Going Through

What an appropriate title for today, I think. Maybe not so much centered on the things *I'm* going through, because these things don't just involve myself - but more so just going through life.

Last Sunday marked the Autumnal Equinox, the first day of fall and the second day of the year when the day and night are of equal length. In case you didn't know. At Lugh's day, which was in August, the Corn King is sacrificed. The Goddess has been in mourning, and now is the time when she begins her reprieve before she journeys into the underworld to be with her King (which is at Halloween/Samhain). I was wondering why I was feeling a little sideways until I remembered this while at my covens ritual last Sunday. My Patron Goddess would be the face of the Goddess (the Crone) that did the sacrificing. Actually Hecate's a triple Goddess, but I sometimes imagine that of all the pantheons she would be the most suited to be the Crone doing the sacrificing.

So that is what the earth and the energy around us is going through. Or, so according to me and a handful of other Wiccans. What I'm going through is somewhat similar. No, no one was sacrificed. Gosh, if ONLY we still practiced human sacrifice!
Okay. Joking.
A very good friend of mine is moving to London. Last I heard, his flight leaves today at noon. I'm not sure though, because the first I heard it was supposed to be leaving on September 11th. What a day to fly overseas, eh? But that plan was changed, and the plans may have been changed again. I don't know. I hope so, in a way, because I just can't imagine him leaving without a chance to say goodbye.
And if he ever gets around to reading my blog, because I know I sent him the URL, than Hi Alan! I will miss you a lot. I mean, we didn't hang out that much, but it's truly one of those quality over quantity situations.
I love you. I do. You've been nothing but nurturing towards me, and at times you've no idea how much I needed that. I didn't even know I needed it. You taught me things about myself. I also have a clearer picture of what I'd want from a man if I ever stop sleeping around and get back on the dating scene. Which is more likely these days than it has been in a while. See the post from earlier about me being single my entire life.
I know it's not goodbye forever and ever, but, round trip airfare to London is about 850 bucks and that's a lot of Atlantic ocean to fly over. Not that it would never happen -- I just don't know how or when.

Now that I've bared my soul to the web.. moving on.

My birthday is tomorrow. I'm turning 26. I'm nervous. I mean, I've never turned 26 before. It's going to be a new thing for me. It probably isn't going to be as bad as 25. 25 was kind of a land mark thing. I remember hyperventilating saying "Oh my god. OH MY GOD. I'm going to be a QUARTER OF A CENTURY OLD." And then I'd pass out and get up and do it all over again. That might not mean much to those of you who read this and are older than that. I'll freak out if I want to. Yeah. I'm sure when I turn 40 (if I make it that far. Don't laugh. I have a bad kidney), then I would probably party. Until then, freaking out. Didn't think I'd live this long. I actually planned to commit suicide at 18. That was before I got sober, though. And that story is for an emo blog, and we'll not get much into it.
So, we're going to have this barbecue at the park and party like it's 1999 motherfuckers. If you've been invited, show up, because it would really mean a lot to me. Shit. It means a lot to me that those of you who read this read this. I really don't run around in life with this "Hey I'm fucking special" attitude, in fact, most days my own value is beyond me. I don't see it. I reject the whole idea sometimes. So it genuinely does mean a lot to me when people take the time to read this and tell me about it (even though you guys don't comment.. not to name names.. Kris...) and it means a lot to me that the people who are going to come tomorrow are taking the time to do that. Speaking of which, if you ever care to, the comments are open to even anonymous posts. I don't moderate them. I won't. So, even if you don't have a blogspot account you can comment. Just so you know.

So. There is the sappy post for the month. I hope you enjoyed it. Get some lube and roll around in it.
kluvthxbai

