s her. Ron was just as she remembered him too. Broad shoulders, dark hair, large hands. They were a perfect match for the couple in the woods. She knew it was them and she couldn’t even try to convince herself otherwise.

Ron was staring at Mallory and said louder than necessary "Nurse? Nurse? Mmm . . . Mallory? Did you want or need something? Because if now’s a good time we have some questions."

Mallory managed to choke something out to the Harris’s about what to expect from their stay. Then she answered their questions and told them how often Sidney would be administered her meds, how much she was allowed to get up, and some general info about Dr. Schmidt. They were so receptive and kind. They genuinely appreciated her help. They don’t know Mal. You are just fine. They have no idea. They’ll be easy to work with, they seem nice enough – just let go of the images of them and the tree!

Mallory’s tension began to ease and she found that she genuinely enjoyed the Harris’s. She loved the way Ron always had to reach out and touch Sidney whenever he referred to her. He’d be asking Mallory what it was like to be a labor and delivery nurse and then remember another question about Sidney. He’d reach out and put his hand on her arm, or brush her hair from her face, or take her hand possessively. No matter how it was, he would connect to his wife while talking about her. Mallory also liked Sidney’s sarcasm. Her cynicism and wit was endearing. She managed to be cutting without being a bitch – that was a balance she’d noticed in Trish too, but couldn’t seem to master herself.

During the next week Mallory was working very little in labor and delivery so most of her shifts were spent making the same rounds. She was getting to know her patients more closely than she was used to. And they were getting to know her better than she knew how to handle. She was used to keeping a professional distance, but as the week progressed, that distance was quickly evaporating. Her boundaries were eroding and she liked it, but she feared it even more. She knew this was dangerous to do for her. Mallory took her work home with her after she’d had a patient a few hours and felt a connnection, now here she was days into a nurse/patient relationship and she was merging into their lives. She was starting to remember her patients children’s names. Their food preferences. What they did for a living. And she was getting especially close to the Harris’s.

Mallory just adored the Harris's. Everyone in the hospital did. They were the all-American young couple next door. They were passionate and successful, yet down to earth and easy-going. They were so great to spend time with, so eager to understand Sidney's condition. So cooperative with the staff. They were grateful and gracious and just plain delightful. It was funny that they rarely had visitors. Maybe their families lived in another state. Maybe they didn't have extended family. Where were their friends? The Harris's didn't even seem to notice the shortage of personal visitors because the hospital staff spent more than enough time in their room to compensate.

After about five days as Sidney Harris’s nurse, Sidney stopped Mallory cold with an off-handed remark. Mallory had been altering Sidney’s dosage of her tocolytic while Ron was out getting lunch for the both of them. They had been having some girl-talk when Dr. Schmidt came in and interrupted them. Right as Dr. Schmidt left Sidney said something that made Mallory break into a cold sweat.

The Weekend!

2004-12-06T10:48:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I should have found time to post this weekend rather than keep a whiney self-indulgent post at the top of my blog - but oh well. Such is life. I didn't get to it this weekend. Plus, I think subconsciously, or consciously probably, I was loving the comments and didn't want them to stop.

I guess I need to quit being insecure and just post.

I'm with all of you that comments should not be your motivation for writing - although I guess sometimes it's okay. Just not all the time.

Anyway - Mallory's story will continue tomorrow - but today I'll report on my weekend . . .

W - Went shopping at midnight Friday night and found bar-stools for our new pub table for our kitchen and found a perfect match (style and color) for a bargain and love the new look!

E - Eroding boundaries with Jack and let him come into my office and into the loft - I guess we're becoming dog people. I figure I have to vacuum constantly anyway (I have hellish dark carpet) so I might as well get to hang with my pup!

E - Enjoyed watching "Supersize Me" and will never (if it lasts), ever, ever eat fast food again! Blegh! Rent it and then we'll talk.

K - K. and I hosted a very successful dinner party with all of our new lesbian friends. It was the first lesbian party we've ever had and it was lovely. We had an Italian themed potluck and we made sangria and stuffed shells and our guests brought side dishes. The food was wonderful and the company divine and then we played cranium and giggled and drank and had a wonderful time!

E - Epic film: Alexander - saw it this weekend and loved it!! Although I watched in Provo, Ut. where the audience was horrified by the homo-erotic plotline and K. and I just loved the discomfort of our fellow movie-goers. The most vocal about their discomfort were these two guys who one said to the other quite loudly "This is just disgusting." But - here's the rub, they came to the movie just the two of them together and they sat right next to eachother while all the other guys came in odd numbered groups and NONE of them sat directly next to eachother. Latent I say.

N - 'Nother great lunch with Lisa! Damn that girl and I could talk for probably 24 hours straight and not even notice where the time had gone! It was such fun - such, such, such fun! God I love that girl!

D - Did several loads of laundry and now have several things to iron - this is why I hate laundry. You're never finished just because you washed it - it's such a production. When I'm independently wealthy I will never do laundry again!

Shall I go on?

2004-12-02T20:16:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'm not sure I want to continue posting this story. For several reasons - the main reason being that this is a very rough draft and I'm starting to get scared that it sucks.

Fine, that's not really the main reason. The main reason is I think I'm losing readers. I think you prefer it when I just write you emails. I think you don't like it. It's not good enough. It's shit. I'm shit.

I think I'm officially throwing my first moody artist creative-type fit! Huh? Who knew I had it in me? Don't answer that.

I know, I know. I started this blog to get my fiction going - but I got addicted to the interaction. To the relationships. To being liked.

Now I just want my comments box full and fuck the greater good of my craft.

Why do I have to be so shallow?? If I was just a secure, mature writer type I wouldn't give a shit if I lost readers, I'd ride the ebb and flow and see where I ended up. But noooo, one day of only 3 commenters and I throw in the fucking towel.

Ya well - I never said I was an adult. Or that mature.

I will now end this horrendous, whiney, tantrum-esque, post with the tag line of one of my favorite blogs . . .

Go fuck yourself.

Mallory's Story, Day 3

2004-12-01T17:07:00.000-08:00

The morning at the hospital was busy. Mallory made her rounds checking IVs, administering meds, making sure that all the new moms were healthy and comfortable. Mallory worked double-shifts at the hospital as a labor and delivery nurse and as an RN in the maternity ward. Today she was in the maternity ward. She loved this part of the hospital - it was so full of the hope and promise and the potential of new life. She never would have made it in oncology. She clung to the warm fuzzy feeling that all the new mom's had. She tried to take it home with her to her lonely, quiet apartment. But she couldn't seem to get it down the elevator and out the hospital, much less all the way home.

Lunch with Trish was great. The cafe was divine as usual, the conversation was full of girlish giggles and great stories. Mallory lamented about her celibacy while Trish gave her all the gory details of her recent divorce. Mal admired Trish's resilience through it all. She really seemed to be holding up. Mallory didn't really know what the catalyst for the divorce was, she just knew there were irreconcilable differences. Period. Trisha wasn't offering any other details, so Mallory left it at that. Besides, the dividing of assets was making great lunch conversation. The lunch hour flew by, and before they knew it, both were back at the hospital.

Mallory was filling out a chart at the nurse's station when she saw a woman in a wheelchair that she thought she recognized being wheeled towards her. I know that woman, I know I know that face. Who is she? She began scanning through all the people in her life trying to place her. Is she Nancy's sister? Did we go to high-school together? Was she one of the nurses in my psychiatry rotation? How do I know her? Maybe she's one of my parents neighbors? She couldn't place her until she spoke. Well, until the woman coughed. She was the woman from the woods! Mallory flushed crimson instantly. She was stunned. Of all the people to walk into my hospital, Miss Gasping Orgasm herself is right before me with her virile man at her side! Damn it! What if they saw me? What if they recognize me? She tried to make yet another hasty retreat at the sight of this couple.

Carol stopped her. "Mal, don't leave yet, I need you to come over and meet your new patient real quick. Mallory, this is Sidney Harris and her husband Ron, they're checking into room 814. Sidney is going to be on a tocolytic to stop her cramping, she's four and a half months along and we're gonna make sure she makes it full term "

Sidney and Ron were looking at Mallory expectantly. Mallory sputtered, "oh, well nice to meet you Mrs. Harris, I'm Mallory Carter, I'll be your RN. Umm, I have to go now, but, I'll be in to check on you as soon as you get settled."

Sidney smiled warmly, "thanks, we'd really appreciate that."

Mallory rushed around the corner and leaned against the wall. She needed a chance to catch her breath. She needed to collect her thoughts. That couple had made her wretchedly uncomfortable twice now, she was not looking forward to being their nurse. Okay Mal, be professional. You can't exactly get out of this, what are you gonna do? Tell the head nurse that you saw them fucking against a tree in the woods so you can't be their nurse? Get real. She finished up with her other patients and made her way to Sidney Harris's room. You can do this Mal, deep breaths, you can do this. She pushed open the door to room 814 and walked in.

It continues . . .

2004-11-30T18:46:00.000-08:00

She was flushed when she entered the house. There were her parents, oblivious to the scandalous rendezvous up the hill that she had just intruded upon. She needed to just forget about it and remember that they were in here in blissful ignorance. Mal, you don’t have voyeur written across your forehead, she chided herself, let it go. They seemed content and comfortable. Dad was watching a game with his feet up and mom was at the table writing a letter to her sister in Michigan. Mallory knew there was nothing for her to do there. She needed to get back to her apartment. She had a lot to do before work tomorrow.

"Mom, I need to get home," she said "but thanks for having me for lunch today – it was great as usual."

