Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you hope to give back -- in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.

But I'm CANDI! I'm SWEET, and I taste GOOD!!!
LoL...
Laters

Hatred

The sage said, "The best thing is not to hate anyone, only to love. That is the only way out of it. As soon as you have forgiven those whom you hate, you have gotten rid of them. Then you have no reason to hate them; you just forget."
~Hazrat Inayat Khan

Indifference is the strongest force in the universe. It makes everything it touches meaningless. Love and hate don't stand a chance against it.
~Joan Vinge

*sigh*
I'm defeated before I even begin. There are moments when I'm so close to forgiveness, my heart almost bursts with it. But there are moments when I'm so far away from it, my heart almost rots with bitterness.
Right now I'm at neither of these extremes. Right now I'm confused, with strong, deep undercurrents of pain. Even indifference seems unattainable...
Did you ever wonder if some people just feel TOO MUCH? I wonder that. I wonder if I'm one of them. Maybe I HAVE to feel, whether it be hatred or love, as long as it's not apathy or indifference. I can't remember ever feeling those. It must be nice to have them, though.
I despise myself for the negativity I feel. For the hatred I bear, the pain I let fester. But I'm doing SO much better. I remember a time...and it was only a year ago. But I'm not there anymore, and that girl with the knife to her wrist is alien to me. The girl I was has all but died. Now, I get frustrated, angry, horny, thrilled, giddy, amused...And I'm doing so well. So very VERY well, actually.
So why can't I let go of this hatred, of this pain, of these weights dragging me down below the surface, drowning me, and I can't breathe? How can I be doing so well, when under my skin seethes this bitterness? And why would my heart rather break than feel nothing? *I* want to feel nothing. Why can't I feel nothing?
*sigh, again*
I'm feeling very...existential? Yeah, that might be the word I'm looking for. Very removed, I should say. Like I'm drifting along in a sea of existence, watching myself live, feel, breathe. Like I'm lost on a map of the world, one of those huge globes that make you feel like an ant, really. And, in the grand scheme of things-IS there a grand scheme? (sorry, side note)-who ISN'T an ant? Maybe a bigger ant or a prettier ant. Maybe even a more important ant. But, in the end, still just an ant. And who knows? Maybe there are (creatures, beings, things?) out there that are to us as we are to ants. In the vastness of infinity, don't you think it might just be possible?


"The trouble with the rat race is: even if you win, you're still a rat."

"A man said to the universe: 'Sir, I exist!'
'However,' replied the universe, 'The fact has not created in me a sense of obligation.'"
Laters

I Used to Love Lightning

When Raven and I were together, we fell in love with Lightning. I say we did, but not totally, I don't think. But we both loved her, and that enabled the threesome thing to happen. That's what did it for me: I loved her. Now, Olive wants a threesome. I don't know if I can. It was different with Raven, because I knew he loved me. I wasn't afraid of losing him to another woman, I guess is what I'm saying. Olive already HAS another woman, and I don't love him. I like him a lot, might even consider dating him if it weren't for his "girlfriend". But love isn't a factor. It took me so long to be able to fck without love, to be able to have truly no-strings sex. With men. Will I be able to with a woman? Do I even want to try? I tried with Raven out of love. For Olive's curiousity and descent into depravity, just WHAT am I willing (and/or able) to do?
Raven wanted me to beat her, Lightning. I couldn't. I'm a sub; it pains me to see others in pain, especially to be causing it. No matter how much he said that it was still submitting because it was his order...I didn't. Submit to THAT, motherfcker.
Yes, I know that was completely pointless. So?
Laters

Three Things

(or: Does It Bother You to Know I'm Better Than You Are?)

One: The picture on my profile is of the tattoo on my left breast. Not really that difficult to tell, but some people are retarded.

Two: I love my daughter. I'm a good mother, a GOOD mother. In all her pictures she's nothing but happy (and probably more than a little bit spoiled). Maybe once or twice more than a year and a half ago, I had issues with depression and said a thing or two that may have been extremely exaggerated and totally ragging on myself. Attempted suicide back in July of last year and I'm more than recovered. I'm doing well and so is Amethyst. ANYone who sees me with her would never EVER doubt that she is well taken care of and completely happy and loved.

