What's it been? Six weeks or so? I'm a bit too lazy to check the date of my last entry, so you can do that yourself if it tickles your fancy. What's a fancy, anyway? I really want to know. Answers would be appreciated.
Annnnnnnnyhoo, I just bullshitted my way through my last paper for the summer semester for my international politics class. Insert me puking right here. What a horrible, horrible way to spend the first six weeks of summer vacation, splitting time between two boring as fuck classes, being on-call, and watching a whole lot of rain fall down and make everything smell like earth worms. I'm glad that it's over because now I can do more important things, like attempt to get laid.
My summer goal was to have a lot of sex. So far, I've had none. Not even a teensy bit. Not even a hand up my thigh. Oh, wait, that did happen, but it was my pudgy, 55 year old gynecologist's hand that was smothered in about a pound of KY Jelly. Isn't it just a bit depressing that the most action I've gotten recently has been from my cooch doctor? How disappointing.
Although my sex life is at a stalemate, my professional life has shortly become very eventful. Although I'm not a certified teacher yet, I'm helping with a summer academy program at a local high school that helps incoming freshman who need a little academic booster transition from junior high to the real deal. The teachers that I'm working with have been very encouraging and insightful and I'm beyond grateful for their patience and willingness to let me participate in their classroom. One teacher in particular has really helped me to entirely solidify my choice to enter in the education field. He's one of those rare people who can relate to anyone and completely light up a room just by standing in it. The way he works with the kids is nothing short of amazing and it is because of hearing about teachers like him and wondering why I never had any that made me want to become a teacher.
Being on the other side of the classroom is kind of awkward because I still feel like a 15 year old most of the time. I never realized how much teachers can hear and comprehend of hallway talk during passing periods. Yikes, what my teachers must have thought of my potty mouth when I was a kid. It's also amazing how complex a teacher's job is. Not only does a teacher instruct the required curriculum, but if they are a good teacher, they learn about their students and pick up on what is working for them and what isn't. One student in my class has recently lost her mother due to breast cancer and her father has started dating again, making her very upset, but she feels that she can't talk to him about. Sometimes when the kids are doing a worksheet or doing small group work, I look at her and see her kind of staring off into space and I wonder what she's thinking about. I wonder how any kid can survive high school with only one parent and I feel a strong urge to hug her and try to convince her that everything will be okay when even I'm unsure that it will be. She's very quiet and timid and I often think about if she was this way before her mom got sick. She's very busty and dresses very modestly and I wonder who will take her shopping for her first homecoming dress. Will they know what dress type will flatter her? Another student is deaf in one ear and can hardly hear what you say to him, but he is so intuitive that you mostly forget that he's using all of his effort just to hear what you're saying to him. In an essay assignment where his peers were writing about generic things such as baseball, friends, love, music, etc., this kid wrote about eternal suffering. He did a damn good job of it, too, which almost makes it worse because in doing so, it made me wonder what he's gone through to know what eternal suffering is.
I can already tell that I am going to love my career, which is a relief, of course, but it also feels like I have a newfound purpose in my life, kind of like the links are all being connected and that it's going in the right direction. It makes me sleep easier at night knowing that I can enjoy going to work each day and feeling that I may be making a difference to a kid who really needs it in their life.
Showing posts with label my life now. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my life now. Show all posts
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, December 19, 2008
It's like the goddamned plague!
I haven't written in awhile because I've been busy with school and work and the dramatics of being an RA. Let's start the craziness from where we previously left off.
I went to Matt Forte's birthday party last Friday and it was amazing. I had a lot of fun and got to meet several players who were gracious enough to take a couple pictures with me. It's always kind of weird to see football players in person because, although you expect them to be really large, the images you have in your head don't compare to what they really look like in person. The club that it was at was alright, I probably wouldn't go again unless there was a special event like this held there. The vibe was a little weird, a little off and I can't put my finger on what it was exactly. Maybe it was just too much. Maybe it was too much martini drinking, I just got back from a long day at the office, yuppies. Maybe it was that no one was dancing except the supremely inebriated older women in fur coats with stiletto boots on. Maybe it was that I felt like if I walked into the bathroom at the right time, I'd witness a beyond gorgeous woman doing a line of coke off of her compact mirror. I don't know what it was, it just felt so....not me. Maybe I had different expectations of it, I'm not sure, but I guess I'm not the type of city girl who goes out to these clubs and pays $8 for an amaretto stone sour that's mostly ice cubes and who can see herself dancing with a guy that looks like he's trying to prove to the world that he's a successful business man, yet is wearing cheap cologne and a false smile. I just can't lie to myself and pretend like it was something that I'd do usually. I mean, for one night it was fun, but by 11pm, I was sick of it. It could be an acquired taste though, so I'm going to leave my judgment open on this, but for now, I'm more of a go to the bar that has a dancefloor that will play music I've actually heard of instead of weird techno music that reminds me of the discotechs in Rome.
On another note, this past week was finals week for me and it sucked. It started out well until Tuesday morning at about 4am. I heard a knock at my door, so I woke up and opened the door and saw one of my residents standing there. He looked very disturbed and upset, so I tried to focus and push the sleepiness to the back of my head.
"Can I come in?" Of course. Fuck, I knew this wasn't going to be good. Getting woken up at 4am during the week is never a good sign. I asked him what was going on and if he was okay. He just rambled, "I don't know what to do. I need to know, like I need to know the right course of action to take." I had no fucking clue what he was talking about, there'd never been a problem with him before, so I tried to calm him down and he started to tell me what was going on when one of his roommates came in my room, also.
I told them that I couldn't do anything to help them unless I knew what was going on, so someone better start talking. They told me that a girl, who I know of, but don't know that well, was in their room and that they'd been talking to her for a couple hours and that they think she is suicidal. I asked them why they thought that and why was she in their room because I knew she lived in another residence hall. They said she had texted them around midnight and asked if she could crash at their place because she didn't trust herself. I asked them what that meant, and they said she has been saying things for a few weeks that gave them the impression she might try to hurt herself.
