Why have I chosen to document something that so many before me have, and no doubt more eloquently and profoundly than I am about to do so? Because of my own recollection, because even now, over a week later, I am still in absolute awe of the display of music I was given last week at Daft Punk. Certainly in the past 15 years others, those trained and paid to write clichéd and psychophantically literary pieces paying homage to one of the greatest and most evolutionary dance music duos to grace the sweaty, drug and alcohol enhanced dance floors and music events of Europe and the globe in the past, but I’m not trained and while I can be wordy I doubt often my eloquence. Here I shall present what is no doubt going to be a self serving and indulgent piece, but I cant hold back for my brain, as time progresses, due to the alcohol and afore mentioned drugs consumed by any who have equally imbibed daft punks music as well as said substances, my memory may fade, or at least things I wish to cling to will be squandered as the rest f my life progresses. But not this, so this is for me as much as anyone, and it began about four months ago.
Vividly I remember the initial whisperings, first on JJJ, Daft Punk were touring Australia, but it seemed incredulous, and then when the whisper grew to include a possible Perth stop, the idea itself seemed fantastical, some small bit of self simulation on the part of the Perth dance community to feel part of something so big, for we are after all, just Perth, tiny and small and when you consider us in the scheme of things, rather insignificant. Yet one day, driving my children to school, it happened, the confirmation occurred….. not only were Daft Punk coming to Australia, they were playing a show in Perth. I was not alone in my euphoric exhaltation, just go online and have a look, this leg of their tour sold more tickets, and indeed sold them faster than ANY OTHER DAFT PUNK TOUR IN HISTORY. Thank you Perth, we justified their trek to us, and last Sunday, we truly showed our appreciation, and it was paid back tenfold by the greatest performance I have ever witnessed.
After months of heady excitement, of watching you tube videos of the gig, of getting goosebumps, at the giddiness of the mere imagination of how good it could be, days before the gig the horrible fated news, they had oversold…… the fear that maybe I would miss out (as my wonderous work collegue Iris would say, FOMO or fear of missing out) As it turned out it was rumour, but one that struck fear into the hearts of many a ticket holder, for as my friends and I plodded towards the Esplande last Sunday, tickets and rain gear firmly in hand, as we passed through those gates, zionic in their brilliance, a mere 20 mintues after they opened, the sheer size of the crowd already there was sign enough that something big was happening, and we were ready.
Rain and clouds teased us all afternoon, as did somewhat mediocre and humdrum bands, but I didn’t care. So the rain made my naturally curly hair frizz, who cared I was waiting only metres from the stage that would soon showcase the pyramid of Daft Punk. Daft Punk, even now as I type this I can quite believe I have seen them live, Daft Punk. It defies comprehension!
Well the crowd continued to swell and estimates after ranged from 15,000 to 20,000, then factor in the apparently couple of thousand more who pack the foreshore and surrounding area to just hear the show. I know people who sat opposite the park and just drank in the atmosphere from outside the venue, now how many musicians can claim to be able to provide that kind of showmanship without even really playing for YOU?
They were due on at 815, and like any good bride, fashionably late, but not enough to cause panic, and like every other good bride, they did not leave us, the ‘grooms’, as to any doubt as to how much they couldn’t wait to get there. As an odd eery silence fell, after a mad few moments when they had played, to my absolute joy, Life on Mars by Bowie, there was no music, then the signature from Close Encounters rang out over us, and we knew it was just moments before that curtain would part and we would be face to face with the pyramid. As if to reiterate to us just how mortal we were in the presence of these gods, and the smoke rose and the curtain parted to reveal them, it thundered through the speakers.”Robot………………..” and as a group of humanity joined by one desire, to see Daft Punk, we joined in one enourmous voice to scream ABSOLUTE FUCKING MADNESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
From then on in it was like being bathed in the most glorious things one could ever dream of. If someone had ever said to me, you can see daft punk what songs would they play to make the set perfect? It all played out before me last Sunday. As the lights penetrated my vision, and my ears ached from the incredible bass, so intense that I swore my phone, set to vibrate, was constantly ringing, I flew. I flew musically harder, better, faster and strong than I have ever flown before!
The most amazingly mind blowing mix I have ever heard of Technologic, and the lead into Harder Better faster Strong from face to Face left many of us gasping in an almost orgasmic afterglow. At no point did the intensity drop, even in the quiet lulls which were so artfully placed between some of their most intense mixes, just drove the crowd to an even greater pitch of feverish excitement.
Like when they chimed in the start of One More Time, I think I actually cried a little bit! They took us to the point where we were sure we knew what was about to come next then they flipped us completely upside down, threw us all over the Esplanade and we loved it!
There is no way to verbally convey the iridescance and brilliance and sheer luminosity of the light show, of the images floating through the crowd, literally wrapped you in the music, this doesn’t even make sense, but the whole experience was such a sensory overload, one week to the day later I am still getting goose bumps and shivers just thinking about it. It was a sensory invasion like no other….. Aerodynamic and One More Time woven into some mind blowing tapestry; for me the penultimate moment had to be as Televison, ironically, bombarded our senses, then without warning, in it came, my favourite Daft Punk song, Crescentdolls…….. I was actually lifted into the air for a moment, literally (thankyou Alex!) and figuratively! I say it was the penultimate moment because well, there was one greater, but I don’t know which one it was… was it the opening “Robot” or the closing to “Da Funk”, or the way they made us wait for what felt a good ten minutes before they did the encore, they left it so long, teased so well, I saw a few people make their way towards the back, only to come screaming forward as they appeared before us again in the pyramid.
I cant separate these moments. Music has always been such an intense thing for me, and the whole day was just one huge moment. As Daft Punk played those final few minutes, as I prayed that the night would continue forever, they left the stage to thunderous applause, screaming, begging for them to return, but the lights came on, bathing us in the sterile light so different to the existentially esoteric show of lighting brilliance that had coated our senses for the previous 90 minutes. The crowd began to discipate, gaps in the tight throng appeared, and then it happened, over the speakers came the deep lingering strains of Elvis Presley “Can’t help falling in love with you”……… I was wrapped up in the arms of someone and we danced like it was a wedding waltz! We sung out loud, we spun, we dipped, we were giddy, and then we smiled at one another and we left.
We do not remember days, we remember moments, and Daft Punk was the greatest musical moment of my life.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Emma T Booker = time for change (complete with spelling errors)
Well, its official. We have a new Prime Minister. Australia is once again entrusting our wellbeing to the Labor Party. So long Liberals. For 11 years you have lined the pockets of the rich while those in need faced continuing hardships. That cherry came round and bit you on the ass tonight didnt it Johnny?
As I sat and watched the election unfold; something I had not done before, however this year a friend of mine was running in a minority party; I was flabergasted at the incredible dicotomy of some of the liberal party stalwarts (for the non Australian readers, the Liberals are the aussie version of the republican party) One gentleman sat there and said how difficult it was to view his fellow collegues losing their jobs and their livelihoods as the seats fell. This was the man who initiated the work place agreement laws which saw many average australians lose their benefits, extra entitlements, accrued leave and all this intrinsically tied to lower wages, and they were the lucky ones, the unlucky ones lost their jobs. Now he sat there and watched the same fate befall his friends, but the differnece was, this was the public saying, enough is enough. See Mr Hockey, it is not so great after all is it? Losing your job and your livelihood for something you see as unfair really sucks doesnt it? But hey, you chose to be a politician in a democracy, and sometimes, when you get so fat that you forget who your bosses really are in a democracy, the rug gets ripped out from under you.
John Howard said before we went to the polls, "If you believe Australia is fundamentally heading in the right direction, do not vote for change"
Mr Howard, we have crippling interest rates, xenophobic migration policies, we are headed for a recession, we have unfair labour laws, an economy that favours those in tax brackets for incomes over $200,00 pa and you led us into a war that the greater portion of the community did not agree with. Fundamentally John, you screwed up, and the people have spoken.
I never really get too political here, I choose not to for I do not have the knowledge to back up my impassioned arguments, but now I cannot hold back. For 11 years we have endured an economy that favours the rich, ignores the community and scratches the back of those who will give those already not needing money, even more cash to live their lives.
Enough is enough.
My boyfriend and I went out for dinner tonight and on the way home stopped at my favourite bookshop (shout out to Planet Books in Mt Lawley) and he bought the book "TAKEOVER: the return of imperial presidency and the subversion of american democracy" by Charles Savage.
Big pic of GWB on the cover........ oh how closely australia has been aligned with that subterfuge and specious construction of reality over the past few years. but no more.. GWB, your born again christian beliefs wont save you in the pages of history, just like John Howards association with you did not save him in this election.
Our new govt will not be able to pull our troops from danger straight away, but at least they have a plan to do so. They will not send wave after wave of them until the enemy is too tired to continue then claim victory as thousands of our best and brightest lie dead on foreign shores.
They will not be able to halt the inevitable interest rate rises that will occur in the next few months due to 11 years of Liberal rule (although the Libs will say it is Rudds fault), but maybe we can hope, in the long run, our international image as a lacky of GWB will diminish, we will take steps to improve our migration policies, we will take steps to improve the climate (although I will state here, I am NOT a global warming advocate, its hype, but we do need to find renewable energy and KYOTO, which out new govt plans to ratify, will assist that).
In Australia we have to vote, we get monetary fines if we do not do so. However previously I have done "donkey votes", but no more. If you do that, or you live in a country where it is not compulsory to vote, and you choose not to, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT WHAT SO EVER TO COMPLAIN ABOUT YOUR GOVT IF YOU WERE TOO LAZY TO GET OFF YOUR ASS AND VOTE OR WERE TOO STUPID TO MAKE AN INFORMED CHOICE IN THE BOOTH!
but what it all comes down to, in my mind, is this. The major parties who gain power are fundamentally, not ever really that different. The ideas may seem non divergant, but look beyond that and the rhetoric is the same. Basically when we go to vote, we must decide.... "Which one of these guys, when they fuck me up the ass, will use more lube" and the Australian people have spoken, Kevin Rudd has his KY jelly at the ready.
9:36 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit -
As I sat and watched the election unfold; something I had not done before, however this year a friend of mine was running in a minority party; I was flabergasted at the incredible dicotomy of some of the liberal party stalwarts (for the non Australian readers, the Liberals are the aussie version of the republican party) One gentleman sat there and said how difficult it was to view his fellow collegues losing their jobs and their livelihoods as the seats fell. This was the man who initiated the work place agreement laws which saw many average australians lose their benefits, extra entitlements, accrued leave and all this intrinsically tied to lower wages, and they were the lucky ones, the unlucky ones lost their jobs. Now he sat there and watched the same fate befall his friends, but the differnece was, this was the public saying, enough is enough. See Mr Hockey, it is not so great after all is it? Losing your job and your livelihood for something you see as unfair really sucks doesnt it? But hey, you chose to be a politician in a democracy, and sometimes, when you get so fat that you forget who your bosses really are in a democracy, the rug gets ripped out from under you.
John Howard said before we went to the polls, "If you believe Australia is fundamentally heading in the right direction, do not vote for change"
Mr Howard, we have crippling interest rates, xenophobic migration policies, we are headed for a recession, we have unfair labour laws, an economy that favours those in tax brackets for incomes over $200,00 pa and you led us into a war that the greater portion of the community did not agree with. Fundamentally John, you screwed up, and the people have spoken.
I never really get too political here, I choose not to for I do not have the knowledge to back up my impassioned arguments, but now I cannot hold back. For 11 years we have endured an economy that favours the rich, ignores the community and scratches the back of those who will give those already not needing money, even more cash to live their lives.
Enough is enough.
My boyfriend and I went out for dinner tonight and on the way home stopped at my favourite bookshop (shout out to Planet Books in Mt Lawley) and he bought the book "TAKEOVER: the return of imperial presidency and the subversion of american democracy" by Charles Savage.
Big pic of GWB on the cover........ oh how closely australia has been aligned with that subterfuge and specious construction of reality over the past few years. but no more.. GWB, your born again christian beliefs wont save you in the pages of history, just like John Howards association with you did not save him in this election.
Our new govt will not be able to pull our troops from danger straight away, but at least they have a plan to do so. They will not send wave after wave of them until the enemy is too tired to continue then claim victory as thousands of our best and brightest lie dead on foreign shores.
They will not be able to halt the inevitable interest rate rises that will occur in the next few months due to 11 years of Liberal rule (although the Libs will say it is Rudds fault), but maybe we can hope, in the long run, our international image as a lacky of GWB will diminish, we will take steps to improve our migration policies, we will take steps to improve the climate (although I will state here, I am NOT a global warming advocate, its hype, but we do need to find renewable energy and KYOTO, which out new govt plans to ratify, will assist that).
In Australia we have to vote, we get monetary fines if we do not do so. However previously I have done "donkey votes", but no more. If you do that, or you live in a country where it is not compulsory to vote, and you choose not to, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT WHAT SO EVER TO COMPLAIN ABOUT YOUR GOVT IF YOU WERE TOO LAZY TO GET OFF YOUR ASS AND VOTE OR WERE TOO STUPID TO MAKE AN INFORMED CHOICE IN THE BOOTH!
but what it all comes down to, in my mind, is this. The major parties who gain power are fundamentally, not ever really that different. The ideas may seem non divergant, but look beyond that and the rhetoric is the same. Basically when we go to vote, we must decide.... "Which one of these guys, when they fuck me up the ass, will use more lube" and the Australian people have spoken, Kevin Rudd has his KY jelly at the ready.
