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.

Sleep

I love to sleep. A lot.

I like to sleep because:

• My bed is ever so comfortable, warm the sheets are soooo soft
• I am a very active dreamer and I remember a lot of my dreams.
• I get good ideas and happy thoughts in my dreams.
• I almost always feel better when I wake up than when I went to bed
• No one bothers me when I am sleeping

I sleep a lot when I am stressed or worried about something. When something very stressful happens in my life, like at work, I can almost feel my "tiredness" descend on me like a blanket. And I start to have wishful thoughts about going to bed, and taking off my clothes, and going to sleep. By the time I get home on one of those days, I can barely keep my eyes open and I can fall asleep within minutes of laying down. I know this is a learned behavior.

When something REALLY stressful happens over a long period of time, and not just a bad day, I practically live in my bed. I can get up and go work (sometimes) and do minimal stuff that I need to, but if I am not forced to be somewhere, I am in bed, either trying to fall asleep or fast asleep. I can sleep for entire weekends. The longest period of time I did not get out of bed except to eat and go to the bathroom was 6 days. It was a long, long time even for me. My back hurt from laying down so much. I had just moved to DC, and I was very lonely and worried. The entire city stressed me out. And I had several days off for the move, and a three day weekend all in a row. So once I got the bed installed, I crawled into it and didn't get out, answer the phone or e-mail for SIX DAYS! Nick, my roommate now, but just my neighbor then, pounded on my door until I answered it. He made me get showered and come down for a video and a glass of wine.

This is not a new thing for me. I slept a lot as a child. My mother said I slept through the night very early on as an infant. And I always slept 8-10 hours as a child. By the time I was a teenager, I could easily sleep 12 hours + a night.

I thought of this today because I noticed that now that work is heating up a little, and my boss is expecting me to take a leadership role, I am falling asleep right when I get home. And sleeping most of the night. I did this Monday night, and last night. I am going to try not to do this tonight.


We'll see.

Note to ALL Men on Internet Dating Sites

Please, for the love of God, please stop:

1. Stating somewhere in the first message to me that you like sex...or "intimacy" or "alone time" or any other euphemism for getting laid. Really? Men like sex? I had no idea! I think I know that little fact, and you making it one of the first things you tell me is really tacky.

2. Sending WAY TOO much information too early...and then expecting me to remember it later. Seriously, I do not need to know about your favorite sports team, how you like to watch movies and eat pizza (duh) and that you drive a red Ford Bronco. Just give me some high points, and then let's meet and talk.

3. Lying about all the gym time you log in. Most of you are a little chunky...(arn't we all?) and I find it very hard to believe you are really spending 4 days week, two hours a night lifting those ole weights. I'm just saying you don't need to lie about that-- I couldn't care less.

4. Talking about your Ex. I am not interested. Really. I will figure out what is wrong with you soon enough on my own. (Only exception to this is if she lives in the same area and you think she might be crazy homicidal and even then on a need to know basis only)

Is this too much to ask?

2010 is Starting Out with a BANG! (Profanity--kiddies beware)

I am trying to be calm and cool about this, but I actually had my very first COMMENT on my blog. (Thank you, Sarah P.) I never really expected to get any comments, because I don't write this blog to be funny, or to become famous. I write this blog for me. You see, I have a very bad habit of re-writing history. I am the eternal optimist, and for some reason, my brain goes back and paints the past with a rosy pink hue. When I think back on my life, I do not remember any of the bad...and I only remember the good. This may sound like a good thing. And sometimes it is. But it also makes it very difficult to not keep making the same mistakes over and over again. This blog (and the other one I kept for three years prior to this one) are to make sure if I need to know the truth about the past, I have a place I can come and read about it. But it was pretty cool to get a nice, comforting comment.

2010 is starting off a little dicey, if you must know the truth.

First fun thing: I celebrated the new years in Times Square and saw the ball drop. Very cool. Had fun. Got a great hotel room at a great price. Bus trip was easy. It was cold and rainy, but I survived. Glad I experienced it once in my life, but not going to do it again.

