while i'm gone.

for the next four days i will be in westchester, PA.  i paid over $350 to pretend to be in high school and get my ass kicked all week.  it's gonna rock.

in the mean time, i wanted to show you all a rough draft i did today.  this has been in me for quite some time... but i'm still wishy washy on how i want to write it all out.   i haven't gotten to writing out my backstory on this yet either, so anything you all think should be clarified, please let me know.  advice on shaping and anything, really, would be mad appreciated. 

sex·u·al frus·tra·tion
            n.

1.      The condition that results when an impulse or an action involving erotic desires is thwarted by an external or an internal force.
2.      Elizabeth Niemiec

 
On August 22, 2004, I will become a twenty-three year old virgin.  Depending on what your definition of sex is, of course.  True, I have not experienced vaginal penetration from a penis.  But I have been penetrated.  My body and my sexuality has been tasted, explored and indulged in… numerous times and with varying participants.

I consider myself to be more in touch with my sexuality that many “non-virgins” I know.  And sure, you can think me to be naïve or unaware… but this isn’t about what you think.  It’s about me.  And I have come to a point in my life where I am so sexually aggravated that I am seriously considering humping my flagpole.  This year’s band camp stories might take the cake… I’ll let you know.

Interesting masturbation techniques aside, I have had the most sexually unfulfilling year of my life… starting with the end of my first long-distance relationship.  So really, if you don’t count the handful of ridiculously good hook-up sessions with our codifying master, I have been having bad luck in the physical stimulation realm for almost 4 years.

Yep.  You read that correctly.  FOUR MOTHER FUCKING YEARS!!!!!!!!!!

I don’t understand why I had better luck with relationships in my youth (relatively speaking).  Maybe I was just stupider and more willing to overlook things.  Yes.  Get the eye rolling over with, but I have not been in a monogamous, romantic relationship with a man since my freshman year in college.  Since then all I have been doing is touching men in the dark hoping that when the light turns on there will be more there than just two bodies close to one another.

It hurts.  It hurts to be physically intimate with people whose minds are in other galaxies.  That’s why I have vowed to stop random hook ups.  But that isn’t the point.

I want to know how I got here.  At first, it was delicious that I was “pure” and “chaste”.  I had guys lined up to be the man who would welcome me into the world of flesh and fuck.  I was a prize.  A treasure.  Uncharted territory full of secrets beyond the wildest of imaginations.  I was told I would be such a great lover.  That I was so full of empathy, awareness, passion and rhythm.  Combined with my hips and lips, this was apparently a very deadly combination.

But over time, the line has lessened.  Serious inquiries are few; most are just there hanging onto a fantasy or memory.  Towards the back you find a few new faces, but they are just thankful to find someone else their age that they think to be as clueless, sexually, as they are.  The closer they get to the front of the line though, they soon figure out this is not the case, and usually end up fleeing out of fear.

I have recently come across multiple men who would not get into relationships with me because of my virginity.  “I’m not going to be responsible for popping anymore cherries” is usually the sentiment.  Now, I can understand this.  Being someone’s first is definitely something that is special.  If for no other reason except that you will always be remembered.  You will always be the first impression.  The opening act. 

But seriously… that’s fucked up if you don’t want to “deal” with being that special to me.  And-oh… wait a minute- who the fuck said you were going to pop mine?  Clearly if I have managed to avoid poppage prior to you, a little credit is due.  I don’t care how many girls you may have deflowered before… it’s just mean and limiting to assume that I will be a certain way.  That it will be a burden to you.  If I let you take on that burden.  How much more insulting can you get?  Fine… go ahead.  Miss out on what could be the best relationship of your life because you think you are above me.  I’m not bitter at all.

Firmly, I can say that whoever pops my cherry officially, will be a very important man in my life.  But he will be important way before the cherry thing ever comes into play.  To me, sex is a risk.  It is, plain and simply, the act of procreation.  Making babies.  Continuing the species.  All recreational purposes and perks aside, I don’t want to do that with anyone I wouldn’t have confidence in raising a child with.  So not only will the first man I have sex with be important… so will each and every man who EVER has sex with me.

I understand that there are things called birth control pills, shots and condoms and the like… but it’s not about the possibility of getting pregnant… it is the act of making a baby.  Using two to make one.  Whether the baby comes or not is not my concern. 

There are so few men that I want to share spit with, I can’t imagine sharing a child with anyone.  So my hormones need to chill the fuck out.  The heart is going to win over on this one.  I mean I’ve made it this far.  And it has been hard.  Literally.  I’ve just got to keep faith that there are people out there who feel similar to me… and who will want to share sex with me… even if it will be my first time. 