"So soon Mallory? You just got here a little while ago. We never get to spend any time with you anymore honey. We miss you, don’t we Herb? Tell your one and only daughter she can’t rush back to the city yet. We want you to stay for dinner. Can’t you stay Mally?"

"I’m sorry Mom, I’ve been here for over 3 hours, I need to go." Then she proceeded to rattle off a list of mundane excuses "I’ve got to feed the cat, do my laundry, get some groceries, and clean up my bathroom at home. I promise, next time I’m here I’ll stay for the whole day. It’s just, I just have too much to do right now to stay still anywhere."

"Oh honey, you’re running yourself ragged" her mom chastened "you’re too young to look so tired."

"Thanks Mom – you know how I love it when you tell me how bad I look."

"Oh Mally, don't take everything so seriously, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that you practically live at that hospital. How are we ever gonna find you a nice young man to settle down with? You’re never home, you never have time for your family, for your friends – you never have time for anything but that silly old hospital."

"Right Mom, I know. I’ll work on it." She feigned a smile, "I promise. I’ll be okay. Bye Dad" she called into the living room, "I’ll see ya later."

"See ya Mally – call us and let us know you got home safe."

"Okay Dad. I’ve really got to go Mom. I’ll call you later this week."

And with that she left. She climbed into her 4-Runner, shut the door, closed her eyes and sighed with exhaustion. Everything in that house is such an event. Can’t I just say bye and leave? Why does it have to be such a production? She turned on the car and backed slowly out of the driveway and made her way to the freeway for the 2-hour drive home.

She pulled into her parking spot in the parking garage and dreaded the treck up to her apartment. The elevator had been out for over a month now and she wasn’t growing any more accustomed to this climb. She hiked the four flights of stairs up to her apartment. When she’d moved in, and the elevator worked, being on the top floor was a real benefit. Now it felt a lot more like a cost than a benefit. She trudged upstairs and fell into an exhausted heap on her couch.

She woke 4 hours later with her cat nestled in her lap and couldn’t believe she’d slept for so long. She got up reluctantly and began working on everything she needed to do. She trudged up and downstairs to do her laundry. Fed the cat and gave it some tuna to compensate for her guilt and neglect. Then she started in on the ring around the toilet she’d been avoiding. After a lovely toilet-scrubbing session, gee, that’s just how I wanted to spend my Sunday night she murmured to herself, she tried putting together her lunch for work tomorrow. She hadn’t made it to the store so all she had for lunch tomorrow was cheese on bread with graham crackers and a can of green beans. Maybe I should just fuck the budget and go out for lunch tomorrow.

The next morning she woke to Ace and Amy in the morning on her clock radio. "It’s gonna be a beautiful day with highs of about 72 and next we have America with their 70’s hit Sister Goldenhair, what a way to kick off your Monday morning!" She smacked the clock with undue force and stumbled toward the shower. She let the heat beat over her shoulders, took a deep breath, and finally started to wake up. Here we go Mal, she thought to herself, today will be a good day – Trish is working today and we can have lunch. Maybe we’ll leave the hospital and have lunch at that little café on 7th – see, something to look forward to. She was salivating at the thought of a four-cheese crepe with hollandaise. Just need to get through the morning Mally, and then it’s all downhill from there.

Whadya think of this??

2004-11-29T20:15:00.000-08:00

She wandered lazily through the woods behind her parent’s house. She noticed the way the sunlight filtered through the trees and thought of what it would be like to just join the dust floating through the sun’s beams. To be weightless and floating. Drifting aimlessly. How must it feel to be the dust in the sunlight? To reflect sunshine and glow. To be a tiny particle, undetected by most. To defy gravity and drift on the wind. What would it be like to take hours to travel feet. The luxury of a spec of dust.

Well Mallory, she sighed to herself, when you envy dust, you know you need a change. She wanted out of her 70 hour work-week. She wanted to have the time to languish through the woods and feel inspired to write and play. In her deep dark secret heart she wanted to be a violinist. She wanted to have time to gently stroke the strings. To let her bow feel the tight cords beneath it and create a reverberation that pierced through the monotony of her workweek. She got up from the cold rock and looked down at the tiny roof-top of her parents home, it was time to head back.

As she was making her way down the hill she heard something. She froze and strained to hear where the sound was coming from. It sounded like someone gasping for air. An alarm sounded in her head. Is someone in trouble? Being attacked? Drowning? She immediately snapped into RN mode and tore through the leaves, off the path, and towards the sound. As she came on the scene she was confused – there was a picnic blanket, food and backpacks, but there wasn’t anyone around.

Then she noticed something about a hundred yards away. There was a woman with her pants around her ankles groping at the bark of the tree. And the man behind her thrusting his hips toward her with hands gripping her waist. Mallory gasped and quickly retreated. She was mortified that she had mistaken a woodland romp for someone choking. Has it really been that long since you’ve heard what sex sounds like Mallory? Yes, she answered herself, 17 months will do that to ya.

SUNDAY

2004-11-28T17:20:00.000-08:00

S – She doesn’t want to date other people anymore!! It was never really dating K. wanted after all – it was just a bigger personal support group that she needed!! Yay!! She’s finding that she’s able to create autonomy without dating – she kept telling me it wasn’t about that, she just thought that’s how she’d get it. But she’s getting it from being more outgoing and I’m so glad. Glad to watch her "blossom" and glad it’s not painful for me. Although – for a minute there we were discussing the "M-word", but we’re holding off on that for now . . . someday.

U – Ultimately chose the dog house over the dogloo. Much cheaper and apparently made by the same company so just as insulated! Now Jack will stay dry, warm, and toasty if it snows while I’m out!

N – Needed to sleep in after a late, late, late night out with our new group of lesbian friends up in Salt Lake! We saw a band play – Lisa Marie and the Codependents – and then went to Village Inn after midnight and had breakfast and talked, giggled, and rehashed "The L Word"!! So fun!!

D – Didn’t call back my family all weekend. Not because I don’t want to talk to them, but because it is such an odd feeling having my two worlds collide. And this weekend was definitely not a straight weekend.

A – Appreciated hearing from so many friends via email today!! I guess I was sending out "communicate with me" vibes – I’m so glad I was. I sure am grateful for the quality people in my life.

Y – Yay!! It looks like we’ll be getting a bigger TV soon – we found a 27" that we really like and that is so within our budget – now we’ll get to see "The L Word" in more detail – oh la la!! Can you tell we got the box set recently?? If you want to see some HOT girl drama and stuff, rent it!!

Hold Your Nose

2004-11-26T15:33:00.000-08:00

I meant to post some good fiction today, but all that came out was crap. I tried twice. Both times the main character was too busy having some sort of quandary or dilemma or problem to allow anything else to happen. I’m not sure why – I’m not having any major issues that I mean to project onto my characters. And, since I wanted to post a substantial bit of writing I’m going to stink up my blog with this crap anyway! Lucky you! And that’s just what you get.

Oh, but before I do that I did want to let you all know (in honor of the season) that I’m grateful for you. Yes you: Edge, Lisa, Chaz, Christine, Brian, Whitey, Thomas, Charles, Jen, Jerry, Tesco, Lynne, Rick, Jeni, and anyone else that I’m not thinking straight enough to mention who reads my blog or whose blog I read as well. I am so grateful for you being out there in blogosphere. Your mere existence allows me an outlet for my writing as well as much needed interaction with other quality writers and people. Thank you so much for the privilege of knowing you.

Sincerely.

Okay – enough of that – here comes the crap!!

She stood over the kitchen sink lost in thought. Her fingers were already pruned and she didn’t even notice. She had to figure this thing out.

She knew she loved him. She knew she did. She loved the way he looked at her, how she felt in his embrace. She loved the way he took care of the little things that seemed overwhelming to her.

But loving him came at a price. Loving him meant she couldn’t love her.

She did love her. She knew she did. No matter how hard she tried to let go of her feelings for her neighbor, she still loved her. She loved the way her neighbor looked at her, the way she felt in her embrace, how her face shimmered in all the right places.

The difference was that with him: she hated the feel of him under her hand, and with her: she loved the feel of her under her hand.

She intuited that her friend had feelings for her too. She wanted this to be more simple, but there was no way that it could be.

This is crap. Try again . . .

She flipped through the stations looking for something to distract her reeling mind. She couldn’t find anything worthy of her attention. She needed to solve this . . .

Again – more crap overly laden with conflict. I quit.

The Source

2004-11-24T20:47:00.000-08:00

All my life any time I've felt overwhelmed by some sort of positive emotion, I attributed that to feeling the "spirit". I was conditioned to believe that any sense of connectedness was because I knew the truth about God through Mormonism. Since I no long subscribe to Mormon dogma, this explanation no longer works.

I'm not saying I don't believe in God. Nor am I saying that I do. I could be best described as a hopeful agnostic at this point in my life. My desire to understand these feelings has weighed heavily on me today because of the holiday.

I have this overwhelming sense of gratitude for my life and my loves and my personal successes. I feel grateful for what I used to refer to as my blessings - but now I'm not sure how to refer to them. I'm not sure they're presents given to me by God for doing good, like some gold star on the chore-chart of my life. Much of what I'm grateful for are natural consequences to good decisions.

Some of it is just serendipitous - maybe that part is God. I guess the one thing I can agree with all of modern Christianity on is that God (or the universe or whatever) works in mysterious ways.

I guess what I'm tyring to say is - I'm grateful for my life.

Turkey

2004-11-23T20:49:00.000-08:00

The first time I bought a turkey I cried. Not because I was sad: although I was. Not because I was happy: although I was. But because of what it meant about who I was.

