Actually, I have another tidbit of information that I should probably post right now. This really cute, seemingly intelligent guy IMs me last night-before Eggshell came over-and we talked for a couple hours. So, we're talking and kinda teasing each other and he "kinda offers a possible relationship". His words. Okay! Let's go! Jump into this crazy shit! (Anyone else here noticing the sarcasm?) BUT! On the other hand, it's kinda tempting. It's what I want, a relationship. And I like him, so far. But he hasn't seen me at all. And, in case you couldn't tell from the guy who just up and left the other night, I'm not Miss Universe. I'm not ugly, by any means-but everyone has flaws and all too often that's all people see about me. Anyway, he called a few minutes ago and I suggested he come trick-or-treating with Amethyst and I (and did I mention Amethyst is going to be Dorothy? TOO cute!). So I guess I'll let y'all know later this evening whether or not I have a boyfriend. Like I said, we'll see.
Laters

Okay, so guy last night. Came over, talked for the better part of an hour then started a movie. But then Slate showed up and was on the computer for the rest of the time. Didn't matter, the guy still held me. His hands didn't even really wander-just to the point where if he'd gone one centimeter over it would have been impolite. But it was nice. Then the movie ended and everyone was just quiet for a while, he and I together on the couch, Slate at the computer. Then Slate announces he's going to bed and I walk the guy to the door (I know, three whole steps, but still). Anyway, I go to give him a kiss goodnight and he pulls me out the door with him-where we kiss for another five, ten minutes. He wants me to go down to his car with him-wonder why?-but I decline and he leaves. So it was a kewl night, overall. He gets to be eggshell-a kind of off off white colour. Why? Like I have a system for this. I just assign them as they come to me. That and he was wearing all white and has tan skin so I'm kinda combining. Relationship material? I don't know. He's incredibly nice, but I just can't tell about his intelligence. We didn't talk about anything that would weed that information out. We'll see how it goes.
Laters

Want a big surprise? Now, this is really going to shock you. Ready? Hold on to something. I have a guy coming over.
[EDIT:] He showed up before I could finish. But that's all I really needed to say anyways.
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So I talked to Caramel again. WooHoo! Anyway, he's leaving tomorrow for vacation, will be back mid November. Said we'll chat then. Still a write off? Maybe? Maybe not? I don't know. Me and boys...should just quit. But it's only a week until it's been a year...and then...? Then perhaps I'll forget my "quest" for a little bit. Perhaps not. Point is...okay, I don't have a point. Just rambling on in my usual fashion.
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"Excuse me miss... Is your face so messed up because you fell from heaven."
"Do you like to dance? Well then, could you go dance so I can talk to your friend?"
Those are probably the two worst. Especially because that second one (or something similar) has been used on me.
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Found: three absolutely incredible pickup lines. If any of these were used on me-sincerely, I mean-I swear I'd just melt. 1) "If you stood in front of a mirror and help up 11 roses, you would see 12 of the most beautiful things in the world." 2) Present the person with a single rose and say: "I just wanted to show this rose how incredibly beautiful you are." 3) "If God made anything more pretty, I'm sure he'd keep it for himself."
And a fourth just used in an IM conversation: "I'm just a boy holding out my heart to a girl asking her to love me." Actually, I think I like this one best.
Yes, I realize they're just lines. But they're sweet, you know? If someone could pull it off, I would totally fall for it-IF being the operative word. I'm not very gullible. Or is it not very trusting?
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Mmmm, I just love listening to music. Tonight is a night for turning the tunes up too loud and soaking in the bathtub with a book and a glass of something alcoholic.
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Did you ever have one of those thoughts you just shouldn't have been thinking? Or were ashamed of thinking, or even just didn't know why you were thinking it? So you passed it off as a dream? I do that. All the time. Anyway, I had a dream...
I dreamt that Slate was playing with Amethyst and he accidentally threw her over the balcony. And I was relieved. Because it wasn't my fault and now I had a reason to hate him.
I dreamt that I was out shopping, at a bookstore I think. And this guy came over and just started talking to me like we were the best of friends. Fast forward, we get married.
I dreamt that I killed myself and no one noticed. Then I dreamt it was an accident, but still dead and no one cared. I often dream about this. Because I know it would take a while-a long while-for anyone to notice I was gone.
I dreamt that I did the most incredible thing ever. The most phenomenal, the most world changing. And gave someone else the credit. Then that someone else did the worst and I took the blame. That's just like me.
I dreamt that Amethyst hated me. For all the reasons she should but I keep hoping she won't notice.
I dreamt my parents loved me. And knew me. And didn't desert me. And I dreamt that I believed all that was possible.
I dreamt I went walking in the wrong area at night and was somehow killed. Usually with a knife sliding into my black heart.
I dreamt someone worthy knew me, someone other than the one who does.
I dreamt...and I keep on dreaming.
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A gratuitous side note? Manatee's kind of bitter at me. Make that very bitter. I'm a little upset about it-I did really like him-but I'm more amused. He just HAD to send that one last email saying how he's not a part of my history. Whatever churns his butter, man. I'm just laughing at how I'm proven right once again. "Women will always triumph because men are dumb."
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I'm so confused. And unsure of everything. I want to love. No, I want to be in love. It was so awfully wonderful last time. Or maybe wonderfully awful. But I don't want to go through all the horror of meeting, getting to know each other, watching the thrill of the "new relationship buzz" fade, figuring out if our paths are on the same course, fighting, making up...it just sounds all so stressful. I think what I want right now is just someone to hang out with, talk with, make out with, and occasionally fuck. Without all the hassle of everything else. Just low key, not even boyfriend/girlfriend status. Monogomous, yes, I do want that. I don't know. This whole thing is irritating, frustrating and well, hope draining. I should just quit while I'm only this far behind. Because this race is killing me.
Anyway.
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I will not mock the stupid. I will not complain about the stupid. I will not annihilate the stupid...
It's the last one that's really a problem for me.