My initial reaction was pretty horrible. I didn't want to deal with it because of this girl's past. Last year she had told people that she had ovarian cancer. Suddenly it disappeared. At the beginning of this school year, she told people that she had a malignant brain tumor and that she probably wouldn't survive the rest of the school year. Usually, I'm sympathetic to people, especially because I can understand that having these illnesses is devastating because I've been there with my heart condition, although I never thought I would die. The whole brain tumor thing has pissed a lot of people off because 1) she suddenly seems prone to cancer scares 2) there is another girl at our school who recently had to drop out because she lost a significant amount of her short-term memory when her brain tumor was taken out, thus failing out of her classes and 3) because she's known to create drama.
I put these feelings aside because I knew I had to be responsible and because I didn't want her to do anything and have it be on my conscience. I went to their room and she was sitting there on the couch, cuddled against a freshman basketball player who was clearly intoxicated. There were two other girls there, one a resident of mine. I greeted the suicidal girl and told her that I needed to take action for her own safety and for those of my residents. I told her that I either needed to call an ambulance or that I needed her to go to the hospital on her own free will, but either way, she was going. She nodded and told me that she knew she had to go and I noticed scratch marks on her wrists. It looked like she had either tried cutting herself with a butter knife or perhaps with plastic dinnerware. It didn't look serious, and the boys later told me that she had informed them she'd been cutting herself to "try and make herself feel better because cutting releases endorphins." I was irritated when I found this out. I've been a cutter in the past and when you're a cutter, you don't cut in obvious places such as the wrists, where people will notice and may ask you about it. You cut secretly because cutting isn't about killing yourself, it's about release. When I cut, I'd usually cut on my upper leg or somewhere obscure that people wouldn't see before it had a chance to heal. And I didn't cut with a butter knife. My weapon of choice was a straight blade razor or a big kitchen knife. Butter knifes wouldn't do the trick. They don't cause enough pain and they don't tear the skin. When I cut, I wanted the pain and I wanted the blood. I wanted to see the blood come out of me so that I could soak it up and throw it away; it was my mind's way of throwing pain away.
After my dad cheated on my mom, I noticed cuts on her. They were long and smooth, not deep, but enough to create some blood and leave behind a mark for a few weeks. I knew she was a cutter when I saw them and I wondered if it was some type of genetic trait that could be passed on. Once, I asked about them. She looked down at a few on her forearm and told me that she had been gardening, and brushed up against the wire fence that surrounds our little garden plot. I knew it was a lie. There was no way the fence could have been that perfect in several different areas. After she told me, she looked me in the eyes, maybe to see if there was belief there. We stared at each other for a moment and I think we both figured out at that time that we were cutters.
Back to the girl, now. She insisted that she would not go in an ambulance, so I asked her what it would take to get her to go on her own volition. She told me that she wanted to talk to our school's counselor, so I paged him and they talked briefly. She was still crying, but something felt fake about it. Like they were planned tears. I tried to put these thoughts out of my head, but I just couldn't. She finally agreed to let her friends take her to the hospital and I was relieved that I didn't have to clean too big of a mess up. What a horrible thought...here is a girl crying for help and I'm thankful that I don't have to get too involved.
The next day, I asked a few of my residents how she was doing since they had taken her to the hospital and had gone to visit her. Miraculously, the brain tumor had disappeared and she now had a clean bill of health. Obviously, she has some serious mental issues that I can't even fathom. Some people around school said she's a hypochondriac, but I don't think that's the case because I don't think that she truly believes she is sick in a physical way, she just uses it as an excuse to maybe mask that she's fucked up in the head.
I'm glad that her mental problems are documented because maybe she'll get the help she needs now. I don't think she is a bad person, I just think she needs to get help before she truly does hurt herself or hurt others.
Finals week continued and I got brutally raped by one of my tests. The teacher had given us a study guide, but the study guide did absolutely nothing to prepare me. There was 51 multiple choice questions on the test. Not 50, not 55, not even 45...but 51. I looked at it and laughed and called the teacher a snatchface in my head for doing that. I got through it and hopefully I'll pull a high B in the class, ruining my streak of straight As in college.
Another couple is engaged at my school. It's starting to make me think that the school is putting something in our fucking water. That's...like 7 couples this past semester that have gotten engaged or who I know are about to. I swear, it's spreading like the fucking plague. It's great that they found someone who they think they want to spend the rest of their lives with, but holy hell, we're so fucking young! What's the rush? I feel like people don't realize that their relationships are going to change once we graduate. You're not going to be the same exact people that you are now. Ahhhhh, but I digress.
Now, for the better part..................
I met someone.
Are you excited to hear about him? I'm excited to tell you about him. It started when I found out that I'm getting a violin for Christmas, something I've wanted for such a long time. Don't let the foul mouth and dirty mind give you the wrong impression, sometimes I can be kind of cultured. I looked on various websites for lessons because I don't know how to play it at all. A lot of the places seemed like they were for intermediate players and I knew I was definitely a beginner. My mom told me that I should look at Craigslist, so I did. I put an add out and got a on of responses, some were very strange, but nonetheless, that's essentially how I met him. He doesn't know how to play violin or anything, but I did meet him through Craigslist and the thought of that kind of makes me want to puke, but whatever. Craigslist is how I met Rocker. That's obviously not his real name, but that's what I'm going to refer to him as, and for good reason.
We talked through a couple emails and he gave me his screenname so we talked through instant messaging for a few days. We seemed to have a lot in common, definitely music to say the least, and we soon learned we had a lot in common in regards to our family dynamics. He told me he was in a band, but that he had a real job, too because he realizes that the whole Rockstar thing probably won't work out and I respected him for being honest to himself like that. He sent me a picture of himself playing the guitar and I might have drooled a little bit. I'm a sucker for rockers. Such a fucking sucker..Anyways, we've been talking for almost two weeks now and we seem to have a good connection, but I don't know what the hell kind of connection one can form over phone calls, texting, and talking online. I love his voice...it's deep and a little harsh, but fuck it's hot. There's an age difference, he's 26, but it doesn't seem like that big of a difference to me. I actually like it because he can spell correctly, has a real job and goals for his life, and, actually, we like to play the same video games. How fucking nerdy. We talk about music alot and he talks about his guitars, 13 of them, with admiration and passion. It amazes me that he knows so much about them and about the history of them and what great musician has played this type of guitar and used these type of strings. It's adorable to me when he gets on his little kicks about what the best guitar is and how there's so many common misconceptions about what guitar is the best, etc, etc.