Why I will probably always be single

To start with, I'm super picky. I've heard a lot of good ideas, as far as dating goes, to make sure you're not dealing with a psycho and to make sure whoever you're interested in is a decent person. Some include: ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, taking a few bites, and being done with it (the trick I understand is if he doesn't get upset, because he's paying, he's decent in the anger/controlling department). A guy I know has what I call a "two week thing." The way he explained, if I remember correctly, was something like "Date a girl for two weeks, like hang out and stuff, and if it goes good then alright." What that means, though I'm still not sure.
My thing? My checks and balances and tests and tweaks? Heh. It's just not all that complicated. In fact, I'm so picky, most goes don't get a first date, let alone actually me talking to them for two weeks. I have such a low tolerance for bullshit, it isn't even funny.
For example, there was this really hot waiter at this restaurant a few weeks ago. I took my friend to dinner. On the way in, he was nice. He said something to the effect of, "Hi. How're you ladies tonight." I assumed he was talking to us, and due to my polite nature I actually turned, so I was looking at him when I replied, "I'm alright. How about yourself?" Apparently he was doing good.
We found out halfway through dinner that he was 23. Sorry to say, but, strike one. Alright. So some 23 year old boys can be decent humans. Usually they're gay or incapacitated in some way, but I guess they can be okay human beings.
At about the end of our meal, he came up and commented on the tattoo on my back. A lot of people comment on it. So, the conversation went from compliment to movies to other weird shit. He asked me for my number. He seemed decent enough. Usually about the time a guy gets a sentence or two out, I've decided I'm done, but he got passed that. I gave him my number. He called, we went for coffee. He called again, we went for more coffee. Halfway through the second meeting, I found out he still lives with his (soon to be ex, according to him) girlfriend. And he actually said the phrase "more pushin for the cushion, if you know what I mean *winkwink*"
Even if he didn't still live with his (soon to be ex, according to him) girlfriend, I would still be so done. I don't need sexual overtones to know a guys attracted to me, especially if he went to such great lengths to get my attention and phone number.

Alright. So maybe I won't always be single. I mean, there aren't a whole lot of women on this planet that are quite like me. Maybe if there's some guy out there that knows how to act and speak, is halfway decent in bed, and who'll leave me alone when I want him to, then maybe I'll date him. Until then, fuck dating. I'm going back to sleeping around.

My Greatness

This is a blog about my greatness. Be forewarned.

While the world was sleeping, I created this.

Like all things of greatness, it needs a little tweaking. But, nonetheless, it is an illustration of my awesomeness. Come. Bask in it. Maybe some of my awesomeness will rub off on your tentacles.

Okay, so I was supposed to work on it like a month ago, but inspiration didn't hit me until last night.

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In other news, my intuition is totally gone. Like, MIA gone. I'm hoping this is just temporary. I'm not used to experiencing the world in concrete ideas and taking things at face value. But, on the upside I've learned it's more or less natural of me to trust people. I've been reading in between the lines less and just taking life as it comes. So, I'm less stressed, albeit less aware of people and my surroundings, but over all less stressed and drawn into thought.

The downside, is it's my intuition. It's always told me who's good, who's bad, and who's mediocre. It's my balancing sense of where to go, when to go, and how exactly to go about it. I know I've made a few huge mistakes the last few weeks, in thought, word, and action. I've also had to outright ask people things I don't normally need to ask. Things I'm not exactly comfortable talking about. I feel as though I'm stumbling blindly along a path that was once lit and is now dark.

Exciting, yes. A learning experience, definitely. I'm not sure if it's a test, a random occurrence, or if my spider sense has left me for good. At times it's frustrating. Other times, liberating.

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Whipped Random

Although I prefer to wrote code in my underwear, I made that page up at the coffee shop.

I informed the barrista at the coffee shop I had created greatness and was going home to rub my naked breasts on it at 5am.

It was very temping to leave my nipple prints on my laptop screen.

Melissa wants to have sex with me even more because of this web page.

Melissa is also jealous that she's going to be a work for the next 7 hours and not at home rubbing her bare breasts on the new web site.

I bought a yo-yo the other day at Terra Toys.

Last night a friend of mine gave me a pink monkey.

My parents are on vacation and I've been living off Macaroni and Cheese (Dad? If you read this, SEND MONEY!).

One Day Not So Long Ago...

Well, actually just today and yesterday, I was reminded of how much I can't stand being talked down to. Some people have this thing, if they're over 35 or 40, and this thing goes like this: They think it's okay to talk down to me because I'm in my twenties.
I admit it was a lot worse when I was 20 than it has been over the last few years. I'm becoming a shit head about it, lately. I seriously wonder if my standards of rude behavior are just too high for some people. While I am most definitely not the highest example of socially acceptable, there are some things that I think are rude on an instinctual, moral level. Things that quite literally dumbfound me when they're done or said, and that is actually pretty hard to do.

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In other news, and I know I said I would not be posting anything highly personal or dramatic, but damn it's on my mind. I guess it's not that dramatic. I had these plans for the night, which I carried out nicely. The plans went like this: Get coffee, go to class, get more coffee, go shoot pool, get even more coffee. What actually happened was this: Got coffee, went to class, got more coffee, talked to people, went to shoot pool, got weird phone calls, now drinking even more coffee.


Which of these things is not like the others?


Right. The weird phone calls are out of place. Of course you can't plan around them. You can't sit down and say, "If you have something throwed off to tell me, don't call me Mondays."