I’m not going home for Thanksgiving for the first time in my life. Twenty-five Thanksgivings all in a row. Twenty-five Thanksgivings that I have, without question, been at the family’s Thanksgiving celebration. But this year I have another choice. I could actually spend this holiday with the love of my life. So that’s what I chose.

Since we met this is what I have wanted – to spend holidays together. This is my chance to have that and it makes me cry. I know this is a huge move. This isn’t about being "too busy" like I told my family in some lame excuse I gave them for not coming home. This is a calculated move down a path that will lead me so far from anything I’ve ever known and into the unknown where my relationship has been forced, into the dark where everything is confusing and uncharted. I have so many questions.

I am groping for familiarity, and yet this path has none to offer. I want something stable to hold onto. I want the familiar faces. Smells. Sounds. I want it all – my family and my love. That’s not possible for me right now. Maybe not for ever. That’s something that I’ve always theoretically known, but have never had to experience the repercussions of firsthand. This is painful.

Familiar. I want the familiar.

I know the one place I can find it: curled up in the loft.

She’s there. Right now. In the loft curled up on the couch, under a big fluffy down blanket, reading about the Stonewall riots. She’s the familiar. She’s the reason to trek into the dark. She’s why I chose to make the hard decision. She’s what will make it feel like home. She’s the familiar face, smell, and sound.

She’s the reason I bought my first turkey.

The Monday Rant

2004-11-22T16:16:00.000-08:00

Okay - so I know I need to get some quality posts in. I know I need to do some real writing. I know I need to do those things, but I'm just not doing them right now. Right now my mind is so full of crap I can't even think straight enough to begin to be creative. Or at least that's how it feels.

I recently had an epiphany about myself while reading O, The Oprah Magazine. I know, how conformist of me. But I realized that I need to disconnect more than I need to connect. I am perhaps overly connected in my relationships. I feel intense connections with most people I meet - it's ridiculous really. Not to mention impractical to be connected to everyone. Sheesh!

Hell, if someone makes a comment on my blog I feel compelled to read theirs. Why? Probably because I hope that the reciprocity factor will make them read mine again. Well no more!! I will only read other's blogs when I have the time and energy to do so. I will only read those I enjoy and not read every commenter's blog because they read mine. I don't even talk to my family every day, why do I think I have time for people I have never even met?

Sometimes I read blogs because they have good writing. Sometimes I read blogs because I like the blogger. But I will no longer read blogs out of obligation. Am I the only one out here doing this? If I am - silly me. If not, well then folks I am officially giving you permission to cut out the pity-blogging. Only blog what enriches your life.

I hope I didn't just alienate everyone in blogland - I'm just thinking out loud. Trying to sift through what's important to keep mental note of and what I can discard. Right now my mind is too cluttered with post-its. I'll go take a walk with Jack. That'll take care of it!

Happy Monday!

SUNDAY

2004-11-21T19:38:00.000-08:00

S - Snow machines were making snow for the ski resorts at Deer Valley - I've never seen that before - it was cool to watch.

U - Understand now that all of the stereotypes about lesbians aren't often true or accurate or helpful. Met bunches of them last night at a community service group for lesbians and they were shockingly straight looking! Hmmmm - who knew?

N - Needed 8 Ibuprofen to get rid of a wretched headache this morning

D - Dined at Olive Garden and had their Alfredo Pizza - YUM!! I highly suggest it!

A - Actually went to a Mormon church today - although only for 17 minutes to sign K.'s name on the roll to give her a break from it. 17 minutes of a 3 hour service - that's gotta be some kind of record!!

Y - Yes, I am going to bed early - it will be lovely. That was a cheater one - huh?

Hiding on the Stairs

2004-11-20T13:53:00.000-08:00

We were crouched on the stairs between the living room and the loft. We were hoping they wouldn’t peek between the blinds. We also hoped they didn’t hear us turn off the TV when we heard them climbing the stairs to the front door.

She didn’t want to see them. I didn’t blame her. I didn’t want to see them either. They were her visiting teachers from church. They were there to judge her, preach to her, “edify” her. She wasn’t interested in any of it. But she couldn’t tell them that. She was still in their grasp and didn’t have the luxury of breaking free. Not right now. So she did the best she could – she hid.

The first time this happened it was a funny game. We giggled at our precarious situation and the hilarity that they could make us feel guilty for making out on the couch without their even knowing it. They were ignorantly standing on the porch preparing their message in their heads; we were panting, red-faced, giggling, and trying to keep our hands off each other.

After the first time, it just became a nuisance. Our monthly ritual of perching on the stairs to avoid the people from church was just another reminder that we were an anomaly. We weren’t normal and didn’t fit in this place. We wouldn’t be accepted as we were and we had to bow to their antiquated version of morality. But what choice did we have?
We console ourselves with one thought: we won’t always have to hide on the stairs.

Fantasy Friday

2004-11-19T09:54:00.000-08:00

It was smaller than she expected.

What exactly was she supposed to do with it?

It was shiny silver, shaped like an Advil liqui-gel, had a long black cord connected to a small remote. The remote's button was shaped like a heart. Like this little tool has anything to do with love she thought sarcastically.

She was afraid of it more than anything else. It was foreign and frightening.

She turned it on and slid the heart shaped button up and down the remote and felt the different speeds in her hand.

She swung it around like a lasso and contemplated what it meant to her to own this thing. This vibrator thing.

She hid it in the toe of her slipper in her closet until that night when she could try it.

Throughout the day she felt giddy every time she thought of it. She had a secret and she liked it. She was feeling less afraid and more anticipation. She felt very liberated and adult to even own this thing. Even if she never worked up the courage to use it, she owned a vibrator. How very Cosmo of her.

Night came. She did too . . .

Now she keeps it under her pillow. She can't stop herself from using it day or night. It's 100% accurate and no fail. She affectionately refers to it as her silver bullet: won't slow you up, never lets you down.

What a great gift.

Every Stop is Neatly Planned for a Poet and a One Man Band . . .

2004-11-18T16:38:00.000-08:00

My highly prized book club is tonight and I should be at the grocery store picking up duck livers to make pate and instead I'm vamping my make-up, changing clothes, and blogging. I'll bring some fresh fruit - everyone likes cantaloupe right??

My real problem is not the lack of pate - the real problem is I missed the call. The call. I was walking Jack and observing doggie behavior and relishing the sunlight and went and missed the most important event of the day. Bugger. (like that Chaz?) Well, there will be other calls. Right??

I've been thinking a lot about writing, especially since I've not had the luxury of the blog lately. So, instead of writing, I've been thinking about writing. More specifically - what makes a writer? One of my professors said "a writer is simply one who writes." Well then - mission accomplished. But I don't completely agree. I want to, but I don't.

A writer finds the intricate, delicate, beautiful balance between fantasy and reality while weaving in truth and imagery to create a sensual experience that communicates the gamut of human emotion. A writer pierces your soul and speaks to you in the voice that you need to hear. A writer observes human nature in a new way that serves as a catalyst for the reader to see human nature in their own new way. A writer entertains, educates, enlightens, expands, engages.

But above all this a writer makes love to the reader with words: with the sounds of the letters that form words that move across the lines that make a page. Those pages make love. The reader gently caresses the pages, wets them with their tears, looks deep into them with their eyes adoringly. Such is the love story of the writer and the reader.

I am making love to you with my words. Do you feel it? It is sensual and slow. I am timidly unveiling myself here for you to see. For you to touch and look at. For me to be lost in your gaze. I know that I am not yet the finest lover . . . but perhaps we can learn to make love beautifully together. I write for you . . .

I'M BACK!!!

2004-11-17T11:30:00.000-08:00

Well, assuming anyone is still checking in - I wanted to let you know I'm back!! I was merely having wretched technical difficulties that were keeping me completely out of the blog-world. My whole computer nearly crashed, and my internet was nowhere to be found and I was feeling cut-off and alone! It was awful, just plain awful! But, now I'm back and I want you to know that I never, ever, ever want to leave you all like that again!!

Here's the update on me - I'll give you all the highlight on what you missed out on . . .

BIRTHDAY:
Well - it was wonderful!! I had a girl party pot-luck with a motley crew of friends and it turned out awesome! There were women there from ages 18-56, there were some who were religious and some who are athiest, some who like to party and some who like punch and cookies! It was soo much fun though - in fact we're gonna all get together again for Christmas. So birthday - a hit!

JACK:
Learning much about dogs and relationships and taking care of someone else. What I've learned? I'm not ready for children - at all!

THE ILLUSTRIOUS "K":
She's a babe! For real! But, things are still really rocky and we're still not together and don't know when we will be again. But in spite of all that she is my best friend still. She started as my best friend and still continues to be my best friend and I'm so lucky for that. (Side Note for Thomas and Charles - I got mine on my birthday)

WORK:
Good again - finally! Being self-employed is a two-edged sword and I have a very hard time getting rolling again after being out of town - so I am finally getting my groove back after being out of town last month and next week I'm leaving again for Turkey Day! Sheesh!

HOLIDAYS:
I would like to burn the sign in Walmart that counts down the days until Christmas - do I really need a reminder every time I need something that I haven't even began my Christmas shopping and I've got less than 45 days?? All it does is make me panic, not buy gifts for my loved ones at the local supercenter! Don't they know anything?

ME:
Well - I miss writing - that's probably the biggest thing that's going on with me. I am feeling like I've lost my mojo and will have to start all over again to get my writing muscles back into shape. I've been mentally writing blogs every day - I have so missed it. This month is Nanowrimo and it's not happening for me. Maybe I'll have my own Nanowrimo in January. That's a better time for it anyway - when you're full of hope and faith and believe you can conquer the world. That's a good idea - I think I'll do it!
Also, I just read "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time" - it's a good one! My book group will be discussing it tomorrow and I'm really looking forward to it!
Also, I moved my office from the basement upstairs and I LOVE IT!! During this time of year sunshine becomes my most valuable commodity, so this is a good move for me!