But believe me… when I do start having sex… I will be having lots of it.  Slow, sweet and beautiful to nasty, dirty and painful- I’m going to do it all. 
I’m just so sick of waiting.

on a sunday.

tired and slightly hung over, i have been sitting here in the same clothes i wore last night, smoking cigarettes halfway out the back door, creating the uber emo layout you now see before you.

i told you the changes were coming.  and i need to look the part.  get into character. 

well... more like... get out of character.

On a Sunday I think it through
On the drive back I think it through
What you wish for won't come true
Live with that, with that
And on a Sunday she thought it through

what i wished for this site has not come true.  maybe it will eventually... but it's not going to right now.  so i'm done.  and i can live with that.

hot, sweaty men in spandex.

incase you couldn't tell from the two pictures of the moment, i went to another professional wrestling event on monday night.  oh yes.  WWE RAW.

my heart is pumping faster just at the typing of the words. 

this was, by far, the best one i have been to.  not only were the seats kickass, but the matches were just awesome.  oh oh, and let's not forget my purchase of a Werd Life visor.

the roommates and i were all in great spirits, we had a nice dinner prior, no issues with the metro... good times all around.  hopefully, when i start acquiring income again, i'll actually be able to have more nights like this.

so i got another job.

::knocks on wood::

i'm not going to talk about this anymore until i actually start working there.  my previous pattern should signal me to shut up and not jinx anything right now.

so yeah.  but the interview went hella good and the scheduling will actually FIT with colorguard.  fingers crossed, por favor.

ok.  i'm done now.  i swear.

If you think this is a game then just walk away, baby.

But if you think that you can talk to me that way
I’ve already run off with yesterday
After hearing my love fall down with the rain
I can’t think of anything else to say
 
There is a constant throbbing of reevaluation that breathes deep inside of me.  Who I am, who you are, what is happening, what it means to me, what it means to you, how good does it feel and where can it lead. 
 
If I could press the pause button in my mind- just to sit for ONE moment.  Just ONE where I didn’t have to analyze it to death.  Where I didn’t shatter it into pieces... making it impossible for me to see what it was in the first place.
 
Oh I’d love that.
 
I’d breathe in slowly the scent of silence.  Hesitating on every little molecule of dirty carbon dioxide, letting them swim all around in my nose.  I’d stretch my arms out wide and close my eyes and release all the hurt I carry around between my breasts.  My lungs would heave with the pain and pleasure of the impending release.
 
The letters A and H have never been more beautiful than when placed next to each other.
 
 
Ahhhhh.........

and now. for an important announcement:

the process of cleaning up the site has begun... and i am almost positive a new layout will follow shortly.  i got too caught up in subpages and starting new things that i have slacked hardcore with the quality of my writing.   so yeah... it's time to refocus.

i actually managed to produce a quality post on the bitter club this morning... as well as my twilight for the day.  feel free to have a looksee. 
 
now it's off to celebrate my mommi's burfday in the hospital with my grandmother.  this will be LOADS of fun.  adios.

i had a dream last night

my brother and i are cleaning out the laundry room at my mother's house.  i'm going through a cabinet and look down to see a small snake slither across the floor.  i turn back to my right and see my brother, emerging from behind a pile of clothes, with a bunch of stuff hanging from his neck and in his hands.   it took me a moment to realize that they were dead snakes.   at least a dozen of them.  he began taunting me with the ones he held in his hands.  i don't remember being scared, just grossed out that so many snakes had lived, and died, in our basement. 

pretty weird, huh?  i remember freud talking about snakes being phallic symbols in dreams, especially those about to strike, representing hidden, guilty sexual desires.  i can't imagine interpreting this dream to mean that all my snakes are dead and limp... because that would just be depressing.  and i think my hormones might disagree slightly. 
 
so let us turn to some reliable, free, internet sources.
 
snake - An recurring issue that has not been resolved yet. Can involve treachery or sense of betrayal.
 
ok.  this could be anything... from my grandmother's health and the family dealings to my paranoia about men not being straight up with me. 
 