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So things with Slate are not going well. Well, they are on the surface, but I'm not stupid or niave enough to accept it as face value. It's like he's made up his mind about something and is now ignoring the rest of it. And what has he made up his mind about? I'm pretty sure it's kicking me out. Apparently he's letting his selfishness get in the way of our friendship. He said he never wanted to screw me over. But if he kicks me out that IS screwing me over-I have NO place to go. And I mean none. Fine. His choice. But I can screw him over, too. I can get him kicked out of the military, I can claim half owner ship of everything he's bought within the last year. I can totally fuck up his life. Which I don't want to do because, despite everything, I still care about him. But I will do if he doesn't care about me at all. But he's home so I'll just ignore it until
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So no more Manatee, and I don't feel like getting into the hows and whys. Let's just say that there were certain details that he let obscure the whole picture. Which is the type of guy I don't want to be with anyways (or so I keep telling myself). So another footnote in my history. Which started out pleasant until he turned into just another moron. *sigh* Why does that always happen around me? Is it because I'm so intelligent others seem idiotic by comparison? Is it because they're so intimidated by my intelligence they CHOOSE to become bottom dwelling scum? Men suck, I tell you. I think I'm just going to concentrate on me and my daughter and our problems, and not continually introduce new ones in the forms of asshole guys.
Anyway, in two days is Halloween-used to be my favourite holiday, and I suppose it still is. It's just my life is such a load of shit right now that I can't really care about it. Anyway, more crap to go deal with.
Laters

OMG, I can't believe I forgot to add this earlier. Guess who I talked to tonight? That's wrong. Guess again. Nope, try again. No. And eeewww. Man, you really suck at this guessing game. Okay, okay, I'll tell you. Caramel. That's right. Caramel. Did I ask why we haven't talked in two, three weeks? Did I confront him on why he's such an ass as to NOT talk to me in two, three weeks? Did I just ignore it all and continue with our nefarious caramel syrup plan? No, none of the above. Just talked, he was at work, has been working a lot, and is planning on going to go see his mother soon. In my old home state. How bizarre. Well, not really bizarre I have about a hundred old home states, so the likelihood is actually rather high. But it was still kind of odd. So there. Okay, I know, I got off topic. You're going to have to get over that, you know, if you keep reading this. I do that a lot. Anyway, I'm the one who IMed him. Maybe I should just call him. Shock the hell out of him. Nah, I don't want to seem too stalkerish. I want him unaware that I'm stalking him until it's too late. Like one of my favourite quotations: "You cannot make someone love you. All you can do is stalk them and hope they panic and give in." But, no, I don't think that it's going anywhere. I'm not closing off the possibility, hell, I'm open to anything. I just don't hold out much hope for any of the guys I've met so far. Or maybe I do hope, just don't expect. Maybe I should stop meeting guys for a while? Whatever. I'm tired and cracked out with all this crap going on in my life today.
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All right. I'm a whorrible person. He he! Nice pun, there. At least I think so. Anyway, he gets here and Amethyst is STILL not sleeping so I put her down again. But he's still there when I come back out. We pretend to chit chat for a little while and then put on a horror movie. We seem to be very physically comfortable with each other, he has his legs on mine, hands not awkwardly fidgeting for a place to alight, just naturally resting where they lay-on each other's legs. Then. Then he's biting my legs and playing with my feet. In a nice way. Or at least in a sexy way. So he moves behind me and starts biting my neck. It hurt-but I like that. All this time we're on the couch-until he manhandles me to the floor and wrangles off my pants and panties. Kissing, trying to...you know, you're not naive. So I back up and he follows. So I back up again and he follows. All around my apartment. Long story short, he gets me off with his hands and doesn't rape me or anything horrendous like that-good thing for him, too. In my apartment I know where all the knives are. Then we watch more of the movie and he leaves. Them's the facts. So, my reaction: I'm not surprised; it's just the male species proving itself to me once again. And, c'mon, men. If you expect to fuck a woman in today's society, WHY would you not bring protection? I mean, if I WERE going to fuck a stranger, there's no way in HELL I'd do so unprotected. Even if I were a slut, I'm not a stupid one. Show some thought there.
Oh, and you have no IDEA how much I wanted to get drunk and laid tonight. But only both together-so I can blame the fact on the liquor. Which I know is too much forsight for it to actually work as an excuse, but as excuses go, it's a pretty good one. Except for the fact that I'm a very sober, aware-of-myself-and-my-surroundings drunk. Like I said, I only wanted it as an excuse.
Anyway, it has been suggested to me that if I actually hit the year mark without being in a relationship I should just go on a month long scrogging fest. That's in one week. One. Chances of me being in a relationship? A million to one. Exactly a million to one. (Anyone read the Discworld series? And know why I'm putting in that statistic?) So I haven't decided on that one yet. But I suppose I should be taking applications...anyone interested? Send me your qualifications, measurements, age, willingness essay, race, eagerness scale, and average time frame. *sigh* If only it were that easy. Actually, if it IS that easy, send me your application to be my boyfriend, too. With the same information, just also include stuff like why you'd make a good boyfriend for me. I know, I know. Unrealistic. But a girl can hope, right? I'm just worried, with all this crap I'm going through, that I might run out of hope. And probably soon.
Laters

You know what? He's not here yet and all of a sudden, I just don't feel like company. I feel like being alone and lamenting the fact and the reasons Manatee does not want to see me again. And maybe weeping a little because that's the general trend of my life.
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Oh, and the reason is that Manatee emailed me with a "no, never" response to my invitation to go out with us on Saturday. So that's a dead issue. I think. *sigh* More details about that next post, when I'm not distracted with guys coming over.
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OMG!!! So I had a guy come over and when he got here I was on the computer. No big, right? I signed out of what I was doing and went to give Amethyst a hug and kiss goodnight. When I came back out he was gone. GONE, I tell you! I'm not offended-thought I probably could be-just easily amused. And this amuses me. Lots. I didn't really even get a good look at him, and he leaves. AND I get to see that he has trouble getting out of the parking lot. Tee hee hee hee hee heee! No colour for him, just a side note-or maybe a foot note in my history. And another guy coming over. Obviously I'm extremely disappointed. Obviously. I'll let you know about the other one when he leaves.
Laters

What is fucking WRONG with the world? Or with me? I don't know I'm just BLAH right now. Fucking planet. Why can't it just blow up or something. everyone's dying anyway. What's the fucking point. I wanna get drunk and screw a good looking stranger. I want to neglect my duties and throw caution to the wind. And I want to jump over that balcony. it's only ten stories up, not necessarily fatal. I want to prove someone could survive. or maybe I just want to die.I don't know/ I'm just sitting here wondering, free typing, you could say. Not looking at the screen just hoping my words are getting across. listlessly listening to music, drifting off to nowhere, blissful nothingness. this isn't the normal me. but I think I'll leave it anyways, if for no other reason than as a warning to myself that I can sometimes ignore that which is most important to me without forgetting that it is important. stupid punctuation and spelling anyways. and capitalization. I really am going to get a shower now. a really really hot one.
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I want want want what I want want want, and this is how I get it: I usually don't. Ah, well. A shower sounds like an excellent idea at the moment.