Well, that's the update - I'm off to read all of you and see what I've been missing (A LOT) and let you all know I"m back!! Thanks for the concern and I'm so glad to be back!! BIG HUGS AND KISSES!!!

Happy Blogaversary Birthday!!

2004-11-01T21:10:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday to Me,
Happy Blogaversary to Me,
Happy 25th Birthday and 1 month Blogaversary,
Happy Birthaversary to Me!!

After such a big day I've no time to share yet!! Tomorrow will include a full acounting - promise - plus all the main course writing as well - well, maybe just soup to start with!! Love you all for the sweet birthday wishes - it's been a terrific day!!

SUNDAY

2004-10-31T20:47:00.000-08:00

S-Swallowed my pride to keep peace today - definitely worth it, I was being pretty immature too.

U-Understand finally why girls have to clench their thighs together after sex . . . or at least I think I do!

N-Nestled deep under the covers until 11 am - except it was only 10 am because of daylight savings - aaahhhhhhh.

D-Drove through a huge blizzard from Park City to Heber, very frightening!! Couldn't go more than 15-20 MPH the whole time, thank God I wasn't driving!

A-Admired the kiddies in their Halloween Costumes, and their determination to brave the snow. Wish I was still that motivated by candy - a simpler time.

Y-Yesterday I dyed my hair a slightly redder shade of strawberry blond than it already is and while curling it today fell in love with the new look!

The Main Course

2004-10-30T08:47:00.000-07:00

I recently read some of the best writing I’ve come across in the blogosphere: www.jennijournal.blogspot.com
(no, I still haven't learned how to link . . . )

She's writing the kind of stuff I want to write. The kind of stuff I need to write. I’ve always said that my writing has an agenda – she says her writing is advocacy writing. I like that much better.

Now I need to find the way to balance the interaction that I love from my blog with honing my craft the way I need to in this blog. BTW, thanks to all of your comments on my pursuit to have more adventurous life experiences. How many people do you know that consider straight sex adventurous? ;)

I hope that you’ll stay tuned, it’s likely to be an exciting adventure. Plus I’ll need much constructive feedback, if you’re willing. I want my readers to be left thinking – this blogger wants her writing to haunt. I’m not sure my writing is as direct, and that’s okay. It’s different. But reading her blog made me realize that I need to not lose sight of why I began this process.

I have written a few flippant stories, shared a few personal stories, and written a lot of fun stuff. But I don’t know that I want all my writing to be dessert. Perhaps some of my writing should be dinner too. Let me know if you’ve had enough meat and potatoes and I’ll make sure you get dessert with your dinner. But, please, don’t miss the main course!

Fantasy Friday: Taking Applications

2004-10-29T08:42:00.000-07:00

In honor of fantasy friday, I would like to place an add for my current fantasy. You see, I am in a place in my life where I need to find a good man to have a nice romp with.

We’re on a break (K. and I) and we’re both going on voyages of self discovery. Well, if that’s what we’re doing then the only thing I feel like I have missed out on is sex with a man. Never had it. Would like to try it. Would be a good life experience for me to have, I think. That’s the discovery I choose to make at this point in my life.

So, here’s what I’d like:

1) Someone who will respect me in the morning
2) Someone who isn’t a slut – I know that’s subjective, but according to me, no sluts
3) Someone who isn’t married, I won’t be the other woman (only in role-play situations, wink, wink!)
4) Someone who will last at least an hour, this may be the only time I have intercourse with a man, I want it to be good.
5) Someone who will cuddle afterwards.
6) Someone who will give me foreplay beforehand – and lots of it!
7) Someone who is STD free – no negotiations on this one.
8) Someone who is a great kisser – really, really great kisser
9) Someone who will be gentle – it’s my first time . . . kind of.
10) Someone who won’t kiss and tell, I don’t want to be fodder for locker-room talk.
11) Someone who thinks I’m gorgeous.
12) Someone who’s a boob man . . . enough said.
13) Someone who’s up for the menage. Hey, if your good, I may want to share . . .
14) If #13 comes to pass someone who can make two people feel special at the same time, is good in complicated situations, and who has LOTS of stamina.
15) Last but not least, someone I (or maybe we) find attractive.

Now, I’m willing to provide a photo of myself if you’re willing to provide one of yourself. I may be open to repeat encounters, if all goes well. I’d like to be wined and dined before I’m sixty-nined please. And last of all, I’m accepting applications now.

Thank You.

Nice Day For a White Wedding

2004-10-28T11:18:00.000-07:00

I've decided that weddings are all wrong.

There are too many women who shouldn't wear big, fluffy, white wedding dresses. And too many men who shouldn't wear tailored, stiff tuxedos.

Your wedding day is supposed to be your day, shouldn't you get to wear whatever you goddam please? Not only that, but wouldn't it be much more fun to attend weddings that way?

We need a wedding fairy - I know most male wedding planners are, ha ha - I don't mean that kind. I mean a fairy - a wedding fairy. One who will flit down from where ever and with the touch of their wand transform us into our most flattering and most true, authentic versions of ourselves.

Some people would be draped in silks, others in bright cottons, some in denim - but everyone would be beautiful and unique and feel like they had stepped into their second skin.

How fun would that be? How much more interesting? And how much more would the bride and groom, or bride and bride, or groom and groom enjoy their big day?

Lots I'd say.

Sick and Tired

2004-10-27T21:12:00.000-07:00

I'm sick. And Tired.

Discipline - Or Lack Thereof

2004-10-26T21:16:00.000-07:00

Well, when I first began this blog I mentioned that I have a discipline problem. And I don't mean talking out of turn in class - I mean the self-discipline kind. It is bad folks. So bad. In fact, my on-a-break-GF (whom I will now refer to only as K. from here on out) is working on a Phd in clinical psychology and administered a personality inventory to me called the NEO-PI-R. Through this test I found out that I have less discipline than 93% of the population - oh yeah, it's bad.

Have I mentioned I work for myself?? From home! Yeah. Presents a bit of a problem. On a regular basis I do okay - but being out of town for a week (yes that was a week and a half ago, I know) really broke my groove and I am still trying to get back into the swing of things.

Lately I've become the master of creative avoidance. Although all the closets in my house are completely organized for the first time since I moved in nearly a year ago - so at least I'm getting something done. That even includes the coat closet I'd been avoiding for months - sparkling organized and labeled!!

But, of course, organizing closets doesn't pay the mortgage now does it?? So, tomorrow I vow to all of blogland to get my ass back to work!! And, according to K. the only way to develop discipline is to do things you don't want to do the minute you think of them and don't want to do them. YUCK!! Any better ideas to teach me discipline??

Looking Back

2004-10-25T19:18:00.000-07:00

20 YEARS AGO:
1) I was starting kindergarden
2) I was about to get a new baby brother
3) I moved to a new home

15 YEARS AGO:
1) I found out I am "gifted" and was dreading going to the "special" class
2) I had my first boyfriend and we wrote love notes to eachother in Sunday School (ya know, the "check yes or no" kind)
3) I got my ears pierced and got my first bikinni all courtesy of my aunt who's 10 years my senior

10 YEARS AGO:
1) I was counting down the days 'til my 16th birthday and I could finally date - yippee!
2) I was falling for my first puppy love boyfriend that would last most of highschool
3) I found out that I could write and also that I could act - such fun!

5 YEARS AGO:
1) I was about to become engaged and wondered how to juggle my sexual relationship with another girl and also get married.
2) I was beginning therapy to deal with my abusive history with some awful men in my life
3) I was taking an amazing folklore class in which I first questioned Mormonism

4 YEARS AGO:
1) I was teaching the women's group at my church and being repremanded by the bishop for being too open minded and modern in what I thought and taught
2) I was kissing random boys - NCMO is what they call it here (non-commital make out) to prove to myself that I still liked boys even though I was essentially with another woman - f'ed up, I know
3) I drove half-way across the country and had the best road-trip of my life!!

3 YEARS AGO:
1) I was working at a Market Research firm doing HR and loving working with people
2) I was taking a French Lit class and dreaming of Paris . . .
3) I was serving on the board of a Feminist group at BYU - a minority group to say the least!!

2 YEARS AGO:
1) I turned in my Step-Grandfather to the authorities for sexual abuse and was disowned by my mom's entire family for it.
2) I graduated from college!!
3) I began my Mary Kay business and was loving feeling so girly all the time!

1 YEAR AGO:
1) I was trying to put my family back together and help my mom recover from a home invasion and being raped
2) I closed on my first home! My cute little 4 bed, 2 and 1/2 bath, with a loft, and a real back yard, darling little house of my own!!
3) I had my first pina colada - actually my first drink of any kind and I liked it!

SUNDAY

2004-10-24T19:31:00.000-07:00

S - Shopping in Park City and a new camel-colored corduroy button-up shirt

U - Umbrellas dotting the city because of rain, and even some snow - umbrellas don't work in snow though

N - New ideas shared at a gathering of like minded individuals where I felt free to express myself

D - Drinking hard cranberry lemonade with dinner - YUM!

A - Acquiescing to those lips and wondering what the consequences will be

Y - You invading my thoughts even though you are far away - yearning for you to be closer . . .

Saturday's Random Stuff

2004-10-23T13:47:00.000-07:00

It's Saturday so I am hereby giving myself official permission to write about random stuff that's stuck in my head in no particular order or fashion without the aid of rhetoric or figurative language in a potentially boring and hodgpodge melee of thoughts.