Three: These people amuse the HELL out of me. I mean, do they have nothing better to do than read my life and bitch about it to each other behind my back? And then there's the "destroying the evidence" comment. That makes me giggle. This is MY journal, and I'm not about to delete a bloody ------' thing. Read me, hate me, love me, ---- me...Do as you will. This is all you'll hear from me on the subject. Just know I'm not oblivious, and I AM amused.

Ya know, I'd almost post my real name, address, phone number here-because I'd LOVE to see someone call the cops on me. Really, I would. Then I could post a copy of their report here just as a little ---- YOU to those who hold me in contempt. Oh, and I AM entirely too clever.
Jealous?
Laters

Anonymous Confessor

You know what fascinates me? Catholicism. I'm drawn to the idea of confessing all my 'sins'. Not because I want forgiveness, or even penance. No, I want release. I say I don't have any secrets, and that's true-to an extent. I tell person A one thing and person B another and person C yet another still. All truths, but never the whole picture. And to be able to get that out, to tell ONE person EVERYTHING...even if it is just a fucking priest. I hide behind my truths, you know. As I hide behind your lies. Wouldn't you like to know me...without shadow?
Laters

GodDAMNED! Okay, I read over Clip's blog and mine and realized that they both sound like fantasies. Insane fantasies, but fantasies nonetheless. I almost think it might have been imagined. If not for the bruising around my crotch and the ache in my scalp, I'd think it didn't happen. Three days later and I'm STILL in pain. I couldn't even screw Olive last night, which I would have dearly loved to do. Well, in general, I like to, but last night I'm kinda glad it didn't happen. How would I have explained the tearing to him? Because I AM torn. Not as bad as when I had Amethyst, but damned close. Actually, Olive wouldn't have cared. He knew I was going to meet Clip.
Anyway, I think when I wrote that I was so totally out of it I was viewing it from an almost third person perspective. Clip has a style, a voice, that leads you to disbelieve-or at least question-nearly everything he writes. It ALL sounds semi-fake, coming from him. (No offense or anything, love.) And I have a certain tone when it's reality and when it's just a dream. That sounded like a dream. I think I wanted it to be. I think he knew that. You have all these experiences, and all these fantasies and when one becomes the other, you get kinda confused. I'd posted the idea right before I left work on Friday, and I thought he was already on his way, that he wouldn't read it in time for the night. Apparently he did. Apparently he took it to heart. God, what a night...
It's strange, now that I think about it. Now that I'm in the most normal, boring environment imaginable (work). I can't believe that was the same girl who's sitting here typing. It's not possible for the two worlds to exist together---is it?
I guess I didn't want it to be, or something. Maybe that's why I wrote that the way I did. I was playing with it, almost, trying to turn it into a story that happened to some other girl, in some other place, at some other time. It didn't work. Not for me.
And just so you know, Clip WASN'T a total asshole about it. He emailed me and asked me how I was doing, even called to make sure I was okay and reassure me that it WAS him and he HAD read my blog before he left and I had nothing to worry about. He got kinda concerned when I didn't answer my email-like I said, my laptop is kinda screwy right now. He's a great guy, really, just trying to give me what I wanted...which just happened to accomodate his precious anonymity very nicely, don't you think? Anyway, I guess it worked out best for all...
But NEXT time, dammit, I'm bringing a mirror!
Laters

I didn't have internet this weekend, my laptop is kinda fucked. But I wrote the previous on Sunday around the time I have it marked and saved it to disk to post at work. Yay, work! Anyway, that's what happened. Now that I've read Clip's blog, I know it WAS him, and am more than slightly relieved.
And now on with the monotony of work...
Laters

Teil Zwei
(or: You Can't Rape the Willing)

