My New Job

I started my new job this week. The guy I'm working for has started up this small, "extra help/tutoring" kind of school for elementary school kids, and I'm copy editing his teaching materials. It's unbelievable, for several reasons, but most of all, the freedom. In my last job, I could barely take a piss without people there wanting to know how long it took, and which direction I wiped myself in. This guy, for whatever reason, could care less. The first day I went in, there was one other woman there already working, and about four other guys who were associates of his, all in this one fairly small room. It was a little jarring, but I get the feeling he's learning as he goes and kind of playing it by ear, which is fine with me. This is definitely a business that is starting from the ground up, and it's a blissful change from my old company, which was as corporately efficient as you could get. In this job, I am basically sitting in a room by myself the whole time I am there, and nobody bothers me or looks over my shoulder. It is so gratifying to work in an environment where the employers actually treat you like an adult and trust you to do the work you are paid for. That makes such a big difference psychologically. In my previous job, I always felt like my supervisor was keeping an eye on me and just assuming I was screwing around. For that very reason, I did slack off whenever I got the opportunity. When you're treated like a child, you tend to act like one.

The other great thing about this job is that I am actually being paid to seriously edit, meaning changing the grammar, spelling, and even the content if need be, but I've also been encouraged to be creative as well. This guy has told me that there may be a need for me to write material for them in the future. Personally, this job is such a dream for me substance-wise, that I'm a little wary about it. It actually seems just a little too good to be true, and I'm fully expecting him to come up to me next week and say, "I'm sorry, but I find I really don't need as much help as I thought I did," and that will be it. I'm trying not to think that way, but the fact is, I am just not used to having this kind of freedom on the job, and being paid so well for it, too. It's the first time that I am actually earning a wage that I believe is fair to me.

Of course, nothing is perfect. This job is only part-time, so by no means can it support me by itself. Another thing is that I don't have a set schedule, which is a bit annoying. This guy seems to be quite disorganized and never has anything set up in advance, so I keep having to ask him when he wants me to come in next, etc. Still, these are minor considerations when I compare it to the actual job.

Another great thing about it is that it's relatively close to my home, only a 20- or 25-minute drive away. That's a huge change from my last job, where I commuted a couple of hours a day. And it's in the west end, which is my home away from home.

It was only my first week this week, and I imagine things will evolve and change the longer I am there (remember, my fingers are crossed). :-) Still, as I've been driving home from work these last few days, with my sunroof open and my window down, my long hair blowing in the breeze and the radio on, I couldn't have felt happier. For now, it's where I'm destined to be.

20 Miscellaneous Facts About Me

1. I am a combination of English (born there), Ukrainian (my dad), Austrian (my mom) and Canadian (where I live).
2. I am always sniffling due to allergies and sinus problems. People are always asking me if I have a cold. And when I sneeze, I don't just do it once or twice. I can have sneeze-bouts that go for about 12 in a row. Can be very embarrassing in public. Especially if I don't have a handkerchief.
3. When I use handkerchiefs, I always ball them up. My mother folds them in neat little triangles and they never look messy.
4. My feet get cold really fast when they're naked.
5. Whenever I have a zit, I can't keep my hands off it.
6. Foods I don't like: sauerkraut. kielbasa. beets and Borscht. head cheese.
7. Foods I could not live without: ice cream. bread (any kind). chocolate. chicken. pasta.
8. I wear high heels very rarely. But my favourite pair of footwear is a pair of tan-coloured high-heeled knee-high boots. They are smokin' hot.
9. I love long skirts.
10. I could not live without coffee.
11. I have about 15 books in varying-sized piles beside my bed.
12. I don't wear full makeup that often, but I love lipstick and I always wear it. My favourite colour is deep red but when I need to be sedate (like to job interviews) I wear a brownish tone.
13. I love browsing in drugstores. The shampoo aisle is my favourite.
14. I would cut off my hand before leaving my change in those little "tip containers" beside cash registers in coffee places. The nerve of these people.
15. I've only given change to homeless people a couple of times. Most of the time I just think they'll put it towards booze or their next fix.
16. I only started driving last year.
17. I hardly ever get to go to movies anymore, but I'm thinking about going to see "Flight 93" this weekend.
18. When I rent movies from a video place, I try to get a video rather than a dvd. Dvd's skip sometimes and it's a ripoff.
19. I don't listen to music on a stereo or even on headphones anymore. Only in my car.
20. I started watching "Huff" last week and it's really good.

I Have This Friend ...

... we'll call her "Jill". I've known her since the second grade. She hasn't changed much since then. Back then, she was extremely shy, quiet, and fragile. She still is. She's a year or two older than me, so she's about 42 or 43. She has never worked, believe it or not, other than a 1- or 2-day stint at a telemarketing company or a very short-term temp job. She went to college, very briefly, right after she finished high school, but left without completing the program she had enrolled for.

I believe that she has been chronically depressed for most of her life, but she has never been diagnosed or taken medication for her problem. When we were in our teens, she was fairly normal ... meaning, she used to party with me and the rest of our friends, and meet people, have fun, get together with guys, the whole bit. But since her early 20's, she withdrew drastically, even more than she was normally. People who met her back then, when she was still "fairly normal", even then they thought she was a little "off" or odd because she was so shy and quiet. After her brief stint at college, she withdrew into her parents' house and has remained there ever since. It's really as if she went into a cave and rolled a boulder in front of it, that's how removed she has been from much of society. Oh, she goes out and does her grocery shopping and goes for walks and stuff like that, but as far as going out and socializing and working ... forget it.

Her quiet nature actually drew me to her. It fascinated me when I was younger. I knew there was probably a fascinating person under that depth, and there is. She's a very sweet, gentle person. But very early in her life, her spirit was broken. And she never got it back.

I've tried as much as I can to help her. I've stayed in touch with her. She is the godmother to my daughter. I've tried to talk to her about going and getting help, and she listens, and nods, and says, "Yes, I know I should", but that's where it ends. I can't grab her by the hand and drag her where she needs to go. She needs to do it for herself. But she won't.