9:36 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit -
Saturday, October 13, 2007
betrayed.....
How can emptiness, nothingness, consume you so fully?
How can my body betray me so wholly?
My body weeps, and I weep for my body, but my body weeps a torn red. Strength and power, a future, a soul; gone in a moment, but that moment lasts, it feels, an eternity.
My breasts are swollen, sore, tender; the hormones that have driven my sex for millennia kick into action to prepare them for their true purpose; to sustain a life. In a cruel twist, they do not get the message as fast as it comes through. The life they are preparing to nourish is gone, yet they still prepares themselves, as if in a state of denial. They are my tangible, painful reminder of what has been lost.
My belly is empty, I am empty, but my heart is so heavy. The ache weighs me down. I lie in bed, as if bound, unable to move, barely even wanting to breath. Tirednes consumes me, sadness wraps itself around me as if comforting me, yet it is pure grief. Grieving for one I did not even know.
Grieving for myself.
Alone; I feel so alone because the empty pain, the feelings of inadequacy, that I couldn’t fulfil my gender role, I failed wholly as a woman, a feeling that can only be understood by those who have themselves experienced that loss. There is nothing that can be said that will make the pain go away, no words will sooth it, no amount of care from a loved one eases it. It is a pain I have to let run its course, that is the only path in front of me.
I look into the eyes of my beautiful cherished boys and I see how incredibly wonderful they are, the two amazing lights that I brought into this world, who shine a love so pure and so tangible to those around them; in their faces I see the face of the life that was inside me and I weep.
How can my body betray me so wholly?
My body weeps, and I weep for my body, but my body weeps a torn red. Strength and power, a future, a soul; gone in a moment, but that moment lasts, it feels, an eternity.
My breasts are swollen, sore, tender; the hormones that have driven my sex for millennia kick into action to prepare them for their true purpose; to sustain a life. In a cruel twist, they do not get the message as fast as it comes through. The life they are preparing to nourish is gone, yet they still prepares themselves, as if in a state of denial. They are my tangible, painful reminder of what has been lost.
My belly is empty, I am empty, but my heart is so heavy. The ache weighs me down. I lie in bed, as if bound, unable to move, barely even wanting to breath. Tirednes consumes me, sadness wraps itself around me as if comforting me, yet it is pure grief. Grieving for one I did not even know.
Grieving for myself.
Alone; I feel so alone because the empty pain, the feelings of inadequacy, that I couldn’t fulfil my gender role, I failed wholly as a woman, a feeling that can only be understood by those who have themselves experienced that loss. There is nothing that can be said that will make the pain go away, no words will sooth it, no amount of care from a loved one eases it. It is a pain I have to let run its course, that is the only path in front of me.
I look into the eyes of my beautiful cherished boys and I see how incredibly wonderful they are, the two amazing lights that I brought into this world, who shine a love so pure and so tangible to those around them; in their faces I see the face of the life that was inside me and I weep.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
BYO Toothbrush
This is a blog I wish I had a glass of red wine sitting by my side while I write. I often wish I wrote more topical and politically motivated blogs, but I guess I need to focus on the stuff I know about. As much as I would love to say I am well rounded, politically aware and able to converse on world events, I can only ever offer forth one sided biased views on global goings on, so, apart from the odd foray into things of a current affairs vein, I shall predominantly stick to that which I know best (or at least am more experienced about!) and that would be, cringe, relationships.
I do not profess to be the messiah of peace who is bridging the gap between the men and women when it comes to relationships. Quite the contrary. I seem to, rather, attract relationships and emotional encounters more reminiscent of the landing at Dunkirk, a mortar attack in Basra or a soccer riot, far from a sartorially elegant and languid afternoon at peace in the Gardens of Babylon.
No the previous tales of emotional comings and goings, of encounters of an erotic nature, of heartbreaks, both mine and others, triumphs and realisations have all been bumping roads riddled with potholes, giant curbs, crazed drivers and busted suspensions. So now I shall embark again on a foray into exploring, or at least attempting to chart in some remedial way, the path have am currently treading through the human relationship jungle.
A few months ago I wrote a blog entitled “Can women f**k like men” where I espoused the tale of shameful behaviour on my part, where I allowed my ability to enjoy sex without strings to equate to a justification for, quite frankly, being a bitch to a great guy. A quick summation would be, I demanded of my readers feedback on whether or not I could indeed fulfil my desire to not subscribe to the “Madonna or Whore” syndrome and combine a life of sexual happiness and exploration with a no strings approach. Some, who, at the time, was a friend of mine, read and commented upon said blog. He and I had often debated our very very different views on sex. He was very much mired in the emotional attachment side of it, and often lambasted me for my, as he saw it, over emphasis of the physical and my inability to form close emotional attachments. I on the other hand defended my subscriptions to sex with emotional attachments, especially when describing women’s approach to it, had their inception in subjugative and patriarchal societal structures, rather than the normal baser instincts that encapsulate us all as biological evolutionary creatures.
Well, since that initial blog things have altered somewhat in my life. Due to this fact the individual afore mentioned commented again today on that blog, and wanted to know what, if anything had changed in my perception and digestion of relationships. The key difference now is that the individual and our relationship has morphed into a boyfriend/girlfriend scenario.
I can see his interest in me exposing more readily how indeed things have changed, and I have warned him, as he sits beside me now, that he may not like what I have to write, but he is encouraging me to be honest and open, and he respects how much I love my blogs, and well this alone speaks volumes as to why I have chosen to share parts of my life with this man. For the first time ever I have found someone who allows me to be myself, and that is a liberating experience, just like great sex!
So what has changed within me? Was it this man or was it that I suddenly became ready to embrace something more readily and easily described and digested by the greater relationship experiencing public? Well I think I can draw a little from both sides. He allows me to be me, he accepts me as I am fully, and I do not feel I have to change. In fact, point of fact, as I sit here now and he massages my shoulders he just said he loves how much I can be totally honest. For the first time ever I have been able to continue to have my own life and my own interests and not had to curb them or, as in some previous relationships, abandon them altogether, in order to keep the peace in a relationship. This history in itself speaks volumes as to why my views of human relationships has evolved to the point it has.
NOW, there is one thing however that I have curbed since I began this relationship, and that is my polygamous nature. I have currently been monogamous for two months, and at this point have no desire to sleep with anyone else other than my boyfriend, However, he and I have both discussed this, and I have been honest with him about how I am not sure I will be able to remain monogamous. We have discussed things that I will not bring to light here, for they are too much of a personal nature, but needless to say, we have both acknowledged that in the future, an open relationship is something we may need to discuss. Now also I must stress do not get me wrong, it is not a case of ‘only I get to do it’. If we explore an open relationship it is based in trust and faith in one another and it goes both way.
Now I have indeed embraced many elements of a traditional relationship very fast this time around. At one point he had stayed in my house for two and a half weeks, and I finally had to say “Go home” partly because, as I have lived alone for so long (3 1/2 years) I am used to my own space and company, but also because my left over fear of commitment (there, I said it!!!) made me want to put the breaks on a bit. He does indeed adore me, and I am still at the stage where I am uncomfortable having someone care about me as much as he does. Often rather than embracing it I feel smothered by it, but I think that is more my own left over stuff, but then again it takes two to tango and we both need to adjust.
I get antsy when I feel I have to think about someone else. When I get home and I am shitty and want to chill I do not want to have to worry about someone else’s emotional state. Selfish or just me being used to being alone? I am still trying to work it all out. But I think, when he re-reads my blog, and wanted to know what had changed, maybe this is what he was referring to. In that blog I wrote about how I broke up with a guy because after a few weeks he turned up on my doorstep with a toothbrush. Amusingly, that is a story so drenched in folklore and legend amongst my friends that when I told them that the current boy had brought a toothbrush over, their responses were generally just variations on one theme “Did you break up with him?”
Well obviously no. But you know what, I think I can hit the nail on the head with this one. I have not changed, my views on relationships have not changed, I have just been very lucky to meet someone who cares enough about me to allow me to be me, to not judge me, try to control or change me and likes me for the messed up, complicated, often irrational and overly emotive individual I definably am. It is not that I have changed who I am, but the person I am is being accepted and embraced by someone I care about, and that has resulted in a sense of contentment, and that contentment has enabled me to be comfortable and not fight against the definitions of a relationship I previously viewed as disempowering and subjugating.
I do not profess to be the messiah of peace who is bridging the gap between the men and women when it comes to relationships. Quite the contrary. I seem to, rather, attract relationships and emotional encounters more reminiscent of the landing at Dunkirk, a mortar attack in Basra or a soccer riot, far from a sartorially elegant and languid afternoon at peace in the Gardens of Babylon.
No the previous tales of emotional comings and goings, of encounters of an erotic nature, of heartbreaks, both mine and others, triumphs and realisations have all been bumping roads riddled with potholes, giant curbs, crazed drivers and busted suspensions. So now I shall embark again on a foray into exploring, or at least attempting to chart in some remedial way, the path have am currently treading through the human relationship jungle.
A few months ago I wrote a blog entitled “Can women f**k like men” where I espoused the tale of shameful behaviour on my part, where I allowed my ability to enjoy sex without strings to equate to a justification for, quite frankly, being a bitch to a great guy. A quick summation would be, I demanded of my readers feedback on whether or not I could indeed fulfil my desire to not subscribe to the “Madonna or Whore” syndrome and combine a life of sexual happiness and exploration with a no strings approach. Some, who, at the time, was a friend of mine, read and commented upon said blog. He and I had often debated our very very different views on sex. He was very much mired in the emotional attachment side of it, and often lambasted me for my, as he saw it, over emphasis of the physical and my inability to form close emotional attachments. I on the other hand defended my subscriptions to sex with emotional attachments, especially when describing women’s approach to it, had their inception in subjugative and patriarchal societal structures, rather than the normal baser instincts that encapsulate us all as biological evolutionary creatures.
Well, since that initial blog things have altered somewhat in my life. Due to this fact the individual afore mentioned commented again today on that blog, and wanted to know what, if anything had changed in my perception and digestion of relationships. The key difference now is that the individual and our relationship has morphed into a boyfriend/girlfriend scenario.
I can see his interest in me exposing more readily how indeed things have changed, and I have warned him, as he sits beside me now, that he may not like what I have to write, but he is encouraging me to be honest and open, and he respects how much I love my blogs, and well this alone speaks volumes as to why I have chosen to share parts of my life with this man. For the first time ever I have found someone who allows me to be myself, and that is a liberating experience, just like great sex!
So what has changed within me? Was it this man or was it that I suddenly became ready to embrace something more readily and easily described and digested by the greater relationship experiencing public? Well I think I can draw a little from both sides. He allows me to be me, he accepts me as I am fully, and I do not feel I have to change. In fact, point of fact, as I sit here now and he massages my shoulders he just said he loves how much I can be totally honest. For the first time ever I have been able to continue to have my own life and my own interests and not had to curb them or, as in some previous relationships, abandon them altogether, in order to keep the peace in a relationship. This history in itself speaks volumes as to why my views of human relationships has evolved to the point it has.
NOW, there is one thing however that I have curbed since I began this relationship, and that is my polygamous nature. I have currently been monogamous for two months, and at this point have no desire to sleep with anyone else other than my boyfriend, However, he and I have both discussed this, and I have been honest with him about how I am not sure I will be able to remain monogamous. We have discussed things that I will not bring to light here, for they are too much of a personal nature, but needless to say, we have both acknowledged that in the future, an open relationship is something we may need to discuss. Now also I must stress do not get me wrong, it is not a case of ‘only I get to do it’. If we explore an open relationship it is based in trust and faith in one another and it goes both way.
Now I have indeed embraced many elements of a traditional relationship very fast this time around. At one point he had stayed in my house for two and a half weeks, and I finally had to say “Go home” partly because, as I have lived alone for so long (3 1/2 years) I am used to my own space and company, but also because my left over fear of commitment (there, I said it!!!) made me want to put the breaks on a bit. He does indeed adore me, and I am still at the stage where I am uncomfortable having someone care about me as much as he does. Often rather than embracing it I feel smothered by it, but I think that is more my own left over stuff, but then again it takes two to tango and we both need to adjust.
I get antsy when I feel I have to think about someone else. When I get home and I am shitty and want to chill I do not want to have to worry about someone else’s emotional state. Selfish or just me being used to being alone? I am still trying to work it all out. But I think, when he re-reads my blog, and wanted to know what had changed, maybe this is what he was referring to. In that blog I wrote about how I broke up with a guy because after a few weeks he turned up on my doorstep with a toothbrush. Amusingly, that is a story so drenched in folklore and legend amongst my friends that when I told them that the current boy had brought a toothbrush over, their responses were generally just variations on one theme “Did you break up with him?”