God, this weekend was busy, and it's not over yet. Tonight I'm going to Battle of the Bands at some crappy little hole-in-the-wall venue downtown. One of my favourite bands will be there, my new favourite, really. I'm excited, and I've got a friend going with me...but that's not what y'all want to hear about, is it? I know you're dying of curiousity about Friday night and me and Clip.
Okay. I'll play nice.
First I went to the opening of the new Hustler store downtown. Larry Flint and Ron Jeremy and Jessica James and Veronica Raquet were there. I got them all to sign a shirt that says "Hustler: Barely Legal" for Amethyst. I LOVE the irony, the humour there. Giving a six year old a shirt signed by a porn guru and a bunch of porn stars...anyway, I also got Ron Jeremy to sign my copy of Orgazmo. God, I was so THRILLED by it all, I was giddy even. Giggling and happy and bouncy and all. So I drop my friend off and go home to grab some clothes and give Amethyst her present. Then I'm out the door and on the road. Fuck, what a shit drive in the rain. But it's only three hours or so, not even the distance I'm used to travelling by car. I'm about an hour out, and he calls. His voice is mesmerizing, the first time I've heard it. I'm still high from the porn store opening, so I probably sound like a crazed crack addict to him, but he's stuttering almost, maybe like he just doesn't know what to say. "I'm just about there," I say, verifying that I'm still coming, hopefully easing his mind. He doesn't say much, but I can tell he's at the club, probably getting a lap dance or even a blow job by some big breasted, skinny little dancer. I hope he's having a good time, but jealousy starts to creep in and I start driving faster. Tonight is MY night, goddammit. And fuck if he's going to have TOO much fun without me.
My directions are clear, and I've never had a problem with maps so once I get in town, finding the place is a piece of cake. It looks just as is should, garish neon and all. Stupid cover charge with a condescending "you could get in free with a guy" bullshit from the asshole at the door. Like I'm just a silly girl for not having accessible cock. Fuck him, I'm going IN to get the cock I want. The cock I've wanted for months now.
I'm wandering around, looking at all the pretty naked girls, trying to decide whether to sit or go to the bar or what. I'm nervous as hell knowing that anyone in this crowded place could be the guy I'm looking for. And even more nervous that I'll miss him. Shit, I was there half an hour before I decided I needed to draw attention to myself. Maybe he's just missed me. Great timing, this decision, because this cute as hell brunette comes up and starts chatting. She's wearing next to nothing, of course, sparkling/sequined pink halter and nearly nonexistent skirt of the same hue. She offers me a private lap dance, thinking, as I'm sure everyone here does, that I'm a lesbian. I tell her I'm more into a little exhibitionism and she grins hugely, leading me by the hand, telling me she's got just the thing. Hell, I just wanted to be seen for a few minutes, to know for sure he knows I'm here. It's not until my shirt is up over my breasts and the brunette is rubbing her nose in my crotch that I realize I'm on the main stage. I think I turned twelve shades of red and purple then, and all but ran off to find a seat in some dark area, wishing to just cease to exist. Apparently I got some tips, though, because the brunette-was her name Anastasia?-came and shoved a bunch of ones at me before heading off to the satelite area. God, she was hot, tall and curly haired and just my type-if I was into girls, that is. Just chunky enough to be perfect, not chunky enough to be gross. Like I am gross. I'm thinking about how cute she is and how yuck I am when a hand touches the side of my face firmly. I try to turn to the other side, but there's a hand there, too. "Don't turn around!" comes the sharp whisper, and I wonder if I'm dreaming. I haven't even made it to my seat yet, much less a dark corner where I can disappear. Immediately, I'm wet, fascinated, scared as hell. But it's GOT to be him...right?
Kisses on my neck, turning to nibbles, turning to full on bites. It almost hurts, it feels so good. I close my eyes and lean back into him, because at this point, even if it's not Clip, I'm enjoying myself. He takes his left hand from my face and reaches for my right, pulling it up between us, behind my back, his cheek against mine, his right hand still holding my head in place so I can't see him. He leads me outside, and god, I want to look, try to turn my head and receive a tight squeeze on my chin, his hard hand digging into my flesh, not letting me see. Here's my dark corner, finally. In the parking lot...so what now? Fuck, fuck, fuck, what have I gotten myself into?