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I'm done. I'm done censoring myself. I thought maybe I would sound more intelligent if I decided not to curse here-after all I have a better command of this language than most. But sometimes, the only word that will suffice is a loud, energetic FUCK! Is this necessary? Maybe not. However, rather than search for a word that won't have nearly as much emphasis, I'm simply going to write the way the words flow. And if you can't handle it, kiss my ass. (Okay, so maybe THAT was a bit gratuitous. But I was making a point. So there.)
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Again, I was starting something and got screwed. This time by a stupid popup. I accidentally clicked it and bye bye post! Goddammit! And it was GOOD, too! One of those ideas that start at one place and take you on this tide to somewhere else entirely. And even though I could go back and start from where I was, I'll never get that whole thought pattern back again. Goddamned technology!
Fine. I'll just post another (highly demanded) bizarre dating story. And hope that one day I'll get back to that phenomenal, more serious bit of writing I was so proud of. Here goes:
Okay, he IMs me, right? Right. And we have a very he-wants-to-get-laid-and-is-not-very-intelligent conversation. Why do they do this? I mean, I understand the need to be physical...anyway, that's a whole 'nother rant. So he comes over-during the day so I have an awake and aware Amethyst-on the pretense that he's going to take us to a movie. But when he gets there he claims that he has to go house shopping with a friend. I don't care, I really don't. But it IS kinda rude, you know? Especially because the person he's supposed to go house shopping with calls while he's here and has just woken up-which means that this is not a spur of the moment plan. Okay, so whatever. "I just wanted to come over and meet you." Get lost, already. And he's not even really attractive, at least not to me. So what does he want? You guessed it-sex. But I have Amethyst. Anyway, I give her something to eat and she goes out to the balcony to eat it. Which is perfectly normal; I have a pretty open apartment, there's a railing, and it's nice out there. What does HE do? Wanders into the bedroom-which door I have admittedly left open, but I thought he was just going to pick us up and go. I wander after him because well, I have all sorts of stuff in there that are no business of strangers. So he SHUTS THE DOOR and closes us in. Now Amethyst is a pretty easy going kid, but she was born with an insatiable curiousity. As soon as the door is shut she wonders what's going on behind it. Although maybe she didn't wander over there for a few minutes. In fact, I'm pretty sure she didn't. So okay, he sits down on the bed and I sit with him and he starts kissing me-and OMG is he bad at it. I mean, it was like my first kiss only worse. So I let him take off my shirt-no big deal, I almost never wear one around the house (except strike the almost part). Then he starts fumbling with my bra. And by fumbling, I mean fingers slipping up like a bumbling idiot. Okay, guys, any heterosexual man over the age of seventeen-and I'm giving the benefit of the doubt here, most say sixteen-should know how to operate a woman's bra. And any over the age of twenty-again, benefit of the doubt, should be eighteen-should be able to do it one handed. This guy was twenty-two. Did I laugh? I was so close. You have no idea. No, I said that I was uncomfortable because my three year old daughter was out there alone and it bothered me to shut the door on her. And put my shirt back on. He, being the male that he is-maybe I SHOULD hate men, given the opinion I have of them and the way they keep proving themselves worthy of it-kept insisting that she'd be okay. When I said I just couldn't get into it, he said "You have that tongue ring. Wanna use it?" I'll give him points for being a little more subtle than "Can I have a blow job?", but COME ON!! I said no and turned towards the door. Guess whose adorable little girl fingers were sticking under it? That's right: Amethyst and her undying curiousity. But she was polite enough not to just barge in, my little Bear. I open the door and retrieve her and usher his sorry self out. The end. By this point, dear reader-and yes, I know that's a cliche, get over it-I'm sure you're wondering if I ever have normal dates. Well, I don't think I've had one yet. I had one that was really phenomenal, and I suppose leaned more towards normal...but I'll write about that another time. It's too awesome to be soiled by being in the same post as creepy bile yellow guy. Bye, bye Bile.
Laters

What did happen to that girl? The one I only barely remember? The one who loved without fear, who hoped without doubt, who believed without faith? Was I ever that girl? And who am I now? And who do I hope to be?
Okay, I was starting something there, but my stream of consciousness got interupted/hijacked/dammed up, whatever. So I'm just going to post this and start over.
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Children are amazing. She's been punished literally all day, and still she comes up and wants a hug and a kiss. When I'm the one who nearly beat her senseless. Okay, I didn't beat her, but a good spanking was definitely in order. *sigh* I'm nearly ecstatic over her resilience here. Just like me... And she comes over and just kisses me on my arm as I type...my heart almost breaks for the love of that little girl. And then it does break as I realize I'm not worthy of it.
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Je m'en vais chercher un grand peut-etre. Story of my life, I think.
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I cannot type tonight. Maybe it's this chill, or sleep deprivation, or whatever, but I'll check my spelling in the morning. And die of shock if anything's wrong. I'm kinda pedantic that way. Oh, word for the day: acataleptic. Completely describes me.
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I am NOT boy crazy. It's just...well, there are a lot of guys out there and in order for me to find one, I have to go through most of them, don't I? There are millions of fish in the sea...maybe I'm not using the right bait?
And by the way, what happened to that girl? The one who didn't care about boys, the one who never wanted to date, and only ever slept with the man she was going to marry? Oh, wait. That was never me. That was my sister. I've always been a little boy crazy.
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Just a side note: my music has been awfully kind to me tonight. I've had it on consistently since I returned home, and it's been completely in sync with my moods. Hyper/dancy when I was dancing, slower/pensive now that I'm writing. An amazing coincidence? I'd dearly love to believe otherwise. Too bad I'm such a cynic.
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I've calmed down somewhat. And am now going to write something serious. (I go from hyper-giggly to uber-contemplative. I wonder about this whole bi-polar thing...)
I haven't thought about him in a while. Well, not that way. I've wondered what he's up to, how he's doing, if there are any movies he's thinking about seeing or has seen that maybe I would like, if there's any music as well. But nothing...missing. Nothing romantic, nothing heart rending. Tonight, though...I read this:
"I know in the past I've caused you pain, and I'm sorry. And I'll
always be sorry til the day I die. And I hate this pen I'm holding, because I should be holding you. I hate this paper under my hand because it isn't you. I even hate this letter because it's not the whole truth. Because the whole truth is so much more than a letter can even say. If you wanna hate me, go ahead. If you wanna burn this letter, do it. You could burn the whole world down. You could tell me to go to hell. I'd go. If you wanted me to. And I'd send you a letter from there."