Well obviously no. But you know what, I think I can hit the nail on the head with this one. I have not changed, my views on relationships have not changed, I have just been very lucky to meet someone who cares enough about me to allow me to be me, to not judge me, try to control or change me and likes me for the messed up, complicated, often irrational and overly emotive individual I definably am. It is not that I have changed who I am, but the person I am is being accepted and embraced by someone I care about, and that has resulted in a sense of contentment, and that contentment has enabled me to be comfortable and not fight against the definitions of a relationship I previously viewed as disempowering and subjugating.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Libido, libidon't
Infidelity.............
interesting how the initial root of the word, infidel, is also a term used to describe those who do not subscribe to certain religious philosophy or doctrine......
religion.... that which has so often been used throughout the ages to limit, persecute, subjugate and punish those who are weak or dare to have their own opinion that does not subscribe to that of the masses...
human beings are biologically not designed to be monogomous yet due to religious doctrine we have been moulded into believing that it is the honourable and worthy path to follow.
when I have been in a relationship, as defined by conventional boundries, I have been monogamous..... at this point in my life I have absolutely no desire to be monogomous, hence I have refused the last two guys who wanted to take our casual "relationship" to the next level.......
Was I being noble or greedy? ensuring I did not make a promise I could not keep and resulting in them being hurt later?
maybe, maybe not, but I see the cost that infidelity has on a person for someone I love is being cheated on, repeatedly, continually, obviously. They close their eyes to it and it is destroying their life, their relationships with other people around them who are begging them to open their eyes and see the truth, instead they direct their anger at those around them rather than at their spouse; their anger has the space and fuel to bubble up and grow like a demon in the emptiness that is the definition of their relationship, feeding on the hurt and knowledge they so desperately try to deny. the malevolance, the hegemonous creep of the insidiousness of infidelity........ I am not against polygamous lifestyles, but I am against lies, against lies to other and about lies to yourself.......
infidelity stems from trust, when someone trusts so much they close their eyes to the reality placed before them.
infidelity is the existential nightmare no one who is in love wants to have to face: so they choose not to and instead allow the festering sore to permiate and affect every other aspect of their lives
infidelity is a fact of life when dealing with a group of animals driven by hormones and desires, not to mention the complex range of psychological issues that so often go along with it.. From Freudian desires stemming from childhood, the Oedipal struggle apparently within us all, the abstract sexual theories and beliefs of Riechian theories, low self esteem and the need to have the power of knowing you can have your cake and eat it too....
whatever it is it is wrong, but no matter what i know I can never reveal to this person what i know for it is not my place, so rather than do that I shall be here when it all goes to hell, as it inevitabley will, and support and love them through the aftermath; that is if they do not manage to push me away before hand with their own anger and hurt at the truth they know is there but cannot face.
and all those reasons and more are why I will not be in a monogamous relationship right now.......... its not about self esteem, its not about conquest, its about for me, the desire to be able to do it on my terms, and no one elses, but to be in a destructive relationship, blind to the reality before you.. that is not your terms, that is their terms, and I have no wish to be on either side of that coin.
interesting how the initial root of the word, infidel, is also a term used to describe those who do not subscribe to certain religious philosophy or doctrine......
religion.... that which has so often been used throughout the ages to limit, persecute, subjugate and punish those who are weak or dare to have their own opinion that does not subscribe to that of the masses...
human beings are biologically not designed to be monogomous yet due to religious doctrine we have been moulded into believing that it is the honourable and worthy path to follow.
when I have been in a relationship, as defined by conventional boundries, I have been monogamous..... at this point in my life I have absolutely no desire to be monogomous, hence I have refused the last two guys who wanted to take our casual "relationship" to the next level.......
Was I being noble or greedy? ensuring I did not make a promise I could not keep and resulting in them being hurt later?
maybe, maybe not, but I see the cost that infidelity has on a person for someone I love is being cheated on, repeatedly, continually, obviously. They close their eyes to it and it is destroying their life, their relationships with other people around them who are begging them to open their eyes and see the truth, instead they direct their anger at those around them rather than at their spouse; their anger has the space and fuel to bubble up and grow like a demon in the emptiness that is the definition of their relationship, feeding on the hurt and knowledge they so desperately try to deny. the malevolance, the hegemonous creep of the insidiousness of infidelity........ I am not against polygamous lifestyles, but I am against lies, against lies to other and about lies to yourself.......
infidelity stems from trust, when someone trusts so much they close their eyes to the reality placed before them.
infidelity is the existential nightmare no one who is in love wants to have to face: so they choose not to and instead allow the festering sore to permiate and affect every other aspect of their lives
infidelity is a fact of life when dealing with a group of animals driven by hormones and desires, not to mention the complex range of psychological issues that so often go along with it.. From Freudian desires stemming from childhood, the Oedipal struggle apparently within us all, the abstract sexual theories and beliefs of Riechian theories, low self esteem and the need to have the power of knowing you can have your cake and eat it too....
whatever it is it is wrong, but no matter what i know I can never reveal to this person what i know for it is not my place, so rather than do that I shall be here when it all goes to hell, as it inevitabley will, and support and love them through the aftermath; that is if they do not manage to push me away before hand with their own anger and hurt at the truth they know is there but cannot face.
and all those reasons and more are why I will not be in a monogamous relationship right now.......... its not about self esteem, its not about conquest, its about for me, the desire to be able to do it on my terms, and no one elses, but to be in a destructive relationship, blind to the reality before you.. that is not your terms, that is their terms, and I have no wish to be on either side of that coin.
Friday, June 8, 2007
I failed as a parent
I am not a good mother. I love my children more than my own life yet I do not have the skills I need to bring them up free of the sadness, the self doubt and the depression that has plagued me since my own childhood.
Bringing a child into this world is, in of itself, a terrifying prospect. Motherhood the first time around for me was a surprise; never an accident. A vision of beauty, love, purity and complete humanity as wonderful as my eldest son could never be construed as an accident. Our pregnancy with him, the subsequent empowering birth experience I had and our years together have been joyous and wonderful, so many other adjectives I could insert here, all to add to the hyperbolic message that indeed, this child is phenomenal. Maybe it was because I was surprised, maybe it was my age, I was 23 when I got pregnant with him, maybe it was fear, fear of failure, but now I fear I have failed my eldest child.
To fear you have let down a child is so all encompassing, consuming and debilitating in its enormity. My Mum, I will suggest, felt that she let me down as well, for whatever her reasons may have been, and her answer was to push me, to drive me to succeed, to inspire me to be independent and free; she spent my entire life telling me not to get married or have children until I was in my mid 30s………… so when at 23, in my final semester of uni, I found myself pregnant, the waves of failure I felt at letting down my mum washed over me, and I think this was where it began.
Unfortunately my mum failed in her mission. Rather than making me strive for more, I have spent my entire life never feeling good enough, worthy enough, worth liking, worth loving, I always felt that I needed to do more in order for someone to like me, and that the minute I slipped up, I could be cast aside, for all that matters is making sure your behaviour is making those around you happy.
I suffer from the hideously debilitating condition of constantly trying to please people. It is obviously a combination of a number of factors, if we had infinite time and a few books on Freud and Jungian psychology I could regale you with endless tales of parental relationship markers that point to my mental health demise… and what has come out of this? Throw in another psychologist, albeit one whose ideas can be at times considered a tad out there, and I will use myself, my behaviours in relationships and my interactions with those I feel vulnerable with to illustrate clearly the theory of Riechian Armouring!
So why, when I can see my obvious flaws, when I can see what mistakes my parents made, why am I still floundering with my child? Why do I feel I am letting him down? Because in him I see me.
Now his younger brother, possibley two more polarised siblings you would never meet. He is an incredible light that wanders this planet. His was a planned coming into the family, and his arrival date, Sept 11th 2001, should have been the marker as to the personality and path of destruction (but in a good way!) he leaves in his wake! Loud, breathtakingly intelligent, rough and tumble, but still full of love, this child leaves me in no doubt as to his ability to cope with what the world throws his way. Even at a young age he has shown me his resilience, his determination, his tenacity. He could not be LESS like me if he tried. All the things I see in myself as weak, he does not possess. All the attributes I would want as a person, I see in him; to envy a child of five for their confidence and independence is a surreal experience.
His elder brother however, is me. He is too willing to trust, too easily hurt, quick to dwell on the negative, there is no ‘water off a ducks back’, like me, he mires in the sadness, finds it hard to move forward, feels he needs to say sorry for things of no consequence. In him I see me and I don’t know what to do.
I do not know how to make it a better path for him. I do not have the skills as a parent to pull him through this for I was not given them myself. I am trying to do a better job than my parents did but I constantly fear it will not be good enough.
It will be my greatest failure, the ultimate tragedy, if one of my children grows up to feel the way about their place in this world as I do. They deserve more than that, they deserve to be seen for the incredible adults the two of them shall become, and I want my eldest son to grow and be the best he can be, not wallow and flounder and never succeed like I have so spectacularly managed to do.
It breaks my heart to think of him dealing with the negative emotions I have dealt with since I was a child, first diagnosed with depression at 8.
When I speak to him, and I hear my mothers words coming out, I shudder, I berate myself, a punish myself. He deserves more, he deserves a Mum who is able to give him the tools he needs to be a happy human being, and I fear I cannot do this.
Please do not get me wrong, I love my children more than my own life, in my darkest hours it is the thought of them that makes me keep going, I know nothing but love for them, but sometimes you need to acknowledge that love is not always enough, and in my case, no matter how much I love them, I fear I shall end up letting them down
Bringing a child into this world is, in of itself, a terrifying prospect. Motherhood the first time around for me was a surprise; never an accident. A vision of beauty, love, purity and complete humanity as wonderful as my eldest son could never be construed as an accident. Our pregnancy with him, the subsequent empowering birth experience I had and our years together have been joyous and wonderful, so many other adjectives I could insert here, all to add to the hyperbolic message that indeed, this child is phenomenal. Maybe it was because I was surprised, maybe it was my age, I was 23 when I got pregnant with him, maybe it was fear, fear of failure, but now I fear I have failed my eldest child.
To fear you have let down a child is so all encompassing, consuming and debilitating in its enormity. My Mum, I will suggest, felt that she let me down as well, for whatever her reasons may have been, and her answer was to push me, to drive me to succeed, to inspire me to be independent and free; she spent my entire life telling me not to get married or have children until I was in my mid 30s………… so when at 23, in my final semester of uni, I found myself pregnant, the waves of failure I felt at letting down my mum washed over me, and I think this was where it began.
Unfortunately my mum failed in her mission. Rather than making me strive for more, I have spent my entire life never feeling good enough, worthy enough, worth liking, worth loving, I always felt that I needed to do more in order for someone to like me, and that the minute I slipped up, I could be cast aside, for all that matters is making sure your behaviour is making those around you happy.
I suffer from the hideously debilitating condition of constantly trying to please people. It is obviously a combination of a number of factors, if we had infinite time and a few books on Freud and Jungian psychology I could regale you with endless tales of parental relationship markers that point to my mental health demise… and what has come out of this? Throw in another psychologist, albeit one whose ideas can be at times considered a tad out there, and I will use myself, my behaviours in relationships and my interactions with those I feel vulnerable with to illustrate clearly the theory of Riechian Armouring!
So why, when I can see my obvious flaws, when I can see what mistakes my parents made, why am I still floundering with my child? Why do I feel I am letting him down? Because in him I see me.
Now his younger brother, possibley two more polarised siblings you would never meet. He is an incredible light that wanders this planet. His was a planned coming into the family, and his arrival date, Sept 11th 2001, should have been the marker as to the personality and path of destruction (but in a good way!) he leaves in his wake! Loud, breathtakingly intelligent, rough and tumble, but still full of love, this child leaves me in no doubt as to his ability to cope with what the world throws his way. Even at a young age he has shown me his resilience, his determination, his tenacity. He could not be LESS like me if he tried. All the things I see in myself as weak, he does not possess. All the attributes I would want as a person, I see in him; to envy a child of five for their confidence and independence is a surreal experience.
His elder brother however, is me. He is too willing to trust, too easily hurt, quick to dwell on the negative, there is no ‘water off a ducks back’, like me, he mires in the sadness, finds it hard to move forward, feels he needs to say sorry for things of no consequence. In him I see me and I don’t know what to do.
I do not know how to make it a better path for him. I do not have the skills as a parent to pull him through this for I was not given them myself. I am trying to do a better job than my parents did but I constantly fear it will not be good enough.
It will be my greatest failure, the ultimate tragedy, if one of my children grows up to feel the way about their place in this world as I do. They deserve more than that, they deserve to be seen for the incredible adults the two of them shall become, and I want my eldest son to grow and be the best he can be, not wallow and flounder and never succeed like I have so spectacularly managed to do.
It breaks my heart to think of him dealing with the negative emotions I have dealt with since I was a child, first diagnosed with depression at 8.
When I speak to him, and I hear my mothers words coming out, I shudder, I berate myself, a punish myself. He deserves more, he deserves a Mum who is able to give him the tools he needs to be a happy human being, and I fear I cannot do this.
Please do not get me wrong, I love my children more than my own life, in my darkest hours it is the thought of them that makes me keep going, I know nothing but love for them, but sometimes you need to acknowledge that love is not always enough, and in my case, no matter how much I love them, I fear I shall end up letting them down
Sunday, May 27, 2007
can women f*ck like men?
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
I was not setting out to test this question, I just suddenly found myself behaving in a manner so shoking that I was forced to look at myself and wonder, am I really becoming that cynical and unable to have any level of real intimacy with someone?
Now most of you who read this know I do not do the conventional relationship thing. I cannot, at this time in my life, consider monogamy as an option, and well unfortunately in this society that makes many consider me a whore; but is it not better to be single and empower yourself and do what you want sexually rather than lie to yourself, be in a relationship because it's the done thing and then screw around on your partner? That to me is much worse than choosing to sleep with different people.