SHIT! That hurt. He threw me over the hood of a car, his left hand now in my hair, pushing my face towards the windshield, so I STILL can't see him. I'm SO scared, so TERRIFIED, what if this isn't him? Was this what I wanted? WHY IN THE HELL DID I WANT THIS? And who the FUCK is this behind me? My pants are around my ankles, and the two thoughts in my head are "oh, god, we're in public" and "why didn't I wear a skirt?" Do I WANT to make myself more accessible? Did I want this?
But you don't care, do you? About my thoughts, You, my dear audience, just want to know what happened. I'll tell you:
He fucked me. There in the parking lot, his hand in my hair, grabbing it so tightly, almost pulling it out, still pushing my head into this car, still having me face the windshield. His cock is HUGE, I swear, the biggest I think I've ever felt, or is that just the force with which he's ramming into me? He hasn't said a word since that initial warning to be still. Is this even his car? His finger in my ass, moving around as if to test if I'm big enough to take him, his cock still ramming into me, slower now, almost liesurely as his finger explores my ass hole. I finally open my eyes, look into the windshield and see a vague reflection. It's so dim, but it's him. A blur, an outline, is that a blue shirt? It's too dark, goddammit!! I want to SEE! His hand in my hair is looser, I think he's just playing now, fucking me while he explores my body with his eyes. So I try to jerk up, suddenly, hoping to catch a glimpse of him finally. The fingers in my hair respond instantly, grabbing tightly, and the hand opening my anus withdraws, and I'm rewarded with nothing but a hard slap across my face. Still not a word. Is he getting a KICK out of this? He runs his fingers over the line of my jaw, and EEEEWWWW! They're the fingers that were just in my ass. OMG, gross!
Harder and harder now, he's increased his speed, he's fucking me with purpose, driven perhaps by my willingness to disobey him, harder and harder and it's hurting, and it's feeling so good, and it's hurting, hurting so GOOD, and I'm sore and I'm screaming, coming so hard, have I EVER had an orgasm like this? And my screams seem to effect him, too, because he's in me so deep, groaning, leaning on me, kissing my neck. His orgasm shakes me, my legs can't even support me and I'm held up only by his hand in my hair and his dick in my pussy. And suddenly I'm not held up by those anymore and I fall, hard, into the wet gravel beneath me. He bends down, puts his hand over my eyes and kisses me full on the lips. His tongue goes in my mouth and I'm kissing him back, I want him to FEEL my passion, how much I love him right now. I'm kissing him with a fervor I've never shown anyone, not that I can remember. "Stay put," he says in that same whisper, the hiss of air forced between what I imagine are clenched teeth. His lips withdraw, his hand, too. I hear the rustle of fabric, the zip of a zipper, and then nothing. I'm sure he's standing over me, watching me, making sure I don't move. After about ten minutes I look up, wanting to see him. It was probably ten, I THINK it was ten. It felt like ten? Hell it could have been two or twenty. I look up and he's not there. Nothing's there but cars and empty parking lot and just about five yards away a couple walking to their car or wherever, giving me sideways glances as if they want to see if I'm okay but don't want to get involved if I'm not. My pants are still around my ankles, my phone on the only dry piece of ground in the vicinity. I'd forgotten about my phone. I pick up my pants and my phone, compose myself. I walk to my car, brush my hair, use my face wipes to clean up a bit and walk back into the club. Where I just sit by the bar for two hours and...nothing. Nothing else happened, and no one introduced himself. It MUST have been Clip...right? Fucked if I know. Fucked if I care. I get one less drink and down it, I've never liked beer, but I'm too...something to care. I don't even go to the hotel. I drove back home and showered and went to bed.
Saturday, I took Amethyst to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and then to dinner at TGI Friday's. My friend came with us. I've got to give him a colour...I've nicknamed his dick "Ceasar", so I'm going to call him Olive. Like a dark pale green.
Olive and I are going to the Battle of the Bands tonight.
Laters