Sometimes, when my phone rings, and I hear her voice on the other end of the line, I kind of groan inwardly and think, Oh no. Because sometimes the depression in her voice is so palpable that it ends up making me feel down. I know it sounds bad, but I just can't be around that all the time. I used to be like that, although never at that level. But I was always a fighter. I refused to let it rule me, and I got help. Sometimes I find it really annoying that she is so helpless and needy. Sometimes I want to shake her and say, "Come on already! Be strong! Be a woman and do what you have to do!" But of course I don't. I can relate to her suffering. I can remember vividly what it felt like to be living on the fringe of society, not really participating in it, just wasting away.

And it's not like she doesn't know what she has to do. She's constantly saying, "I know it would be best for me to move out, to get my own place." What bugs the shit out of me is she knows how preposterous that statement is, considering the fact that she doesn't have a job or any form of income to do so. I have to bite my lip sometimes to keep from screaming, "Duh! You don't have a fucking job! Don't you think you should get one before you start pondering the future?" And I have said that, in a much watered down version. Then she just mutters, "Yeah ...", stirs her coffee dreamily, and after a few seconds of silence, changes the subject.

Sometimes she just drives me crazy, and I occasionally wonder why I bother keeping in touch with her. Then I remember how it was when we were growing up together, the fun we had, the secrets we shared. And that always wins out.

Hallelujah and Amen, My Brothers and Sisters

What a frickin' day. There was good, and there was bad. First, the good: I got a job. Part-time, but a job. I actually have to find out first if it will jeopardize my unemployment benefits, because if it does, I might have to turn it down. Isn't that ironic? Unemployment Insurance wants to get you out working, but if you work, you lose your benefits. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I can still get them if I'm working part-time, they'll just be less. I got an unexpected call last night at around 6:00 from a guy I'd sent my resume to about a month ago. He runs this small educational/tutoring business for kids in Kindergarten-Grade 8. He needs someone to copy edit his materials, and maybe even do some writing as well. (Woo-hoo!) He was a really nice, soft-spoken guy, and when I went to see him today, he just basically explained to me what he needed and asked if my hours were flexible, when I was available, etc. He told me to give him a call tomorrow and we'd arrange when I'll be starting. Probably on Monday, 3 days a week. Hey, I'll take it. As long as I don't lose the rest of those benefits, I need to pay my damn bills.

Now, the bad: As I left the interview, and was stopped on the on-ramp to the highway, I could see an accident had taken place two or three cars ahead of me. A couple of people were standing on the road arguing and not looking too pleased. (It was rainy and slick all day today.) Then, just as I was taking this in, I felt a whomp! another jolt! and ... some cab driver had rammed into me from behind. My first accident ... yay. I got out of my car and he got out looking dazed and upset and we agreed to pull over to the side and exchange our information. In the meantime, I'm freaking out, thinking, what the hell do I need to do here? I called my ex's house looking for him and got his brother instead, and started telling him what happened and asking if I needed to call the cops, if I should leave, etc. He didn't seem to be quite sure and started asking me about the interview instead. Then I called my mother's friend and told him and he seemed to think that if I got the guy's info I could just leave. The cab driver was very apologetic, said it was all his fault, not mine, etc. etc.

Anyway ... it was quite a day. Combine all this with the fact that I had a low-grade headache all day long, my neck was sore, and I just felt generally kind of crappy physically ... it was a weird day.

So I'll let you know how this job goes.

Pimpin' My Ride

As those of you who are regular readers of my blog know, I am unemployed. I've been unemployed for about the past two months. It has been hell. You know, philosophically, I am not a big fan of working. :-) You never have enough time to do the things you want to do, you have to deal with assholes who think they're superior to you and keep looking over your shoulder to see if they're getting their money's worth out of you, you have to deal with office politics, which I think is one of the most loathsome, irksome things on the face of the earth.

But, despite all the aggravation, the underpayment, the boredom ... I have to say I'll take that any day over being unemployed. It is hell, especially if you find yourself unexpectedly unemployed, or unwillingly unemployed, like me. The first little while you're just kind of wandering around in shell-shock, and when that wears off, it's quickly replaced by an unhealthy amount of optimism, as in "I'll get another job in no time! No problem!" And then two months later, after several dozen emails and cover letters and countless job listings later, you're still unemployed and much less bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Today I attended the National Job Fair at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre in my fair city. One of our newspapers here in Toronto billed it as "fantastic", "not to be missed", "essential for any job seeker". While I find that description a tad overblown, I'm glad I attended, as there was a lot of information there about agencies I didn't know existed who do help people find work and re-train, etc. There were free seminars going on as well, about how to be an entrepreneur, what the job market is like right now, lots of useful things. But I was disappointed to see that at least a third of the booths there were taken up by employment agencies, which I thought was a total waste of time. If I wanted to sign up with an employment agency, why the hell would I wait for a job fair to do it? I've worked for employment agencies in the past, and if I can help it, I don't intend to do it again. The prospect of them taking a chunk of my paycheque for finding me work has never sat well with me.

I'm starting to get quite panicky. Two months and no job offers, no real prospects. I have to say I ended up feeling rather fortunate though, as I met a very nice lady who was looking for a job in the insurance industry. She told me she had been unemployed for over a year. And when I was sitting at one of the seminars, the speaker asked us in the audience how many of us had been unemployed for a year or more, and several hands went up. So I guess two months makes me kind of a neophyte compared to them. I just pray I don't end up in the same boat.

Anyway, I had an amusing thought ... instead of dressing up in a black leather mini skirt, fishnets and high heels, accompanied by the stereotypical pimp with a feather in his hat and a gold medallion on his chest, at this job fair and at other interviews, I have found myself dressed in a sober, pinstriped business suit, trying to figure out which pimp would best represent me. Employment agencies are glorified pimps. They pimp you out and take a cut of the action. Through your hard work, they are profiting. And believe me, if you start being a liability, they won't waste a minute of their time to treat you like a bitch ho' and heave you out the door with their platform boots.