Let me also clarify I DO NOT DO one night stands, random pick ups at Bars or Clubs, nope nope nope, not my thing. I offer forth that the most cogent explanation would be that I date, but a variety of people, there is no long term commitment and the relationships are sexual, but there are limits.....
"Look, maybe it's best if I just go home"
Now obviously I do unfortunately find myself getting attached at times, which is ALWAYS to my detriment (see previous blogs for first hand evidence as to the disasters that ensued) so now I endevour to remain strictly casual. Emotionally stunted? Maybe. Crippled by fear? Certainly. Willing to live a celibate life? Definately not. So why should I, just due to my gender, have only two choices, relationship or spinsterhood? The madonna/whore syndrome. I say I challenge that and choose to have a life where i get the best of both worlds.
Last night however, I think I crossed a line that made me not, in actuality, fuck like a man, but in fact just behave like an abhorrent prick, that if I heard of a guy doing this to one of my friends I would publically lambast him, name and shame and tell all my female friends to stay away from him.....
Let me first just detail a story, possibley to offer forth for you a greater understanding of my utter fear of intimacy and as a way to prepare you for how utterly horrid I was. Coming up to two years ago I attempted, more at the behest of friends who felt I should give it a go, something that, for want of a better word, could be defined as a relationship. he was lovely, we had heaps in common and we used to be able to talk and talk and talk and he embraced all of the fabulous neurosis that make up lil ole me. However after about 6 weeks, he turned up on my doorstep one day with an enormous grin on his face holding a toothbrush. My resultant enquiry as to the why of the situation elictted this resposnse from said gentlemen "Its so I can leave it here for when I stay over! Now I have my own toothbrush here!" to which I responded "We need to talk" and I broke it off.
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
So does that profer some kind of inkling into my mind set? I do not know if it is that I am just not in a place where I can consider a relationship, if I have not met the right person or am I just a person who gets bored easily? I cant have the same thing for breakfast every day......
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
So, what could have occured that has made me actually question whether or not I am crossing the line from a woman who enjoys sex on my own terms or whether I have crossed that line and become some female version of Glen Quagmire?
Last night I lovely guy I know, someone I met through a good friend at the beginning of the year, came over......... no I shall not give details of events, but I will detail that we have enjoyed each others company before, no I dont mean in that way either! We went to Slayer, we have hung out, we have alot in common, we get on well, he is someone that i would consider a friend, with or without the sex. Last night however he came over at my request for I was, as Beetlejuice so wonderfully put it, anxious.
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
My guard had gone up before he even arrived for when I was talking to him on the phone he asked if he should bring a bag over (I was working til 11pm so it was a late booty call) as he started work at 630am and he could leave from my place. After a somewhat pregnant pause I choked out something along the lines of an "OK" and prayed to god I wouldnt flip....... alas.
So he arrives, and he ended up waiting as I was late since I decided to stay for a staff drink after work, and it was cold and wet last night, so that adds to my bitch status on this one. Anyway, deed done, anxiety released..... and we went to watch some tv, and he tried to get snuggley with me on the couch, tried to start making out, and I actually said, to my utter horror, I could not even believe it as it came out of my mouth "But the Formula 1 is on and I want to watch it".........
Well at least I wasnt lying, I do indeed love Formula 1.....
"Look maybe it's best if I just go home"
So a short while later I drew attension to the fact that it was very late and that we should try to sleep..... he indicated that he would rather get down and dirty again, but my desire for a shag had been sated so I responded with the comment I was tired! OMG. He then said well then lets go to bed and this is when it happened. I turned to him and said I could not share my bed with someone, I hated not sleeping alone and he could have the bed and I would crash on my couch.... his response
"Look, maybe it's better if I just go home"
and he did.......
Now dont get me wrong, he was more than welcome to stay over, just not sleep in my bed ALL NIGHT!
But after thinking about my reaction to the situation, both last night and as I have detailed it now, I think I was probably on the hyper defensive because he had made an assumption that he could indeed bring his stuff and stay over. The contravenes all the rules and regulations of the "fuck buddy", it crosses into a realm that I frankly have no desire to visit......... and then it made me come to another realisation, I'm not THAT evil for there is someone who could stay over in my bed as long as they wished to. Someone that I would not break my "no relationship" rule for but someone who, none the less, has got to me a litle bit more than the rest and if it was possible (alas it is not) he could indeed crash in my bed whenever he so chose to (although our track record would contraindicate any sleep being accomplished).
That little thought made me realise one final thing in the scenario that had been played out in my lounge and bedroom, with one, I believe, misguided player who did not learn all of his lines correctly before becoming part of the ensemble cast that is my life....... I cannot always fuck like a man. I get lost some times, I become someone who craves and wants more than anything to be with someone, to hold them and be held, to talk, to fall asleep in one anothers arms and wake up there aswell. Other times I just want to get laid, and last night was one of those circumstances.
men do that all the time...... and I never said I would call him, I never lied to him and promised something more, I told him it was just sex, and yet he wanted to try to extend it just a bit more........ I finally understand why guys hate girls who think you fuck once and its a relationship......
I will put it out there now, I am not anti relationships, I would not refuse a relationship if I met the right guy, but I am not actively seeking to find that guy at this point in my life......
and right now, apart from my two beautiful baby boys, there is only one other person who is allowed to come into my space, my home, my bed and stay awhile...... and he knows who he is...
I was not setting out to test this question, I just suddenly found myself behaving in a manner so shoking that I was forced to look at myself and wonder, am I really becoming that cynical and unable to have any level of real intimacy with someone?
Now most of you who read this know I do not do the conventional relationship thing. I cannot, at this time in my life, consider monogamy as an option, and well unfortunately in this society that makes many consider me a whore; but is it not better to be single and empower yourself and do what you want sexually rather than lie to yourself, be in a relationship because it's the done thing and then screw around on your partner? That to me is much worse than choosing to sleep with different people.
Let me also clarify I DO NOT DO one night stands, random pick ups at Bars or Clubs, nope nope nope, not my thing. I offer forth that the most cogent explanation would be that I date, but a variety of people, there is no long term commitment and the relationships are sexual, but there are limits.....
"Look, maybe it's best if I just go home"
Now obviously I do unfortunately find myself getting attached at times, which is ALWAYS to my detriment (see previous blogs for first hand evidence as to the disasters that ensued) so now I endevour to remain strictly casual. Emotionally stunted? Maybe. Crippled by fear? Certainly. Willing to live a celibate life? Definately not. So why should I, just due to my gender, have only two choices, relationship or spinsterhood? The madonna/whore syndrome. I say I challenge that and choose to have a life where i get the best of both worlds.
Last night however, I think I crossed a line that made me not, in actuality, fuck like a man, but in fact just behave like an abhorrent prick, that if I heard of a guy doing this to one of my friends I would publically lambast him, name and shame and tell all my female friends to stay away from him.....
Let me first just detail a story, possibley to offer forth for you a greater understanding of my utter fear of intimacy and as a way to prepare you for how utterly horrid I was. Coming up to two years ago I attempted, more at the behest of friends who felt I should give it a go, something that, for want of a better word, could be defined as a relationship. he was lovely, we had heaps in common and we used to be able to talk and talk and talk and he embraced all of the fabulous neurosis that make up lil ole me. However after about 6 weeks, he turned up on my doorstep one day with an enormous grin on his face holding a toothbrush. My resultant enquiry as to the why of the situation elictted this resposnse from said gentlemen "Its so I can leave it here for when I stay over! Now I have my own toothbrush here!" to which I responded "We need to talk" and I broke it off.
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
So does that profer some kind of inkling into my mind set? I do not know if it is that I am just not in a place where I can consider a relationship, if I have not met the right person or am I just a person who gets bored easily? I cant have the same thing for breakfast every day......
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
So, what could have occured that has made me actually question whether or not I am crossing the line from a woman who enjoys sex on my own terms or whether I have crossed that line and become some female version of Glen Quagmire?
Last night I lovely guy I know, someone I met through a good friend at the beginning of the year, came over......... no I shall not give details of events, but I will detail that we have enjoyed each others company before, no I dont mean in that way either! We went to Slayer, we have hung out, we have alot in common, we get on well, he is someone that i would consider a friend, with or without the sex. Last night however he came over at my request for I was, as Beetlejuice so wonderfully put it, anxious.
"Look, maybe its best if I just go home"
My guard had gone up before he even arrived for when I was talking to him on the phone he asked if he should bring a bag over (I was working til 11pm so it was a late booty call) as he started work at 630am and he could leave from my place. After a somewhat pregnant pause I choked out something along the lines of an "OK" and prayed to god I wouldnt flip....... alas.
So he arrives, and he ended up waiting as I was late since I decided to stay for a staff drink after work, and it was cold and wet last night, so that adds to my bitch status on this one. Anyway, deed done, anxiety released..... and we went to watch some tv, and he tried to get snuggley with me on the couch, tried to start making out, and I actually said, to my utter horror, I could not even believe it as it came out of my mouth "But the Formula 1 is on and I want to watch it".........
Well at least I wasnt lying, I do indeed love Formula 1.....
"Look maybe it's best if I just go home"
So a short while later I drew attension to the fact that it was very late and that we should try to sleep..... he indicated that he would rather get down and dirty again, but my desire for a shag had been sated so I responded with the comment I was tired! OMG. He then said well then lets go to bed and this is when it happened. I turned to him and said I could not share my bed with someone, I hated not sleeping alone and he could have the bed and I would crash on my couch.... his response
"Look, maybe it's better if I just go home"
and he did.......
Now dont get me wrong, he was more than welcome to stay over, just not sleep in my bed ALL NIGHT!
But after thinking about my reaction to the situation, both last night and as I have detailed it now, I think I was probably on the hyper defensive because he had made an assumption that he could indeed bring his stuff and stay over. The contravenes all the rules and regulations of the "fuck buddy", it crosses into a realm that I frankly have no desire to visit......... and then it made me come to another realisation, I'm not THAT evil for there is someone who could stay over in my bed as long as they wished to. Someone that I would not break my "no relationship" rule for but someone who, none the less, has got to me a litle bit more than the rest and if it was possible (alas it is not) he could indeed crash in my bed whenever he so chose to (although our track record would contraindicate any sleep being accomplished).
That little thought made me realise one final thing in the scenario that had been played out in my lounge and bedroom, with one, I believe, misguided player who did not learn all of his lines correctly before becoming part of the ensemble cast that is my life....... I cannot always fuck like a man. I get lost some times, I become someone who craves and wants more than anything to be with someone, to hold them and be held, to talk, to fall asleep in one anothers arms and wake up there aswell. Other times I just want to get laid, and last night was one of those circumstances.
men do that all the time...... and I never said I would call him, I never lied to him and promised something more, I told him it was just sex, and yet he wanted to try to extend it just a bit more........ I finally understand why guys hate girls who think you fuck once and its a relationship......
I will put it out there now, I am not anti relationships, I would not refuse a relationship if I met the right guy, but I am not actively seeking to find that guy at this point in my life......
and right now, apart from my two beautiful baby boys, there is only one other person who is allowed to come into my space, my home, my bed and stay awhile...... and he knows who he is...
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
This is me
I learned some time ago that you cannot rely on anyone else. Fundamementally the only person who will ever act to truly protect you, look after you and put your wellbeing first is yourself. There is a symbiotic relationship between our hearts and our head though that falters at times, we only need to look at how some people choose a rampant path of destruction to define themselves, however I always thought I had enough self preservation, even respect for myself to not choose that path… imagine my disappointment when I discovered I had been betrayed by myself, by my heart, by my brain; when I told myself I was safe and happy and to have faith and forge onward into something positive. It turned out I had been directed into something that would scar me, burn me and forever more change the person I am today, and not for the better. The person who was always open and willing to give people a chance, who believed that deception was not at the forefront of every word uttered by someone in a conversation is now long gone. Forever more I shall be jaded, guarded and one who believes that people have been put on this planet to test, hurt and irreparably damage the innocence and purity that we are given at birth.
So how did this happen? How did my self-preservation instinct get clouded and lost when I so needed it most? By lies; by deception; by someone who told me what I wanted to hear in order to believe that a friendship of such deepness and seeming enduringness would survive the trials and tribulations of life…
Arrogance; the arrogance of some people, arrogance that makes you angry when they impose their opinions upon you, when you find out in hindsight they have twisted events and made themselves out to be this irresistible person, they make you out to be a laughing stock, they belittle you, they elevate their own flagging sense of self esteem by trying to make you out to be a victim; and yes to a degree I was, however to find out after that when you never asked for or wanted a relationship that this person has not only told people information to the contrary but embellished it to the point that you have literally stalked them gives rise to such feelings of utter indignation…. When someone who you know to be so intoxicated not only by their own feelings of grandeur and further enhanced by their habitual drug use (a sure fire sign to someone who is utterly unhappy with their life and their place in this world) makes such untrue statements about you as a person it is hard to go against your baser instincts and scream, fight and defend yourself… that is what I want to do, however I now try to conduct myself with an element of dignity, I will not reduce myself to his level, to his pathetic, self indulgent egocentric, phallocentric way of thinking and living his life.