And I wished that I could have sent him a letter like that, right after the us. I didn't wish for him back-I'll never wish that again-but I did wish that I'd never had to wish that, that we were still us, and not him and me. I see things all the time that remind me of him. And most of the time I smile; I no longer regret the time we had together. But tonight...tonight if I saw a picture I think I'd cry. In fact, I think I will.
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I am hyper. In an excitable, good, extraordinarily giggly mood. I feel like a teenager getting ready for a big date or something. But I'm not. No guys, no going out, nothing. I'm just listening to music way too loud and twirling around the house like I don't care how much of a fool I look. *dance, dance, dance!* Did you ever throw back your head and just spin? "Do you remember when...we used to sing? Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da" I am the brown eyed girl!
Anyway, I talked to Manatee today. I just decided to call him. And I did NOT go to the movies with the other guy. I went with just me and Amethyst. Had a good time, got a ride home with Slate. And now he's out making out with someone-surprised? no, he is the man whore-and I'm here, in a great mood, dancing around my living room with Amethyst to music that can probably be heard all over the apartment complex. There's something to be said about just throwing back and ignoring society, dancing around the living room with no one around wearing jeans and no shirt. (For the curious, yes, I am wearing a bra-and for the extra curious it matches my panties.) LoL!!! Yay! Today rocks my world! "Sugar! Oh, honey, honey! You are my candigyrl!" My theme song! Running off to dance some more...
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*sigh* I feel guilty. I really want to see Manatee again, but this other guy just asked me out...and I DO kinda want a ride to the movies, instead of walking...but...I mean, I know we don't have anything going on, and that I'm free to do as I choose, but...I feel like I WANT to have something going on with him-even if he's not had any contact with me in two, three days-and I feel like if I go out with this other guy I'm somehow betraying a confidence or something. *sigh* And then, me being the honest person I am, I'd have to tell him and he might react badly...why do I worry about these things? Why do I obsess over them? He's probably on a proper date with a great looking girl right now. And he wouldn't be interested in me. (Don't ask why I'm so pessimistic today. It's better that way-I'm consistently either being proven right or pleasantly surprised.)
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A line I'll never hear (1, because I came up with it; 2, because guys just don't say these kinds of things):
Me: What else do you want to know about me?
Him: The kind of things it takes a lifetime to learn.
And then I would kiss him.
That's my favourite little fantasy of the day. Well, one of them. The other is him showing up (or calling, or IMing, or even emailing me) unexpectedly. So no, I haven't heard from Manatee in two days. Surprised? Maybe, but only a little. Disappointed? Unfortunately, yes-more than I should be.
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What am I looking for?
I'm looking for my first love-exactly the same, but different this time. I'm looking for something better when what I had was perfect. I'm looking for a man who can understand why I cry, even when I don't-and understand why I laugh, too. I'm looking for someone who knows what it's like to regard everything as pointless, and be cynical and jaded because of it, but still have vast stores of hope-or if he doesn't know, at least he understands that about me. I'm looking for someone so completely compatible with me -not the same, not opposite, merely completely compatible- that we know there is no one else for each other. I'm looking for someone who would never read my diary, whether or not I told him not to, out of respect for me. I'm looking for someone who understands that I'm not looking at all, merely hoping with all that I am. I'm looking for someone who's looking for me the same way. I'm looking for someone who understands my need for my barriers, while breaking them down and looking through them-and then who shows me that I have no need for them after all. I'm looking for someone I can trust with who I am, because so far no one truly knows, and only one has a hint. I'm looking for someone who sees who I am, who I was, and who I want to be as the same glorious person. I'm looking for someone who can save me from the woman I never wanted to be yet somehow have become. I'm looking for someone who'll forgive me that hundred thousandth time, and let me screw up again. And again. I'm looking for a friend to start, a boyfriend or playmate if that seems appropriate, and a partner in crime if he can handle it. I'm looking for someone who will worship me and allow himself to be worshiped by me. I'm looking for someone who will be a great father to my children. I'm looking for someone who will father my children. I'm looking for someone with whom I will be comfortable experimenting in the bedroom. I'm looking for someone who sees me as beautiful, despite all my flaws. I'm looking for someone who's not afraid of me or intimidated by me. I'm looking for someone who can show me the world just by talking about it and wishing to go. I'm looking for someone who will introduce me to the world. I'm looking for someone who knows that whether or not we actually do something, we still need to talk about it as if it could happen. I'm looking for someone with whom I can argue, even fight. I'm looking for someone who knows that even though we're fighting we're still in love. I'm looking for someone who will consent to what I want in a wedding because all he wants is one that will make me his wife. I'm looking for someone with enough character to get out of bed, enough commitment to move into action, and enough discipline to follow through. I'm looking for someone who would rather die of thirst than drink from the cup of mediocrity. I'm looking for someone who reads it all, even when it gets this long. I'm looking for someone who would help me move the bodies. I'm looking for someone who could break my heart and scatter it across creation, but who never would. I'm looking for someone to whom I can give my heart, because he's worthy of it. I'm looking for someone who plays my game, breaking all the rules without hurting me. I'm looking for someone to love with all that I am, was, and ever will be, because I have more love in me than than the rest of the multiverse combined. I'm looking for stability. I'm looking for honesty. I'm looking for the rest of my life.
Laters

This is what I have learned from my past relationships:
That giving it your all is no guarantee, but give it your all anyway-every time. That the little things can be a big deal and the big things always somehow manage to get solved. That everything ends badly, otherwise it wouldn't end. That you know long before it's over that it will be. That love never ends, but it can change forms. That friendship is more important than lust-but don't discount the importance of lust. That you can cry on his shoulder while he massages your back-and those things you'd always heard about but dismissed as being physically impossible actually are not. That holding hands for the first time is more exhilarating than the seventieth time you have sex-even consistently great sex. That he WILL notice when the dishes are done and the house is clean. That "I love you" never loses its meaning, no matter how many times you hear it. That you can never hear "I love you" too much. That "I love you" doesn't mean enough. That it's no one's fault, but both of you are to blame. That the first kiss is the best-the one you'll always remember and compare all the others to, and they will always fall short. That after years you can know everything about someone and they can still surprise you. That you never know everything about someone-and they'll always surprise you. That not all surprises are good ones. That listening is the more important aspect of keeping the communications open. That crying for no reason, or for the best reasons, is for naught unless he understands why you're crying. That he can understand why you're crying even when you don't. That he can understand why you're laughing even when you don't. That watching his favourite movie isn't as fun without him there-nor is watching yours. That life happens despite and to spite and in spite of your plans. That even though you follow him to the ends of the earth, sometimes coming back you're alone. That there's not a lot there at the ends of the earth, but it's worth it-the journey is about the company, and the love you share along the way. That your second love will never compare to your first, so don't take notes. That the person who said "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" was an idiot. That even though you have loved and lost-and died because of it-you still want to love again.