Taaaddaaa!

Okay, so my 21st day of habitual daily posting came and went without me even being aware. I feel kind of feel like Jack must feel when he gives me that blank look of utter confusion. Dogs do that look way better than any person I've ever met. It's like he's hearing Charlie Brown adult-speak and thinks I've lost it. That's how I feel - how'd I miss my all-important 21st day?

Anywho, why does all asian candy come in that gelatenous rice-paper stuff that's supposed to dissolve or something but it takes too long and ruins the whole experience? Goo. White Rabbits really are wonderful little vanilla tootsie-esque candies, but that stuff around 'em is so ooky. It doesn't quite come off either - it's just there to make you nuts I guess.

Teeth - ya know? They're strong and useful and smooth, yet sensitive at times - kind of like you want a good man to be. Oh yeah - I did just compare teeth to men. Also, both like to be licked. (so I hear, or something . . .) Also, both need to be polished. And, both taste and smell better when freshly cleaned. Hmmm, men and teeth. Hmmmm. There ya go - I blogged about teeth!

Okay, riddle me this. Cigarette smokers in the year 2004 - what the hell? Did they just miss the memo about smoking killing you softly? Did they miss the memo on it damaging everyone around them? I dunno. Can something that stinky really taste that good? I know, some of you may be smokers - I don't mean to offend, it's just a phenomena I don't get. That's all. Ooohhhh, oohhh I know. I know. Also, stains your teeth - and like a man makes them yucky. Heh heh heh.

Okay kids - I'm about done with blathering all over my blog. I believe I've hit an all-time low on quality in my blog . . . meh. Such is life. No, that was not an apology for the record! You're like teeth - you're a good man.

I'm out.

Fantasy Friday

2004-10-22T14:07:00.000-07:00

I'm just getting warmed up,
Be gentle, I'm new at this . . .

She ran through the front door and slammed it behind her with a thwack. She would never allow this to happen again - she was done with this relationship. Period. How could she continue to allow herself to be treated this way? She couldn't and she knew it.

She was still in her yoga pants and sneakers from the gym, so she decided a run would do her some good. Besides, she left her car keys on the coffee table and was not about to go back inside to get them. She raced down the pavement as if she were being chased. In a way she was. She was outrunning the cruel words, the anger, the fear, the resentment. She had loved for so long and never imagined it would end like this. But it was, whether she wanted it to or not.

Her breathing was becoming heavier and she could feel a light sweat beading around her temples, causing her hair to curl in small tendrils around her face. She could feel her back begin to relax as she ran and she was enjoying the quiet whoosh at her ears. She loved the blur her neighborhood became when she ran like this. Soon she was distracted by the sounds of dogs barking, basketballs dribbling on driveways, and kids giggling. She forgot why she started this run and began to enjoy it.

Before she’d even realized it she was at the park three miles from home. Her feet knew the park trail as well as they knew the layout of her condo. She was heading toward the bike path by the creek. She smiled to herself as she entered the cover of the aspens. This was her place. Her space. She’d been here hundreds of times before and each time she felt a sense of wonder and discovery. She never grew weary of this trail. She loved this path for all the tears it had seen her cry, all the victories it had watched her celebrate, and for the solace and peace it provided. It was here for her, no matter what.

“Hey” she heard behind her. She suddenly realized she was in a public park and not in her own private forest. She turned her neck around without breaking her pace. She turned to see him. He came here almost as much as she did. Welcoming this distraction she returned his greeting. He caught up with her easily and matched her gait. She became instantly aware of the sweat trickling down between her breasts. His nearness had that effect on her. She was self-conscious of her unruly curls. He was gorgeous. She always reverted back to a giddy teenager when he jogged this trail with her. But still, she was so glad to see him.

They ran in silence for a while. She could hear his breath coming out in tiny spurts. She loved the rhythm of his run. He was so smooth and agile. She began to fantasize about how this would translate into the bedroom. She had played the scene in her mind dozens of times. He would be a gentle lover – but firm too. He would thrust deep and methodically with those spurts of breath becoming closer and closer together the further they went. She would gasp and grip his back. He would wipe her hair from her face. She would bite her lip and try to keep from screaming his name.

He broke into her fantasy. “We’re here!” he exclaimed “and you keep up every time, I’m impressed.” She looked around to see they had made it to the falls. She was blushing deeply. She prayed he wouldn’t know what she’d been thinking. “So we are” she responded, “that didn’t take long did it?” “Nope” he answered, “hey, you seem distracted today, what’s goin’ on?” “Nothing” she murmured. “You sure?” he pressed. “No” she finally began to talk “we got into another fight . . . I think it’s really over this time . . . I’m so scared and confused and . . . I just feel . . . I don’t know” “Hey, it’s gonna be okay . . . do you need a hug?” he asked and flashed her his dimpled grin. “Yes” she melted “actually, that sounds wonderful.”

She felt his strong arms reach deftly around her waist and pull her close. She worried that she was too sweaty, but soon those feelings dissolved as she felt his breath on her neck. She became keenly aware of her breasts against his chest. She felt his shoulders underneath her hands. She reached to his cheek and ran her finger along his jaw, and up to his lips. She looked into his eyes with longing. He had the same look in the back of his eyes too. She felt his hands travel down her back. Soon his lips were on hers . . .

Okay – this is waaaayyyy harlequin – but that’s my first attempt! There ya go folks, do with it what you will.

Bliss

2004-10-21T21:22:00.000-07:00

Bliss.
Pure bliss.

Bliss is the grey day and my sunny insides

Bliss is having the right CD in the car when a certain mood strikes

Bliss is seeing my former editing professor and her telling me there was no need to introduce myself again

Bliss is keeping a girlfriend on her lunch break for nearly 3 hours because you have that much to talk about

Bliss is having someone to discuss a good book with

Bliss is being looked at like you’re the most beautiful woman in another person’s life

Bliss is introducing myself to a group of strangers as a lesbian and having nobody even bat an eyelash

Bliss is walking the dog in a drizzle of rain and running home when it begins to pour and laughing about it

Bliss is being told that your make-up is flawless

Bliss is finally grasping who you are and who you want to become

Bliss is getting an invitation to a pagan bon-fire-burn-your-past ritual

Bliss is having the right accessories to create that perfect outfit

Bliss is knowing (even for just a moment) that what your parents think doesn’t matter

Bliss is having someone wonderful dying to be part of your life

Bliss is discussing a good book and saying something insightful

Bliss is being given a long overdue apology and having the security to accept it and begin again

Bliss is feeling thin, pretty, and intelligent all at the same time

Bliss is the calm in your heart that eventually she will be yours for keeps

Bliss is a day like today

My Love

2004-10-20T21:47:00.000-07:00

I find myself refusing to turn and walk away.
I hope that you’ll be here soon.

I want to be in your space and so I linger because there is a chance that you may return.

You captivate me.
You inspire me.
You make me feel.

You make me feel.

The rain is falling onto my face and ruining my perfect hair day.
The chill is biting through my freshly starched cotton shirt.
My newly conditioned leather shoes are being stained.
None of this matters if you return.
It will have been worth it.

You are my gravity.
You are my meridian.

I don’t care if that’s healthy or not
It just is.
That is who you are to me.

My world would cease to spin without your presence.
My world never spun before you entered it.
Just knowing that you exist comforts me.

Your smell wafts through the rain and my heart leaps.
Are you approaching??
Was it my imagination??
It smells like coming home.

I want to tell you,
but those three words feel pale and shallow.
I feel so much more than that.

Thunder strikes and breaks my trance.
I have much to do
I cannot wait, I must go
I hope to return to this place
I hope when I do
You will be there to greet me . . .

My love.

Those Damned Mormons!

2004-10-19T16:53:00.000-07:00

I know - politics. This is not a political blog. I think we all know that. However, there is something political brewing that is affecting me personally.

It's Amendment 3 of the Utah state constitution. It prohibits ANY rights of ANY kind to ANY non-married partnership. Yes, that includes common-law marriages as well as gay partnerships.

Now, I've been tolerating the exorbitant amount of "Yes on 3" posters around here and even remained faithful that it may not pass. But today I heard something that has dashed all hope. The Mormons. (Now before you think I'm being a hater, I'm not. I'm just a recovering Mormon trying to make sense of how I ever was able to go along with all of it.)

Yep, that's right - the LDS church took an official stance on the issue. They issued a statement today saying that they support all legislation that prohibits the rights of gay couples and promotes traditional marriage. They pretty much told the 75% of Utah's population who are LDS how to vote on this issue. Has anyone ever heard of separation between church and state?? Am I the only one here?? Is this thing on??

Alright, fine. They have every right to their opinions. But the execution of those opinions is manipulative at best. Here they are "God's mouthpiece" telling their congregates exactly how to behave. "Whether from the voice of my servants or mine own voice, it is the same" This is a blatant abuse of power.

Let's not even mention the fact that these people bring new meaning to the word queer! They were fucking polygamists less than 100 years ago! Oh, a man loving a man monogamously is weird and unhealthy, but a man loving 50 women is perfectly normal and healthy human behavior!?

Not to mention their general policy for admittance to their sacred temples. One of the pre-requisites is that you cannot ever question or challenge anything said by any of the church authorities. Period. To do so is blasphemy and apostasy. No room for freedom of thought - bad. And they wonder why they're classified as a cult in some circles. Given that nugget of information, Amendment 3 is as good as in.

I know that they're just trying to do right by their God, but ya know what?? He's my God too. And I cannot conceive of a "God of love" having the hatred that these people do for their fellow man.

