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active forgetting

The things suppressed aren’t momentous. It is morning coffee, the warm spot where my feet would go, a ritual smile over toothpaste. It is no great feat to forget bad things. The trick is fto orget those happy gems until they lose all color and meaning. When the past overwhelms the present, there is no way forward. That is why I forget on purpose.

Posted 02/08/2010
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review

This writing thing is a hit or miss affair. Add today with yesterday and last year and assume you know the author. Not sure I’d recognize her myself.

I too am waiting for the good bits and a happy ending.

Posted 02/07/2010
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dating 101 from Pee Wee

Cowboy Curtis and the Cowntess
And yes. Cowboy Curtis = Lawrence Fishburn.

Posted 02/07/2010
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rebound

“She was crying on my shoulder not two days ago, and last night she hooked up with someone else.” He’s about to go into a tirade about how she’s a slut, and how capricious women are - as if I were not one. He winds up, “Women are crazy…”

Hold up.

Amazed I have to explain this to Mr. I-never-said-we-were-exclusive, but maybe not so crazy since he never realized these disposable women of his had feelings beyond his thinking. For him the world is divided into two types of women: the fuckable and the good. The good are respectable: mothers, sisters, daughters, and if you should be so lucky - his girlfriend and eventual wife. The fuckable are those disposable women who he doesn’t respect at all, but are fun for a bit.

We can have this conversation because I am of the respectable camp - not really a girl at all.

Yes. She was crying and she is with someone else. I’m sure she hasn’t stopped crying. What does that have to do with anything? That hook up is proof someone wants her; it’s a band aid. It’s because she is hurt that she is out there taking what pleasure she can, and I’m fairly sure that love is no where in that equation.

I see the wheels whir in his monkey brain considering that those fuckable girls have motivations and feelings beyond the time he’s used them. I see him consider the fact that a good girl is explaining this behavior to him. Maybe he will graduate from girls to women some day, this macho shit of a man.

Posted 02/07/2010
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positive sign

That the words are coming again, is actually an indicator that things are better.

Posted 02/06/2010
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no good title

the elusive zipless fuck

But there is no such thing. Rarer than a unicorn?
There are no unicorns, Charlie. No-strings-attached-zipless-fucks are imaginary. How can there be no strings tying two us? I am taking this here string and sewing up this patch of ego back into place; tied together by need; by momentary collision; by the momentary illusion we are not alone wrapped in the gossamer of play, pretending it doesn’t matter at all.

No?

Okay, Play along. Let’s go find that unicorn.

Hey, gf. Can you hook me up? I need a fix.

Sure. We’ll find you someone.

Curled around the base of my spine, some inner spring is uncoiling, and there is no conflict with the idea that she has a predatory nature.

Posted 02/05/2010
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enough with the hearts

“...because you needed to be broken and vulnerable. You never were, not really.”

I am wondering at the truth of that. I told Elaine I hate this. That I want my hard shell back. It’s all very Humpty Dumpty, gooshy insides puddled on the floor. This is what you get when you really let someone in? And this was a good thing?

Regardless. I am broken. It was okay before because I didn’t know I was alone. But I understand now. You can argue I have my beautiful boys, and wonderful friends, but you who are happily coupled, know it is not the same thing. Elaine says I am on my journey and when I am ready I will really be for this guy who is on his own journey, and we’ll be well met. She says it is her job to believe in that for me when I am tired, and I am.

Posted 02/04/2010
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the venn diagram of comfortability

This blog is home. You’d have to do a little bit of work to get here. I have not thought twice about what I write here. Mom reads it. And I know students can get here, but as stated, it takes some work to get here.

Facebook slurps up the blog and posts what I write here - there. And this is a good thing,

For the most part. My family, old high school friends, old college friends, friend friends all get it without much work. But then, the students do as well. And that extra ease of use is maybe not so good in terms of this external memory cache of mine.

A number of years ago, I wrote a bit about this in a post called The Professor has Left Their Context. Just reread it, and I guess I still believe it.

Posted 02/04/2010
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cocksure

“Funny, I thought you liked the bad boy type.”
Two men at the conference. I picked the boyscout. This is all hypothetically picking. Distance and opportunity and all precluded it from being any more than a post trip who-would-you-do? discussion.

Been there. Done that. Bad boys are so very doable. My heart wants a boyscout. It does. It really does.

I went on a date last night. I think yay me for trying. Did an online site. Criteria? The heart wants a beautiful mind, good writing, and baseline of cuteness or handsomeness. (There is no particular physical type). And he is nice and has a beautiful mind, and there is no chemistry.