I know details of his current life, details that further enforce what a terrible hurtful and self obsessed person this man is, and I also know details of the ultimate comeuppance, and I want so desperately to detail them here, but I wont, because to do so would lower me to his level; instead I shall hold them for myself and chuckle on the inside when times are tough.
This is an evil blog, not in my usual vein, part of me feels bad for writing it, but part of me wants to name and shame and scream from the rooftops that none should be allowed to treat people in this way, nobody has the right to take other peoples emotions and use them to prop up their own flagging self esteem.
I once blogged about a wonderful and beautiful friend of mine who was having a hard time with her partner, he constantly cut her down and did not treat her they way she should be treated. Outwardly she appeared to have it all yet at this time in her life when she should have been utterly happy, she was being pulled down, her essence, her inner beauty, her real self was being beaten down by someone who could not stand to see her radiate such amazing beauty…. Why are people like this? I do not profess to be beautiful or attractive on the outside, but I have always tried to be beautiful on the inside, make what I do count more than the way I look, but I suffer the usual human condition of being insecure about my physical appearance…. But why do people try to cut you down? As Kamal said “why are people so unkind?”
Oh I know, this blog is basically a rant about the unjustness of relationships, friendships and deeper ones, but what I guess I am trying to express is my utter anger, my anger more so in myself, not him, that I allowed someone I saw as a deep friend, not a relationship, to hurt me so much that I can no longer consider forming a deeper connection with someone, that the fear of being hurt by those I care for is so great I would rather cut myself off from forming those bonds again.
But if I do that, he wins. His arrogance would assume it is because I cannot get over him; well that is far from the truth. The reason I was motivated to write this was because I know I am terrified, I am so afraid, because I did meet someone, someone that I connected with (I hate that term but alas it fits the context). I met someone that I shared things with I have not shared with anyone ever, but I fear because although I have been so hurt before, I am still unable to completely guard myself and my emotions, so I still make myself vulnerable, which leads to this fear; fear that those things will be used against me, used to hurt me, turned around to belittle me, that I will be mocked for my honesty.
That is when I think maybe I am not such a bad person, for even after all the grief and hurt I still have to be myself, I still have to be honest with people, I’m still willing to expose some of the deepest and most intimate things that have occurred, and I do it because we are all the same; everyone hurts; everyone gets hurt; everyone suffers; and while some may not be able to express it, or they deal with it in a different way, by sharing it, it makes me feel like I am winning. I am still able to be the person I want to be, the person my mother even told me I should change (she told me to develop a layer of cynicism and not trust people). Yes, it makes me more vulnerable to others who are mean hearted and want to hurt, but I look at it that one day I will be surrounded by others who are the same as me and then honesty will be the one constant and it will be wonderful. As I have said before, some people may laugh or feel they have one up on me because I have been so open in a forum such as this, but I believe this mindset speaks volumes as to the nasty and hurtfulness of their basic humanity rather than indicating a weakness in my own.
So how did this happen? How did my self-preservation instinct get clouded and lost when I so needed it most? By lies; by deception; by someone who told me what I wanted to hear in order to believe that a friendship of such deepness and seeming enduringness would survive the trials and tribulations of life…
Arrogance; the arrogance of some people, arrogance that makes you angry when they impose their opinions upon you, when you find out in hindsight they have twisted events and made themselves out to be this irresistible person, they make you out to be a laughing stock, they belittle you, they elevate their own flagging sense of self esteem by trying to make you out to be a victim; and yes to a degree I was, however to find out after that when you never asked for or wanted a relationship that this person has not only told people information to the contrary but embellished it to the point that you have literally stalked them gives rise to such feelings of utter indignation…. When someone who you know to be so intoxicated not only by their own feelings of grandeur and further enhanced by their habitual drug use (a sure fire sign to someone who is utterly unhappy with their life and their place in this world) makes such untrue statements about you as a person it is hard to go against your baser instincts and scream, fight and defend yourself… that is what I want to do, however I now try to conduct myself with an element of dignity, I will not reduce myself to his level, to his pathetic, self indulgent egocentric, phallocentric way of thinking and living his life.
I know details of his current life, details that further enforce what a terrible hurtful and self obsessed person this man is, and I also know details of the ultimate comeuppance, and I want so desperately to detail them here, but I wont, because to do so would lower me to his level; instead I shall hold them for myself and chuckle on the inside when times are tough.
This is an evil blog, not in my usual vein, part of me feels bad for writing it, but part of me wants to name and shame and scream from the rooftops that none should be allowed to treat people in this way, nobody has the right to take other peoples emotions and use them to prop up their own flagging self esteem.
I once blogged about a wonderful and beautiful friend of mine who was having a hard time with her partner, he constantly cut her down and did not treat her they way she should be treated. Outwardly she appeared to have it all yet at this time in her life when she should have been utterly happy, she was being pulled down, her essence, her inner beauty, her real self was being beaten down by someone who could not stand to see her radiate such amazing beauty…. Why are people like this? I do not profess to be beautiful or attractive on the outside, but I have always tried to be beautiful on the inside, make what I do count more than the way I look, but I suffer the usual human condition of being insecure about my physical appearance…. But why do people try to cut you down? As Kamal said “why are people so unkind?”
Oh I know, this blog is basically a rant about the unjustness of relationships, friendships and deeper ones, but what I guess I am trying to express is my utter anger, my anger more so in myself, not him, that I allowed someone I saw as a deep friend, not a relationship, to hurt me so much that I can no longer consider forming a deeper connection with someone, that the fear of being hurt by those I care for is so great I would rather cut myself off from forming those bonds again.
But if I do that, he wins. His arrogance would assume it is because I cannot get over him; well that is far from the truth. The reason I was motivated to write this was because I know I am terrified, I am so afraid, because I did meet someone, someone that I connected with (I hate that term but alas it fits the context). I met someone that I shared things with I have not shared with anyone ever, but I fear because although I have been so hurt before, I am still unable to completely guard myself and my emotions, so I still make myself vulnerable, which leads to this fear; fear that those things will be used against me, used to hurt me, turned around to belittle me, that I will be mocked for my honesty.
That is when I think maybe I am not such a bad person, for even after all the grief and hurt I still have to be myself, I still have to be honest with people, I’m still willing to expose some of the deepest and most intimate things that have occurred, and I do it because we are all the same; everyone hurts; everyone gets hurt; everyone suffers; and while some may not be able to express it, or they deal with it in a different way, by sharing it, it makes me feel like I am winning. I am still able to be the person I want to be, the person my mother even told me I should change (she told me to develop a layer of cynicism and not trust people). Yes, it makes me more vulnerable to others who are mean hearted and want to hurt, but I look at it that one day I will be surrounded by others who are the same as me and then honesty will be the one constant and it will be wonderful. As I have said before, some people may laugh or feel they have one up on me because I have been so open in a forum such as this, but I believe this mindset speaks volumes as to the nasty and hurtfulness of their basic humanity rather than indicating a weakness in my own.
Friday, May 4, 2007
People who change you monumentally, for the better... in the unlikeliest of ways
I had prepared and written a huge blog detailing the events of my life over the past few days but as I have sat here this evening and pontificated I decided these events cannot be described in the details I had outlined. I know I should edit this but I wont, because the nature of the changes these incidents have had on my life, in a way demand that my detailing of them comes right from the heart, in its purest form, without editing.
They involved people whose honour and pride is paramount and I had no right what so ever to detail incidents I had born witness to, incidents outside the realm of my understanding and comprehension. What I can do however, is try to explain how the unlikeliest of people have impacted upon my life in a way I never thought possible, how some of my strongly held beliefs and opinions have been forever altered by me finally dropping my barriers and allowing myself to get to know some people I had never sought to interact with previously; I speak of the American Sailors..
Now before I go on I need to clarify, Sailors is the broad media term used to describe the annual docking and resultant onslaught of drunk young guys letting off steam. I am specifically talking about the Marine Corps guys I had the absolute pleasure of spending time with.
Now I had always avoided town when they had come in, any interactions I had ever had had been rather negative, they were too loud, too drunk and too sleazy; what is that saying someone came up with "American Sailors, overpaid, oversexed and over here", but this year, working in a bar, I had no way out! Yes, many of the guys who came in were offensively indicative of the negative traits I just detailed... Mr Worlds Greatest Street Fighter and his friend My Pen Is Huge. sigh.. however through the noise, alcohol and bravado, a still inhibriated but much quieter group of marines emerged. These boys have forever altered my opinion of the military, and while I am not pro war, I have always had respect for those who go and risk their lives for I do not have the courage to do such a selfless act; that respect and admiration is now infinately greater.
I spoke to these boys, spent time with them, time not sullied by the effects of alcohol, they told me some of their stories, why they had gone to the marines, things about their families, their homes, their relationships with each other. And for me, most poignant and most lingering as to the depth of courage honour and humanity I saw in these boys, they spent time with my children, they cared for them, they gave of their time to make sure my kids were having fun, and that is no small feat!
One of the most enduring images I shall hold dear is of, on the drive home from Mandurah, looking in the rear view mirror and seeing my two sons, holding the hand of a US Marine and as they rested their heads in his lap he stroked their hair; it was heartbreakingly beautiful to see someone who I knew had born witness to some horrific events and had to, i am sure, do things you or I could never concieve of, exhibiting such tenderness, it was a moment of complete human kindness.....
These boys are ordinary people, they are like us, however they have chosen to push themselves and become extraordinary, and they have been thrust into an environment so utterly esoteric and out of the realm of our comprehension, we who sit here have no right to cast any judgement.
Now I know there have been incidents cited in the media about the military in Iraq, about the breaches of human rights, but as with any line of work, there are always the few who behave negatively...... to put it in context, shall we assume that all AFL footballers are lying cheating police running away from cowards who hide behind their clubs and their lawyers when they screw up due to being drug addicts?? I thought not, and now I shall be an ardent defender of the troops whenever I hear anyone espousing anti military sentiment.
Two of these boys I know are heading home, their tour is up, they now choose to stay and continue to fight or become former Marines (not an ex marine, there are no ex marines) and re-enter civilian life. One of them, the one who tenderly stroked my sons hair as they slept, has two years left. As I sit here now I start to cry thinking about him going back. For the next two years he will constantly be in my thoughts until I know he is safely home. My tears show that I am not someone pro war. As much as I respect and admire their courage, I still cannot understand how they can do it, how they find the courage to face that fear and forge on, because I do not think I could.
I am thankful for having met them, especially one of them, who shared with me and was honest and raw as a human being with me, more than anyone else ever has. I know some of you probably laugh at this, yeah so it's just a bunch of US Sailors... well no they are not...... these boys are amazing people who have faced adversity, challenges and experiences that existentially would be so influencial, yet also completely unable to be endured by the greater proportion of our community.
Be anti war, be anti Bush, be whatever you want to be, but don't be anti those who go on the front line and risk their lives every day they are out there, for they do not make the war, they are not the ones creating the reasons and conflicts, they are not the political machine that thrusts the globe into conflict. But they are the front line when it comes to its defense and those of them who conduct themselves with the honour, humanity and courage I witnessed deserve nothing but our support and respect, for respect is something to be earned, not assigned due to a badge or station, and these boys, in my eyes, will forever have my infinate respect.
May the USS Boxer bring you home safely boys
They involved people whose honour and pride is paramount and I had no right what so ever to detail incidents I had born witness to, incidents outside the realm of my understanding and comprehension. What I can do however, is try to explain how the unlikeliest of people have impacted upon my life in a way I never thought possible, how some of my strongly held beliefs and opinions have been forever altered by me finally dropping my barriers and allowing myself to get to know some people I had never sought to interact with previously; I speak of the American Sailors..
Now before I go on I need to clarify, Sailors is the broad media term used to describe the annual docking and resultant onslaught of drunk young guys letting off steam. I am specifically talking about the Marine Corps guys I had the absolute pleasure of spending time with.
Now I had always avoided town when they had come in, any interactions I had ever had had been rather negative, they were too loud, too drunk and too sleazy; what is that saying someone came up with "American Sailors, overpaid, oversexed and over here", but this year, working in a bar, I had no way out! Yes, many of the guys who came in were offensively indicative of the negative traits I just detailed... Mr Worlds Greatest Street Fighter and his friend My Pen Is Huge. sigh.. however through the noise, alcohol and bravado, a still inhibriated but much quieter group of marines emerged. These boys have forever altered my opinion of the military, and while I am not pro war, I have always had respect for those who go and risk their lives for I do not have the courage to do such a selfless act; that respect and admiration is now infinately greater.
I spoke to these boys, spent time with them, time not sullied by the effects of alcohol, they told me some of their stories, why they had gone to the marines, things about their families, their homes, their relationships with each other. And for me, most poignant and most lingering as to the depth of courage honour and humanity I saw in these boys, they spent time with my children, they cared for them, they gave of their time to make sure my kids were having fun, and that is no small feat!
One of the most enduring images I shall hold dear is of, on the drive home from Mandurah, looking in the rear view mirror and seeing my two sons, holding the hand of a US Marine and as they rested their heads in his lap he stroked their hair; it was heartbreakingly beautiful to see someone who I knew had born witness to some horrific events and had to, i am sure, do things you or I could never concieve of, exhibiting such tenderness, it was a moment of complete human kindness.....
These boys are ordinary people, they are like us, however they have chosen to push themselves and become extraordinary, and they have been thrust into an environment so utterly esoteric and out of the realm of our comprehension, we who sit here have no right to cast any judgement.