Bloggin'

2004-10-18T21:18:00.000-07:00

Today I want to blog about blogging. I was recently reading Edge’s blog (www.windingcrookedtrails.blogspot.com) and he talked about blogging. He managed to take the words that I hadn’t even realized I’d been thinking right out of my head and verbalize them better than I could have even said it myself. I wanted to share with you what he wrote and know that while they’re his words, I share the sentiment completely. So in regards to being a blogger . . .

“In most cases it would appear that my fellow bloggers (me included) desire to maintain their anonymity in spite of, or most likely because of, their tendency to divulge feelings intimate and raw right here on the world wide web on a regular basis..............yet beyond the desire (need?) to keep such confessions a secret from real life friends, family, employers, etc., there is an even greater need to have these expressed intimacies and exposures to be seen, shared, commented upon, and discussed by and with others creating a phenomenon whereby a previously unknown group of veritable strangers share what even those closest to us are denied. Even more incredible maybe is how good it feels to let these people in, to see inside of them, to get their raw emotions, their lowest lows and highest highs, unscrubbed, uncensored, unrehearsed. I'm not surprised blogging is the new chat. Actually blogging is to chat what sex is to a handshake. I'm not without a considerable variety of life experiences but I have to say the past couple of months exploring the blogworld have been delightfully eye opening for me. I especially love connecting with someone that I would in no other way have experienced and it's even better when it defies convention. I've always loved defying convention. Long live gut wrenching passion, heartfelt connections, and the freedom to indulge without restraint.”

Don’t we all agree!?!? I’m not sure why I am a blogger, why I feel I can express to you what I can’t to my family. (for the record, she does read this, but she’s the only one) But I do know that blogging is one of the most fulfilling things I’ve done for myself in a very long time. It gives me absolute freedom of expression and a medium to feel creative and uncensored. So, thank you fellow bloggers for giving me a gift that even my own family could not.

Autonomy

2004-10-17T20:42:00.000-07:00

Autonomy.

What the fuck is autonomy.
She wants it and I don’t even know what it is.
Okay, according to Microsoft it’s independence, sovereignty, freedom, liberty, self-rule.
Huh??

Okay, so she wants something that by it’s very definition makes it impossible for me to give to her.
Women.
So, back off D.
I can’t.

How am I supposed to do that?? I’m a girl – girls get scared and insecure, Scared and insecure equals needy and clingy, not independent and self-reliant.
Another quandary.

I’m f’ed.
That’s all there is to it.
This situation is f’ed up.
Bottom line.

Fine – be that way.
You want to find your “voice”. . . well good for you – have an f’in hay day!
I’ll just find my voice too – oh wait. I don’t need to!!!
If anything I need to lose part of my voice – I’ve got voice coming out of my ears!
Dammit!
Sheesh!
Geez!

Hell, if I had anymore voice I’d be . . . something with a TON of voice that I can’t think of.
Gosh!

But I LOVE YOU! Doesn’t that mean anything??

Okay – space.
Give you space.
Fine . . .
I’ll go sleep in the other room, go to lunch with other people, not tell you when I’ll be home in the evenings, won't ask about your day, won't let you read what I just wrote, cook for me only, watch my shows that you hate, walk the dog alone, and make other plans on the weekends.
No biggie!

BUT I DON’T WANNA!!
But hon, that’s what she needs.

She needs it to know that she is strong without me. She needs it because she never had a voice in her whole life and for the last 7 years she’s been borrowing mine and now she’s finally strong enough to go and find her own.

I can give her that time.
I can give her that space.
I’m sure that somehow I’m stronger than I even think.

In the meantime, I’ll be using my voice here . . .

Mojo

2004-10-16T21:39:00.000-07:00

In Arizona men flirt with me while I’m driving.
In Utah they don’t.
They think I’ll mistake their advances as more than just flirting and begin planning our nuptials.

In Arizona men ask for my number while I’m ordering Chinese take-out.
In Utah they avoid eye contact.

I look the same in both places: dress, make-up, hair, figure, shoes, accessories, etc.

In Utah I have no mojo . . . I’d like to believe no one does. In Arizona I ooze mojo and I like the way men in Arizona make me feel.

I like to feel pretty. There. I said it. Hah!

In Arizona however, women flirt with me too. Some of them won't admit that this is what they're doing though – since Mormons aren’t gay.

They will insist that the next time I’m in town "let me take you to dinner and a movie". A date.

I make an attempt to gracefully turn her down. I can’t just be direct: I only date lipsticks. I just can’t – since she’s just being “friendly” and all.

But she's not just being friendly, she has alterior motives, she’s a dyke: mullet-esque hair, too many keys, little make-up, ugly tattoo on her ankle, 35 and never a serious relationship with a man – a butch dyke.
That’s great for her, but I only date lipsticks. This is not the mojo I want.

In Utah women don't flirt with me since nobody's gay.
Everyone's so far in the back corner of the closet that they don't even get to see me trying to work my mojo magic.
Sheesh.

The universal mojo I want has me being hit on regularly.
I like to be flirted with.
I like to have others laugh at my jokes.
I like to be looked at with appreciation.

Therefore, I expect all of you to flirt with me.
In Arizona sometimes the wrong people flirt with me . . . in Utah sometimes nobody flirts with me . . . and in the blogasphere I want to be like the bored housewife – I want everyone to flirt with me.

Shamelessly.

No Regrets

2004-10-15T23:59:00.000-07:00

He clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and blew out his breath slowly through his teeth. He was not looking forward to what he was about to do. He knew he had to, but that didn’t make it any easier. He stood there on the dimly lit front porch and rehearsed what he would say. It always sounded so ridiculous, even to himself. If he didn’t believe it, how could he make them believe it.

This isn’t going to work he thought. This was a bad idea. They’ll never forgive me and nothing will ever be the same. He couldn’t help but let his mind drift to all the things that would be permanently altered after tonight. All of the heart-felt hellos and having someone he could count on pick up his mail while he was out of town. Who would be there for him to help him unload heavy furniture or give him advice on how to get rid of the dandelions in the yard?? It would never be them again. They would look the other way when he pulled into his driveway. They would ignore his dog when it would come over to play fetch with the kids waiting for the bus. He had ruined all the camaraderie between them.

He had been standing there several minutes and realized he couldn’t put it off any longer. He gulped and knocked. They were at the door in a moment. They beamed when they saw him and gave him an enthusiastic greeting. He relished the moment, he knew it would be the last like it after he told them the truth. “Harold,” he began “I’m truly sorry, I backed over your cat . . . ”

Not Applicable

2004-10-14T22:38:00.000-07:00

The detective led me back into a room in the far corner of the building. It had blue foam walls and a long table with 3 folding chairs. It wasn't anything like the mural of the bottom of the ocean in the waiting room. It was scary.

There were lots of wires and microphones and the telephone. He told me that he would write me notes on the yellow legal pad. Then I'd know what to say. She was there with me. If she hadn't, I wouldn't have been there myself. He asked me if I was ready - I lied and said yeah. He dialed and told me to just act natural. As if there was anything remotely natural about this situation.

The phone rang 4 times before he answered. He was trying to act natural too. I could feel his facade becoming more intricate the more we spoke. He was retreating and I couldn't lure him out of it. He knew. I can't even begin to imagine how, but he knew. He said things that he never would have said normally.

The police must have bought it because he didn't go to prison for the rest of his life. When he didn't I thought I would. I would crawl deep inside myself and lock the door, hide the key, and never come out. I didn't. She was there. She wouldn't let me imprison myself for him.

"Hail the Conquering Hero" -or- "Irony"

2004-10-13T23:16:00.000-07:00

Fear is universal. Fear is intimidating. Fear is . . . well . . . frightening.

I overcame some fears today. I said what I feared to say. I faced what I wanted to avoid. I felt some uncomfortable things and lived through it.

As many of you have commented to me in the short history of my blog: confronting fear is the catalyst for growth. It's true. Try it!

I constantly think of and write about and discuss the person I want to be. She is wise, insightful, empathetic, brilliant, understanding, and experienced. The only way to be that person is through growth. One key way to grow is to confront fear. Therefore, I am working on becoming the person I want to be.

Then why was I so afraid to do it??

Table For One

2004-10-12T19:08:00.000-07:00

Everybody feels it. No one wants to admit that they do, but they do. Or they have.

You don’t know when it will come. You can’t prepare. It stalks you relentlessly. It feeds on your weakness and vulnerability. It leaves you feeling suffocated. Stifled. Smothered. Selfish.

It leaves you feeling isolated.

You have only one option at this time. There is only one thing you can do to defend yourself. It is cruel, but it is your only hope. You must. You are desperate. You must invite everyone you know, no matter how far away they feel, to join you. You must throw a pity party.

You Are Invited!!!

Who: You!! And all members of the blogging community are welcome!

What: To wallow with me in isolation at my biggest Pity Party of the year!

When: Now!! Later!! Whenever you can make it!!

Where: Here, at my blog!

Why: Because I feel isolated and just plain SHITTY!

RSVP: To Haloscan in the comment box!

Role Reversal

2004-10-11T23:09:00.000-07:00

There are times in our lives when certain relationships get turned on their ear.

This is one of those times for me. I am the parent, my mother the child. I am the caretaker, my mother needs care. After all my mom has been through in the past year it isn't surprising - but that doesn't make it any easier. I don't begrudge this role, but I don't relish it either.

I am back home in Arizona today and will be here all week. I am here to be the mom. I will take care of my mom, feed my dad, wipe the tears, pay the bills, give the advice, make the decisions, clean the house, and answer the phones. I am mom.