When you're looking for a job, you have to tailor yourself to each company you present yourself to, and it really is like pimping yourself. Just a little more upscale.

Nothing Better Than a Good Read

Few things rival a really good book. I've always been a bookworm, had my face stuck in a book from when I was a little kid ... the nerdy type, I guess. Now that I wear glasses I'm even more the stereotypical nerd. :-) Let them laugh! Nothing will steal me away from my beloved books.

Right now, I'm reading "Haunted" by Chuck Palahniuk. It is fantastic. :-) Chuck Palahniuk is the guy who wrote "Fight Club". I never read that, but I did see the movie, and I wasn't that impressed. Edward Norton is so cool, especially in that movie, but the less said about Brad Pitt the better. Anyway ... he's definitely a really macho, testosterone-driven writer, very visual, and occasionally very sicko. But funny sicko. It's a great book.

My reading tastes have waxed and waned over the years. When I was a teenager, I always read the latest Stephen King as soon as it came out, because my older brother always bought the latest one for me at Christmastime. I absolutely loved Stephen King, back in his early days. He was a god to me. My favourites of his are "Salem's Lot", "The Shining", "The Stand" and "Pet Sematary". Then he started to run out of ideas (I love his recent memoir on writing though, "On Writing". It's great.) I was also into the sword and scorcery stuff, "The Lord of the Rings", et al. And typical teen fare like Paul Zindel ("The Pigman" is still one of my very favourite books), Judy Blume kind of stuff.

Then, in my 20s, I got into a true crime phase. I started reading every true crime book I could find, by writers like Joe McGinniss and Ann Rule. I think I might have inherited my taste for lurid criminals from my dad, who used to read "True Detective" magazine on a regular basis. I still remember the covers of those things, with photos of young, scantily clad girls running away from axe-wielding madmen in plaid shirts and story titles like "He Raped Her Then Cut Her Arms Off" (not too far off topic from Chuck Palahniuk, come to think of it).

After the true crime obsession ran its course and I began to feel like a seasoned homicide detective, I turned to biography -- specifically, Hollywood biographies, like Marilyn Monroe, Liz Taylor, Grace Kelly. Then I got into "regular" biographies, about people nobody had heard of but did extraordinary things, like one called "The Survival of Jan Little", about a blind woman who married a biologist or horticulturist who was also a bit of a recluse. They moved to South America, Brazil, I think, with her teenage daughter from another marriage. This guy was insistent they remove themselves from the human race, then he caught malaria or some other jungle disease, so did the daughter, and blind Jan was left on her own for months. She survived.

I went through a prolonged self help phase, thanks to being a regular viewer of Oprah back in the '80s, and tried to heal my inner child, resolve my inner hurts and be the best that I could be. I discovered that no book, no matter how wise or educated its author, can heal your inner child or resolve your inner hurts. But it introduced me to the likes of Deepak Chopra, for which I'm grateful.

I also loved reading books about the paranormal -- books about hauntings, possessions. And books about UFOs too. "Communion", by Whitley Strieber, practically traumatized me. That was scary.

And through it all, from adolescence to the present, Margaret Atwood has remained my constant favourite. No matter what proclivity or genre my reading tastes steer me toward, her books remain a constant, tireless companion. For me, she is one of those writers whose voice is timeless, beautiful, hypnotic, and always appealing.

Somehow, no matter how broke I am, which is very often, if I really want a book, I'll find a way to get it. I'll scrape the money together. I love the crammed look of my bookshelves. I often wonder if a stranger were to come in off the street and peruse my bookshelves, if they could decipher what kind of person I am. What clues would those books deliver?

All I know is, without books I would not be the person I am. I don't know who I would be. Me without books is just unthinkable.

Diary of a Depressive Binge Eater

I had a really bad day yesterday. Actually, it's been a pretty bad few days, since Friday. I've been feeling really down, really alone, really beaten down. Most of the time, thanks to a wonderful psychotropic medication called Paxil, I can just kind of coast along, because these things are all kind of constants in my life right now. But every once in awhile I'm feeling so "okay" or even "good" that I decide to skip a pill or two, and sure enough, the fucking blackness descends.

I've suffered from depression all my life, but only started taking medication for it a few years ago, after I had my daughter. I finally decided I had had enough feeling like every day was another battle to get through and thank God I made that decision, because the medication truly changed my life. It enabled me to live a normal life, with mostly benign ups and downs that are manageable.

One of the ways I deal with depression, or depressing feelings, is to eat. And eat. And eat. And eat, and eat, and eat. That's what I've been doing for the past couple of days. Usually I eat pretty healthily and I'm pretty good with exercise too. I love walking and get out and walk every day, sometimes really long distances. I've also been doing yoga every day for the past two or three weeks, and feeling really great. But then this depression descended on me, and I just fucking stuffed my face. And you know what the worst part of it is? I don't even enjoy it anymore. There used to be a time when I was totally happy just chowing down on potato chips or chocolate or whatever. Now, I'm just like a zombie, sitting there and shoving it in out of some automatic memory of what I used to do. It doesn't even appeal to my tastebuds anymore. But I do it anyway, because that's what I do. And afterward, when I sit there and look at what I've eaten, I feel even more depressed, and disgusted with myself to boot. I try not to be. I try to be gentle with myself, and not beat myself up about it. I realize I am doing it because it is the only way I know how to cope. But I am so sick of it. I am sick of living like this, that the only way I can cope with stress or boredom or loneliness is to eat myself sick and then hate myself afterward.