Now I know there have been incidents cited in the media about the military in Iraq, about the breaches of human rights, but as with any line of work, there are always the few who behave negatively...... to put it in context, shall we assume that all AFL footballers are lying cheating police running away from cowards who hide behind their clubs and their lawyers when they screw up due to being drug addicts?? I thought not, and now I shall be an ardent defender of the troops whenever I hear anyone espousing anti military sentiment.
Two of these boys I know are heading home, their tour is up, they now choose to stay and continue to fight or become former Marines (not an ex marine, there are no ex marines) and re-enter civilian life. One of them, the one who tenderly stroked my sons hair as they slept, has two years left. As I sit here now I start to cry thinking about him going back. For the next two years he will constantly be in my thoughts until I know he is safely home. My tears show that I am not someone pro war. As much as I respect and admire their courage, I still cannot understand how they can do it, how they find the courage to face that fear and forge on, because I do not think I could.
I am thankful for having met them, especially one of them, who shared with me and was honest and raw as a human being with me, more than anyone else ever has. I know some of you probably laugh at this, yeah so it's just a bunch of US Sailors... well no they are not...... these boys are amazing people who have faced adversity, challenges and experiences that existentially would be so influencial, yet also completely unable to be endured by the greater proportion of our community.
Be anti war, be anti Bush, be whatever you want to be, but don't be anti those who go on the front line and risk their lives every day they are out there, for they do not make the war, they are not the ones creating the reasons and conflicts, they are not the political machine that thrusts the globe into conflict. But they are the front line when it comes to its defense and those of them who conduct themselves with the honour, humanity and courage I witnessed deserve nothing but our support and respect, for respect is something to be earned, not assigned due to a badge or station, and these boys, in my eyes, will forever have my infinate respect.
May the USS Boxer bring you home safely boys
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Matriarchal psychosis and its impact on genital mutilation, apparently...
Lil Pink Tiny Hood
It’s an interesting and thought provoking insight into someone when we see how he or she chooses to express themselves. In a society where conformity is often expected, infact demanded in many organizations and indeed families, those little things we do to make ourselves OURSELVES and break a little out of the mould can be as exciting to witness as a third party as it is to experience for the individual themselves.
As many of you know, I have 6 tattoos, each one recognising important and influential moments or people in my life, and until Monday afternoon, I had three piercings (not including ears). Well now we have upped that number to 4 and the beguiling, confronting, humorous and often ludicrously absurd tale that charts that new piercing; the term coined by the boy, the cherry on my cupcake, follows.
I will begin in a moment of Doctor Phil/Oprahesque anti-narcissism and honour my mother, who in a tyrannical email denounced my ability to love myself, questioned her role as a parent and, I am sure, though I did not see it, beat her breast in frustration and anger as she acknowledged the fact her daughter had voluntarily undergone “genital mutilation” as she so hyperbolically described it. I was a little stunned at the outburst as I had always prided myself on having a Mum who was liberal, open minded and not a product of her generation… well I guess the liberalness does not extend to a clitoral hood piercing, alas for me; now I bear the wrath of the medically trained matriarch who shall no doubt regale me with tales forever more of women whose clitoris fell off, fell out, combusted, exploded or possibly even got caught in a Stephen Hawkins inspired black hole anomaly and was from there after only visible using the Hubble telescope due to having a hood piercing.
Well my response to this onslaught was initially anger, as I believe is utterly normal when someone essentially tells you they think you’re insane, then the woman my mother raised, the one who has a baulshy in your face attitude and stubborn mindedness came to the for and I decided to do what to me seemed the only reasonable response; I outlined all my positive points, made a wonderful analogy about her having pierced ears and the mutilation of the aural area that would be considered abhorrent if we lived in a culture that regarded music as a higher form of human expression than sex, and I sealed the deal, iced the cupcake if you will, by attaching some choice photos I found online of women with clitoral hood piercings. I await her response…
Now, to begin this tale of clitoral mayhem; it began on a warm Sunday morning after a staff meeting, when my wonderful co-worker Nat and I wandered the city and decided piercing was in order. Finding a piercer she decided upon tongue and well, you all know what I chose. Alas she was denied due to being hung over (I suggested it was that she was a dirty skank but that did not seem to wash) and so I was left to intrepidly venture into the world of “extreme piercing” alone. So here I was, naked from the waist down, legs spread, a woman I had never met before MEASURING my clitoral hod and Nat holding my hand. There was much fumbling, none of it pleasant. They use small implements to get under the hood and well, imagine you had a hummer truck you were trying to fit into one of those “COMPACT CAR ONLY” spaces. Not comfortable. Well the fumbling seemed to be going on and unbelievably I was actually wishing she would just stick the needle in so I could get it over with. By this stage Nat had obviously become bored with the view of the piercing studio because now she to was at the “business end” overseeing the process…
But on this day fortune did not favour the bold, or those with a wish to undergo “genital mutilation”. The piercer whipped off her gloves and with a trembling voice apologetically told me she could not do my piercing because, oh dear, my hood is too small and she needs specialist tools… take a moment to laugh, it has been a common reaction.
Now we have all been brought up to believe that men compare and fret about penis size, wondering is it bigger than his, thicker, ‘stronger’; Nat informed me after we had received the bombshell news that I was indeed Lil Pink Tiny Hood that she had thought to herself “Mine is bigger than that”….. So now not only can women compare the size of their thighs and breasts we can compare hoods and give ourselves yet another thing to obsess about. It is possible to go and have a labial tuck if you believe your labia to be too large; maybe there is a market for clitoral hood stretching? I myself am more than happy with my lil pink tiny hood, and frankly it means that finally I have found a part of my anatomy that can be classed as petite! I have spent 33 years of my life with a strapping strong mesomorphic physique that no amount of dieting will make dainty, and I have embraced that, however at least now I know when it comes to clitoral hood jewellery purchasing, I can finally shop in the “petite smalls” department.
However, petite smalls aside I was going to carry on undeterred and the following afternoon, sweating nervously, I collected Justin from work and headed, via the gelato shop, to have another go at ye ole vertical hood.
I often find myself wondering why my life cannot take a normal and even path, and once again funny and amusing incidents occurred on the way to said piercer. Justin, himself an aficionado of the genital piercing, being the proud owner of a Prince Albert, informed me I needed to purchase panty liners as there could be a small amount of bleeding post pierce. Now to digress a moment here, I must devote a few lines to Justin and his lack of inhibition when it comes to all things “genital”. Now as those of you reading this who know me personally, you will know I am not averse to getting my tits out. There are few of my friends who have not seen my boobs at some stage or another, its not that I do it for any other reason than to me, they are just bits of fat with a discoloured bit of skin at the end (although I must say I do have great tits:P!) and therefore I have no qualms about getting them out, be it to alleviate the issue of tan lines at the beach (I hate tan lines), as a drunken dare, or a sober one for that matter or just cause I need to get changed and well what the fuck who cares…. Well Justin seems to take this approach with, as he fondly refers to it, his ‘junk’. A man who has posed naked with every statue/monument between WA and SA, his infamous Guinness Boot Camp flash to the opposing teams, and the stories he has regaled us with about attaching his mates keys to his “junk jewellery” and taking photos of it so they can realise where their keys have been after they wake up from a drunken night out… To be able to attach a small teddy bear (you know those ones that McDonalds was giving away for awhile) to your genitals and have it hang from your short leg to freak people out with is truly an esoteric venture and kudos to him for having, obviously, the testicular fortitude to be able to pull it off (no pun intended). Anyway, back to the main story.
Into Target we ventured and you would not believe how amusing it is too see a guy, clutching a gelato cup, saunter up to a middle aged woman and confidently ask her where the panty liners were. Her face was reminiscent of a Dali melting clock moment, she stammered and stuttered and blushed then pointed vaguely in the vicinity of “feminine hygiene products” (that classification in itself deserves a whole blog devoted to it and the negative connotations it evokes; the implied notion that womens natural state is unhygienic and needs cleansing, reminiscent of biblical and mythological tales where femininity, female power, female sexuality and the vagina were viewed as evil and to be feared, for men were so weak they were unable to resist…… that doesn’t make the guys pathetic apparently, it makes us evil! OH there will no doubt be a blog about that, and soon!!)
So panty liners in hand we descended into the abyss that was the piercing studio. I was as nervous as all hell, more so about the fact I could not understand how it wouldn’t be excruciatingly painful, and so Justin suggested calling Jo because she had been through it and would be a comforting presence for me. Now a bit about Jo. Jo is a tiny wisp of a thing I had met only two days earlier. She is one of those breath of fresh air types you meet every once in awhile, someone who, even when drunk, says things she then follows through on…. I myself am a strong believer in never saying something for the sake of it; always mean it, something I have found a HUGE proportion of the population does not subscribe to. Why do so many people feel the need to say shallow and empty platitudes? Isn’t saying nothing better than lying to someone of being “socially polite”? However, Jo I have discovered is one of those people who subscribes to the notion of say it only if you mean it, which immediately elevates her above a large proportion of the population in my eyes, and hence I can only ascertain is why I went “OK” when it was suggested she come and give me moral support while I was half naked and nervous as hell and having only met her briefly two nights previously.
So here I was, legs spread, naked from the waist down, yet another person I did not know measuring and investigating my apparently undersized hood, another work mate by my side and Jo offering words of encouragement occasionally interspersed with “I’m glad its not me” (NOT SO ENCOURAGING OR COMFORTING JO!!!)
So, finally it happened. The clamp was in place, the bar had been chosen and after two deep breaths, the hood was pierced…. Now I would love to say that it hurt so little I barely felt it, that it was the least painful of all the piercing, not including ears, that I have had done, and to a degree it was in terms of pain longevity, HOWEVER, for about two seconds it was excruciating, and the layers of missing skin on Justins forearm is testament to that fact. Someone just thrust a sharpened piece of metal through an extremely delicate part of my person, OF COURSE IT DAMN WELL HURT! But not for long, so it was manageable!
After all was done, the jewellery was in place, I was handed a mirror to have a look, and oh my, it looked nothing like I thought it would and I fell in love with it straight away! So much so that I insisted Jo come and have a look, which she did, followed by Justin, it was like having a new baby that you want to show off to those who come to visit you! For some reason the fact of my partial nudity in the face of everyone else being fully clothed did not affect me, the fact I had had a stranger poking about in my bits was inconsequential, because I had the cutest little gold bar wrapped around my clit and it was awesome!!!
But it is one of those strange existential moments when you suddenly snap back to reality and think, “Hang on, I’m exposed here” and your modesty returns. After all I had been through in the past two days, the number of people who had peered, poked at and skewered my bits all were forgotten when my vulnerability came to the fore once more. I had been spread eagle moments earlier but when I came to get off the bed and put my pants back on, I asked everyone to leave the room for I felt shy putting on a panty liner and my panties in front of them.
So according to my Mum, the events I have just detailed would be indicative of self hatred, of her shortfalls as a parent, well to that I say, stop being so egocentric Mum! Not everything I choose to do it a representation of my upbringing with you! I chose to get this done, I wanted to get this done, and damn hell I am so happy with it! It is now three days later and I am in no pain, there is no swelling, I am slightly bruised but that’s about it. I cant wait til she is healed enough to take her for a test run! Right now I am a little daunted! How different will it be? Will it hurt? Will I need to change my technique? Will the boy need to change his technique? The unknown, the mysterious, the slightly scary fact of not knowing what is in store… it is like being a virgin all over again, anticipating with baited breath my first sexual experience, and for someone of my age to be able to feel almost like a virgin again, well hell, it was worth getting it done and getting my Mum off side just for that alone!!!
GET PIERCED!
xxx
It’s an interesting and thought provoking insight into someone when we see how he or she chooses to express themselves. In a society where conformity is often expected, infact demanded in many organizations and indeed families, those little things we do to make ourselves OURSELVES and break a little out of the mould can be as exciting to witness as a third party as it is to experience for the individual themselves.
As many of you know, I have 6 tattoos, each one recognising important and influential moments or people in my life, and until Monday afternoon, I had three piercings (not including ears). Well now we have upped that number to 4 and the beguiling, confronting, humorous and often ludicrously absurd tale that charts that new piercing; the term coined by the boy, the cherry on my cupcake, follows.
I will begin in a moment of Doctor Phil/Oprahesque anti-narcissism and honour my mother, who in a tyrannical email denounced my ability to love myself, questioned her role as a parent and, I am sure, though I did not see it, beat her breast in frustration and anger as she acknowledged the fact her daughter had voluntarily undergone “genital mutilation” as she so hyperbolically described it. I was a little stunned at the outburst as I had always prided myself on having a Mum who was liberal, open minded and not a product of her generation… well I guess the liberalness does not extend to a clitoral hood piercing, alas for me; now I bear the wrath of the medically trained matriarch who shall no doubt regale me with tales forever more of women whose clitoris fell off, fell out, combusted, exploded or possibly even got caught in a Stephen Hawkins inspired black hole anomaly and was from there after only visible using the Hubble telescope due to having a hood piercing.