Snake
A snake, being the ages old symbol of evil or satan, makes it a bad omen to have one show up in a dream. To see a lone snake and feel threatened by it shows that you have a bad enemy that is even then working against you, it also a warning against bodily harm from an enemy. To dream of many snakes in a pit is the foreboding of much bad luck in love or business. Should you overcome and kill a threatening snake in your dream shows that you will overcome your adversary and win out.
 
excellent.  the single snake at the beginning of the dream apparently represents my mortal enemy plotting my demise.  i don't think that matt gives a rat's ass about me or the drama we went through together anymore, and he's  the only "enemy" i've ever really thought existed in my life.  well... not counting myself, of course.
and there WERE many snakes in my dream, but around my brothers neck.  not a pit.  let's be honest here... i'm not having good luck in love or in business, so i don't see how this bad omen should come at this point in time.
 
Snake
To see a snake or be bitten by one in your dream, signifies hidden fears and worries that are threatening you.  Your dream may be alerting you to something in your waking life that you are not aware of or that has not yet surfaced. The snake may also be seen as phallic and thus symbolize dangerous and forbidden sexuality. The snake may also refer to a person around you who is callous, ruthless, and can't be trusted. As a positive symbol, snakes represent transformation, knowledge and wisdom. It is indicative of self-renewal and positive changes.
 
now we are talking!  hidden fears and worries.  i have oodles of those.  i'm really worried about my grandma AND about my financial situation AND my romantic social life. 
and i did have a few revelations about those situations yesterday and this morning.  for example, i was just informed by my father that my grandmother is most likely going to have to be put in a home.  her physical health is totally fine... all of her symptoms are gone.  but her mental health has been on a downward spiral.  the last three days she has been in the hospital have really been hard to deal with.  i can't even think about it without my hands shaking. 
the forbidden sexuality aspect makes sense too.  i have met a few new people and am trying to balance out my desire to get to know them with my desire to just get to know them biblically.
this person who can't be trusted could be one of these men... and that doesn't help out my paranoia any.
and hey, all of this could lead to some positive growth and change, right?
 
hey... a girl can dream, can't she?
 
ok.  i'm sorry.  that was a REALLY bad pun.

so there's this girl i know. she's 5'4". okay. she's 5'3 and 3/4".

she has the hootspa that people like to think i have.  but the difference is that she really does have it.  and she has it openly. 
 
this girl has never, ever made me feel anything but positive.  about anything and everything. whether it be about my latest hang up, my latest crush or just my inability to make decisions in social situations.... she has a way of casually reminding me just how much i love to be who i am.    
 
and while i might only be an acquaintance to her... she is the kind of friend that people spend their  whole lives wishing that their other friends were like.
 
 
 
 
i hope that she'll still be able to see me smiling and waving when she's over on the other side of the world.  

twilight tune-up:

twilight is buzzing and i finally changed the comments so you can post them anonymously. so please check out what we are writing over there and let us know what you think! AND i'm always on the look out for new people to join us. it's really simple... there is a word... you write a stream of consciousness response... then you post it.

it's great for getting the fingers loose and the brain over writer's block. plus it's fun. so yeah. i guess that's all. you all aren't very commenty as of late, and i blame myself. i know my updates have not been very thought provoking.

i'm workin on the funk. i really am.

not as random as one might like to think.

I like the mark my watch leaves  on my face...  when I fall asleep in places I shouldn't.

Summers are really just extended periods of reunions.  No one has anything to do... so you end up seeing and doing things with people you normally are too busy for.
 
Some people, though... they aren't ever, really, busy.  They get kinda elitist when you suddenly come around again.  You know them... the slackers. 
 
I admire the slackers.  This is probably why I am doing my damnedest to assimilate.  And while, if I do say so myself, my front is extraordinary... deep down I just don't have the heart.  I don't have what it takes to do it up right.  Or do it down right.  Depending how you look at it.
 
But I am reminded of this when seeing some of the superstar slackers of my past.  Still slackin.  Keepin it real.  It's refreshing in a way I didn't expect it to be.  I talked to two of my childhood chum neighbor people yesterday.  I've been seeing a lot of the old Muddy B crew.  I want to continue discussing this issue but we should interrupt for an important announcement:
 
My grandmother went back into the hospital today.  She has phenomena again.
 
Cue momentary awkward pause. 
 
On the plus side... this gives me more time to rot in the G'burg area.  Maybe we'll get a glimpse of coffee boy again.  Which reminds me... I still owe you guys part three:  FRIDAY
 
I know.  The suspense must be hard to deal with.  tootles! 

I sit back and stare at this screen with a new sense of duty... my wide-eyed curiosity renewed.

I have been reminded of all the mysteries that lurk behind these keys. And that only my fingers can pound them out.



... I have found a muse ...