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Damn, I'm bored! And not just the bored because I don't want to do anything that I have to do. The kind of bored that's I have NOTHING to do, and I'm crawling up the freaking walls!! Damn! I want company. Or to go out. Or anything. I've been in this apartment for a week straight with my three year old. She needs to get out, too, I suppose. But she doesn't mind. She's all about hanging out with mommy. Oh, I need to DO something! I want to go OUT! Or even just have someone over here. Or anything. Okay, I'm getting repetitive. And instead of boring you, too, I'll just go.
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Frustrated. Frustrated. Frustrated. Frustrated. Amethyst is such a good kid, and I mean she's awesome! But...she's three. Sometimes she just gets on my nerves, you know? Maybe you don't, but still. I love her more than anything, more than my life. Just right now, she's getting into everything and I can't just shout at her about it, because I'm the one that's frustrated and she's just being three. But it's a beautiful day out so I think I'm going to take her down to the pool later. Give her something to do. And maybe go for a walk or something.
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Oh, and another thrilling, exciting thing happened: I got my first email from a stranger about my blog. And he LIKED it. No "you're so childish to be posting this crap". He said it was just as bizarre as it needed to be. Yay, me-again!! I'm having a good day. Oh! (I know, another one.) My roommate and I decided to work things out. Not that we have, but we're going to, so no more fighting. For now. Ah, Slate. I miss us being such good friends.
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Oh, and though I didn't post this earlier, Manatee sent me like six emails last night-just talking and stuff. Because he doesn't have messenger. Which is kinda fun; no time limits on responding. But he said he had a good time and wants to hang out more. Yay, me! No pressure or anything, but I would like to see him again, and soon. I mean, when you meet people you like, you hang out with them more right? I do, at any rate. And when you find someone you REALLY like, you spend a LOT of time with them. Even if they are just friends, I mean. Anyway, without sounding DLP (desperate, lonely, and pathetic) I hope he calls tonight. Or at least emails. I'm not TOO picky-but I do have a preference...
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I suppose I coud tell you about my friend, hunter green. Hunter is...one of those friends that is practically the definition of the word friend. We can have no contact whatsoever for a month, and then have nothing to say to each other when we do talk. We're that close. And we both know that we're there for each other no matter what. We balance each other; we're so much alike; we're opposites. I don't really know what else to say about Hunter. We've got this crazy connection that's metaphysical, maybe even psychic. We miss each other a lot, since I've moved. I'm sure we'll see each other soon, though. Maybe after Christmas one or the other of us will be able to buy a plane ticket. Of course, I'm the better one to visit-I live in a tropical paradise, and Hunter lives...in the south. And even if we don't see each other soon, when we do meet next-whether it be a week or three years-we'll still be eerily close. Everyone needs a friend like that.
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Okay, so I didn't really post yesterday. Not for lack of computer access, but for lack of anything to really say. Bad day for words, I suppose. Today is better-at least here I am. Don't really have anything to say, but I'm going to say it anyways. Maybe a little
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I know I probably sound callous with all these guys in and out (standard defense mechanism, comes with the package). But, as I said before, most of them are throw-away; the kind that are good for company for an evening. And some are only good for physical attention, and some are good for nothing. Mauve, last night, was good for physical attention-even though there was no sex involved, I know that there is no relationship potential there. If for no other reason than that he said he's too busy, but still. Tonight was different somehow. First off, he came over while Amethyst was awake-something I rarely permit. And they got along great, it was awesome. And when she went to bed, he and I got along great. We were playing with the handcuffs for a while, and my wrist is bruised (but he kissed it...mmm...), but nothing negative. My point is that he-and he is manatee, a greyish colour (the colour of his ship, for the curious. I know, I'm not really that creative. Except when I am.)-is someone with whom I would really like to pursue a relationship. I like him a lot, on more planes than just the physical one. I didn't kiss him, or even hug him goodnight, and though I can't say I'm thrilled about that, I'm only slightly disappointed. However, I am unsure of where he stands. It's not like I'm pushing for definition, or, hell, even an out-of-the-house date, but I would like to know whether or not he's ever going to call again. I dislike the question, although the anticipation is kind of thrilling. Anyway, I just thought I'd point out that I'm not some sort of attention hungry man hater. I genuinely like this guy. We'll see how it goes-and while I have very little reason to think it will not go well, has anyone else noticed the trend?
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Another night another guy...I'm such a ho, la la la la! *Doing a little dance around my house without my shirt on* I'm having a good day. I really liked the one from last night-he decided he wanted to be mauve. Although I'm suspicious as to whether he's making fun of me, or he just tossed it out there because I vetoed blue, but mauve he is. Mauve was fun. I want to see more of him. Tonight, though is Gilmore Girls and Smallville and someone else. Can't assign colours until after the meeting, but he's on his way. Now.
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Sleep eludes me. I should've just watched the movie when he left. Good thing I have my petty addictions...what would I do without my blog? (To those who voted for "have a normal life"-you obviously haven't gotten the point yet. Go away. Do not return.)
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I guess I should not have a link to this page on my messenger profile. Because that's where I get all my dates. Ah, well, this is who I am, and if they have a problem with it, they don't have to deal with me. Most of them are throw-aways, anyway. With a few very positive exceptions...I'm going to go wander off and smile a lot now.
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All right, I have one more thing to add. Usually I have all these issues about being in various states of undress with people, but for some reason I just did not with him. I was completely comfortable the whole time. Wonder if that means anything? And if so, what?
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So he left. Details? I might add some, but I have a sneaky suspicion that he's going to read this. Let's just say I had a THOUROUGHLY enjoyable time and the movie remains unseen by my eyes. And wow. I'll have to ask him what colour he wants to be, somehow my mind is blank on this one for him. And yeah. Okay, I'm incredibly...distracted at the moment. I wanted him to spend the night, and not for the aforementioned reason. For the opposite. Damn! And I'd really like to see him again.
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Hmmmm...a guy coming over, and is anyone surprised? This one might be kewl, though-I've already seen what he looks like and he's seen me...so maybe it won't be a total waste of an evening. Though he doesn't know it yet, we're going to watch a movie. And that's it. Hehehe! I think I derive some sort of sick pleasure from this whole thing. Because we all know what they expect. And we all know that they're not going to get it, not from me. I'm a twisted sort of sadist. But I like me that way. I'll let you know how it went when he leaves. Unless he spends the night... Okay, that will most likely not be happening, but I'm not averse to the possibility of torturing someone for an entire night. I know. I'm the only one who amuses me.