I believe that the ratio of happiness or contentment in my life has been a lot lower than the average person, due to a lot of factors: my genetic predisposition to depression, my less than ideal family life (my mother and I have never gotten along), my weight problem (totally a side effect of the depression, I believe), my lifelong pursuit of fulfilling romantic love which has never really been found ... and most recently, with the breakup of my marriage, being a single mom, losing my job ... honestly, I don't know how the fuck I hold on sometimes. I am a very strong person but sometimes even I wonder when I'm just going to fucking self-destruct. But I'm not so self-pitying that I'm grandiose about it. I know that I am not the only person who has had a lot of adversity or gotten a "raw deal" in life. There are plenty of other people out there who feel the same way and have had lots of unhappiness to deal with too. Sometimes the knowledge of that helps when I'm feeling totally alone.

Anyway, yesterday was one of those days. I just felt numb, I was so depressed, I didn't know who I was, I didn't know what I wanted anymore, and I knew there was nothing I could do to get rid of those feelings, I would just have to ride them out. The only way I could withstand those feelings was to eat and distract myself from them.

I'm feeling a little better today, more back to normal. But I know this will probably not be the last of these episodes and I just don't know what to do anymore. I feel trapped in this cycle and I have been trying for so many years to get out of it. I've done the counselling, I've done the self-exploration, I've done fucking everything.

How much introspection do you have to do before you truly find the answer? How much suffering do you have to endure? It's been over 40 years and I haven't found the answer yet.

The Mathematics of Love

To be truly objective about love, one has to remove oneself emotionally from the equation. One must be an observer, a scientist, stand back and watch events unfold, then form a conclusion.

Okay, I'm getting carried away here, but it does make sense. In order to really get the answers you seek in your love life -- e.g., why do I keep attracting the same kind of men? why don't I attract the men I want? why do I keep getting involved with assholes? -- you have to be willing to be totally honest with yourself and truly absorb the answers you receive, not deny them because they are too hurtful.

For example:

Cute, horny fat girl + skinny, cute, horny guy + bar setting & (x) number of beers = passionate sexual encounter + cute horny fat girl falling in love - skinny, cute, horny guy running as fast as he can afterward.

What would our hypothesis be here? I would surmise that the cute, horny fat girl is desperately lonely and seeking love any way she can get it, whereas the skinny, cute, horny guy was in the bar setting looking for sex any way he could get it. When they both achieved this objective, for different reasons, each one of them reacted from their deepest desire: the cute, horny, fat girl equates passionate sex with love, whereas the skinny, cute, horny guy equates sex with sex and also associates it with shame and takes off and removes himself from the situation as quickly as possible.

Now, this equation could have worked out far better if:

Cute, horny fat girl + cute, however-looking nice guy + sedate setting, such as sunny cafe, movie theatre, bookstore, or park = kiss goodbye + setting up of future date = very possible satisfying romantic relationship.

If only the cute, horny fat girl could manage to take the time to concoct the right formula. We would have a definite "Eureka!"

What Are You Going to be Doing This Easter?

I'll be at my mother's place for dinner on Sunday. Dinner includes my two older brothers, my mother's "significant other" (I never know what to call him, since he seems really not that significant in her life other than just being a fixture on her couch and her shopping/coffee buddy), possibly my "ex" husband (not technically an "ex" since we are still married but technically not really a husband either, as we are not living together anymore or having a marital relationship) and his brother. When he came over for his weekly visit with Emily on Tuesday, I asked him if he and his brother would like to join us and he said he didn't know.

We've been getting along, have been civil with each other, but it's a little weird. He comes over to see Emily on Tuesdays and I make dinner and we sit there and talk, but there's a real lid on things. Recently, we've begun to laugh a little together, but not that much. It's getting better, very slowly. In fact, I'm beginning to worry that we're getting along so well he'll start saying, "Look, we're getting along. Why don't we just get back together?" And I don't want to have to go through the whole myriad of reasons why we shouldn't again. It's so fucking painful.

I so wanted to keep things civil between us when we split. I want Emily to see her dad regularly, to have a good relationship with him, but when I told my husband I was leaving, needless to say he wasn't too disposed to doing what I wanted. He neglected her for awhile, until I got on his ass mightily about it, and we agreed on this Tuesday-for-dinner-and-visit-with-Emily thing, but that was only because I insisted he start acting like a father. If I hadn't done that, I know it's very likely he wouldn't be seeing her at all right now.

So, on Sunday, we could be sitting at my mother's dinner table together, and it will be a little surreal. I know my mother will come up to me after and say, "So, it looks you two are getting along. Why don't you just stop this nonsense and go back home?" I'm telling you, I can hear it now.

Oh well. So it goes with a lady on her own. Everyone thinks they know what's best for her. Everyone tries to tell her what to do. They don't seem to hear her screaming, "Um, I'm doing fine, thank you! I really don't need your input here!"

I am going through such an enormous transition in my life right now. It seems like nothing's happening, it seems really boring and dull, and fraught with financial difficulties, etc. It seems like everything is total chaos. Yet I know deep inside myself that it's not. Sooner or later things are going to level off and I am going to find myself feeling very comfortable with where I am, and knowing that I have done absolutely the right thing. It is the first time in my life I have ever called my own shots, and I know a lot of people aren't happy with it. They're used to me doing what they "advise" me, or, more accurately, what they tell me to do. They're not used to this new woman, going against the grain, facing adversity quite calmly. And I know it makes them feel antsy.

Easter is about rebirth. It's about the triumph of the spirit. And I'm certainly not comparing myself to Jesus, but I do feel triumphant in a way. It would have been so easy for me to continue ignoring my unhappiness and just wasting away. Lots of other women do. But I finally decided I had short-changed myself long enough.

Spring is here! And I am blossoming ... :-)

A Session With Dr. Sprinkle

Awhile ago, I bought a book called "Dr. Sprinkle's Spectacular Sex". Dr. Sprinkle is Dr. Annie Sprinkle. More specifically, Annie Sprinkle used to be a very famous porn star. She is a very intelligent, multi-talented woman, having branched out into photography, acting, then earning her Ph.D. in sexology when she got fed up with the porn industry.