Well my response to this onslaught was initially anger, as I believe is utterly normal when someone essentially tells you they think you’re insane, then the woman my mother raised, the one who has a baulshy in your face attitude and stubborn mindedness came to the for and I decided to do what to me seemed the only reasonable response; I outlined all my positive points, made a wonderful analogy about her having pierced ears and the mutilation of the aural area that would be considered abhorrent if we lived in a culture that regarded music as a higher form of human expression than sex, and I sealed the deal, iced the cupcake if you will, by attaching some choice photos I found online of women with clitoral hood piercings. I await her response…
Now, to begin this tale of clitoral mayhem; it began on a warm Sunday morning after a staff meeting, when my wonderful co-worker Nat and I wandered the city and decided piercing was in order. Finding a piercer she decided upon tongue and well, you all know what I chose. Alas she was denied due to being hung over (I suggested it was that she was a dirty skank but that did not seem to wash) and so I was left to intrepidly venture into the world of “extreme piercing” alone. So here I was, naked from the waist down, legs spread, a woman I had never met before MEASURING my clitoral hod and Nat holding my hand. There was much fumbling, none of it pleasant. They use small implements to get under the hood and well, imagine you had a hummer truck you were trying to fit into one of those “COMPACT CAR ONLY” spaces. Not comfortable. Well the fumbling seemed to be going on and unbelievably I was actually wishing she would just stick the needle in so I could get it over with. By this stage Nat had obviously become bored with the view of the piercing studio because now she to was at the “business end” overseeing the process…
But on this day fortune did not favour the bold, or those with a wish to undergo “genital mutilation”. The piercer whipped off her gloves and with a trembling voice apologetically told me she could not do my piercing because, oh dear, my hood is too small and she needs specialist tools… take a moment to laugh, it has been a common reaction.
Now we have all been brought up to believe that men compare and fret about penis size, wondering is it bigger than his, thicker, ‘stronger’; Nat informed me after we had received the bombshell news that I was indeed Lil Pink Tiny Hood that she had thought to herself “Mine is bigger than that”….. So now not only can women compare the size of their thighs and breasts we can compare hoods and give ourselves yet another thing to obsess about. It is possible to go and have a labial tuck if you believe your labia to be too large; maybe there is a market for clitoral hood stretching? I myself am more than happy with my lil pink tiny hood, and frankly it means that finally I have found a part of my anatomy that can be classed as petite! I have spent 33 years of my life with a strapping strong mesomorphic physique that no amount of dieting will make dainty, and I have embraced that, however at least now I know when it comes to clitoral hood jewellery purchasing, I can finally shop in the “petite smalls” department.
However, petite smalls aside I was going to carry on undeterred and the following afternoon, sweating nervously, I collected Justin from work and headed, via the gelato shop, to have another go at ye ole vertical hood.
I often find myself wondering why my life cannot take a normal and even path, and once again funny and amusing incidents occurred on the way to said piercer. Justin, himself an aficionado of the genital piercing, being the proud owner of a Prince Albert, informed me I needed to purchase panty liners as there could be a small amount of bleeding post pierce. Now to digress a moment here, I must devote a few lines to Justin and his lack of inhibition when it comes to all things “genital”. Now as those of you reading this who know me personally, you will know I am not averse to getting my tits out. There are few of my friends who have not seen my boobs at some stage or another, its not that I do it for any other reason than to me, they are just bits of fat with a discoloured bit of skin at the end (although I must say I do have great tits:P!) and therefore I have no qualms about getting them out, be it to alleviate the issue of tan lines at the beach (I hate tan lines), as a drunken dare, or a sober one for that matter or just cause I need to get changed and well what the fuck who cares…. Well Justin seems to take this approach with, as he fondly refers to it, his ‘junk’. A man who has posed naked with every statue/monument between WA and SA, his infamous Guinness Boot Camp flash to the opposing teams, and the stories he has regaled us with about attaching his mates keys to his “junk jewellery” and taking photos of it so they can realise where their keys have been after they wake up from a drunken night out… To be able to attach a small teddy bear (you know those ones that McDonalds was giving away for awhile) to your genitals and have it hang from your short leg to freak people out with is truly an esoteric venture and kudos to him for having, obviously, the testicular fortitude to be able to pull it off (no pun intended). Anyway, back to the main story.
Into Target we ventured and you would not believe how amusing it is too see a guy, clutching a gelato cup, saunter up to a middle aged woman and confidently ask her where the panty liners were. Her face was reminiscent of a Dali melting clock moment, she stammered and stuttered and blushed then pointed vaguely in the vicinity of “feminine hygiene products” (that classification in itself deserves a whole blog devoted to it and the negative connotations it evokes; the implied notion that womens natural state is unhygienic and needs cleansing, reminiscent of biblical and mythological tales where femininity, female power, female sexuality and the vagina were viewed as evil and to be feared, for men were so weak they were unable to resist…… that doesn’t make the guys pathetic apparently, it makes us evil! OH there will no doubt be a blog about that, and soon!!)
So panty liners in hand we descended into the abyss that was the piercing studio. I was as nervous as all hell, more so about the fact I could not understand how it wouldn’t be excruciatingly painful, and so Justin suggested calling Jo because she had been through it and would be a comforting presence for me. Now a bit about Jo. Jo is a tiny wisp of a thing I had met only two days earlier. She is one of those breath of fresh air types you meet every once in awhile, someone who, even when drunk, says things she then follows through on…. I myself am a strong believer in never saying something for the sake of it; always mean it, something I have found a HUGE proportion of the population does not subscribe to. Why do so many people feel the need to say shallow and empty platitudes? Isn’t saying nothing better than lying to someone of being “socially polite”? However, Jo I have discovered is one of those people who subscribes to the notion of say it only if you mean it, which immediately elevates her above a large proportion of the population in my eyes, and hence I can only ascertain is why I went “OK” when it was suggested she come and give me moral support while I was half naked and nervous as hell and having only met her briefly two nights previously.
So here I was, legs spread, naked from the waist down, yet another person I did not know measuring and investigating my apparently undersized hood, another work mate by my side and Jo offering words of encouragement occasionally interspersed with “I’m glad its not me” (NOT SO ENCOURAGING OR COMFORTING JO!!!)
So, finally it happened. The clamp was in place, the bar had been chosen and after two deep breaths, the hood was pierced…. Now I would love to say that it hurt so little I barely felt it, that it was the least painful of all the piercing, not including ears, that I have had done, and to a degree it was in terms of pain longevity, HOWEVER, for about two seconds it was excruciating, and the layers of missing skin on Justins forearm is testament to that fact. Someone just thrust a sharpened piece of metal through an extremely delicate part of my person, OF COURSE IT DAMN WELL HURT! But not for long, so it was manageable!
After all was done, the jewellery was in place, I was handed a mirror to have a look, and oh my, it looked nothing like I thought it would and I fell in love with it straight away! So much so that I insisted Jo come and have a look, which she did, followed by Justin, it was like having a new baby that you want to show off to those who come to visit you! For some reason the fact of my partial nudity in the face of everyone else being fully clothed did not affect me, the fact I had had a stranger poking about in my bits was inconsequential, because I had the cutest little gold bar wrapped around my clit and it was awesome!!!
But it is one of those strange existential moments when you suddenly snap back to reality and think, “Hang on, I’m exposed here” and your modesty returns. After all I had been through in the past two days, the number of people who had peered, poked at and skewered my bits all were forgotten when my vulnerability came to the fore once more. I had been spread eagle moments earlier but when I came to get off the bed and put my pants back on, I asked everyone to leave the room for I felt shy putting on a panty liner and my panties in front of them.
So according to my Mum, the events I have just detailed would be indicative of self hatred, of her shortfalls as a parent, well to that I say, stop being so egocentric Mum! Not everything I choose to do it a representation of my upbringing with you! I chose to get this done, I wanted to get this done, and damn hell I am so happy with it! It is now three days later and I am in no pain, there is no swelling, I am slightly bruised but that’s about it. I cant wait til she is healed enough to take her for a test run! Right now I am a little daunted! How different will it be? Will it hurt? Will I need to change my technique? Will the boy need to change his technique? The unknown, the mysterious, the slightly scary fact of not knowing what is in store… it is like being a virgin all over again, anticipating with baited breath my first sexual experience, and for someone of my age to be able to feel almost like a virgin again, well hell, it was worth getting it done and getting my Mum off side just for that alone!!!
GET PIERCED!
xxx
Friday, April 6, 2007
tragically its all true
I knew I couldnt stay silent for long! I was not called a baulshy bitch for nothing!
A wonderful beautiful friend of mine told me a rather chuckle worthy tale but before I regail you with it, I shall weave an intricate web around another time of my life.....
For a few foolish weeks I yet again flirted with the whole 'fuck buddy' thing. I really liked this guy as a friend, but in a stupid moment of horniness figured, why not? Anyway, he always came across to everyone as a bit of an arrogant so and so, but there was a nice sweet (OK, sheltered due to being an overindulged spoilt kid but anyway) part to him, ANYWAY, I basically decided to break the ice in my usual subtle manner by simply blurting out "hey so do you reckon you can shag without strings cause I am damn horny" and his response immediately put my 'no good hot sex here' radar on full alert, he looked at me stunned then sat on the couch next to me and said nothing for AGES...... but kind kept sliding a bit closer......... after about 20 minutes he said, "I think I can can you?" and I said 'yes' and jumped him.........
Why did I bother? A 22 year old guy was offered no strings sex and it took him 20 minutes to get up the courage to say anything????????? And I ended up jumping him anyway!?!?!?! OMG...... it gets better, oh my does it get better......I gave this chap his first proper blow job, from go to, well, blow, and he exclaimed after that he couldnt believe he hadnt demanded that before (demanded??? nice) BUT the kicker is, it took him less than 2 minutes to come!!! And I still ignored the warning signs ladies!!!! I blundered on convinced it was gonna be OK........
Well we did it that night (he kept his shirt on!!!!!!!!!!!! he was the one with body issues!) and ladies, it slide in and he shot his load............. :( but I slept with him subsequently! What the hell was I thinking!?
Now I am sorry but I know this to be true, I am a damn good shag (and I know he thought so too cause I was told by one of his mates!) and maybe I thought I could train him so subsequent women he encountered would reap the benefits of my years of experience (sluttishness?)....... alas no.
Guys never say this, ever....
"Yeah I will rub out the easy one so I last longer" (what five minutes mate?)
Well after a few weeks of this i figured he could be someone elses problem so I said "I value the friendship more than the sex lets stop".... Mr No strings sat me down and demanded to know why? Whats going on? It was worse than a relationship break up! OMG! And they reckon we are the ones who cant fuck without emotions!?!?!?!
Now would you believe IT GETS BETTER!
After our chat he said to me two things that made me swear never to go back
"I give you two weeks before you come crawling back"
"Can we do it one more time, I really want to try anal sex and film it"
Yes, both of those things were uttered by this 'gentleman' AFTER I said lets not shag anymore!
Now on at least four subsequent occaisons he tried to get into my knickers again, a brilliant example being when he came over one day cause we had not caught up for ages, and he went to leave and I said it was a shame we didnt have more time, his response "I can stay a few more minutes if you let me plow you"........... I asked him to leave!
BUT, months later, I asked for his help on a film related matter, just after another one of his failed get down hels pants missions, and he refused. I bluntly asked him if he would have helped had I fucked him and the idiot responded, "well, probably yes" I told him to fuck off and hung up......... that was a good six months ago and I have not spoken to him since.
NOW, this is what inspired me to tell this tale of bad sex and male idiocy........ my wonderful friend found his myspace page and sent me a message to say that under one of his pictures, there was a comment about him being hung like a horse. Now this guy was not tall but very "masculine", stocky, good facial hair, strong looking, he did have a ridiculously hairy back (shudder, once again I ignored ALL the warning signs!) hence the shirt on during sex (and he NEVER walked around naked! that is like the BEST thing about being intimate with someone! getting to walk about naked! I love that! I am rarely dressed at home anyway..... except for my ugg boots, but anyway)
Now, here is the reveal, and I can tell you know what it is......... this man with all these signs of uber manliness had without a doubt the smallest penis I have ever ever ever seen; ever.......
It was possibly four inches when fully hard, maybe, and he was one of those guys who always went soft (actually the only one I ever had but my friends have told me the sad tale) so not only was it incredibly small it was next to useless have the time anyway........
This I was going to come crawling back for???????????
This can barely last five minutes even with an 'easy rub out' prior to the main event?
I have been very very lucky in my sexual encounters (yes I will admit there have been many, I like sex but not relationships, work it out for yourself) and I have only had two small penises, his was one and his was the smallest.......... you would think a guy with so little to offer would make sure his other skills were up to scratch but alas no..... another great quote from him "I cant go down on you too long, my jaw gets tired" WHAT WAS I THINKING????
As I am sure I have said previously, I disagree with the oft used comment "Sex is like pizza, even when its bad its good" er, so so so no! Especially in this case!
I expect alot from my partners, as I like to give alot, and I have had some awesome awesome sex in my time, just recently I partook of a marathon six hour session that involved every room in the house, a mercy dash to get more condoms and lube, some awesomely placed piercings (oh my THAT was good), ended with us in the back yard on a swing as the sun came up and took us two days to recover from.......... That is what I expect sex to be! I like sex! Mr No strings did not provide sex, I cant even label what he provided it was so bad (and small).
I wanted a 400 gram toblerone bar and what I got was one of those home brand chocolate frogs that was snapped in half and had that icky white stuff on it.........