My only complaint is that I need a mom right now too . . .

What I want you to learn from me . . .

2004-10-10T09:32:00.000-07:00

Before I start I want to celebrate my 10th day of blogging in a row!! Yipee!! I'm nearly halfway to habit status – with the daily post that is!! So thrilled with this whole thing!! Thank you for all of your support!! Okay, now for my official post . . .

I want you to learn something good from me. I don’t know that I will be able to teach you, but I do so much want to. I do want to teach you something good.

I want us to grow as a result of our knowing each other. I want to teach you important things about who you are. I want you to learn about who I am as well.

I want you to learn how to accept a compliment – how to embrace it and cherish it. Believe it and become it. I want to teach you how to tuck it away like the gift that it is. Then you can retrieve it when you need it.

I want you to see how grateful I am for what you teach me. What you bring out in me. You offer the gift of laughter and I want you to know that is a rare gift you possess.

I want you to learn that it’s okay to just take sometimes. Just take and let someone else do the giving. I want you to have an important relationship where you don’t have to be the rock. I am strong too. You don’t always have to be dependable and perfect – you can have weaknesses. That makes you no less whole.

I want you to see what I see, hear what I hear, and feel what I feel as a result of your nearness. You need to know your light, your good. You need to be fully aware. Do not hide it. Do not be ashamed. “By you letting your light shine, you unconsciously give others permission to let their light shine also.”

You are great.
Be great.
Love great.
Live great.

I want to enjoy you and I want you to enjoy me. I want to teach you not because I want to possess you, but because I want to behold the beauty of this symbiotic relationship.

I want to educate you on the ways of the fairer sex, the adventure of exploration, the coming of age of individuals. I want these things for you because you are my friend. Because you are special. Because you have meaning in my life.

These are the things I want you to learn from me.

2004-10-09T18:02:00.000-07:00

I want to resonate.

Like an old Stradivarius I want my writing to reverberate from the core of your soul.

I want you to recognize the pitch – it should be crystal clear.
And perfect.

Is it euphonious to you?

You should long to replay my words over and over,
Like a good symphony.

I want you to never grow weary of them.

I want to move you.
I want to change your mood.
Your feelings.
Your beliefs.

I want my words to shape your view of beauty.
They’re precious . . . my words.

I want sonnets to pour from my fingertips.
I want prose that rhythmically washes over you in waves.

I want to warm your tired feet.

I want words . . .
my words . . .
to feel like home.

I want to create those words.
That prose.
That meaning.

Then I will be understood

Mom and Dad

2004-10-08T10:46:00.000-07:00

He knew he loved her. He was 14 years old, but that didn’t change what he knew in his heart was true, or, what he was creating as truth. Either way, he was in love . . . with her. She was 17 and had just graduated from high school. He didn’t stand a chance. Her dad was his Boy Scout leader. Another strike against him. Or, was it the very thing that would set their romance into motion?

That summer he went to a Boy Scout activity at her house. They were all in the backyard pool swimming with the scout master, her father. It was a typical summer afternoon until she came out to do laundry. His world stopped, frozen, it stood absolutely still. She was beautiful. Her slight frame and light hair both seemed to sway with the breeze as she hung her clothes to dry. She glanced towards the pool with a faraway grin and he caught her eye. She has the most amazing green eyes. Their eyes met and she smiled. This gave him hope. He knew he had to do something fast. He’d been watching her and loving her for two years. The rumor was that she was moving out this summer. He had to do something, he’d put this off long enough. He mumbled something about using the bathroom to her dad and went off to talk to her.

She was heading back into the laundry room and he saw his chance.

He looked up at her “Hey S.! How’s it goin’ now that you don’t have to go to school anymore?”

She kindly replied “Good. How about you? You excited to go to Mesa High this year??”

Could she have made the chasm between them any wider?? The obvious age gap was growing bigger by the second. He was fidgeting as they spoke. Stepping on and off of an overturned laundry bucket. Eye level. Too short. Eye level. Too young. Eye level. No chance. He stayed on the bucket this time.

“S. Can I tell you something? It’s kind of a secret.”

“Of course L., is everything okay?”

“No, not that kind of secret – a good secret! C’mere! Closer . . . closer . . . I need to whisper it, ya gotta come closer.”

Then it happened. He grabbed the back of her neck and planted one on her while perched up on the laundry bucket. Fireworks. Perfection. Satiation.

They parted and S. cried “L. what are you doing?”

L. grinned wider than he ever had in all his life and ran through the gate and cannon-balled back into the pool! She stood there completely shocked. He saw her shock and that gave him hope.

Disturbance

2004-10-07T11:15:00.000-07:00

Anger. It’s always anger. That doesn’t even make sense – it should be confusion, apathy, maybe even frustration, but anger?? Okay, so I’m not always home when she goes to bed, is that a crime? For the record, two nights ago I was working late. Then, last night, I had a birthday party to attend. These are legitimate reasons for not going to bed with her. It’s not like I was upstairs watching Letterman and refused to come to bed. I wasn’t blogging and deliberately not going to bed when I should. I know she has to get up early, but so do I . . . rarely. But still! Why anger? She even had the nerve to say that if I come home and she’s already in bed, she wants me to go sleep in another room. She was that angry. She never would have said that 7 years ago.

Our freshman year of college we invented reasons to sleep together in our dorm-sized beds. I don’t know how our roommates just smiled and nodded, but they did. Of course then we had no clue that there was a romance brewing. We just wanted to sleep – literally sleep – together. Is that so odd? We would complain that the old dorm rooms were too cold so we were cuddling for warmth. I told my roommate that she had night terrors and had to come sleep in our room . . . in my bed . . . with me.

It was easier on the weekends. Her roommate slept at her boyfriend’s over the weekends and we could just sleep together in her room, no questions asked. Then, to our delight, we got to move to the new dorms and choose roommates!! Bliss. Well, I’m not sure how but all that sleeping together and holding and touching led to . . . more touching. It took five years for us to actually acknowledge the reality of our relationship. That was just two little years ago and now – now she’s angry when I wake her up to come to bed. My, oh my, how times have changed.

New and Improved!!

2004-10-06T08:53:00.000-07:00

EEK!! I began this post this morning, but had to put it on hold because one thing led to another and I had much stuff to do . . . including playing make-up with a bored housewife I know. Then I am finally getting this posted and I noticed she (the widely read and talented bored housewife) had a link to my site and the last thing I posted was monumentally heavy stuff. So, good thing this is here now . . . I'm trying to build a readership!! Okay, here's today's blog - better late than never??

There is an inevitability of having to let go of the past and find yourself, and your place in this world independent of your role in your family of origin. But, even though we let go of many things, none of us are ready to truly let go of everything from our past. No matter how shitty your upbringing may have been, there were bright spots. Things that you love, care about, have passion for. Things that you want to integrate into the rest of your life. You have to let go while retaining certain things that keep you connected to the good stuff. The phoenix that keeps that one red-gold feather to be reborn from.

Now, I had tremendously great parents - they weren't perfect and didn't do everything right, but they did a lot of things right. The one thing lately that has made me really feel connected to all the bright things in my past, without giving up my present is Tide. Yep, that's right the laundry detergent. I know this may seem like an obscure tie to my past, but it connects me to home. It is symbolic of a time in my life when everything was fluffy soft and smelled good and was just taken care of without my even knowing how.

Life's different now. Nothing gets taken care of without me knowing how it happened because it's my job to take care of things. There aren't as many aspects of my life wrapped in warm cuddliness. Life is good. But sometimes it's nice to go home. That's a rare treat, home isn't the same when you go back. But that smell, takes me back without even leaving my new home and my new life. That smell is the plane in which everything good about the past, present, and future all come together and I am surrounded in fresh, clean, good stuff. Enjoy your laundry . . .

A Letter to a Felon

2004-10-05T08:59:00.000-07:00

A.,
My name is D., I am S.’s daughter. I don’t want you to ever hurt anyone again. It is for that reason only that I am writing you this letter. My father said that you seemed genuinely remorseful for the crime you committed against my mother. He said you seemed ashamed of the awful abuse and violence you forced into my family’s lives. I hope that your remorse was real. I hope that I’m not being a fool for actually believing you are capable of such a compassionate emotion. I hope that you can truly change and that you will never hurt anyone again.

Somehow your redemption would give me my faith in humanity back. I want you to change, I want you to be happy, I want you to heal from the hurt that must have been done to you in order for you to be capable of hurting someone else. I want you to be able to overcome all of the challenges that you’ve had to deal with and become a whole, clean person. I want you to be free of alcohol, drugs, abuse, and the cancerous hate that is somewhere inside of you. I don’t know who hurt you, I don’t even know that somebody did. But I do know that you hurt my mom. You hurt my family. You hurt me. Somehow your actions make me feel connected to you in some way and that thought disgusts me. You are one of the last people on earth I want to feel connected to. Yet, your well being is so important to me.

It is so important to me that you overcome your abusive tendencies. I know that I don’t have a clue as to who you are, but I really don’t think you’re a truly evil and malicious person. I think you are a person who is desperate, hurting, sick, and feels powerless. These feelings can be a violent combination. I know what it’s like to be hurt and powerless – I’ve been hurt. But I don’t use drugs, drink alcohol, or hurt other people. I choose not to perpetuate a cycle of violence. I want good things for humanity, I hope that you will want only good things for yourself and those around you too.