We talk daily. He texts me to tell me good morning every single morning without fail. He tells me about his family and how awesome they are and how spoiled his niece and nephew are. We talk about the best concerts we've been to and how I was pissed he got to go see Iron Maiden last year and I didn't. Douchebag was supposed to take me, but he bailed. Rocker promised me that when they come back to Chicago, he'll buy us front row seats and when I said that'd be really expensive, he said that I seem to be worth it. He couldn't believe that I'm a Metallica virgin, but we're going to the same show next month. When we go like ten hours without talking, I miss him. Is that crazy? I mean, we haven't even met yet. Does that matter? We've seen pictures of each other, but I mean honestly, pictures lie. Will we feel the same type of connection when we meet? He's asked me a few times when I'm free, and I've told him that after the holidays will work best because my mom is a tradition nazi and refuses to let her daughters do anything that goes against tradition, so that means cooking, decorating, cleaning, celebrating, hot chocolate drinking...everything must be done that has been done for the past years. When he tells me that he'll call me later because he has to go to the gym, I think about him working up a sweat and I imagine seeing him all hot and sweaty and what it'd be like to kiss him and feel him. I finally told him that tonight and he said that he looks damn good and I told him to prove it and he said that maybe if I'd hang out with him tonight, he would. What a tease. I think about talking to him and I compare it with how I talked to douchebag. With douchebag, it was all about sex. I only wanted him to come over so we could hook up. I wanted him to want me all the time. With Rocker, I just want to talk to him. I think it'd be fun to maybe talk a little dirty with him, but it's...deeper than that. So strange to me...I've told Rocker that I'm inappropriate. Okay, that I'm inappropriate a lot of the time, but he didn't seem daunted by it. He didn't ask how, just kind of laughed at it. Hmm. I haven't told him that I love giving head. I haven't told him that I've kissed other girls. I haven't told him about my vibrators. I haven't told him that I watch porn. I haven't told him that I'm kind of insatiable when it comes to physical pleasure and that if I don't masturbate for a few days straight, I go crazy and get really pissy. I wonder if it would freak him out or make him think that I'm a slut. I mean, I am who I am and I like what I like, but I want him to accept me for some reason.
I do like him and I feel like we have a lot in common and maybe something could work out with him...but do things that start online work out? It seems weird to me kind of. Like, it's one thing to bullshit with a person online, knowing you have no interest in seeing them or whatever, but it's different this time. I want to meet him, but I'm anxious about it too, I suppose. But, as my mom says, "What do you have to lose?"
Nothing, mom. Nothing at all.
I went to Matt Forte's birthday party last Friday and it was amazing. I had a lot of fun and got to meet several players who were gracious enough to take a couple pictures with me. It's always kind of weird to see football players in person because, although you expect them to be really large, the images you have in your head don't compare to what they really look like in person. The club that it was at was alright, I probably wouldn't go again unless there was a special event like this held there. The vibe was a little weird, a little off and I can't put my finger on what it was exactly. Maybe it was just too much. Maybe it was too much martini drinking, I just got back from a long day at the office, yuppies. Maybe it was that no one was dancing except the supremely inebriated older women in fur coats with stiletto boots on. Maybe it was that I felt like if I walked into the bathroom at the right time, I'd witness a beyond gorgeous woman doing a line of coke off of her compact mirror. I don't know what it was, it just felt so....not me. Maybe I had different expectations of it, I'm not sure, but I guess I'm not the type of city girl who goes out to these clubs and pays $8 for an amaretto stone sour that's mostly ice cubes and who can see herself dancing with a guy that looks like he's trying to prove to the world that he's a successful business man, yet is wearing cheap cologne and a false smile. I just can't lie to myself and pretend like it was something that I'd do usually. I mean, for one night it was fun, but by 11pm, I was sick of it. It could be an acquired taste though, so I'm going to leave my judgment open on this, but for now, I'm more of a go to the bar that has a dancefloor that will play music I've actually heard of instead of weird techno music that reminds me of the discotechs in Rome.
On another note, this past week was finals week for me and it sucked. It started out well until Tuesday morning at about 4am. I heard a knock at my door, so I woke up and opened the door and saw one of my residents standing there. He looked very disturbed and upset, so I tried to focus and push the sleepiness to the back of my head.
"Can I come in?" Of course. Fuck, I knew this wasn't going to be good. Getting woken up at 4am during the week is never a good sign. I asked him what was going on and if he was okay. He just rambled, "I don't know what to do. I need to know, like I need to know the right course of action to take." I had no fucking clue what he was talking about, there'd never been a problem with him before, so I tried to calm him down and he started to tell me what was going on when one of his roommates came in my room, also.
I told them that I couldn't do anything to help them unless I knew what was going on, so someone better start talking. They told me that a girl, who I know of, but don't know that well, was in their room and that they'd been talking to her for a couple hours and that they think she is suicidal. I asked them why they thought that and why was she in their room because I knew she lived in another residence hall. They said she had texted them around midnight and asked if she could crash at their place because she didn't trust herself. I asked them what that meant, and they said she has been saying things for a few weeks that gave them the impression she might try to hurt herself.
My initial reaction was pretty horrible. I didn't want to deal with it because of this girl's past. Last year she had told people that she had ovarian cancer. Suddenly it disappeared. At the beginning of this school year, she told people that she had a malignant brain tumor and that she probably wouldn't survive the rest of the school year. Usually, I'm sympathetic to people, especially because I can understand that having these illnesses is devastating because I've been there with my heart condition, although I never thought I would die. The whole brain tumor thing has pissed a lot of people off because 1) she suddenly seems prone to cancer scares 2) there is another girl at our school who recently had to drop out because she lost a significant amount of her short-term memory when her brain tumor was taken out, thus failing out of her classes and 3) because she's known to create drama.