Teil Eins

I have this sort of fantasy that I'll be walking down the street or around in a bookstore or really anywhere, and I'll be striking to someone. Someone will think to themselves "Who IS that girl?"
And tonight...tonight it'll be "THERE'S my girl." He'll know who I am, he'll recognize me by my tattoos if nothing else. And I have...words. Now, I love words. Love the way he puts them together and the thoughts he projects. But I'm not going to recognize words. Not tonight.
You know what I'd love? I'd love for him to come up behind me and put his hand over my eyes so I can't see him. I'd love for him to whisper in my ear to come with him, for him to take me...anywhere, and do...whatever he wants to do with me. And I'd love if I never saw him, if I only knew the shadow and the words. And the weight of his body on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his cock in my cunt.
Am I, perhaps, TOO fascinated by the mystery?
Laters

So, plans made, car ready, gas card on hand, hotel booked. So now the question is: what IS a girl to wear?

Oh, and I have new hair-again. It's very dark, looks nearly black in indirect light, but in the sun has these GORGEOUS purple/red undertones that please me no end:

One of these days I'm going to have to settle on a hair colour...NAH!
Laters

Whisper

It comes in quietly, sneaking in inch by inch by mile. On soft-clad feet it steals in, silently, so silently. It's smooth, the way it insunuates itself, taking over from the inside out, taking over piece by piece by tiny little piece. So when you are overcome you don't realize that you are conquered. But you are, wholly and completely. You no longer belong to yourself. You belong to the whisper. And it flies you up, up, up past pleasure and crashes you down, down, down below pain. Just to bring you up again, higher this time, higher, so high...and then it lets you go. So you fall, you fall into the screaming silence, the blinding darkness. You fall until pain is so far above you that you'd die to reach it, even pain. You'd die anyway, anything but this, anything but these depths, and death is at least somthing different. You're tearing at your clothes, at your skin, at your heart, trying to erradicate the whisper that's already left you falling. So here you are, on your knees, bleeding, your wounded heart in your hands.
Here you are, after the whisper.
Laters

Maybe I should just move along
But you know I'd draw blood if that's what you want

You found someone who makes you laugh
Who'd stick around, but that's not want you want

You slipped at the start
And dragged the whole thing sideways down
Everybody fucks up
It's just something that's been going 'round

And you found someone who said she'd stay
Who'd give it all, but that's not good enough

Now you're standing alone
And you're wondering now,
'cause you don't know what you've done

Maybe I should just disappear for now
Then maybe you could see a little clearer now

And you found someone who makes you laugh
Who promised you she'd never let you down
And you blame it on your broken heart
But everyone who reaches out gets stung

Now you're standing alone
And you're wondering now,
'cause you don't know what you've done

Maybe I should just move along
But you know I'd draw blood
If that's what you want...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm living on shattered faith
The kind that likes to restrict your breath

In a city
That swells with so much hate
You seem to rise above
And take its place
The heart pumps until it dies
Drain the blood, the heart is wise

I never met a pearl quite like you
Who could shimmer and rot at the same time through
There's never been a better time than this
To bite the hand of frost bit eminence

Laters

On the other hand, stay the FUCK out of my blog. I'm an all or nothing girl and you've MADE your choice, asshole.
So go fuck your new piggy bank, you impotent little leech.
Laters