A muse that snores, has a receding hairline and smokes like a chimney.

He’s beautiful and I wish you could see him.

3:33pm. Thursday.

"You are late for our meeting."

Gulp.

After setting down her bag and portfolios, getting her drink and returning outside... this time on the left... he met her eyes again.

"What did I miss?"

"Well I can't just tell you... then you'd never come to the meetings."

This time he and her acquaintance were already joined in a threesome with another man. An old stalker of hers.

She opened up the green notebook and took out a clipboard with blank pages on it. she began going through the stack of papers, looking for a page she had been working on.

"So what is this arts and crafts thing you are doing?"

Twenty minutes later she had explained to him her project of the moment. Her heart. Her soul. The only thing giving her any sort of excitement these days.

And he listened. He smiled. He read.

But then again, so did her ex-stalker. He asked if he could contribute... that the world needed to hear him confess his love for her.

She prayed to the back of her head that she fielded the inquiry with the appropriate level of sarcasm and disdain, and turned her attention back to him. And his eyes. Hovering over her words.

She flew away, leaving her flip flops on the ground.

sumbuddy buy me this so i can fly away.

... or at least pretend to.

last night i found myself floundering.

i was disappointed that i wasn't somewhere else. not an imaginary "anywhere else" kind of thing... a concrete, actual, other place to be. and it would have been really fun and cool, too. but, as usual, i just spent the evening poking around on my computer, listening to acoustic emo feel sorry for yourself crap.

i almost feel dumb for thinking that i wouldn't end up there. that is like... my home now. lonely, poopie and on the internet after 12pm.

i get these random little farts of hope just every so often enough to keep me up and giddy and functioning. like drugs, almost. but then i realize... too late... after i have already come back down from the momentary high... that it's really just hot air blowing out of my ass.

over the last few weeks i have come upon several new "he" prospects... but nothing more than cutsie little stories with no real plot (like the one posted below) has come out of them.

it's like blue balls for my romantic sappiness. if that makes any sort of sense. and to be honest.. it really IS starting to hurt.

so for the sake of not being redundant... i'm just not going to post about lonely poopiness anymore.

so uhh... don't be surprised if you don't hear from me ever again.

12:33pm. Wednesday.

She turned off her subs, lowered the volume of her stereo, finished singing along with mr. mayer and pulled her keys out of the ignition. Her black flip-flops met the parking lot and carried her to the entrance of starbux. she surveyed the tables, chairs and green umbrellas on either side of the front door with her eyes safely hidden behind her sunglasses.

there. on the left. white t-shirt. faded jeans. black work boots.

she only saw the top of his head, as he was looking down at the paper below his right hand... but felt her shoulders automatically lower and her neck lengthen. her gut was suddenly drawn to the back of her spine and her steps changed. lighter. slower. he didn't look up as she passed into the store.

she ordered an iced latte and shmoozed with a barista she didn't recognize. a newbie. amanda.

after adding sugar and spilling some of her drink on her right thigh, she stepped back outside. she held with her two plastic portfolios- one neon green, one hot-shot blue. she looked to her left and saw nothing but empty seats. she didn't see any shade. she looked back to her right and saw the only haven her pale skin had from the sun... right next to him at his table.

her confidence pushed her feet towards him, but her insecurities pulled her passed him and his shade to a table his back was towards.

"ugh..." she mumbled as she settled herself. feet up on the chair. friendship bracelet hook around her toe.

a half an hour passes, and she has listened to him converse on his phone, let him listen to her on her phone, and watched him smoke a marlboro red while scribbling on that same paper. she has switched from the friendship bracelet to cutting out different clippings from the Washington Post Magazine.

The homeless woman approached from across the parking lot. She had with her a coin, valued at $1,100. she asked both of them if they were interested in purchasing it.

She could honestly say that she didn't have that kind of money. Being unemployed did have its benefits. Before the woman left she bummed a cigarette from him.

His face was now turned towards her. She locked eyes with him for the first time and nearly fell backwards out of her seat. His eyes were a piercing, icy blue.

"Now she's going to expect a cigarette every time she sees me. What was she trying to sell us?"

"A coin. For $1,100."

Not exactly the conversation she had played out in her mind for the last 30 minutes... but he DID break the silence between them.

another half hour goes by. When her long-time acquaintance shows up... she is thrilled to learn that he knows both of them, and soon the conversation is a threesome.