Anyway, her book is fabulous. It has all sorts of interesting exercises in it to get you thinking about what you like, what you'd like to try, etc. And since I have absolutely no clue what to write about, I thought I'd borrow from her book and do one of the exercises. You are more than welcome to try it as well.

This exercise is called What's Your Current Truth? Instructions: Answer the following questions quickly. Don't think much about the answers; just write down the first thing that comes to mind. Go from the gut and your subconscious mind. Most important, be absolutely honest with yourself.

Ready? (The words in bold are the prompts ... you finish the sentences.)

Okay ...

Sex is extremely important to me. I want to find someone who it's extremely important to as well.

When I was younger I thought that sex was unthinkable. I remember reading Once is Not Enough by Jacqueline Susann when I was a kid, the scene where the girl loses her virginity and bleeds on the sheets and I remember feeling sheer horror and thinking to myself, I will never ever do that. Right.

I used to feel sexy when this guy Dave used to come and pick me up in his van. Dave was older than me, he spotted me one day walking by and asked if I wanted a ride. From then on we used to go to parking lots in his van and make out like crazy in the back. I must have spent the whole summer with my bra up around my neck.

At school I learned that sex was a competition. Whoever lost her virginity first was the winner. I lost.

My parents taught me that sex was awful and evil and dirty. Especially my mother. She would always grimace at me when I brought the subject up, which definitely wasn't often. I always felt like a slut sneaking home after midnight.

My religion taught me that sex was impossible unless you were married. Even to contemplate it was a sin. Guess who's roasting now?

The thing I used to be best at sexually was french kissing and oral sex. Oh yeah.

The thing I'm best at sexually these days is (see above).

I used to love sex when I was horny. Unfortunately, it didn't happen too often when I was horny.

I used to dislike sex when my husband made me put on lingerie. I hated that.

Today Mom and Dad basically think sex is a hallucination.

Today my spiritual/moral beliefs dictate that sex is shared only with someone I truly share an emotional connection with, someone I truly love. No more thrill sex or opportunity sex only. I'd rather be celibate (well ....)

These days society thinks sex is a commodity. The sexier you are, the richer you are. Sex is bought and sold every minute of every day. It's meaningless.

Today I love sex if I sit and daydream about it. Unfortunately, that's all I do about it.

I feel most sexy when I have just had a bath and I'm all soft and smooth and smell yummy. I'd love to share myself with someone then.

I'd have a better sex life today if I loosened up a bit ... was not so afraid to make the first move.

These days I like sex best when ... whenever. I wish.

These days I dislike sex when it's shown as belonging only to the airbrushed and beautiful. Those of us who are imperfect like it too, you know.

I'd love to learn more about how to meet guys. :-) Good guys.

I could stand to learn more about being confident about myself, confident about showing off my beauty. I'm only 50/50 on it, and that's not enough.

What I'd love to do more of is hold hands and neck. Mmmm.

What I'd love to do but don't have the courage to is go up to some guy I see who I think is really cute and say, "You know, I think you're really cute. Would you like to get some coffee with me?"

In the future I expect that my sex life will improve. It certainly can't get any worse. :-)

Eventually I would like to marry my soulmate and sexmate and live orgasmically ever after.

Finito!

That was enlightening.

You Know You're Not In Love When ...

I saw a post on another blogger's site about being in love and I decided to do a list of the opposite. Aren't I romantic? :-)

Sorry guys, this is strictly from the female point of view.

Okay, here goes.

He asks if you'd like to go back to his place and you're really glad you're out in public with a lot of witnesses around.

He kisses you and your first thought is, Oh my God, what is that horrible taste?

You're on your first date and you find the tablecloth more interesting than his conversation.

You see him for the first time and you're disappointed but you make an effort. Then, you see him a second time and you're still disappointed, but you make an effort. The third time ... you know you're not willing to make the effort anymore.

He asks how many men you've had sex with and you tell him the truth. :-)

When you're out somewhere with him, you see a cute guy pass by and smile at you and suddenly you really wish you were by yourself.

He makes an indecent suggestion and you just laugh uproariously and pat his knee.

You're making out with him really heavily and actually really getting into it, but then you start thinking about your old boyfriend who you still think about 20 times a day, and then you just pretend it's him, and you get really turned on.

During sex, he's saying Oh baby oh baby and you're staring at the ceiling thinking, Hmmm, I wonder why the swirls go this way and not that way?

After sex, you thank God he rolled over and went right to sleep.

You hear this monotonous drone beside you but you're kind of tuning it out and then you realize he's asking a question and you say, "Hmmm? Sorry?" This happens about 15 times a night.

He says, "You know, I really don't think this is working out," and you are just so relieved.

Being Mommy

It kind of surprises me that I've done so many entries on this blog and have not yet written a post about being a mom. Well ... today's the day.

I had to take my daughter to Sick Kids Hospital today for a follow-up checkup. Nothing serious. She had a minor condition a couple of years ago which was treated with medication, and they need to do the ultrasounds just to make sure everything is okay. Sick Kids Hospital is one of the premier, if not THE premier, children's hospital in the world. It is absolutely amazing. The place is gigantic, and it is a really nice place. It is decorated and festooned with all sorts of pictures, displays, toys and games to make the kids feel at home. Today when we walked through the main corridor to get to the elevators, there was this amazing display of life-sized teddy bears wearing ballgowns, pearls and other costumes. That's the kind of place it is. It just makes you feel good being there, even though you know that the reason most of the kids are there is not a good one. Most of them are terribly sick, and they're at Sick Kids to receive treatment from some of the best pediatricians and surgeons in the world.