Don't Think I Don't Know Who You Are

Get online just to check my email, where the comments from here get sent. And I see it, "unforgiven1". It's not as if I didn't suspect it, not as if I was completely oblivious. But I've been living my life, he's been living his. He's been living his with someone else, even, almost since the moment I left. So why now?
Ya know, it took me over three years from the time Ruby and I split up to become involved in another serious relationship. Three years. When Ruby was pretty much constantly with someone else. And is now married. And Raven's been with his chic the same way, since maybe a month after he threw me away. While I've had nothing but fuck buddies. *sigh* "I'll love you forever" doesn't really mean so much anymore. Not to me, at any rate. But sometimes I think he does. Love me, I mean. Sometimes I wonder if he misses me, if he thinks about me. If, even though she's a better sub, more compatible religiously/spiritually/whatever, even though she seems perfect for him...if maybe he loves ME anyway. Maybe loves me more? Over and over I tell myself I'm over him. Over and over I believe it. Over and over and over and over...and then I wonder if I lie.
I have a job, now. I'm moving into my apartment sometime in September (theoretically...). Amethyst is in Tae Kwon Do for the summer, and I'm going to keep her in it when school starts. My sister's baby is beautiful and I adore him, my little AJ. I have my own car, insurance, gas card. So with all that going in my favour, why in the FUCK am I even THINKING about him? Every paycheck is gone as soon as I get it for bills and to pay off the debt he helped me incur in that other state. A constant reminder that things used to be shit.
And now he pops up again, out of nowhere. NOW. When I'm about to have a lovely one night stand with my internet crush and the guy I'm fucking HERE is amazing, even if he's got a girlfriend.
Speaking of guys and fucking, I haven't been with Denim since I met this new guy, and tonight I went and got my shit back from him and "broke up" with him. He was irritable about it, but fuckin' A, I don't have the energy for two at once. And Denim's just not as good, ya know? So what if it's just sex, just fucking?
And then...
I remember him. When he used to be Him, when he used to me mine. Or I his. WAS it just the sex that kept me so long? That's what I tell myself.
Does any of this matter? He's there, and I'm here. He's with his new slave. I'm with...Amethyst. Who is sick tonight. Vomiting all over everything, shitting in her pants, and generally being miserably ill. Poor baby. So I've got her in bed with me, on the side away from the wall, with a trash can right next to her so she can throw up whenever she needs to. But she keeps snuggling close to me, needing the comfort, the closeness. I'm the mommy, after all. I hope she doesn't puke on me. Because I've already cleaned her up twice and her other bed up and clothes and do you KNOW how much vomit and shit can come out of such a little body? And how absolutely disgusting it is to clean up? It's a miracle I haven't started puking my guts out yet. Hopefully this'll get out of her system and she'll feel all better by morning. Because if she doesn't, there'll be TWO people's yucky messes to clean up.
Laters

A Conversation on the Use (or Lack Thereof) of Safewords

Me: I'm just imaging ropes and chains and getting a blissful little smile on my face...

Magenta: i must say i would approve if it was someone you trusted, if you had a safe word....? dear? dear?

Me: I don't use safe words. Ever. I wouldn't be in that kind of a situation with someone I didn't trust anyway, and the thought that I might have ANY kind of control over the situation would totally take all the pleasure out of it for me. The idea is for me to SUBMIT, not for me to be able to stop whenever the hell I feel like it.

Magenta: what is your definition of "trust"? and a safe word is for, like, if you're about to get killed or something, not if you feel like stopping. at least that's how *I* remember it

Me: It's supposed to be. but I get freaked out really easily (which is a LARGE part of the appeal for me), and I'd abuse a safe word, thinking I couldn't handle something that I was unfamiliar with or that pushed me farther than I've been. {raven} and I tried the safe word thing once. what ended up happening was that he made me say it because I was so afraid of abusing it that I refused even to the point of blacking out. but HE knew what he was doing, so it wasn't necessary with him. might be different with others, but I just don't feel comfortable having that ultimate control.

Magenta: i understand where you are coming from, but in all practicality not having one may get you killed. i worry about you. a lot.

Me: No worries. I'm still alive...so far...

Magenta: you have yourself, your {amethyst} (of course, i KNOW you care for her more than life itself, i'm not trying to insult your intelligence here) and your friends (namely ME) to consider, plus your family, even if you do feel 1/2 of them are worthless..........................................................

Me: only 1/2 is being generous. don't WORRY about me, baby. I know what I'm doing. in the vaguest sense of the word... just kidding. I'm okay. I'm good, I'm all right. I won't get killed. scout's honour.

