Frieght Trains and Cliffs

I am on a freight train, heading 100 MPH towards the cliff.

Why is time moving so quickly?

Locked in a Room with Myself

So I have been basically home alone in my room for about a week.  The snowstorms here in DC have made the government shut down and the roads hard to navigate.

It's not so bad.  The first few days were really hard.  I cried some...felt horrible the rest of the time.  But now on day 7...I am doing pretty good.

I still really like being with people still.  And I miss being friends with Nick.  But I think the party is over.  And it's time for me to pay the bill.

Pre-surgery Jitters

I am having anxiety about this surgery and I  need to get my head around it fast.  Looking for a guided imagery meditation that I can do to get my mind and body in sync and ready for this important life step.

I am going to imagine the following every time I get stressed about this surgery:

You are in strong and capable hands.  Imagine the large, strong hands of the maker massaging my knees..rubbing them firmly, the warmth of the hands penetrating the bones.  The massaging is making me sleepy and I fall into a deep sleep.  The maker's hands turns the knee bones into clay, and begins to reshape them.  First, he replaces the knee cap with a stronger one.  Then he replaces the missing cartilage...ensuring it will rub smoothly.

Imagine myself waking up, and understanding that this new knee is stiff because it has never been moved.  But the knee WILL move..slowly and over time.  No need for frustration.  Time and effort will work.  That is the design.  I am imaging the swelling is a sign that my body is getting used to the new knee...and as I drink water and walk as instructed, the water is slowly working itself out and the swelling will go down.

I know that I am making the right choice.  I am confident in the skill of my physician.  I will rely on the help and guidance of my mother, who will be beside me.

...And the Call Was COMING FROM THE HOUSE!!

You remember those 1980's Horror Movies...where the poor girl is receiving scary phone calls for a while, threatening to come and hurt her, and then finally,she looks down, sees the red light on the 2nd line in the house, and realizes that the CALL IS COMING FROM THE HOUSE!!! 

That is how I feel about the upcoming surgery date...the scariness is approaching...and very soon, the call is going to come and I won't be able to GET AWAY! 

I have ordered the shower seat, the hand held shower nozzle and the elevated toilet seat...(yes, folks...we are turning my beautiful, trendy apartment into a fucking nursing home!)

I am reading all the information I can, and am getting a grip on reality. 

And whenever I think about it, my hearts beats a little fast.

Affairs of the Heart

Shit.  I love him.  Still...even more than before.  I love his sense of humor, his hands and his silly tattoos.  I love his exuberant laugh.  I love how he takes care of his life and the things he needs to do.  His love of greeting cards and chicken nuggets make me smile.  His smell makes me light headed.  Sometimes when he is not home I press his shirt that he leaves on his chair against my face and I inhale deeply...and it makes me feel so at peace and happy.  When we sit in the same room, and do our own thing, and every once in a while one of us laughs, and we share a thought I am totally happy.  He shares with me his private feelings and fears without reservation.  And I do the same with him.  He listens to me and remembers the things I say.  He brings me home little things he knows I needs.  He cares about my happiness.  He is not afraid to disagree with me.  He takes charge and thrills me. 

I need to stop loving him.  I need to stop looking forward to spending any moment I can scrounge with him.  I need to get it through my thick skull that he will NEVER love me the way I love him.  He will NEVER be mine.  Ever.  Ever. Ever.  And that the more time I spend with him reduces my chance at meeting a nice man who will be my partner in life.  But deep down, I don't want another partner.  I want him.

And that is the truth.  He is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.  And I love him with all my heart.

I am so screwed. 

ANOTHER Reason to Date Rich Men

The Sunday Times Online article "Why women have better sex with rich men" reports that
women’s sexual pleasure is directly linked to their partner’s wealth, says new research.

(Hmmm..do you think this research was funded by a rich man?)

“We found that increasing partner income had a highly positive effect on women’s self-reported frequency of orgasm. More desirable mates cause women to experience more orgasms.”

As if I needed another reason to date a rich man!

The article goes on to say that they think there may be an evolutionary reason why women are more sexually satisfied by a rich man than a poor man. That knowing offsprings who may generate from the sexual activity will be well cared for allows you not to have any worries about the act itself.

I think that is crock of shit. I think rich men are more confident and they express themselves in different ways than poor bastards. I think they dress better, smell better and act better. And eating at better restaurants is a much better aphrodisiac than McDonalds!

I am convinced...dating a rich man is a good deal all around. Hmm...perhaps I can go to a popular DC rich guy hangout here and slip him a roofie?

I got nothing

Not feeling particularly entertaining today or introspective. I feel odd and out of sorts to be honest. Face feels hot, but body is fine. Nose is dripping, but nothing horrible. I just feel disquieted...(good word!) And tired. Still so very tired like all I want to do it sleep.

Spoke to Dad today...and and his wife are in Las Vegas for her birthday and their 5 year anniversary. Dad is soon to be 67 and wife is 46. (yes, he is 21 years OLDER than she is). Dad is very young at heart, and always has been. He was a hottie (is that wrong to call your dad a hottie?) for years and years, and now he is still an attractive man for his age. His wife, Lou, is a normal 40 something year old woman who has never had any children of her own. And they won't have any either together, I imagine. Sometimes I think about what she gave up to be with my dad. She really loves him...and he really loves her. Nice to see. Anyway, Lou has been diagnosed with ulcers. She is a real worry wart, and Dad thinks that she has worried her way to ulcers...and that gets me thinking. What is the correlation between worrying and being an anxious person and getting an ulcer? Maybe the relationship is inverted...and that you are born with the body that makes ulcers (even if it is not evident) and there is something about how that feels inside that makes you feel anxious? Hmmm...I feel a google search coming on.

Need a plan for this weekend or I am going to sleep my three day weekend away.