I feel very afraid and vulnerable writing this letter, but I felt it was something I needed to do. I would like to receive a letter in response that says that you are sorry. I want to hear that you would never dream of committing such a crime if you were sober. I want to know that you take responsibility for your actions and that you are striving to change. I ache to hear remorse from you. Your remorse wouldn’t undo the damage you’ve done to me, or to my family, but it would be a positive step in healing. Please don’t respond unless you can honestly offer these, or similar, sentiments. May God be with you as you seek to change, make amends, and heal your heart.

Sincerely,
D.

10 Things That May Surprise You About Me

2004-10-04T08:42:00.000-07:00

1) I hate chocolate! I know, how can I be a proper girl and hate chocolate - I don't know, I just do. It's yucky. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good European chocolate from time to time, but just one, no more please. It gives me headaches and tastes . . . kinda yucky.

2) I was engaged to be married in 2000. He and I went to highschool together, in fact we went to our Senior Prom together! We lost track for a few years and then got back into touch and it blossomed from there. But, it moved to fast and was doomed from the beginning. What goes up, must come down. I felt like I was engaged with "tons of fabulous prizes" - his family is LOADED!! They bought me a new car, I was wearing a $5,000 ring on my finger, and we got to choose our honeymoon to anywhere in the world . . . it was a fairytale situation. Except - I didn't love him. Scratch that, I wasn't in love with him - I actually loved him very much. So, needless to say it didn't work out. He was crushed - for about 6 months and then he was engaged again and is now happily married! Congrats B. you deserve happiness!! Plus, my love story was brewing before then, during then, and still is today - more on that later!

3) I've celebrated solstace in Alaska! It was incredible!! I was there with my mom, grandmother (granny), and great grandmother (granny h.) so it was a 4 generations trip. It wasn't exactly planned that way from the beginning, but that's how it ended up and I'm so grateful that it did because it was an amazing trip! If you've never been to Alaska, my advice is go!! And go during solstace. The sun never quite sets and there are kiddies playing in the yards at midnight!! There are myriads of festivals and fun stuff to do and see. Plus, the flowers (because they've been getting sun 24/7) are the size of your head!! Unbelievable!

4) I was the Student Body Vice President of my highschool of 2,700 students! Pretty neat. I thought so at least.

5) I am a Mary Kay Sales Director. That's what I do for a living and I LOVE IT!! I love being my own boss! It's all I've done since I graduated from college two and a half years ago and it has worked out. I now am proud to own a beautiful home of my own, have my own schedule, and someday I'll have "Fuck 'em all money" too! No, I don't have my pink cadillac yet - but you just wait, I will soon!!

6) I love to eat lemons and limes whole - with salt! I've done it since I was a little tiny kid - I love the sour and refreshing flavor. So crisp and light, yum!

7) I have been with my GF/Spouse/Soul Mate/Partner for 7 years!! How can that be, you ask?? But number two says you were engaged just 4 years ago!! I know, it's a bizar situation. Here's the thing - I was raised in the LDS church, as was she, and so when we met our freshman year of college and fell in love shortly thereafter, we didn't even realize that's what was happening. We were so naive and didn't have the experience to identify what was happening since it was with a member of the same sex. So the engaged stint in 2000, I think it was my last valiant effort to be normal. Such an ugly way to put it, but I don't want to say straight because I'm not completely a lesbian either. Hmm, how to explain?? Are you familiar with the Kinsey scale?? I'm probably smack dab in the middle. Now, don't go thinking I'm a bisexual either, none of those labels really quite fit. I'm just me. And I just happen to be in love with her, who happens to be a girl. The whole point is yay for her and I for sticking together for 7 years!! And here's to 77 more!!

8) I'm the mean lady in the neighborhood to all the kids who live on my block. They play in my yard incessantly because my house is on a hill and my front yard has a slope to it and they've killed a big patch of grass. So, I'm constantly asking them to leave - I don't have kids, they shouldn't be in my yard!! Don't get my wrong I love kids, I want to have them some day - until then, quit killing the grass!

9) I am an actress. I received an acting scholarship and started my education as a theatrical arts major. I always thought I'd end up in NYC . . . but for now, community theater is more than enough for me!!

10) I secretly want to be a bad-ass biker bitch! Wouldn't that be hot?? Not the dykes on bikes kind, but if she and I had hot leather pants and bustiers wouldn't that cause quite a stir!? It'd be so hot! I know, the Mary Kay lady is a biker bitch?? The heart wants what it wants!!

Ghosts and Skeletons

2004-10-03T08:35:00.000-07:00

My dad doesn't believe in ghosts. How can that be? I guess it's not exactly that he doesn't believe in them, as much as he just thinks they make sense. He believes in spirits and that they're just part of life. I think that's why he's not afraid to go up into the bell tower. That's where they are. He doesn't mind.

My dad's a general contractor and his company specializes in restoring historical buildings. They just got a remodeling job on a county courthouse bell tower that's haunted. Truly haunted. This isn't some joke, rumor, prank kind of haunt - it's a real actual restless spirits climbing stairs, swinging chandeliers, turning the lights on and off haunt. They built the courthouse on a graveyard. They moved the graves first, but apparently those resting in peace didn't appreciate the disturbance. They say that the county workers are all out of that building by 5pm on the dot. The janitors clean in the mornings rather than at night. No one wants to be there after dark.

I said we should go spend the night there for Halloween. Dad said "why, I've got a perfectly good bed at home." What does a bed have to do with any of this?? "Aren't you even a little nervous about this, a little bit scared?" He just didn't get the magnitude of the situation - the court house is haunted!! What fun this could be! What an adventure! What a great item for my top 10 list of things you'd be surprised to know about me - I've stayed overnight in a haunted courthouse! He's worked on historical buildings where people have died for too many years to get nervous about it. To see the thrill.

This lead to a lengthy discussion of life and death, one of which I had to pretend to buy into everything I'd ever been taught about the subject. I felt that stifling Sunday-school feeling creeping in. Ugh. The funny thing about my dad is, he's not afraid of a truly haunted courthouse, but he'd be scared shitless if he saw the skeletons in my closet. He'd wet himself if he knew who I was in love with. He'd curl into the fetal position if he realized I don't go to church every Sunday . . . okay any Sunday. It's really absurd to think of what scares us as people.

We all want to believe that our view of the world is so accurate and perfect that when it's challenged in any way, we damn near freak right out. We try so hard to keep those skeletons out of sight. If we could just realize that we're all okay. We don't have to have all the answers. We don't have to control everything, everyone in our lives. None of us are perfect, including you. The richness and beauty in life often comes from the imperfections, the unpredictable, the dysfunction, not the harmonious perfection of functionality. It's the "flaws" in the fabric of life that give it character and make it so lovely. Someday my family will know me fully. Until then, thank god for the blog. Anyone else up for the haunted court house??

What Next

2004-10-02T08:17:00.000-07:00

Last night I considered another blog - it seemed too needy. It might show how desperate I am to express myself and that I've been dying for an outlet like this to do it in. It may show how pathetically pent up I've been hiding my writing the last two or so years since I graduated from college. Or, I may post again and I may flop, what if pure genious and insight doesn't come tripping off my keyboard and out into cyberspace. Gasp!

Plus, I always have this wretched two-headed monster of autobiographicality and lack of discipline/motivation looming over me as I sit perched at the computer. I want to write stories that seem real, insightful, heartfelt - I want to draw from personal experience (you've heard 'em say "kid, ya just gotta write what you know"), but then your writing is so exposed. You're so painfully vulnerable to criticism that way. I need to find the balance between fiction and reality that creates both insight and vulnerability without being so raw it will hurt. Plus, I need to find the motivation to write every day.

I like that I feel as though I have a responsibility to my little readership out there - I must write daily or I will lose them! Don't correct me if I'm wrong on that one - this feeling is working so far. (I'm on my second day in a row already - yippee!) How does one channel motivation? I've heard "motivation only comes from within" - well apparrently I've misplaced mine for now. My . . . ummm . . . I don't know what to call her as I'm not very experienced at referring to her as anything but as my best friend . . . my girlfriend/partner/soul mate type person says that in order to create self motivation you need discipline and the only way to have discipline is by doing things you don't want to do. Okay then - today I will clean out my coat closet! I've been avoiding doing it for months, I'll do it today because I don't want to. Maybe then I'll find where in my head I misplaced my motivation.

I'm finding my mojo and then eventually I will tell you all stories - stories full of insight and humor. Stories to make you laugh and cry. In the interum, do any of you writer types out there know how to walk that fine line between reality and fiction? Any thoughts?

New Here

2004-10-01T08:55:00.000-07:00

Well, here it is. My first official web log. I haven't decided how candid to be with all of this. I guess it will just take shape as I go. I haven't decided what to write either . . . that could be a problem. Could make for some pretty pathetic prose. I guess I could tell a story? Share insightful bits of wisdom from my stifling life here in Utah? Bitch about politics? Ask for relationship advice? Not sure what the venue is here, or what I want to make of it. I don't really want to journal . . . I just want to write and if it's noncoherent drivel, so be it. You are what you write. So here's my first attempt at expression - I know I'm self-censoring in a big way . . . meh. I'm new at this, you can't expect intant success. Maybe I should introduce myself. I'm a wanna-be writer without discipline. As you can guess I've got some real masterpieces going so far. Chuh. I'm also a way-back-in-the-far-corner of the closet lesbian. YIKES, I said that on a national blog, eek! Oh well, you don't know me. You don't know my girlfriend. You also don't know that I'm masquerading as a good little Mormon girl in Utah so haha - I can say whatever I want. I guess I'm not censoring quite as much any more. BTW, if you are going to read this (who knows who you are) you should really know that I rarely employ any sort of organization in my writing unless forced to. Deal. Thanks for letting me get started . . . pretty good warm up today. More sometime . . . ciao!