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I hate fighting with people. I really, really, really do. My roommate-we'll give him Slate (a grayish/blue colour)-has been fighting with me all day. Picking a fight, actually. I just kind of wish that I wasn't the only one who's the way I am. I would do anything for my friends-and I mean, ANYthing. I would go into debt for them, I would comfort them when they called me at four in the morning, I would buy them any and everything they wanted, I would commiserate with them and agree with them when they were down, I would support them until they were eighty if they needed me to. But here I am, fallen, broken, battered, bruised, and scarred-both literally and figuratively-and he holds less than three months against me? I'm sorry, I didn't choose this. In fact, if anyone made any choice here, it was HIM. He invited me and I didn't have any place else to go. There's not a lot I can do here, especially when he's not helping. He's not exactly HINDERING, but he DOES begrudge me pretty much everything. Even an opinion. I mention that I like a car or wish to see a movie and he acts like I expect him to buy it for me or take me there. Dammit, this situation sucks. Ass.
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While I usually require very little sleep, I got a total of six hours all weekend. So I'm a little sleepy. (Oh, and for the curious: no, Caramel never called again, nor has he responded to any of my IMs. Another write off for the books.)
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Who am I? A realistic description? I'm honest, and I've heard that's important. I'm interesting and witty. I'm open enough to be engaging, but hold back enough to stay mysterious. I know how to talk, but more importantly I know how and WHEN to listen. I'm attentive and affectionate. When I fall in love I stay there. I'm faithful. I'm loyal. I'm able to tell what another person needs and when, and I try my best to provide that. I'm intensely curious. Although I, like most women, want a man to know intuitively what I'm thinking and feeling, I'm not stubborn enough to make him guess for eternity. I'm extremely sensual and thrive on touching others. Other than physically, I'm what men look for when they're seriously looking for a partner. Or so I've been told.
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"I love you." The most powerful, debilitating words in the English language. They make you strong, they weaken. They imply the hope of forever and the frailty of the present. They forget the past and rebuild the future. And in the end, they are what destroys you. Or maybe just me. Again.
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All right, so another bizarre dating story has been requested. Or maybe I just feel like telling another one, you'll never know. Okay, this was more than a month ago. So I'm kind of restricted to my house because of my child-and on a side note, her colour is amethyst purple, and I'm going to refer to people I've already introduced by their colours (easier that way-for me at least). So Amethyst goes to bed and he comes over. We'll assign his colour as carrot. Okay, Carrot brings a movie-"Resident Evil", which I haven't seen before. Again, with the pretending to be scared-he takes my hand and puts it thisclose to his dick, pretending this is the most natural thing in the world, holding my hand. I don't care; he's not trying anything, really. And we watch and finish the movie, all the while he's holding my hand on his inner thigh. As soon as the movie's over-and I mean, the credits have barely started to roll, he sticks his fingers in my mouth. Whatever, they're clean and I have an oral fixation. Apparently he's fascinated with my tongue piercing. I finally get his fingers out of there and he CRAWLS ON TOP OF ME and starts kissing me. Again, whatever, I'm a big makeout whore-all about the kisses. Wanna guess what he's REALLY trying to do? That's right, he's trying to put his crotch in my face. I'm sure he's thinking I just won't be able to resist the temptation and will pull his pants down and suck him off right away. I deliberately don't get the hint. He is not discouraged by this, however. I ask him to leave and he ASKS ME FOR A BLOW JOB. Just comes right out, that bluntly. I kid you not. I say "no." I'm already appaled, and he actually asks "why not?" My first impulse? "Because I have the world's worst gag reflex, and if you stick that thing in my mouth, I'm going to vomit on it." What I actually said? "Because I don't want to. Now leave." And I shoved him out the door-where he stood until I got him his movie. I was tempted to just slam it in his face and throw the movie off the balcony, but I got it for him and he left. Because that's the kind of person I am.
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Okay, so today my friend, my daughter, and I went out. Shopping, movie, nothing out of the ordinary. Then we walked home. Which, apparently, IS out of the ordinary because I've heard people don't like to walk much anymore. Not that I blame them. After tonight, I may just rally to their cause.
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Nothing new and no energy to recount the old. You'll just have to wait until next time.
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Mmmmm...warmth. A hot shower, clean sheets and pajamas, a satin comforter...had I someone to share my bed with, this night would be perfect. Obsessed? Nah. Just in the mood to notice.
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The best thing that's ever happened to me? I'd like to say the birth of my daughter, but I was young and unprepared and I resented it at the time (here I should add that I love LOVE my daugher-she's great-it just took a while). Honestly, I don't know. I can think of several worsts, but not really a single best. I can think of a best OF certain things. Like a best present, a best picture, a best kiss. The best present: stickers. I know, sounds a little lame, but I was going through this period of wearing a sticker on my face everyday to cover up my mole-which is actually rather attractive on its own. But my best friend-who's now my roommate-knew how much I enjoyed doing it and got me this huge pack of stickers for Christmas. Its not that the present was inherently great, it's just that he knew me that well. The best picture: there's this one of my sister and I when we were kids, taking swimming lessons. This catches us just going in or just coming out of the pool, and the expressions on our faces-we were just terribly cute. And I can see why everyone thought we were twins. The best kiss: in his place, he's already fixed me a drink. I'm drinking it and he comes up behind me and starts...touching and kissing. His lips move slowly down the line of my face as he's turning me towards him. His lips barely brush mine and then...then we're kissing. It's like this explosion of the potential of the evening turning into a reality for which I'd only thought to dream. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I am completely focused on the meeting of lips and tongues and breaths and bodies. In that moment...ah, but it was only a moment. And an eternity ago.
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I wasn't allowed to have Barbies until I was eight years old. Why? My parents thought the female figure was too "mature" for us until then. Despite the fact that I was allowed to play with them at friends' houses. This has had several effects upon my life. One, an introduction into the hypocrisy of my parents. This is actually twofold: that I was allowed at friends' houses and that my little sister got her first Barbie when I turned eight. Two, an introduction into the inane/ridiculous nature of my parents. (Why? They were just Barbies. My daughter already has several-and only slightly as a direct assault on my parents' values.) Three, and perhaps the most serious effect, is that, to compensate for not being able to play with Barbies at an early age, my sister experiments with my hair. Colours, lengths, styles. You name it, she's tried it on me. I don't mind, but it is a direct cause/effect relationship there.