I put these feelings aside because I knew I had to be responsible and because I didn't want her to do anything and have it be on my conscience. I went to their room and she was sitting there on the couch, cuddled against a freshman basketball player who was clearly intoxicated. There were two other girls there, one a resident of mine. I greeted the suicidal girl and told her that I needed to take action for her own safety and for those of my residents. I told her that I either needed to call an ambulance or that I needed her to go to the hospital on her own free will, but either way, she was going. She nodded and told me that she knew she had to go and I noticed scratch marks on her wrists. It looked like she had either tried cutting herself with a butter knife or perhaps with plastic dinnerware. It didn't look serious, and the boys later told me that she had informed them she'd been cutting herself to "try and make herself feel better because cutting releases endorphins." I was irritated when I found this out. I've been a cutter in the past and when you're a cutter, you don't cut in obvious places such as the wrists, where people will notice and may ask you about it. You cut secretly because cutting isn't about killing yourself, it's about release. When I cut, I'd usually cut on my upper leg or somewhere obscure that people wouldn't see before it had a chance to heal. And I didn't cut with a butter knife. My weapon of choice was a straight blade razor or a big kitchen knife. Butter knifes wouldn't do the trick. They don't cause enough pain and they don't tear the skin. When I cut, I wanted the pain and I wanted the blood. I wanted to see the blood come out of me so that I could soak it up and throw it away; it was my mind's way of throwing pain away.
After my dad cheated on my mom, I noticed cuts on her. They were long and smooth, not deep, but enough to create some blood and leave behind a mark for a few weeks. I knew she was a cutter when I saw them and I wondered if it was some type of genetic trait that could be passed on. Once, I asked about them. She looked down at a few on her forearm and told me that she had been gardening, and brushed up against the wire fence that surrounds our little garden plot. I knew it was a lie. There was no way the fence could have been that perfect in several different areas. After she told me, she looked me in the eyes, maybe to see if there was belief there. We stared at each other for a moment and I think we both figured out at that time that we were cutters.
Back to the girl, now. She insisted that she would not go in an ambulance, so I asked her what it would take to get her to go on her own volition. She told me that she wanted to talk to our school's counselor, so I paged him and they talked briefly. She was still crying, but something felt fake about it. Like they were planned tears. I tried to put these thoughts out of my head, but I just couldn't. She finally agreed to let her friends take her to the hospital and I was relieved that I didn't have to clean too big of a mess up. What a horrible thought...here is a girl crying for help and I'm thankful that I don't have to get too involved.
The next day, I asked a few of my residents how she was doing since they had taken her to the hospital and had gone to visit her. Miraculously, the brain tumor had disappeared and she now had a clean bill of health. Obviously, she has some serious mental issues that I can't even fathom. Some people around school said she's a hypochondriac, but I don't think that's the case because I don't think that she truly believes she is sick in a physical way, she just uses it as an excuse to maybe mask that she's fucked up in the head.
I'm glad that her mental problems are documented because maybe she'll get the help she needs now. I don't think she is a bad person, I just think she needs to get help before she truly does hurt herself or hurt others.
Finals week continued and I got brutally raped by one of my tests. The teacher had given us a study guide, but the study guide did absolutely nothing to prepare me. There was 51 multiple choice questions on the test. Not 50, not 55, not even 45...but 51. I looked at it and laughed and called the teacher a snatchface in my head for doing that. I got through it and hopefully I'll pull a high B in the class, ruining my streak of straight As in college.
Another couple is engaged at my school. It's starting to make me think that the school is putting something in our fucking water. That's...like 7 couples this past semester that have gotten engaged or who I know are about to. I swear, it's spreading like the fucking plague. It's great that they found someone who they think they want to spend the rest of their lives with, but holy hell, we're so fucking young! What's the rush? I feel like people don't realize that their relationships are going to change once we graduate. You're not going to be the same exact people that you are now. Ahhhhh, but I digress.
Now, for the better part..................
I met someone.
Are you excited to hear about him? I'm excited to tell you about him. It started when I found out that I'm getting a violin for Christmas, something I've wanted for such a long time. Don't let the foul mouth and dirty mind give you the wrong impression, sometimes I can be kind of cultured. I looked on various websites for lessons because I don't know how to play it at all. A lot of the places seemed like they were for intermediate players and I knew I was definitely a beginner. My mom told me that I should look at Craigslist, so I did. I put an add out and got a on of responses, some were very strange, but nonetheless, that's essentially how I met him. He doesn't know how to play violin or anything, but I did meet him through Craigslist and the thought of that kind of makes me want to puke, but whatever. Craigslist is how I met Rocker. That's obviously not his real name, but that's what I'm going to refer to him as, and for good reason.
We talked through a couple emails and he gave me his screenname so we talked through instant messaging for a few days. We seemed to have a lot in common, definitely music to say the least, and we soon learned we had a lot in common in regards to our family dynamics. He told me he was in a band, but that he had a real job, too because he realizes that the whole Rockstar thing probably won't work out and I respected him for being honest to himself like that. He sent me a picture of himself playing the guitar and I might have drooled a little bit. I'm a sucker for rockers. Such a fucking sucker..Anyways, we've been talking for almost two weeks now and we seem to have a good connection, but I don't know what the hell kind of connection one can form over phone calls, texting, and talking online. I love his voice...it's deep and a little harsh, but fuck it's hot. There's an age difference, he's 26, but it doesn't seem like that big of a difference to me. I actually like it because he can spell correctly, has a real job and goals for his life, and, actually, we like to play the same video games. How fucking nerdy. We talk about music alot and he talks about his guitars, 13 of them, with admiration and passion. It amazes me that he knows so much about them and about the history of them and what great musician has played this type of guitar and used these type of strings. It's adorable to me when he gets on his little kicks about what the best guitar is and how there's so many common misconceptions about what guitar is the best, etc, etc.