Magenta: i still will, b/c no matter how you choose to perceive it, (and there's NOTHING WRONG with the way you're perceiving it OR the choice,) it could get you killed............i know you don't want me to,but i worry about you. i'd lie if i said i didn't

Me: But think of it this way: if I HAD a safe word and it was someone I didn't QUITE trust, and they IGNORED the safe word, I'd die anyway. and if I can trust the person, I can trust that they won't let me die. and if I can't trust them, then a safe word isn't going to do me any good anyway.

Magenta: i agree, and i'm not saying it's a pat answer/perfect solution. it just seems reckless. i would try to find one and build trust there.

Me: It's not reckless, dear heart. It's honest. It would be reckless to go around playing with the B.D.S.M with just anyone, or screwing a ton of men without a condom and birth control. I'm not RECKLESS. I'm just SUBMISSIVE. I don't do the BDSM thing with everyone I f*ck. I make sure that the intercourse I have is safe. And if I DO engage in the BDSM activities, it's all discussed beforehand. (My only 'hard' limits being absolutely NO urine or feces.) I'm selective about the BDSM thing, at least...

Magenta: i understand that dear, but ------------ what i mean is, engaging with ppl you don't know well could be called reckless considering what has happened before, that is all i am saying.
/End of Conversation

So, people, if I don't post again after next Friday, we'll all know that I was wrong.
You wouldn't let THAT happen, now WOULD you??
Laters

Girls are funny. Weird, even. Totally strange. They want what they want, but if they TELL you what they want, it doesn't count. As in, my sister can't tell her husband that she wants a dozen red roses or really just any flowers or thoughtful gifts every now and then for no reason. Because if she told him he'd only be doing it out of a sense of obligation, not an actual desire to please. Guys should just pick up on this stuff. Duh.
I'm no different, really. Hell, I'm female, it comes with the territory. But how can I get what I want without mentioning it/asking for it/describing it? I very probably can't. Guys, despite all their intelligences and logics, are pretty dense.
So here's what *I* want:
Surprise me.
Laters

Because I liked my response so much:
(and because I'm conceited enough to admit it):

I just now got your query. The answer is yes, I want to know. But no, I don't. I delight in the anticipation of revelation, but fear the answer. My imagination runs wild across hills and valleys and galaxies, searching in every hidden depth and height for the one thing it can't think of, the one thing that your answer will ignite. Everything it's found has been disregarded as foolish, petty even. None of my discoveries have brought about the dissolution of the desire to know you, to love you more. Perhaps your answer will bring that dissolution, but perhaps not. Maybe, just maybe, you underestimate me. Of course, it's also possible that I overestimate myself. Could it be that the truth lies somewhere in the middle? Somewhere between the fire and the ice, between the dream and the reality? I want to know what you're so afraid of sharing, because the idea of your fear leaves a delicious aftertaste in me, a tingling in the base of my spine that tells me you ARE, after all, somewhat human, and not quite the god I adore. So, my love, my demigod, you tell me: DO I want to know beforehand? Or should I wait to examine and discover for myself? Less than two weeks... So before you answer (or don't) let me assure you of one thing: I'll be there. One week from Friday, my presence in *******, at ******* **** (at **:**pm) is a certainty.
Of course, that doesn't really answer your question any more than the simple "I dunno", but maybe it gives you a better idea of my frame of mind on the subject.

Sometimes, I amaze myself.
And sometimes I just suck.
Laters

Up, Off, or Out: Backing Where?