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Current obsessions: Roses. Embarrassingly enough, the WB. Anything anachronistic. This blog. My sister. My daughter. Other stuff. Things I would be obsessed with if they were readily available: Making out. Money. Sex. Movies. Walking in the rain with other people. Board games. Tattoos and piercings. Other stuff. Right now I'm just...craving. Everything. Mostly, I want to be touched, kissed, caressed...seduced, even. Parts of my body are tingling with the knowledge that I will not be experiencing these things anytime in the forseeable future. I am not saying this because I miss having these things. No, I don't miss what I once had, nor do I want those things back. I guess I'm just more actively noticing that I DON'T have it at this point. My bed is vacuously empty tonight.
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Okay, so I haven't been able to get to my blog for the entirety of yesterday/today. Which sucks, because, as you all know, it's better to feed than to starve an addiction. Have no fear, however-I am still as enthusiastic as ever about sharing the weirdness of me. Now...what to say? Hmmm...I supposed I should go back a little bit. Or a lot, whichever. Okay, I've got it. Apparently when I was four I went to stay with my aunt. And apparently I dumped dirt into her lawn mower. Which, of course, is the worst sort of offense. I knew that at four. Anyway, this started a long history of her hating me. Nineteen years and she's still at it. We call her Auntie Satan. All because of a child actually acting like a child. A heinous crime, I know. Ah, well. I'm just dying for the day she comes after me to collect what I "owe" her. Because she "helped" me so much when I was living with my sister in Wyoming. Whatever. Actually, she's IS trying. She's talked to my sister recently asking for my contact info and all that. I'm curious as to what she'd say, but so far, nothing. Well, all my sis gave her was an email address, but still. Nothing. Notice how my tears just RAIN down because of that. Really.
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Okay, for some reason I can't seem to edit my posts. And I'm kind of wondering if I can post at all. So I'm going to write this and attempt to post it, but if it doesn't pop up, we'll know something's seriously wrong. Other than with me, I mean. Okay, here goes.
It seems to me that some of you might get the impression that I'm some sort of prude. Or, god forbid (and just quit reading and go back to your pathetic little life if you don't get the pun here), a christian. Neither of which is true. I've had sex before-obviously, I have a kid-but...well, I got to the point where only two of my sexual encounters had not been one night stands. And one was the first guy I had sex with, which naturally doesn't really count. Two out of how many, you ask? Nah, I'm not going there. Let's just say those two are less than 1/5 of the overall total and let it go at that. Now, I'm not advocating monogamy or never having a one night stand-or several, or even exclusively one night stands if that's what you can handle. But I decided I, personally, couldn't handle it. Don't get me wrong, it was fun. And I mean FUN. And some of the best sex I've had. However...it's not my style. I tend to get attached really easily, and sex forms an attachment. For me, there's no such thing as "no strings attached" sex. Would that there were, I'm practically in heat-it's been a WHILE. But I decided what I want and, though my will power has been tested-many, many times, I might add-I am adhering to my quest. Don't worry, I'm only jokingly referring to it as a quest. It's just what I choose to do. I'm not deluded enough to think that there will only be one more ever. That's probably not going to happen. But when I do end this sebatical (for lack of a better word), it will be by my choice-a deliberate, thought out action, not getting caught up in the heat of the moment. For the curious, no, this is not as bizarre as it gets. This isn't even one foot into the rabbit hole, and I have a VERY enterprising bunny. This is it until I figure out this whole blogging error thing. Hope you see it.
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Okay, so when I have absolutely nothing new going on in my life-and I warn you, this will happen quite often-I'm going to post things that happened a while ago. After all, I know what's gone on in my life so far, but you probably need to catch up. I've already gone into where I was born, so let's go with my earliest memory. Hmmm...actually, I'm not entirely sure. I have a memory that was probably my first-I somehow drank an entire bottle of liquid Tylenol-but I don't know if it's actually a memory or just a memory of someone telling/reminding me that it happened. Let's just go with the assumption that I have absolutely no long term memory but somehow know the overall trend of my life. Other than the bizarre stuff, I mean. For most of that I have details firmly ingrained in my brain. Oh, and I've decided to post two or three times a day-whenever she's sleeping/napping, etc.-because I've decided to make this my new obsession/addiction. Hey, it's more healthy than drugs. Or so I assume.
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Ah, the next day and a new perspective...that's exactly the same as the old one. Eeeeewwwww! But it's over, and I won't have to deal with that particular horror again. But I wanted to go back to Saturday because that was a much better day. And by much better I mean actually good, nice, fun (insert your own positive adjective here), and not just the absence of disgust. Okay, so Saturday. Well, first I see him online and he mentions something about going to a football game. So I mention something about pretending to have a life, and he pretends to be disappointed. Which is a lot more amusing than it sounds because I'm only giving the gist of the conversation, not the actual meat of it. The long and short of it is he asks me out for that night. My roommate agrees to babysit, and I'm all set. He shows up right on time-which, if you know me, is too early: Candi standard time/anywhere from fifteen minutes to two hours late (but he doesn't know that so right on time is flattering, and besides all I have left to do is get my shoes on). My first impression? Very good looking. Reminds me a lot of Josh (don't worry, this part will be discussed in further depth...someday), physically, but somehow BETTER. I don't know how to explain it. His first impression? Well, he didn't scream and run, so at least he's polite enough to go through with the date even if he finds me repulsive. We go down to his car and he opens the door for me. I know it seems like a little thing, but I NOTICE that. I think it's important to at least pretend to be chivalrous-and he didn't give me the impression of pretending, especially since he did it every time we got into the car, and not just the first once. So, so far I'm impressed. Oh, he's also got this really deep voice. Well, perhaps deep isn't exactly the right word for it, but until I figure out the right word, it'll have to suffice. Regardless, I like it-it's kind of sexy. So we're driving toward our established destination and he asks what kind of food I like. I hate this question. Well, it's a love/hate sort of thing. I think it's really, incredibly sweet that he asked, but due to my rather peculiar dietary prejudices, my answer may make it seem that I'm just trying to be difficult. But he takes it all in stride, and we go Italian. Mmmmmm, Italian. And it WAS really good. He's not much of a talker-which is fine because I've already established that we're intellectually compatible from our internet corrospondence-but he's also not terribly uncomfortable with silence-which is awesome because that means there's not all this pressure on me to ramble on for hours at a time. Which I would, but that can get...well, let's just say it's a good thing I don't do that too often. And rarely with someone I don't know. So dinner's excellent and we go off to see a movie-a girly movie. Yay, girly movies! I know, it's a horrible thing to subject the male species to, but like I said, he's taking everything in stride. We're a little late, so I try to give him an out, asking if he'd rather go see something else that maybe starts later. No, we go see the chic flick. So, okay, the movie. We watch it. That's it. I know you're disappointed, thinking I'm going to put in some great make-out-in-the-movies anecdote, but you'll just have to learn that life can be a little disappointing sometimes. For you, I mean. I was kewl with that. I kinda thought that maybe I'd like to hold his hand or something, but that didn't happen either. Nor did it on the way home-which is understandable; he drives a standard. Okay...oh. He accidentally takes the long way around-and by accidentally, I mean it was actually an accident, which he points out. So I tell him the better comment would be that he was enjoying my company so much that he did it on purpose. He said that was what he meant. Then we get back to my place. I give him a hug-and was it my imagination that maybe he held me a little longer than was necessary for the sake of being polite?-and he leaves. End of date. My overall impression? Excellent. I like him a lot, and I don't worry about "where do I stand with this guy." He-admittedly at my prompting, but I didn't get the impression he was saying it just because he knew that's what he was supposed to say-even said the evening was better than his planned evening of football. And it doesn't feel like there's any pressure to immediately jump into an intense relationship, but it also doesn't feel as if that's not a possiblity somewhere in the future. If nothing else, we do have that nefarious caramel syrup/world domination scheme to plan out. (Oh, and I've decided to assign colours to everyone I talk about here. His is a deep, rich, smooth caramel colour.)