We talk daily. He texts me to tell me good morning every single morning without fail. He tells me about his family and how awesome they are and how spoiled his niece and nephew are. We talk about the best concerts we've been to and how I was pissed he got to go see Iron Maiden last year and I didn't. Douchebag was supposed to take me, but he bailed. Rocker promised me that when they come back to Chicago, he'll buy us front row seats and when I said that'd be really expensive, he said that I seem to be worth it. He couldn't believe that I'm a Metallica virgin, but we're going to the same show next month. When we go like ten hours without talking, I miss him. Is that crazy? I mean, we haven't even met yet. Does that matter? We've seen pictures of each other, but I mean honestly, pictures lie. Will we feel the same type of connection when we meet? He's asked me a few times when I'm free, and I've told him that after the holidays will work best because my mom is a tradition nazi and refuses to let her daughters do anything that goes against tradition, so that means cooking, decorating, cleaning, celebrating, hot chocolate drinking...everything must be done that has been done for the past years. When he tells me that he'll call me later because he has to go to the gym, I think about him working up a sweat and I imagine seeing him all hot and sweaty and what it'd be like to kiss him and feel him. I finally told him that tonight and he said that he looks damn good and I told him to prove it and he said that maybe if I'd hang out with him tonight, he would. What a tease. I think about talking to him and I compare it with how I talked to douchebag. With douchebag, it was all about sex. I only wanted him to come over so we could hook up. I wanted him to want me all the time. With Rocker, I just want to talk to him. I think it'd be fun to maybe talk a little dirty with him, but it's...deeper than that. So strange to me...I've told Rocker that I'm inappropriate. Okay, that I'm inappropriate a lot of the time, but he didn't seem daunted by it. He didn't ask how, just kind of laughed at it. Hmm. I haven't told him that I love giving head. I haven't told him that I've kissed other girls. I haven't told him about my vibrators. I haven't told him that I watch porn. I haven't told him that I'm kind of insatiable when it comes to physical pleasure and that if I don't masturbate for a few days straight, I go crazy and get really pissy. I wonder if it would freak him out or make him think that I'm a slut. I mean, I am who I am and I like what I like, but I want him to accept me for some reason.
I do like him and I feel like we have a lot in common and maybe something could work out with him...but do things that start online work out? It seems weird to me kind of. Like, it's one thing to bullshit with a person online, knowing you have no interest in seeing them or whatever, but it's different this time. I want to meet him, but I'm anxious about it too, I suppose. But, as my mom says, "What do you have to lose?"
Nothing, mom. Nothing at all.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Bologna sandwiches
This week is homecoming week at my college. Meaning there's something to do every night that is school sponsored, and then there's the something to do every night that is sponsored by Jack, Johnny, and the Captain. Since becoming an RA this past year, I've noticed that administrators think that RAs have a lot of free time and that they'll jump at the opportunity to do anything for the school. Well, that's not really how I think of my job. However, I gave up two hours of my Wednesday night to do a good deed for my school, judging men based on their physical appearance and how much derriere kissing they'd be willing to do. I was the only student judge, lucky me. The director of Res. Life and a professional staff member were the other judges. Those hosts were glad that I showed up to judge. They demanded that I share my bitchiness with the crowd. "Say whatever you want, whenever you want. Just jump right in!" Well, alright. I'm glad to know that my saltiness is known school wide by people I don't really know. After the show, one of my friends who had competed told me that the male host went backstage and said something along the lines of, "You know that chick judge? She's so fucking funny. She's going to rip all of you apart if you're not funny." Okay, he knows me pretty well I suppose. I think this is because I'm such a nasty cunt when I'm hypnotized, and I've done that twice.
The judges were told of all the contestants before hand and since my school is pretty small, I knew or knew of all of them. Two are friends, the other two I know of. One has called me a bitch for doing my RA duties. Let's just say he didn't win. Neither did underclassmen number 2, who has fucked around 5-10 girls since being in school for a whole month and a half, including one of my close friends. I tried to go into it without being too judgmental, but it got the worst of me. When I saw Mr. Fucksalot come out in his formal wear, I raised my hand to comment. "Yes, our judges seem to have some comments. What did you think of his formal attire?" "Oh, he was nicely dressed however, I have to call inappropriate use of a Mohawk," I replied. Mr. Fucksalot looked a little shocked as the audience laughed and clapped. He must think that just because he's on the football team that it's okay for someone over the age of 14 to have a mohawk.
We proceeded to the talent section and then to the Q&A section. As the contestants answered, I scored them. I was unbelievably biased. Even I was surprised at how bitchy I was being to the two underclassmen. When Mr. Fucksalot answered his "name something romantic you would do for a girl" question, I had to jump in. His talent had been making a grilled cheese sandwich on an ironing board. The male host saw me chomping at the bit to insult this poor boy. "Looks like our judges have a comment." "This is for contestant number four....is that a grilled cheese in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" He blushed as he pulled out a 3/4 eaten sandwich from his basketball shorts. It really was a grilled cheese sandwich in there. The crowd erupted in laughter as he pulled it out and took a bite then offered it to me. No, thanks Mr. Fucksalot, I'd really like to remain Herpes free for the moment.
After the show, several people commented on how funny I was, but I didn't really feel like I was being funny, I was just being a bitch because I'm horny. So, I tried to avoid prolonged conversation and get to my room as soon as possible to finish homework to take my mind off things. Didn't really work. So I ate a bologna and cheese sandwich and washed it down with some water. Bologna sandwiches always make me feel better, probably because my grandma always made me bologna sandwiches for lunch when I stayed at her house. I swore that she had a secret recipe for them when I was a kid because they didn't taste the same when I made them or when my parents made them for me. At Thanksgiving, she'd make me bologna sandwiches because I hate turkey. When I was ten, I finally asked her for her recipe. She wrote it down: "Two pieces of Wonder bread, Miracle Whip, Plochman's mustard, two slices of American cheese, and two slices of Oscar Mayer bologna. Spread Miracle Whip and mustard on each slice of bread, place one piece of cheese on top, then layer with bologna, and cheese until you end up with the last piece of bologna on top." Even after I had the recipe and I made it myself, it didn't taste as good. I called her to complain. "Well, there's another ingredient," she said. "Gramma! Why didn't you tell me? What is it?" "It's love, sweetie, that's the special ingredient."