First Not So Fun Thing: Since early December, I was dating Michael the Mess. (Quick review: 42, single-never married- 1 year old baby with the ex-girlfriend who wouldnt let him see baby-living on brother's couch-working as a bouncer at a bar-but extremely hot and good in bed) On Saturday, I invited him to go out and do something fun. He said he would call me by 10am...call came in at 11am. He said he was busy with stuff with his brother and SIL, and would call me when it was through. 11am became 3pm...he called again and said he didn't know when he could be at my place. So I took a long hot bath and in the middle of it, called me to say "I am here at your apartment" WTF? Where was my "I am on my way" phone call? I threw on some clothes and went down to get him. He didn't greet me with an embrace. He seemed really off somehow. I leaned in to get a hug (but really to smell him) and he didn't smell like alcohol...but he always says he has a sore throat and sucks on cough drops all the time (this is a trick that alcoholics use to try to cover their drinking) so who in the hell knows? He was wound up...I could feel the negative energy. He sat on the very end of my bed, and didn't move. For FOUR HOURS he sat there. I tried to get him to come up with me and cuddle, or at least act like he was here to see me, and he declined every time. Said he was hungry, insisted on getting Subway across the street, and then when he returned with sandwiches for both of us, didn't want to eat. Corrected me a few times, made negative comments about my cursing...(I think I said shit or something) and when I tried to be cute and poked him with my finger to get his attention, he said "Hitters raise hitters you know" (WTF? My kids are raised, ass hole) After two movies, he still was sitting at the edge of the bed, far away. So I offered to find another movie we could watch. He said "You didn't make the popcorn you promised..." and then launched into his incredibly boring, self centered monologue about how he likes his popcorn, and how people stare at the bag of popcorn dripping with butter...blah blah blah... I guess my face was not registering the expected level of awe he desired. He said "I hate it when you give me that blank face. I really hate it that I can't read your expression" and for some reason, this really hit me wrong. I mean, come on! He arrives later than expected, doesn't want to go out like I requested, and then sits on the end of my bed, without any contact or greeting, and watches two moves that HE likes for 4 hours, won't eat dinner with me at the same time as I eat my weak-ass sandwich, and THEN he has the nerve to tell me that HE DOESN'T LIKE MY FACIAL EXPRESSIONS????

So I lost it. Totally lost it. Started yelling at him. "Oh, you don't like MY facial expressions? You can't tell what I am thinking? Well let me illuminate you, asshole. I think you are a selfish prick. You have been here over four hours...and what do you do? Do you sit with me? Hold my hand? Even look in my direction? NO! You sit on the end of my bed, ignoring me completely. You tell me you are starving, and insist that we eat Subway, and then you come back with the sandwiches and tell me YOU ARE NOT HUNGRY? And you wait almost exactly when I finish my sandwich to go get yours. Are you a NUT CASE? I think you are. I am tired of you not listening to me, not even caring about my feelings. Do you really think anyone cares about how sad you are all the time? Do you even know what my middle name is? I bet you don't you self centered asshole. Oh, yes...and you don't like me cussing? Well go fuck yourself, you fucking douche bag...I will say anything I fucking like, you god-damned mother fucker. I think it is time for you to go...get your shit and get out." He said "I don't think this has to do with me...something else is triggering this. You are way too angry for this to be about me." I just looked at him for a moment and said "Don't pull your psycho-babble bullshit on me. I don't have an anger problem...I have a Michael problem. And this problem will be solved in about five minutes." He didn't seem like he was listening, still, so I started to grab his backpack...when he finally understood. And he grabbed his stuff (or most of it) and headed for the door.

Nick, my roommate, who heard the commotion, was standing in his open door when we walked out of my room. I really appreciated his big, male presence. He was, however, smiling when he left. Nick never did like Michael.

After I made sure Michael was gone for good, I re-entered the apartment. Nick was waiting for me with shot glasses and Bubble liquour. "We need to toast Michael's departure" he said.

What a great roomie! I am a lucky girl.