Anyway, I always feel amazingly lucky to be taking my daughter there just to get her routine checkup. Today when we were waiting for her to go in and get her ultrasound done, we were sitting there with the other mothers and kids. There must have been about two or three babies there when we came in, and more just kept on coming. :-)

Every time I see a tiny baby, my heart just melts inside. Honest to God. I never thought I would be a mother, because I never thought I would be in the kind of long-term relationship that would be ideal to create one. By some kind of divine intervention, I truly believe, I was given that privilege, and let me tell you ... I never stop feeling grateful for it. Sure, I bitch at times. My daughter can be loud, and whiny, and demanding ... but she is also so pure and sweet that it breaks my heart. When I hear her reading a book, or playing by herself (she's always jabbering away, and I just love listening to her little stories), I just have to smile and think, She's going to be just like her mom!

My absolute favourite time with her was when she was a baby. Her dad would head off to work and I would sit with her on the couch and give her her bottle. (I tried breast-feeding and it didn't work. Don't get me started.) I would lie her on my tummy and against my chest and when she was really tiny I would hold the bottle for her, but as she grew and got more proficient at it, she would hold it herself, and her little hands would grasp it, then slip and touch mine, and reach back to grasp it again. Her little body in her pajamas was always so warm against me, and I used to sit there in silence with her, no t.v., no radio, just the sounds of her contented little guzzling. It was priceless and whenever I see a tiny baby, I feel myself yearning for that time with her again. But you can't turn back the clock.

I'd love to have another baby. Of course, it might not be realistic at this point because of my age and due to the minor technicality of not having a lifemate to reproduce with. I was ready to give birth again right after I had my daughter, that's how pumped I was! :-) I was so lucky, she was my first and only child and I gave birth to her in two hours. I'd been hearing so many horror stories about 23-hour labours throughout my pregnancy.

Parenthood is such an amazing thing. My daughter Emily is almost seven now. She'll be seven on June 21st. The years have flown by so fast since she was a baby. I know it won't be long before she's a teenager and will probably not want much to do with me as she becomes preoccupied with her friends, boyfriends, partying ... normal teenage stuff. I keep reminding myself to treasure this time I have with her when she still looks up to me as her guide, caregiver and mommy. Sometimes little irritants get in the way and I find myself snapping at her or not paying full attention to her if I'm busy with something else, and I immediately feel like a jerk afterwards.

I love my daughter so much. She's beautiful, she's smart, she's funny, she's mischievous. She can be entertained by a stick she finds on the side of the road. When she gets angry, she's over it in a couple of minutes. She's a role model for me in so many ways.

My Favourite Bad Boys

Aaaaaaah, bad boys. We all love them. Why? For me, it's the attitude. While nothing can compare to the sweet-hearted, sensitive, intelligent, gentle lifemate I am ultimately searching for, I have to admit I have a soft spot in my heart for swaggering assholes. It's that "fuck you" attitude that they exude that I so adore. I really admire people who have the courage to say what they want and do what they want. So when I see these guys, I have to smile. They kick ass!

Here are some of my faves:

Liam and Noel Gallagher
These two Manchester brothers formed the band "Oasis" and they have been wreaking havoc ever since. Liam is the singer and Noel plays guitar and writes most of their songs. I happen to love Oasis, although I haven't heard their latest cd yet, but as soon as I heard "What's the Story, Morning Glory?" I knew I was hearing something special. These guys are constantly in the press with their shenanigans, for stuff like getting frightfully drunk on airplanes and abusing staff and offending passengers. Liam is by far the more loud-mouthed of the two, and even I have to say his charm wears off pretty quickly. I far prefer Noel, who seems to be a more discriminating and intelligent bad boy, not to mention an awesome songwriter. Long live the Gallagher boys!

Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious
Leave it to rock and roll to give us the greatest array of bad boys. Johnny and Sid were, of course, members of the Sex Pistols. John was especially nasty, glaring out at the audiences, taunting them from the stage. Poor Sid was more of just a symbol with his leather jacket and track marks. Infamously, of course, the band split and the members went their separate ways. Sid ended up dying at age 21 of a heroin overdose, after murdering his co-addict and partner in doom, Nancy Spungen. What a tragic pair those two were. They were definitely meant for each other, Nancy coming all the way from Philadelphia to fulfill their destiny. I loved the Sex Pistols' music, and I get terrifically pissed off when I hear people say they couldn't play. That is bullshit.

Jack Nicholson
How can anyone help but love Jack, even though he has become a caricature of himself. I'm thinking back to his earlier days, when he starred in movies like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, The Last Detail, and Five Easy Pieces. Here is where he really stole my heart. He had that swagger that came right from the crotch, and with his mere smile you knew he could just charm the pants off women. He was such a great actor back then. Now he's a legend, with his sunglasses and annual attendance at the Oscars. But he's still cool.

Tony Soprano
Okay, I know he's a fictional character, and I love the actor who plays him, James Gandolfini. But those of us who are Sopranos addicts know that the characters on that show are so believable that they seem like real people, so I've included him on this list. Tony is the ultimate bad boy, isn't he? He's a mob boss, he cheats on his wife endlessly, he beats people up, kills them, extorts money from them, and we still love him. He looks great no matter how much he weighs or what he wears. I think what makes him so lovable is he so often has those bursts of humanity, like going to see his psychiatrist, having momentary lapses of conscience ... come on. He's a teddy bear, even though he's packin'.

These are just a few of my favourite bad boys.

This Is My Real Life

It was a beautiful morning. I heard the birds chirping before I opened my eyes, and when I did, I looked over and saw him there. He was still asleep, lying on his back, one hand curled over the sexy dark bush of hair on his chest. I smiled and touched his forehead. Poor lamb. I'd exhausted him. Then again, he'd tired me out pretty well too.

I decided to get up and let him rest a little while longer. I picked my pink lace thong off the floor and slid it back on. I'd only had it on for about five minutes, after all. Then I got into my Victoria's Secret push up bra, slid my mini jean skirt up effortlessly around my hips, and went into the living room.

My daughter was sitting there, dressed, hair brushed, ready for school. "Hi, sweetie. Did you eat already?" "Yep," she said. "You've got all your stuff for school?" "Yep." "Great!" I kissed her on each soft, plump cheek. "Have a great day, honeybabe!" "You too!" She skipped out the door.