I'll be 81 and eating bologna sandwiches thinking about that conversation and feeling the comfort of having had an amazing grandmother.
The judges were told of all the contestants before hand and since my school is pretty small, I knew or knew of all of them. Two are friends, the other two I know of. One has called me a bitch for doing my RA duties. Let's just say he didn't win. Neither did underclassmen number 2, who has fucked around 5-10 girls since being in school for a whole month and a half, including one of my close friends. I tried to go into it without being too judgmental, but it got the worst of me. When I saw Mr. Fucksalot come out in his formal wear, I raised my hand to comment. "Yes, our judges seem to have some comments. What did you think of his formal attire?" "Oh, he was nicely dressed however, I have to call inappropriate use of a Mohawk," I replied. Mr. Fucksalot looked a little shocked as the audience laughed and clapped. He must think that just because he's on the football team that it's okay for someone over the age of 14 to have a mohawk.
We proceeded to the talent section and then to the Q&A section. As the contestants answered, I scored them. I was unbelievably biased. Even I was surprised at how bitchy I was being to the two underclassmen. When Mr. Fucksalot answered his "name something romantic you would do for a girl" question, I had to jump in. His talent had been making a grilled cheese sandwich on an ironing board. The male host saw me chomping at the bit to insult this poor boy. "Looks like our judges have a comment." "This is for contestant number four....is that a grilled cheese in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" He blushed as he pulled out a 3/4 eaten sandwich from his basketball shorts. It really was a grilled cheese sandwich in there. The crowd erupted in laughter as he pulled it out and took a bite then offered it to me. No, thanks Mr. Fucksalot, I'd really like to remain Herpes free for the moment.
After the show, several people commented on how funny I was, but I didn't really feel like I was being funny, I was just being a bitch because I'm horny. So, I tried to avoid prolonged conversation and get to my room as soon as possible to finish homework to take my mind off things. Didn't really work. So I ate a bologna and cheese sandwich and washed it down with some water. Bologna sandwiches always make me feel better, probably because my grandma always made me bologna sandwiches for lunch when I stayed at her house. I swore that she had a secret recipe for them when I was a kid because they didn't taste the same when I made them or when my parents made them for me. At Thanksgiving, she'd make me bologna sandwiches because I hate turkey. When I was ten, I finally asked her for her recipe. She wrote it down: "Two pieces of Wonder bread, Miracle Whip, Plochman's mustard, two slices of American cheese, and two slices of Oscar Mayer bologna. Spread Miracle Whip and mustard on each slice of bread, place one piece of cheese on top, then layer with bologna, and cheese until you end up with the last piece of bologna on top." Even after I had the recipe and I made it myself, it didn't taste as good. I called her to complain. "Well, there's another ingredient," she said. "Gramma! Why didn't you tell me? What is it?" "It's love, sweetie, that's the special ingredient."
I'll be 81 and eating bologna sandwiches thinking about that conversation and feeling the comfort of having had an amazing grandmother.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
lately
So I know it's been a little while, mainly because we had a huge tornado slide on through here, a perk of living in the Midwest. There were widespread power outages, but my house was safe. Except that our cable, hence Internet, was knocked out. During the storm, I texted Mr. Temper to see how his end of town was holding up. "This is the worst day of my life," he replied. Uh-oh. I asked why and he said he got laid off that day, which is tough for him because he's been working short weeks for a few months now because the economy has been in such a bad shape and now he's going to have go deal with trying to find a new job at a relatively bad time. He should be able to find a job relatively quick thanks to his nature of work (pipefitting) but it's a hassle nonetheless. Anyways, he said along with being laid off, there were a bunch of live wires around his neighborhood so COMed would have to be around there all week. Poor, poor baby. I told him I'd make him feel better tomorrow and he said, "As long as it's cheap fun, I'm up for it." Point taken.
So the next day I brought over a pizza, a sixer of Miller Lite, and the movie 300. If a guy isn't happy with a girl doing that, he has to be gay. I knocked on his door and gave a little finger wiggle hello when I saw his shadow move over the peep-hole. "You're an angel." he said at the sight of beer and pizza. I'm one smooth chick, aren't I? We put in the DVD and started eating the pizza and drinking the beer while we commented on the various appearances of nipples in the movie. If we were going to hook up at all tonight, I wanted it to get done before the beer could seep into his spooge and funk it up. So after he ate a good portion of pizza that I assumed would last him for awhile, I positioned myself in his lap for some making out. It's my duty as an aforementioned smooth chick to make a guy feel better when he's had a rough time of it. So I gave him the best blow job that he'll ever have during an epic battle scene of a graphic comic movie. He was beyond grateful, so I told him to remember the favor with a little wink as I headed out the door. I don't really like to have post-cum cuddle time or anything with a hook-up, so I was on my way pretty quickly. Mr. Temper is a nice guy and all, amazing kisser better yet, but I don't really want to start anything serious before I head back to school, which is coming up very soon.
And, oddly enough, right when I start to think that, a blast from the very recent past, texted me today asking what I was doing tonight. I replied that I didn't know fairly unconcerned because he had pissed me off by all the sudden not talking to me for awhile. He hinted that he wanted to hang out and that we never got a chance to "chill", code word fuck, and wanted to know why that was. Okay, lesson numero uno, d-bag, if you don't contact me or seem interested, why would I waste my time? His dirty texting left some room for hope there, so we'll see what happens. I told him that I could possibly hang out this weekend, but I'm not putting a lot of stock into it. If it happens awesome, if not, Mr. Temper and his tongue will console me.