Well I guess you could. Or I could, but that's a lot of calling people to tell them something kind of stupid.


So I was driving to the pool hall when the first phone call happened. It was my ex. So he calls me every once and a while. Which is cool, I like to talk to him still. So I answer the phone. He doesn't say hi, how are you? None of that shit (chalk this up above as something I consider rude).
He just asked me what I was doing. So I told him, "I'm on my way to shoot some pool." Insert superficial conversation. Out of the blue, he says, "When you were pregnant, what process did you go through for insurance and stuff?"
Me: "Excuse me?"
Him: "You know. When you were pregnant. How did you get your stuff taken care of?"
*Pause*
This is thrown off right here because we haven't talked about me being pregnant since I was pregnant. Long story short, I was pregnant, my body can't take the hormones, so I had to abort. What he specifically wanted to know about was the end result.
*Continue*
Me: "Well she has to go to DHS (Department of Human Services) file some paper work, oh wait. She also has to go to like a women's clinic to get a pregnancy test and get paper work from them. To prove it."
This is when he started talking me in circles. Yes medicaid covers abortions, as far as I know. We talked about price, all that shit.
What gets me. Are you serious?
I'm okay with the fact he left me for someone else. I'm okay with the fact that there was always something in his life that he loved more than me. I'm okay with a lot of shit. I'm even okay with the whole fact that he walked out of my life for someone else, and called me when that didn't quite work out for him (he didn't leave me for the one that's pregnant now).
Also, when I'd asked if she wanted it, he said no, and followed it with, "I don't want to have a child with her."
Like I somehow failed. At least, that's how I feel right now. Maybe I'm just taking all this too personally.

That's all I got. If I think about this anymore, I think I'm going to cry. Mainly, because I'm angry.

Inking

I made this appointment on Friday to 'talk' to my tattoo artist yesterday. I was so excited when I woke up yesterday, I went and got my eyes checked, which is something I really needed to do, and went on to the shop early. I have to tell you about my eye doctor visit, first. I've been seeing this lady for a good ten years or so. I completely love her. She's never jerked me around. She does her work well. She asked me what I'd been up to lately, to which I replied, "Dying my hair pink, getting tattooed and going to school." She laughed and suggested we dilate my eyes on Friday since I was going to be going into the tattoo shop to talk design. So you know, the picture up on my blogspot profile is just the outline of what's on my back. It was done last year. It's since been filled in and now we're going to work around it. Eventually, my back, shoulders, and upper arms will be covered.
I knew when I walked into Moms Tattoos I would walk out with new ink. I can't lie to myself. We did take care of business, and here very soon I'll have the outlines started for the things around the goddess. I'm excited. While I was there, I mentioned I wanted to cover what I call my "crazy dots." When I was sixteen, I got a needle, thread, and some Indian ink and put these dots on my ankle. I think though because of all the other beautiful work on my body, no one ever noticed but me. I dyed my hair for the same reason. I have gray hairs that no one else notices but me. So she told me to poke around and find something I like. I just found one flower. It was a rose bud, and on the stem was a butterfly, and the stem continued down. From this simple design, she designed this viney girlie tattoo that wraps around my ankle, it has butterflies, dragonflies, and two full bloom roses. It's the most painful work I've had done to date. The pain from the work on my back is now considered discomfort. I didn't really put much stock into what people say about how painful ankle tats are until now. It was worth it.
As she was putting on the stencils, when she put the dragonflies on my feet, I looked right at her, and was like, "You're going to hurt me, aren't you?" I've never winced, cried, or even thought of screaming while getting a tattoo. She looked back at me, smiled, and was like, "Probably."
I screamed like I was getting my nails ripped out. But I did not cry. Just screamed. My artist was amazed at my lung capacity. And I now have an official, legitimate reason for having held my foot in the air for an hour or so.
This is the first tattoo that not only embodies an ideal I have in life, but who I am in this life. I thought for a minute it might be a meaningless cover job. But after discussion and thought, It's more part of me than any other. Yes I love the goddess on my back. Yes, I love the tattoos on my arms, they're all part of who I am, but this ankle tattoo is what I am. I'm a women. I'm a beautiful women. As shocking as it is to me, I turn heads. Everywhere I've gone today people have commented on my ankle, on my back, on these things that are beautiful that are on my body.
From the little girl who felt worthless from the day she was born, who felt as though the entire world missed her because she was missing something, who drank just to feel sane, who loves fiercely and hurts alone in the shadows: I am beautiful, and even if the entire world turned it's back on me, I would still be beautiful.