Well, it's too late to give it up now. Two weeks, a little less than. I've got approval to leave work early; I've booked a hotel room, arranged a baby-sitter. A strange city, but that's never been a problem for me, not with how many times I've moved, how many cities I've had to conquer. To the solid from the surreal, and it takes my breath away. (I'll have to remind myself: inhale, hold, exhale, hold, repeat.) I've still got to fully believe this thing will happen, but all my plans are in place. And then what? Will we be awkward around each other? Will we just want to jump each other right there? Will one of us feel awkward and the other want to jump? Jesus mother fucking christ on a goddamned crutch.
I just...I'm in love with the way he writes, the things he thinks and says. I'm in love with the way he describes himself: "A sweet, caring romantic who is into inflicting unbearable amounts of pain." I'm in love with his sex drive, so in tune with mine.
I'm just nervous. Going to a place I'm not familiar with to meet a guy I don't really know exists. Reminds me too much of something else...WAY too much. Except that he's willing to PROVE his existence, unlike that other thing. Which didn't exist. I wonder what it will be like, though? Will I even need my hotel room? On some level...on some level I'm hoping not. I'd love to be bound...
Before we meet...tell me your secret?
Laters

The baby died. I watched it, lying there in a puddle of blood between her legs. So small, so tiny, really, its miniscule heart beating so fast, so fast, slowing, slowing down, stopping. I watched the baby die. I watched the baby die, the baby so long awaited, the baby wanted, planned for, loved. I watched the baby die. My eyes bled, my heart cried...or was it the other way around?
I watched the baby's heart stop, lying there in a puddle of blood between her legs. I watched the baby die.
And went home to the child who lived. The child who hadn't been planned for, the child it took so long to love. The child of beauty, the treasure.
But first I watched the baby die.
Laters

So, we're at work. I'm at work, a professional environment at which we're supposed to respect each other and not be offensive. Well, a coworker has been coming over to my cubicle to talk to one of my cell mates on a too-frequent basis. So I sent a note to management, just saying 'hey, I'm being disturbed.' Management sent out a company wide email about not taking breaks at each other's desks. So I thought that would be the end of it. Except that just about right after that, the bitch came over AGAIN. So I sent this little note to her, which is ENTIRELY more respectful than she deserves to get from me:

Hey, I don't mean to be pushy or b*tchy or anything, but is there any way you can take your breaks elsewhere? It's just that you're somewhat of a...very distinct presence and I can't help but notice when you're here. I know you and {he} are friends and all, but I'd very much appreciate it if you could socialize outside of the work environment. Thanks,
~I!

Okay, maybe a little on the not-so-nice side, but for ME it's practically saintly. Here's her reply:

Sure and can you talk about your antichrist child somewhere else because it clashes with my belief system...which I also think should be talked outside the work place...May God Have Mercy on Your SOUL!

Wow. So she's a complete and utter heinous bitch just because I'm different? Fuck that. Right into hell. And I said:

I don't recall talking about my antichrist child at work. AFTER work, in the elevator, is outside the work environment. I don't want to start a war with you, {she}, but your Christ said "Love your neighbor", not "Love your neighbor if you like them and everything they do is compatible with your personal ethics and belief systems." As for your god having mercy on my soul, I hope he doesn't. Because I won't have any mercy on his.
I respect your beliefs without agreeing with them, and if you'd like to talk to me about them, I'm willing to listen. But if you do, I hope to have an intelligent conversation without prejudice or judgment just because I'm different.
Regardless, I call a truce. I won't talk about my daughter, antichrist or not, within earshot of you. I'd appreciate it if you'd reciprocate by not intruding upon my work environment.
Courteously,
~I!

I think at this point *I* should be the one to go to our supervisor, but I don't because that would be petty and childish and we're adults and should be able to handle this on our own. So what does SHE do? Goes to our supervisor. Conference and stupidity and I'm told to conform, to "blend in", and she's told to keep religion out of the work place. Dumbass.

Why do people treat each other this way? Why do they tout their belief in their god as if it's the only worthy thing on earth? Why do they make me feel less worthy, even though *I* am more christian than they are because I actually FOLLOW christ's teachings DESPITE not believing, DESPITE my difficulties with 'god'? I accept and embrace and don't judge. How difficult IS that, you MORONS????
Laters

When no one trusts, does it matter that everyone lies?
or
When everyone lies, does it matter that no one trusts?

I used to think it was localized, that most people were decent human beings. "Human" being the operative word. Or should I say mutable? Either way, the delusion is lost.
Trust no one is damned good advice.
Laters