There's been a lot on my mind lately, mainly because of school. Financial aid is the biggest pain in my ass ever. I would really like to start my adult life not forty grand in debt, but it happens, I suppose. I'll be an RA this year which should be interesting. I know that I have a co-ed floor, so I'm assuming that I'll have both male and female residents. I contacted a "toy representative" to possibly have a sex toy party as my first event, but I'm not quite sure my school with allow that. I wonder how many people would show up to that? I just want to do it because I'll get free accessories for hosting a party! Hell yeah!
And then there is my twenty-first birthday approaching. It's not necessary that I get completely plastered or anything, but it is occurring on a Thursday, aka Thirsty Thursday in college speak, so it would be an excellent night to get bombed. I'm thinking something downtown, but that may be a little pricey for my friends, so I may do Bourbon street. If you're not from the Chicago area, Bourbon street is a pretty huge deal. Very fun, very drunk, very Chicago. All the things I love.
So the next day I brought over a pizza, a sixer of Miller Lite, and the movie 300. If a guy isn't happy with a girl doing that, he has to be gay. I knocked on his door and gave a little finger wiggle hello when I saw his shadow move over the peep-hole. "You're an angel." he said at the sight of beer and pizza. I'm one smooth chick, aren't I? We put in the DVD and started eating the pizza and drinking the beer while we commented on the various appearances of nipples in the movie. If we were going to hook up at all tonight, I wanted it to get done before the beer could seep into his spooge and funk it up. So after he ate a good portion of pizza that I assumed would last him for awhile, I positioned myself in his lap for some making out. It's my duty as an aforementioned smooth chick to make a guy feel better when he's had a rough time of it. So I gave him the best blow job that he'll ever have during an epic battle scene of a graphic comic movie. He was beyond grateful, so I told him to remember the favor with a little wink as I headed out the door. I don't really like to have post-cum cuddle time or anything with a hook-up, so I was on my way pretty quickly. Mr. Temper is a nice guy and all, amazing kisser better yet, but I don't really want to start anything serious before I head back to school, which is coming up very soon.
And, oddly enough, right when I start to think that, a blast from the very recent past, texted me today asking what I was doing tonight. I replied that I didn't know fairly unconcerned because he had pissed me off by all the sudden not talking to me for awhile. He hinted that he wanted to hang out and that we never got a chance to "chill", code word fuck, and wanted to know why that was. Okay, lesson numero uno, d-bag, if you don't contact me or seem interested, why would I waste my time? His dirty texting left some room for hope there, so we'll see what happens. I told him that I could possibly hang out this weekend, but I'm not putting a lot of stock into it. If it happens awesome, if not, Mr. Temper and his tongue will console me.
There's been a lot on my mind lately, mainly because of school. Financial aid is the biggest pain in my ass ever. I would really like to start my adult life not forty grand in debt, but it happens, I suppose. I'll be an RA this year which should be interesting. I know that I have a co-ed floor, so I'm assuming that I'll have both male and female residents. I contacted a "toy representative" to possibly have a sex toy party as my first event, but I'm not quite sure my school with allow that. I wonder how many people would show up to that? I just want to do it because I'll get free accessories for hosting a party! Hell yeah!
And then there is my twenty-first birthday approaching. It's not necessary that I get completely plastered or anything, but it is occurring on a Thursday, aka Thirsty Thursday in college speak, so it would be an excellent night to get bombed. I'm thinking something downtown, but that may be a little pricey for my friends, so I may do Bourbon street. If you're not from the Chicago area, Bourbon street is a pretty huge deal. Very fun, very drunk, very Chicago. All the things I love.
Friday, August 1, 2008
This is how I spend my Friday night?
I went out to dinner with my best friend tonight. It was really great to see her again, of course. It's been awhile because she's been busy working in the real world while I've been sitting in my pool drinking iced tea. Our conversations usually always consist of her men. She is gorgeous and cool, the kind of cool that makes you think she's too good to be true because you can't be beautiful and cool, can you? Well, she is. But, anyways, our conversation turned to her boys (I counted ten for her....2 for me during the convo..ahh) and she glanced at the TV and said, oh, here's my old guy. I turned around and saw a sports announcer for a Chicago cable company. She texted him while he was on TV...I was in awe. They aren't serious. She isn't serious with any of the ten, but I was still in awe. But then, she surprised me. "All I really want is a nice boy. I want a boyfriend, but none of the guys I see that are interested in me are nice guys. I want a gentleman," she said. It never ceases to amaze me how all the beauty in the world can't help you when it comes to love. Sure, good looks can get attention, but not love. Sometimes I feel bad for her, actually. It breaks my heart when she gets hit on in a vulgar way because she takes it so offensively, whereas I smile because my mind is vulgar. Maybe it's true that all we want in this world is to love and have someone love us back, but damnit why does it have to be so hard, even for the seemingly "perfect" people?
Anyway, I came across this and I'm kind of in the mood for some psych-evaluation via survey-ness. So here we go. And, for any interested, I will be following up with Mr. Temper soon.
Yes or No
1. Have you had cyber-sex?
Yes, absolutely. When my first serious boyfriend moved away, we had cyber-sex all the time. It wasn't really satisfying because my family's computer was in the living room, so I couldn't just go at it. I was literally always looking over my shoulder for the moment my mom would come into the room. We soon moved onto phone sex anyway, which was much better.
2.Would you masturbate in front of your partner?
Yes. And I have. I think it brings a certain level of intimacy to the relationship, but I usually just do it for my own pleasure.
3.Would you tell your partner (who you really love) that they are bad in bed?
YES. Even if I didn't love someone who I had sex with, I'd tell them. It's my duty as a woman to train a man in all the special ways women liked to be touched. I'm really doing everyone a favor actually. I should be commended.
4.While having sex, have you ever thought about someone else to keep you turned on?
Yes, but rarely. If I'm not turned on by the person, why would I waste my time?
5.Have you ever looked at a family member and felt sexually attracted to them?
no. I admit that I have an obscenely good looking family, but I haven't ever felt a sexual attraction to any of them.
What do you think?
1.Gay marriage is wrong?
No, I think a person should be able to marry any other human who they love, man or woman. Love is love and who am I to judge what is right or wrong? Remember, God wants spiritual fruit, not religious nuts.