I sighed contentedly and walked into the kitchen. The coffee was already waiting for me. My gorgeous, thoughtful husband had set up the machine the night before with the built-in alarm, and the rich, earthy aroma steamed its way into my nose as I poured myself a cup. I stood in front of the kitchen window admiring our garden with all the lush, colourful varieties of flowers, the perfect, cloudless blue sky above, and sipped my coffee. My long-haired tortoiseshell cat came by and curled her body around my feet. I smiled down at her and tickled her sides with my toes and she purred and rubbed her cheeks against them.

My husband came wandering in, his hair askew, topless, wearing loose pajama bottoms.

"Why the modesty?" I asked him, ogling his amazing torso, with that gorgeously sexy bush of dark chest hair trailing down in a sexy line into his pajama bottoms.

"I thought Emily might still be home." He took me in his arms and I nearly spilled my coffee. I put it on the counter and put my arms around him.

"She just left for school. You can walk around in that Adonis body all you want, baby."

He nuzzled my neck. "Haven't you had enough yet? Am I just a sex machine to you?"

"Of course not," I whispered, licking his ear. "I love everything about you ... your brilliant mind, your wonderful sensitivity, your manly strength, your great big ..."

He squeezed my ass. "You're such a naughty girl."

"Mmmm hmmm!"

We laughed and he went to pour himself a coffee. "Are you going to be working on your book this morning?" I asked.

"Yeah, I still have some editing to do. My publisher's on my ass. I'll get it finished in time to pack, don't worry."

"I still can't believe we're leaving for Europe tomorrow. Seeing all those amazing cities ... the cathedrals ..."

"On our first night in Paris I'll take you to the most romantic little bistro near the hotel. The one where I proposed to you."

"Oh my God," I said. "I can't believe we're going to have an entire month to just get on that Eurail and go from country to country ... I'm so glad Emily said she's staying with her friends, so we can have that time together. It'll be so romantic ..."

He smiled at me and put his coffee cup down. "You bet it will. Well sweetie, I'd better get into my study and finish up. Are you going into the office?"

"Yeah, I've just got to clear up a few loose ends before I leave. Thank God I have such a competent staff who know how to run the place in my absence ..."

"Running a small publishing house like you do calls for brains, baby. You hired the right people to help you run it."

"Amen!"

"Okay, baby. I'll see you later."

"Come here. I need a little sugar before you go."

He smiled and took me in his arms again, and I rubbed against him. Sure enough, I felt him stirring in his pajama pants. "Ooooooooooohhhhh ..." I said, smiling. "You're amazing, aren't you?"

"Not as amazing as you are," he told me.

We kissed for a few minutes, until I was wet and aching again, and pulling at his pajamas, and almost angrily he pushed me up on the counter and fucked me until I shrieked louder than the cat when she was hungry.

.................................................

Okay, say it. Emily ... WAKE THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!!!

My Mind! Totally Nude! Totally Uncensored!!!

I'm still fascinated with my "What the Bleep" book. Here's one of many intriguing bits of information.

Did you know that "the amount of information that comes pouring in [to our brains] from the five senses is staggering -- somewhere on the order of 400 billion bits per second. ... we don't consciously receive and process anything near that amount -- researchers say that only about two thousand get through to our consciousness. So, as the brain gets to work ... as Dr. Andrew Newberg puts it, "it has to get rid of a lot of extra data." (from the book).

In other words, as you're sitting in front of your computer reading this, you're excluding a lot of information that is in your brain so you can concentrate on these words. The feel of the chair you're sitting in, maybe the noises around you, any odours or stuff like that.

What I find really amazing is how fast our brains are. We jump from thought to thought so quickly, not even realizing it. But all these thoughts are coming from places in our brains for some reason. Tracing them back, I guess, is kind of like trying to interpret a dream.

So, for five minutes, I will blog my thoughts without censoring them so you and I can both see how amazingly weird and intricate our brains are. Here we go. I'll think my thoughts, type them out, and keep my eye on the clock:

Man this is weird. What if I think something really stupid? Or sexy? I can't be letting all these people know my private thoughts. I must be nuts. Speaking of which, Emily's cartoon is driving me crazy. Come to think of it, all of her cartoons are driving me crazy. Except for the Powerpuff Girls. I love them. I wish I was Blossom. I'd kick some major ass. I know whose I'd go for first. Big time. Bend over, bitch! Oh well. Forgive and forget, right? Fuck that. Forgiveness is for losers. What would Jesus say? Turn the other cheek. I'm sorry, can't do that. I'm not Christ. Fuck. This is way too intimate. I never expected to start talking about Jesus. Easter is coming up. The Ten Commandments will be on. Love that Yul Brynner. And Ann Baxter is so vampy and witchy as Nefertiri. Love that film. They parted the Red Sea by using Jello. Talk about low budget, eh? But it worked. Who can ever forget that scene? One of my personal favourites is when Vincent Price has that beefy Joshua tied up and starts whipping him and going, "Prepare to die, stonecutter!" He was so evil and so great in that role. And Charlton Heston in another one of his mammoth roles. Hmm, the Ten Commandments is taking up a lot of space here. But movies have been a pretty big part of my life. My first date with my husband was to see a movie. Beverly Hills Cop II, to be exact. That should have been my omen. You know what I'm saying? Shitty movie ... and Eddie Murphy gets pretty old after awhile. Even though me and Emily were watching the Haunted Mansion the other night and I was laughing my ass off. Fuck, those goddam people haven't called me yet. I cannot understand how I cannot get this job. I have every goddam qualification they want and then some and they still haven't fucking called me. I was expecting a call the same day, you know? All I know is, if I don't get a job pretty fucking soon I'm in big fucking trouble. I might have to start selling nude photos of myself on the internet. Just kidding. Kind of. I can't imagine ... imagine my mother if she ever found out I did something like that? She'd totally fucking disown me. But it still might be worth it, just to see the look on her face. her mouth wouldn't close for a week. Not that it ever does. Now, now, don't be nasty. Hey, I try not to be, but people keep fucking with me. You know how hard it is to stay positive sometimes?