Who knows what was said. all she remembers is that it started.

wallflowers

we begin this dance slowly.
in a large group of people...
making the phermonal excitement hard to interpret.

in time the sources of lust, love and the imagination in-between show themselves.

and then we fantasize...
wondering if the other is wondering.
hoping that this is not yet another idealistic notion that we have created inside of our heads.

sometimes we grow bolder.
making side steps that are minimal and unclear at best.
they come out of rhythm...
jagged and unsure.

so really you just end up with a bunch of dancers without partners.
merely trying to embrace the beat.

we call on dances we used to do.
remembering old dance partners.

longing for the beauties of not dancing alone...
but scared of being pushed up against the wall again.
and then taking root.

blooming there...
where no one notices.

and then before we know it.
the song is over.

and we have to start all over again.

what's cold and white and falling slightly to the left?

a snowflake with no sense of direction.

... get your minds out of the gutter.

sink your teeth in slow...
deliberate-like.

make sure you can taste that texture on your tongue.
if you don't make a point to...
you won't remember this moment at all.

stretch out each piece like strings
pulling hard
leaving marks.

scars will help you remember too.

empty out each memory
dump it into jung's collective
and watch them all swim away

you think maybe...
maybe they will find someone who will understand
what the point is
what they all mean

but then
then you selfishly hope
that you won't be left alone now...
in this shadow you have built for yourself.

in this howling, however...
all you can hear is the sound of your own mistakes
banging against every wall
lighting up your regrets

over. and over again.
even though you DO remember saying
that you HAD no regrets.

but at that point it really doesn't matter
... does it?

proving you wrong ... one lie at a time

so i'm in gaithersburg again all this week (that's why i still haven't been posting much). for some odd reason, i get really introverted and weird when i stay at my mom's for long periods of time.

but let's not go there right now.

lots of people i know are breaking up. it's kinda scary. summer flings are supposed to last the WHOLE summer. i guess if they suck that bad, though... you want to get rid of them so you can find a new one right quick. party party and all that jazz. seriously, though... good luck to all of you who are hurting right now. try to appreciate it for what it was, learn and grow from your experiences.

and yeah it's easy for me to say all that crap, but i say it to myself when i'm in a tight spot too. so ::raspberry::

there is just something about jordan from NFG's annoying punk-boi voice that just makes me tingle. still. i'll never forget that concert at the church back during my freshman year of college. man. that's where i heard dashboard for the first time too. and both groups... blown up out the ass now. kudos to them. even if it isn't the same anymore.

so i think i might have met a new he. more news on that as it develops. send some good luck vibes my way, though.

AND i have finally caved, people. i'm calling a temp agency tomorrow. hopefully i'll work my ass off the last three weeks in july and then jump head first into the guard season. that is... unless i can swindle a free trip to westchester. oh flag camp... how i sweat thee.

i think i might go outside now and try to hang out with my ghetto neighbors. then i'll come back later and write some poetry.

hold me to that shit, ok?!

bubbles

it's a shame how fast bubbles pop.

and how ugly everything is when they do.


maryland has come crashing back... hitting me square in my figurative balls. all the bull crap. the stress. the people here that i'm afraid to admit i was hiding from.


the seemingly impossibleness that is trying to create for a living. the utter hopelessness of somehow acquiring enough money to function without compromising myself and my life. the overwhelming self doubt and insecurities that are only made worse by the presence of males you know don't think of you in that way. the jealousy and envy clouding my love for the people in my life who genuinely smile when they describe how things are going for them.

well FUCK YOU, bubble! fuck you for popping... but fuck you more for engulfing me in just another illusion that isn't real. just something else for me to be disappointed in.

i'm so pissed off at my attitude right now. i am not listening to myself whine and complain and dig deeper into this hole.

i'm building my own damn bubble. and no one gets to pop it unless i say so.

long time comin.

so... i'm back in maryland. home sweet home and all that. my trip to connecticut was just so great for my head and my heart and my stress levels. i don't really want to talk much about it except to say that i really wish i could have stayed forever.

but i couldn't and i didn't so there is no more dwelling. i came home with a head full of braids and a mind full of longing. i capitalized on the situation by going out with a bunch of friends on friday night and then having a "small gathering" at my house on saturday.

thanx to everyone who made my homecoming the event i needed it to be. even with the dirty hippie lesbian jokes.

but now it's a rainy fourth of july and i don't really want to go out. i don't really want to watch anymore tv. and i definitely don't want to drink.

i think i'm just going to go for a jog around sunset and watch the sky light up. i've always wanted to be a firework.

happy independence day. i'll be celebrating my freedom to not celebrate.