2.The night of your best-friend's wedding their fiance comes on to you, should you tell your best-friend?
I would investigate if a copious amount of alcohol was present first, but I would mention it to my best friend, obviously.
3.You catch one of your parents having a one-night-stand, should you tell the other parent?
Well, I don't think I'll have to deal with that at all actually. See this post for the story.
4.Your partner wants to go to a "swingers" club, would you go to keep your partner happy?
I'd probably be the one to suggest this, so of course. I'm pretty open to trying everything, but I would be cautious about STDs, meaning I probably wouldn't go to just any swinger's club. I do have some values, after all.
5.You are about to tell your spouse that you want a divorce but they just found out that a close family member is dying, do you still tell them?
No. I couldn't live with myself if I did that. No matter how bad our marriage had gotten, I would do all I could to support them through that difficult time because that would be what I wanted out of a partner. My Catholic conscience would eat at me way too much for me to do something like that.
Finale!
1.Would you/Have you ever fake illness to get attention?
Absolutely not. I'll write a post about this eventually, but no I would never fake an illness to get attention. After being extremely ill and in heart failure, I experienced "attention" due to an illness and I never want to feel that again.
2.You are the first to arrive at the scene of an accident but it turns out that the person hurt is your worst enemy, do you help or walk away?
Wow, this really puts my meanness to test, doesn't it? I don't really think that I have a worst enemy. There have been people that hurt me, yes, but I don't consider any of them enemies in any way. If I walked away, that would only burden me and it would come back to haunt me in some way. Have I mentioned I'm a huge believer in karma? I would help in any way that I could.
3.You have a non life threatening sexual disease, would you have a one night stand without telling the person?
Nope. Like I said before, I have some values. And karma definitely wouldn't like that. I could only imagine the hell I would pay after that....my pussy is afraid just at the thought.
4.Do you think it is important to tell the truth or spare someones feelings?
Well it depends what it's about and who it involves. If I know that my friend is very self-conscious and asks me how she looks with her new haircut, I'll tell her the truth in a very positive way.....for example, "Oh, it's a little short for your face frame, but it does bring out your eyes a lot." I'm kind of the queen of complimented-insults. It's a term I made up...I'm often afraid that my honesty is mistaken for being a blunt cunt (you liked that, didn't you ;-) ) but usually I tell the truth, especially if it's important.
Anyway, I came across this and I'm kind of in the mood for some psych-evaluation via survey-ness. So here we go. And, for any interested, I will be following up with Mr. Temper soon.
Yes or No
1. Have you had cyber-sex?
Yes, absolutely. When my first serious boyfriend moved away, we had cyber-sex all the time. It wasn't really satisfying because my family's computer was in the living room, so I couldn't just go at it. I was literally always looking over my shoulder for the moment my mom would come into the room. We soon moved onto phone sex anyway, which was much better.
2.Would you masturbate in front of your partner?
Yes. And I have. I think it brings a certain level of intimacy to the relationship, but I usually just do it for my own pleasure.
3.Would you tell your partner (who you really love) that they are bad in bed?
YES. Even if I didn't love someone who I had sex with, I'd tell them. It's my duty as a woman to train a man in all the special ways women liked to be touched. I'm really doing everyone a favor actually. I should be commended.
4.While having sex, have you ever thought about someone else to keep you turned on?
Yes, but rarely. If I'm not turned on by the person, why would I waste my time?
5.Have you ever looked at a family member and felt sexually attracted to them?
no. I admit that I have an obscenely good looking family, but I haven't ever felt a sexual attraction to any of them.
What do you think?
1.Gay marriage is wrong?
No, I think a person should be able to marry any other human who they love, man or woman. Love is love and who am I to judge what is right or wrong? Remember, God wants spiritual fruit, not religious nuts.
2.The night of your best-friend's wedding their fiance comes on to you, should you tell your best-friend?
I would investigate if a copious amount of alcohol was present first, but I would mention it to my best friend, obviously.
3.You catch one of your parents having a one-night-stand, should you tell the other parent?
Well, I don't think I'll have to deal with that at all actually. See this post for the story.
4.Your partner wants to go to a "swingers" club, would you go to keep your partner happy?
I'd probably be the one to suggest this, so of course. I'm pretty open to trying everything, but I would be cautious about STDs, meaning I probably wouldn't go to just any swinger's club. I do have some values, after all.
5.You are about to tell your spouse that you want a divorce but they just found out that a close family member is dying, do you still tell them?
No. I couldn't live with myself if I did that. No matter how bad our marriage had gotten, I would do all I could to support them through that difficult time because that would be what I wanted out of a partner. My Catholic conscience would eat at me way too much for me to do something like that.
Finale!
1.Would you/Have you ever fake illness to get attention?
Absolutely not. I'll write a post about this eventually, but no I would never fake an illness to get attention. After being extremely ill and in heart failure, I experienced "attention" due to an illness and I never want to feel that again.
2.You are the first to arrive at the scene of an accident but it turns out that the person hurt is your worst enemy, do you help or walk away?
Wow, this really puts my meanness to test, doesn't it? I don't really think that I have a worst enemy. There have been people that hurt me, yes, but I don't consider any of them enemies in any way. If I walked away, that would only burden me and it would come back to haunt me in some way. Have I mentioned I'm a huge believer in karma? I would help in any way that I could.
3.You have a non life threatening sexual disease, would you have a one night stand without telling the person?
Nope. Like I said before, I have some values. And karma definitely wouldn't like that. I could only imagine the hell I would pay after that....my pussy is afraid just at the thought.
4.Do you think it is important to tell the truth or spare someones feelings?
Well it depends what it's about and who it involves. If I know that my friend is very self-conscious and asks me how she looks with her new haircut, I'll tell her the truth in a very positive way.....for example, "Oh, it's a little short for your face frame, but it does bring out your eyes a lot." I'm kind of the queen of complimented-insults. It's a term I made up...I'm often afraid that my honesty is mistaken for being a blunt cunt (you liked that, didn't you ;-) ) but usually I tell the truth, especially if it's important.
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