Okay, I think that was five minutes. I guess I didn't digress as much as I thought I would. But it's amazing how fast they travel and kind of jump instantaneously from one subject to the next. And that was five minutes. Can you imagine how many thoughts you have in five hours? Or a day?

Hope you liked my little experiment.

I Don't Know a Bleepin' Thing!

I rented a movie a couple of weekends ago that I'd heard about, called "What the Bleep Do We Know?" This is a cult film, as I understand it, and I think cult films are cool. Even though I am probably the only person on the planet my age not to have seen "The Rocky Horror Picture Show".

Anyway, I've always been interested in the subject matter of the film, which is the metaphysical. More specifically, it's about quantum physics, and that's a subject I have an interest in, but no aptitude for. Believe me, mathematics and science were never my strong subjects. But I don't feel so bad about it, because the huge numbers of scientists who have studied quantum physics (which simply means, studying the very, very small) don't understand it either. These are brilliant people with Ph.D.'s and a gazillion other degrees behind their names.

What I have been able to glean so far is this: reality (e.g. the world "out there", such as trucks, chairs, tables, people -- 3-dimensional objects) are not as "real" as the ultra-miscroscopic stuff we cannot see. Also, the things that we do see are all subject to our predisposition toward them. And we don't actually "see" with our eyes -- our eyes merely take in information, send it to our brains, our brain processes it all in about a nanosecond, and sends us back an "interpretation" of that information based on our emotions and possible history with it.

Confused? So was I. But it was wicked! :-)

The movie intrigued me so much that I went out and bought the book (same title) and I've been reading it for the past couple of days. Basically, it says what a million self-help books have said over and over again: that we are capable of creating any reality we want. I really, really like that thought.

Apparently, the reason we keep failing at things that we have attempted to do over and over again (let's use getting into bad relationships as an example) is because our brains are used to it. We do what we know. And unless we make a conscious decision to change things (and as soon as we make that decision, our brain chemistry actually changes), we will continue to do the same things over and over again. It is no coincidence that we keep ending up in the same predicaments. It's just our brains very efficiently recreating what we have programmed it to do.

Even when we do attempt to change things and then "fall off the wagon", that's hardly surprising -- as a matter of fact, it's a given -- because even though it is a positive change, it's unfamiliar. It takes time to develop a new way of thinking or a new habit. So, rather than feeling sorry for ourselves, the far better approach is to simply shrug it off and get that impetus to change back as fast as we can. Unfortunately, most of us fall into the self-pity trap and go right back to the same behaviours.

If you are interested in the mysterious, the beguiling, the fascinating, the frustrating but invigorating, I highly suggest you check out the movie or the book. The movie is a little irritating but only because the filmmakers chose to "spice it up", I guess, with this dramatization of a woman (played by Marlee Matlin) going through her daily life and encountering all sorts of metaphysical enlightenment. This is interspersed with dialogue by the scientists spouting their theories and opinions, which is the really good part of the film.

Check it out. It will blow your bleepin' mind.

Progress ... Even If It Doesn't Exactly Feel Like It

Sometimes, I really, really miss having a man in my life. Not enough to go back to a bad situation, but bad enough to feel an ache inside my soul and just feel like crying all day.

I usually feel it the worst when I'm out walking around a busy street, and see all kinds of men pushing baby carriages or holding hands with their wives ... in other words, men that are taken.

When I think about it though, I've never really had the kind of man I want. Maybe temporarily, and even then, my relationships with them were never what I thought they were. I always thought it was more than it was, and they were just chillin'.

They say that what you give, you get. I have found out, so far in my life, that that is complete bullshit. Granted, my life isn't over, and I may still yet find the love to equal the love I have given out ... but sometimes I just get really tired of waiting. Sometimes I just get so angry I want to kick someone's door in, or trash a hotel room. It just isn't fair. I'm not ugly, I'm not unlovable, I'm not unsexy ... God, I'm definitely not unsexy. Every guy I've been with has told me I'm incredible in bed. Yet, night after night, I go to bed alone. Even when I was married, I was existentially alone. I might as well have been sleeping by myself.

People tell me things all the time when I express sentiments like the ones in this post. They say things like, "You will find someone", and "Hold your head up, go get him, he's out there", and "You're fabulous, just be patient." And I'm sure I'll probably get another bunch of the same kind of comments after people read this post. I know they're being very sweet and kind and just trying to make me feel better and I do appreciate that. But honestly ... those words really don't help. It's not within other people's power to bring me the love I want. If it was, I'm sure I probably would have gotten it by now.

Today in my car I was listening to one of my tapes and one of the songs was "Old Man" by Neil Young. I love that song. And there's a line in it that goes: Doesn't mean that much to me, to mean that much to you. That is the story, to a tee, of my love life. Every man I have loved has not had the same feelings for me. At the most, they might have been flattered by it, and the realization of that is very demoralizing ... as if the only benefit that came out of my deep feelings for another person was to boost their ego.

There is a guy in my past I have not been able to forget, I loved him so. It has taken every ounce of my strength and fortitude not to get in contact with him again because I know he will hurt me again, and again, and again, if I do. And I start to wonder ... why does this keep happening to me? Why do I keep falling for men who do not have any feelings for me? Is it just coincidence? Even me ... the professional hand-wringer ... knows enough to say that it is no coincidence. But I haven't figured out why yet.

At least I am progressing. I have been able to hold off on contacting Mr. Wrong. Believe me, it has been very difficult at times. The old Me would not have been able to stop myself.

Maybe I'm starting to love myself more, and give myself that love freely, the same way I have given it to other people. Maybe that love is showing itself by steadfastly sparing myself certain pain.

That is definitely a good thing, no matter how lonely I feel sometimes.