And here’s the rub, I figured it out. I really do want the bad boy after all. Not emotionally. I don’t want some promiscuous full of himself guy who I know is juggling several girls at a time. Been there - did that. But the thing that the bad boy has that many a boyscout does not, is the ability to communicate I can handle you and I would like to without an inappropriate touch. It’s all in the cock sureness of that gaze. Pun fully intended.

Ah, the juggling act some poor shmuck has to do with me.

Posted 02/04/2010
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about last night

Just ten of us. A perfect combination of friends spanning disparate ages, interests and backgrounds - all of them folks I adore. The conversations never stopped and the knotted groups kept reconfiguring.

And there was the premise for the eveing- food and wine pairing. There was plenty of that too. (And it was GOOD). I got a little bit of the asian blush early on, but it subsided into a nice buzz. That fit well with the whole flitting motif. There were some stellar food and wine combinations, but my favorite (as evidenced by that O-face) was Tona’s strawberries dipped in dark chocolate with a Beaujolais. (Writing down the whole thing so I remember “Louis Jadot 2008 Beaujolais-Villages). DAMN. Just DAMN.

After this portion of the evening, Troy, Todd and I hit Tilt to dance the last hour of night. Ran into Adam Burke. I do get a kick when students are shocked see me out of my natural habitat. That never gets old. And I didn’t know how badly I needed to dance until I was out there dancing.

Troy is still crashed. We were up trying to finish (my contribution) the tuna sashimi/sesame red and green cole slaw and unfiltered sake until 3 in the morning. I am awake because that’s what I do in the morning. I do miss the days when I could sleep until noon. That was pre-children, so that was a while ago.

Anyhoo, this will happen again.

Written so I remember. External memory cache go..

Posted 01/31/2010
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this morning
awakening

Pawsteps? Footfalls?

Yes.

Teo came downstairs to shove his nose into my face as a friendly greeting, forgetting why he was in a rush. Connor mosied downstairs much less energetically and reminded the dog he really wanted to go outside. “Coffee?” I ask, after the hound has been released. Connor shakes his head “no”. We do this so often it is only amusing to me. - which is reason enough.

And I had an idea for a post and it’s gone. So, like I usually do when my head is emptied of its original goal, it goes to what-do-I-make-for-INSERT NEAREST MEAL HERE?

Saturday: waffles and sausage. And weee’re off.

Posted 01/23/2010
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self centered

Got caught up on last week’s Bones. Hodges goes into Sweets’ office. And there is a great interchange, all very reasonable. The upshot being, for some things the only solution is time.

On a somewhat related note, today I made myself a lovely breakfast: a potato omelet, toast, and a latte. (I have a machine that does this sort of thing). It was a civilized affair that I would have set before company. I didn’t eat it over the sink. I cleared the table and set my plate. I enjoyed it. Taking yourself out on a date first thing in the morning is not a bad thing. Finding joy alone is grand.

Last weekend Kim and I had an indulgent girl day, We got massages. (This in lieu of meds is fine by me). We went to a lingerie store and bought frilly lovely underthings. So I will be decked out for myself. And I will not share.

Posted 01/22/2010
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lowered expectations

Past the new year, there was no strong resolve for anything. Small decisions and tendencies are in order. Resolve is too weighty and requires more stamina, but I will attempt some things for as long as I can. (Maybe they will become habitual).

I will try to be around people who make me feel I am wondrous, and shy away from those who fill me with doubt and a sense of unworthiness. There is a fairly large contingent of the former, and a small and vascilating few in the latter.

I will try to ask for help sooner than later. Being an amazon is overrated.

Two. That’s all I’ve got for now. It is a sufficient beginning for the year.

Posted 01/21/2010
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shooting for that denoument

Time to get out of my head.

I’m still working on the ending to that monkey story. Nothing is resonating yet. In the interest of narrative, maybe there is no happy ending? Or maybe there is no real ending at all. A truce? An absorption?

Elaine said I needed help - both metaphorically and literally - with this story. And we return back to the problem with life stories unfolding in real time.

Real time is slow- damnit. So much longer than a half hour minus commercial interruptions.

Dear friends, near and far,
Expect requests for face time, coffee over video chat counts (Bill, Nain and Mary Grace, I’m talking to you). Time to move the story forward.

Posted 01/20/2010
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note to self

Went out for drinks and wings after class. Listening to these guys talking about their dating woes didn’t sound terribly alien - crossed expectations, general agreement that the other gender is crazy…well maybe some differences. But the upshot is that trying to find someone that fits you is hard, no matter the age.

Even so, I fear my shelf life has expired.

Posted 01/20/2010
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