I like Papa Roach (not emile, the singer). Amazing. Also, the song he does with Black-Eyed Peas--he sounds like Joe Jackson. Maybe that's why I like him. He's kind of a metally-rappy Joe Jackson. Or ... not at all like that.
Thanks Elissa! Sweatshop Union, yep. Enjoying this too!
AND now... LastFM. CunninLynguists... yeah. This is what I need.
I have opinions on things and I like to talk about them.
28.2.09
27.2.09
Does it bug me?
Does it bug me that my ex is soooo devastated and concerned about getting back in the good graces of his new live in,after what? less than 8 months? when it seemed after nearly five years he couldn't see the last of me fast enough?
Does it piss me off?
Yeah. Yeah, it does, a little. Not a sharp, stabbing pain or anything... more like an arthritic ache in an old injury.
I do want him to be happy though. I guess if she does it, she does.
Wind must be in the east.
Does it piss me off?
Yeah. Yeah, it does, a little. Not a sharp, stabbing pain or anything... more like an arthritic ache in an old injury.
I do want him to be happy though. I guess if she does it, she does.
Wind must be in the east.
26.2.09
If I only had a brain
Growing up, I was the smart kid. The chubby, bespectacled "Walking Encyclopedia". In elementary I wasn't stylish or sporty or anything close to popular. In Junior High I discovered *a* style... perhaps it wasn't traditionally modish, but it was all mine. And I discovered my encyclopedic memory could serve to store lyrics, band stats and other pop cultural references that might further me in a quest to be popular... at least more so than the ability to quote passages from Anne of Green Gables and arcane knowledge of Nancy Drew mysteries.
To delve a bit further into the aforementioned quest, this was, specifically a quest to make boys like me. For as long as I can remember this was an ultimate driving passion. I saw porn first when I was about 4, and had relatively easy access to it the entire time I was growing up... is it any wonder I was precocious? Or rather, I would have been... had I not been held back by my chubbiness, my glasses, my plain looks and ugly clothes... and more than all these, my brain. I was also gifted with an unfair ballast of sensibility... or maybe just a strong sense of humour was to blame... I knew I would never be the long-limbed heroines of both porn and period romances. I was a burlesque dancer in a clown's body. I got a small taste of power from earning the respect of some... but the power I craved was the hero's smoldering look and inability to control his animal desires. Respect? I wanted to be ravished! My brain, of course, scorned this weakness in myself and others. I knew how those girls were judged. Hell, I judged em too. Didn't stop me from wanting to be one.
So why am I wandering in that particular garden now? Interesting, that. I am at the moment, heavier and in worse shape than ever before in my life. I have spent most of the last fifteen years (up to 7 or 8 months ago) in long-term monogamous relationships. I felt secure, comfortable, loved for the most part... and for a brief moment, at the beginning of my relationship with Sean, I felt sexy. It was great... too great to last, apparently.
Point is, since the last relationship ended... badly, with sexual cheating and fairly quick rebound for him into another stable (well, it seemed that way) and loving relationship, I seem to be right back to being 11 again, but with better tools. I've offered myself, body and soul, to several men (wonderful people, all), and wondered why they've only taken me up on half. It seems after all I am beddable. Very much so. But along the way, I've lost the ability to be lovable. Or maybe I just don't believe I am, as so long ago I believed ardently that only slim girls with long limbs had great sex.
Someone who knows me well enough to score a fair hit pointed out to me earlier today that being lovable is more tied to working on yourself--beddable is easier. The 11 year old inside is still amazed, shocked, excited and a bit disappointed that it can be that easy.... but the woman I am is beginning to accept that it isn't enough.
The scariest thought ever is facing that I may never have the exact relationship I want... the one I hope I deserve, if not now, then someday. What if I find a right person and push them away on the basis of that old saw, "anyone that into me must have something wrong with them"... surely I put away that thinking in junior high??
Someday I hope I can afford a counselor, but I'm afraid they'll just ask me a bunch of questions and make me come up with the answers. I do that enough myself.
To delve a bit further into the aforementioned quest, this was, specifically a quest to make boys like me. For as long as I can remember this was an ultimate driving passion. I saw porn first when I was about 4, and had relatively easy access to it the entire time I was growing up... is it any wonder I was precocious? Or rather, I would have been... had I not been held back by my chubbiness, my glasses, my plain looks and ugly clothes... and more than all these, my brain. I was also gifted with an unfair ballast of sensibility... or maybe just a strong sense of humour was to blame... I knew I would never be the long-limbed heroines of both porn and period romances. I was a burlesque dancer in a clown's body. I got a small taste of power from earning the respect of some... but the power I craved was the hero's smoldering look and inability to control his animal desires. Respect? I wanted to be ravished! My brain, of course, scorned this weakness in myself and others. I knew how those girls were judged. Hell, I judged em too. Didn't stop me from wanting to be one.
So why am I wandering in that particular garden now? Interesting, that. I am at the moment, heavier and in worse shape than ever before in my life. I have spent most of the last fifteen years (up to 7 or 8 months ago) in long-term monogamous relationships. I felt secure, comfortable, loved for the most part... and for a brief moment, at the beginning of my relationship with Sean, I felt sexy. It was great... too great to last, apparently.
Point is, since the last relationship ended... badly, with sexual cheating and fairly quick rebound for him into another stable (well, it seemed that way) and loving relationship, I seem to be right back to being 11 again, but with better tools. I've offered myself, body and soul, to several men (wonderful people, all), and wondered why they've only taken me up on half. It seems after all I am beddable. Very much so. But along the way, I've lost the ability to be lovable. Or maybe I just don't believe I am, as so long ago I believed ardently that only slim girls with long limbs had great sex.
Someone who knows me well enough to score a fair hit pointed out to me earlier today that being lovable is more tied to working on yourself--beddable is easier. The 11 year old inside is still amazed, shocked, excited and a bit disappointed that it can be that easy.... but the woman I am is beginning to accept that it isn't enough.
The scariest thought ever is facing that I may never have the exact relationship I want... the one I hope I deserve, if not now, then someday. What if I find a right person and push them away on the basis of that old saw, "anyone that into me must have something wrong with them"... surely I put away that thinking in junior high??
Someday I hope I can afford a counselor, but I'm afraid they'll just ask me a bunch of questions and make me come up with the answers. I do that enough myself.
25.2.09
I don't do Lent
And yet, the idea of an externally-imposed discipline is attractive. There are definitely things I should give up, and things I must give up, and things I'd be better without (why are Wizard of Oz songs floating through my head? Stop that).
So, in solidarity with Melissa I'll give up chips (for real now!), and I think I'll try giving up biting my nails again. The latter will be exceptionally hard as I will be flying for three hours tonight, and reading the entire time, and it is generally when reading that I bite them worst. Anyway, I'll try.
Judging from the financial state I return home in, I'll be giving up much more than this... like going out for the next few months. :(
So, in solidarity with Melissa I'll give up chips (for real now!), and I think I'll try giving up biting my nails again. The latter will be exceptionally hard as I will be flying for three hours tonight, and reading the entire time, and it is generally when reading that I bite them worst. Anyway, I'll try.
Judging from the financial state I return home in, I'll be giving up much more than this... like going out for the next few months. :(
23.2.09
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