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Can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean...can't get clean... And what's with guys wanting to shower with me? The only reason I bring it up is that he actually suggested it. Yes, REALLY. I don't know about the rest of you, but when I shower I'm in it to get clean. The only reason I've ever liked having someone in the shower with me is because he can scrub my back better. But it's not sexy, it's not erotic. It's just a time to get clean. Which I am finally thinking I am close to. A hot shower-and by hot I mean the entirety of my body is bright red/slightly burned-and a good scrub and I think I'm on my way to mended. Physically. Mentally I'm still grossed out.
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Okay, so he left, and I'm still alive. However fortunate/unfortunate that may be is up to you. But...eewwwww!!! And I mean that in the grossest possible way. All right, finally details. I understand that when a guy goes over to a chic's house, he expects something. I do; I get that. And they have every right to be disappointed when that doesn't pan out. Fine. So he rents a movie-a SIX HOUR miniseries. Right away, what impression do I get? Oh, yeah, he's expecting marathon sex night. Fortunately for me-however unfortunate for him remains irrelevant-I know that's not going to happen. He thinks he's smooth, though, putting his arm around me to "protect me from the scary parts." And I pretend to be scared; I know how to play this game. Was I surprised when his hands started to wander? No. No, I wasn't. I just very casually shrugged him away. So he puts his head on my shoulder. Okay, let's pretend we're at this level of comfort with each other-I can visit "LaLa Land" every now and again. After all, we each of us live in our own personal bubble, I'll check out his deluded one and let him keep his head there. BIG mistake. Next thing I know, he's asleep (I think, I'm still not sure about that part) and DROOLING down my arm. I mean, this nasty, putrid fluid is going down my shirt! And he thinks I haven't noticed because he (very casually, in a not at all casual way) wipes his mouth and my arm. I think I've had my dose of disgusting for the week, thank you. The end of the story is, he's not the brightest crayon in the box; in fact, I think he'd be something like "puke green." He left with all his parts intact-by a very slim margin, I might add-and I crossed him off my list of "ever again this side of hell." And I am now going to take another shower. Another six or seven, actually.
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So I'm doing this whole casual dating thing. Never really done it before, never really dated, either. Which is weird because I have a kid. But I was always just somehow in the middle of relationships without ever going through the dating process. Hey, it worked for me. But now...now I'm in the "pool" again. Meeting guys just about exclusively online-except without the 'just about' part. So last night I had an actual date-that went well, I had a good time-and the night before that...was bizarre, but was with a different guy. I know, I claim all this bizarro crap, and never deliver the details. I'm just frustrating that way. Anyway, the point is, an entirely DIFFERENT guy is coming over tonight. What do you think? Too whorish? I mean, I'm not sleeping with any of them-well, no sex at any rate. Which is another bizarre tidbit. That I'm going to skip. Surprised? Didn't think so. Soo...back to the point. Which I do have. This time. Okay, so, he's coming over with a movie-a horror movie, I think. And I tend to have...a particular bizarre reaction to horror movies. So if I don't post for a while, I've finally found the psychotic/homicidal type, and you should be thrilled that my daughter gets all that glorious insurance money. Actually, my sis will get it because she's the one who'll take my daughter upon my demise. Good thing we've got the system all worked out. Wish me luck-not that kind of luck, get your minds out of the gutter! Or maybe just MY mind...
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Okay, I suppose I should add a little something more before forgetting about this for a week. Ummm...a little history, perhaps? Okay, history. My history. I was born in California, but I only lived there for maybe three or four years. I'm currently at move 20 and anticipating another one in the not-too-distant future. Why, you ask? No, my parents weren't military; I guess nomad is just in my blood. Even since I've not lived with them I've moved around a lot. Do I like it? Yeah, I do. It's interesting to have lived in so many places. Of course, all have been in the U.S. I've also gone to college a couple times-first time majored in English, second time I was just taking languages. French, German, Russian, English, sign...and I was trying to take Greek, Italian, and Japanese, but they were unable to offer it since I was the only one who wanted to learn. *sigh* I've got a daughter-a beautiful little three and a half year old who only drives me batty maybe forty percent of the time. Which, I hear is excellent-the average is a little more than half. She made it interesting the last time I was in college. Full time school, full time work, full time mommy...but some of my teachers let me take her to class with me, which made it easier. And the fact that she's such a good kid made it easy on them to allow her in. Okay, I'm done with this for today. Obviously there's more, but you'll just have to wait for it.
Laters

Unless I don't.
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Um...okay, I'm a little new to this. Never been the type to keep a diary or journal, but this seems interesting. Okay...this begs the question "WHAT doesn't happen to normal people?" The answer: my life. A while ago a friend summed me up in one sentence: "I'm a bipolar agoraphobic kleptomaniac who's marrying a gay military man and I think I'm god." That's a pretty good start, I think. Of course, the rabbit hole goes so much deeper, and the deeper the creepier and more...eerie. But for now, it'll have to do. I'll get to the more bizarre stuff later.