So I now have a rule, if I go the shag and its not GREAT first time out, I dont go back......... am I a mean and cruel bitch? I like to think so......
and as an interesting aside, another one of my 'daliances' prior to our get togetehr, told me how hung he was, he even used the term "baby holding an apple"...... well it must have been a very very premature baby holding the worlds tiniest apple.... GUYS WE ARE NOT SILLY, JUST CAUSE YOU SAY ITS BIG DOES NOT MEAN WE WILL THINK IT IS WHEN WE SEE IT! This guy was average, but cause he talked it up so much I expected alot, and well, oh dear. Now I didnt sleep with him, I had taken a vow of celibacy, no penetration, and as I said to a friend after (who happens to have one of the HUGEST I have ever seen, I am talking MASSIVE, and yes, it is another male friend I have shagged, so what) I was not going to blow my vow of celibacy on somwthing that would barely touch the sides!!!
Now I am sure many of you will think this is awful of me to write, but I am sorry I look upon it this way.... for so long we women ahve had to deal with the utter objectification by men, if we dont measure Cleo or Cosmoplitanesque models of female beauty we are labelled bags, moles, thighs too big, ass to big, boobs not big enough... this is my chance to say guess what, you guys dont always deliver the goods, and as another friend of mine and I laughed about the other day, a vagina is a vagina, but a penis is not just a penis! Oh dear no! And you know what, to repeat a former blog, size does matter, its the meat AND the motion, bigger is always better and I am yet to meet a girl who doesnt love a good solid cock!
You can keep your home brand chocolate frog with its white icky stuff, I am going my 400 gram toblerone.......
A wonderful beautiful friend of mine told me a rather chuckle worthy tale but before I regail you with it, I shall weave an intricate web around another time of my life.....
For a few foolish weeks I yet again flirted with the whole 'fuck buddy' thing. I really liked this guy as a friend, but in a stupid moment of horniness figured, why not? Anyway, he always came across to everyone as a bit of an arrogant so and so, but there was a nice sweet (OK, sheltered due to being an overindulged spoilt kid but anyway) part to him, ANYWAY, I basically decided to break the ice in my usual subtle manner by simply blurting out "hey so do you reckon you can shag without strings cause I am damn horny" and his response immediately put my 'no good hot sex here' radar on full alert, he looked at me stunned then sat on the couch next to me and said nothing for AGES...... but kind kept sliding a bit closer......... after about 20 minutes he said, "I think I can can you?" and I said 'yes' and jumped him.........
Why did I bother? A 22 year old guy was offered no strings sex and it took him 20 minutes to get up the courage to say anything????????? And I ended up jumping him anyway!?!?!?! OMG...... it gets better, oh my does it get better......I gave this chap his first proper blow job, from go to, well, blow, and he exclaimed after that he couldnt believe he hadnt demanded that before (demanded??? nice) BUT the kicker is, it took him less than 2 minutes to come!!! And I still ignored the warning signs ladies!!!! I blundered on convinced it was gonna be OK........
Well we did it that night (he kept his shirt on!!!!!!!!!!!! he was the one with body issues!) and ladies, it slide in and he shot his load............. :( but I slept with him subsequently! What the hell was I thinking!?
Now I am sorry but I know this to be true, I am a damn good shag (and I know he thought so too cause I was told by one of his mates!) and maybe I thought I could train him so subsequent women he encountered would reap the benefits of my years of experience (sluttishness?)....... alas no.
Guys never say this, ever....
"Yeah I will rub out the easy one so I last longer" (what five minutes mate?)
Well after a few weeks of this i figured he could be someone elses problem so I said "I value the friendship more than the sex lets stop".... Mr No strings sat me down and demanded to know why? Whats going on? It was worse than a relationship break up! OMG! And they reckon we are the ones who cant fuck without emotions!?!?!?!
Now would you believe IT GETS BETTER!
After our chat he said to me two things that made me swear never to go back
"I give you two weeks before you come crawling back"
"Can we do it one more time, I really want to try anal sex and film it"
Yes, both of those things were uttered by this 'gentleman' AFTER I said lets not shag anymore!
Now on at least four subsequent occaisons he tried to get into my knickers again, a brilliant example being when he came over one day cause we had not caught up for ages, and he went to leave and I said it was a shame we didnt have more time, his response "I can stay a few more minutes if you let me plow you"........... I asked him to leave!
BUT, months later, I asked for his help on a film related matter, just after another one of his failed get down hels pants missions, and he refused. I bluntly asked him if he would have helped had I fucked him and the idiot responded, "well, probably yes" I told him to fuck off and hung up......... that was a good six months ago and I have not spoken to him since.
NOW, this is what inspired me to tell this tale of bad sex and male idiocy........ my wonderful friend found his myspace page and sent me a message to say that under one of his pictures, there was a comment about him being hung like a horse. Now this guy was not tall but very "masculine", stocky, good facial hair, strong looking, he did have a ridiculously hairy back (shudder, once again I ignored ALL the warning signs!) hence the shirt on during sex (and he NEVER walked around naked! that is like the BEST thing about being intimate with someone! getting to walk about naked! I love that! I am rarely dressed at home anyway..... except for my ugg boots, but anyway)
Now, here is the reveal, and I can tell you know what it is......... this man with all these signs of uber manliness had without a doubt the smallest penis I have ever ever ever seen; ever.......
It was possibly four inches when fully hard, maybe, and he was one of those guys who always went soft (actually the only one I ever had but my friends have told me the sad tale) so not only was it incredibly small it was next to useless have the time anyway........
This I was going to come crawling back for???????????
This can barely last five minutes even with an 'easy rub out' prior to the main event?
I have been very very lucky in my sexual encounters (yes I will admit there have been many, I like sex but not relationships, work it out for yourself) and I have only had two small penises, his was one and his was the smallest.......... you would think a guy with so little to offer would make sure his other skills were up to scratch but alas no..... another great quote from him "I cant go down on you too long, my jaw gets tired" WHAT WAS I THINKING????
As I am sure I have said previously, I disagree with the oft used comment "Sex is like pizza, even when its bad its good" er, so so so no! Especially in this case!
I expect alot from my partners, as I like to give alot, and I have had some awesome awesome sex in my time, just recently I partook of a marathon six hour session that involved every room in the house, a mercy dash to get more condoms and lube, some awesomely placed piercings (oh my THAT was good), ended with us in the back yard on a swing as the sun came up and took us two days to recover from.......... That is what I expect sex to be! I like sex! Mr No strings did not provide sex, I cant even label what he provided it was so bad (and small).
I wanted a 400 gram toblerone bar and what I got was one of those home brand chocolate frogs that was snapped in half and had that icky white stuff on it.........
So I now have a rule, if I go the shag and its not GREAT first time out, I dont go back......... am I a mean and cruel bitch? I like to think so......
and as an interesting aside, another one of my 'daliances' prior to our get togetehr, told me how hung he was, he even used the term "baby holding an apple"...... well it must have been a very very premature baby holding the worlds tiniest apple.... GUYS WE ARE NOT SILLY, JUST CAUSE YOU SAY ITS BIG DOES NOT MEAN WE WILL THINK IT IS WHEN WE SEE IT! This guy was average, but cause he talked it up so much I expected alot, and well, oh dear. Now I didnt sleep with him, I had taken a vow of celibacy, no penetration, and as I said to a friend after (who happens to have one of the HUGEST I have ever seen, I am talking MASSIVE, and yes, it is another male friend I have shagged, so what) I was not going to blow my vow of celibacy on somwthing that would barely touch the sides!!!
Now I am sure many of you will think this is awful of me to write, but I am sorry I look upon it this way.... for so long we women ahve had to deal with the utter objectification by men, if we dont measure Cleo or Cosmoplitanesque models of female beauty we are labelled bags, moles, thighs too big, ass to big, boobs not big enough... this is my chance to say guess what, you guys dont always deliver the goods, and as another friend of mine and I laughed about the other day, a vagina is a vagina, but a penis is not just a penis! Oh dear no! And you know what, to repeat a former blog, size does matter, its the meat AND the motion, bigger is always better and I am yet to meet a girl who doesnt love a good solid cock!
You can keep your home brand chocolate frog with its white icky stuff, I am going my 400 gram toblerone.......
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
2+2=5.........
I am currently thinking way too deeply about the emotional attachments we form with people, about the feelings that so often spill uncontroblly from us; follow no rhyme, no reason and generally lead to mass confusion.
A dear, close and wonderful friend is leaving my fair city to return home, and I will not see them for a very long time; we will never live in the same country again. At the 'going away' bash there was an eclectic and varied bunch of individuals, and the cliches and differences between each distinct group was starkly obvious. Groups of people so vastly diverse, the only commonality being the same friend. I have experienced this myself, with groups of friends who should never be in the same room! It always makes me wonder how someone can be friends with people, who can be loved by people, who inherantly are so different. It strikes me as an interesting component of the human condition that we can draw people into our lives who, while we love them individually, and they us, they have nothing in common with others we love. It challenges the theory that we draw likeminded people to us.
Human relationships have always fascinated me, as they do many of us. I know it is a cliched topic but its one I cant help but explore. How can someone i love dearly also love someone who I find an annoying, mincing, arrogant twat? And of course visa versa? Friendships are complex existential necessities that grow, change, endure or die with us. Some you can nurture and nourish and they end up nothing more than a blip on your radar, others can face distance, lack of contact, differences and yet still continue strong. There is nothing better than the friend you dont see except every two or three years, or more, and yet the minute you are together, all the time falls away and its like the coffee cups are still warm from the last visit.
In my case i have found many of the friendships that came my way, the ones that at the time i felt I would travel with me the rest of my life, have ended up memories, and more often than not memories filled with hurt, and lessons learned about what defines a real and enduring friendships opposed to something built on a foundation of lies and misconception. I have always tried to be honest in all my friendships, yet so often it seems honesty is the thing that others find so hard to give.
Maybe that is why so often such nondivergant groups of people can be linked by one common friend, because this one person has found the key, the ability, to be able to be open with each one of these individuals. Just because you have stuff in common with someone does not mean you will be able to be honest and open with them....
A dear, close and wonderful friend is leaving my fair city to return home, and I will not see them for a very long time; we will never live in the same country again. At the 'going away' bash there was an eclectic and varied bunch of individuals, and the cliches and differences between each distinct group was starkly obvious. Groups of people so vastly diverse, the only commonality being the same friend. I have experienced this myself, with groups of friends who should never be in the same room! It always makes me wonder how someone can be friends with people, who can be loved by people, who inherantly are so different. It strikes me as an interesting component of the human condition that we can draw people into our lives who, while we love them individually, and they us, they have nothing in common with others we love. It challenges the theory that we draw likeminded people to us.
Human relationships have always fascinated me, as they do many of us. I know it is a cliched topic but its one I cant help but explore. How can someone i love dearly also love someone who I find an annoying, mincing, arrogant twat? And of course visa versa? Friendships are complex existential necessities that grow, change, endure or die with us. Some you can nurture and nourish and they end up nothing more than a blip on your radar, others can face distance, lack of contact, differences and yet still continue strong. There is nothing better than the friend you dont see except every two or three years, or more, and yet the minute you are together, all the time falls away and its like the coffee cups are still warm from the last visit.
In my case i have found many of the friendships that came my way, the ones that at the time i felt I would travel with me the rest of my life, have ended up memories, and more often than not memories filled with hurt, and lessons learned about what defines a real and enduring friendships opposed to something built on a foundation of lies and misconception. I have always tried to be honest in all my friendships, yet so often it seems honesty is the thing that others find so hard to give.
Maybe that is why so often such nondivergant groups of people can be linked by one common friend, because this one person has found the key, the ability, to be able to be open with each one of these individuals. Just because you have stuff in common with someone does not mean you will be able to be honest and open with them....
Thursday, March 29, 2007
A strange contradiction
Well for awhile now I have been blogging on myspace, sometimes I try and analyse something, sometimes I rant on about nothing (alot!) and sometimes i have utterly laid my soul bare, and those are the frightening times.
I am seriously looking at myself in this scenario. I am someone who is incredibly hesitant to reveal my emotions and feelings to people, yet so many people tell me how open i am, I have talked about things in my blogs I have not really discussed with my friends; so why have I made the move from myspace to here?
because I am going to force myself to live my life honestly, and somehow in this mad, crazy and intricately messy world we live in, for me, writing it down makes me be honest, and this blog seems like the logical next step! Myspace was primary school, now I have hit highschool.
When I lay myself bare here, before my own eyes as well as before those of some people I know and many i dont, I am forced to be honest, forced to face the realities, evaluate things on a more even keel than when they bombard and smash about inside my head. I am sure I will, on many occaisons, hit the PUBLISH button and feel sick to my stomach that I have laid myself so bare, but that is all a part of the growing up, the being honest, because being vulnerable can make you stronger, and the way I see it, if anyone I know does feel they have one up on me because I have been open, well that says more about them than it does about me......
I am seriously looking at myself in this scenario. I am someone who is incredibly hesitant to reveal my emotions and feelings to people, yet so many people tell me how open i am, I have talked about things in my blogs I have not really discussed with my friends; so why have I made the move from myspace to here?
because I am going to force myself to live my life honestly, and somehow in this mad, crazy and intricately messy world we live in, for me, writing it down makes me be honest, and this blog seems like the logical next step! Myspace was primary school, now I have hit highschool.
When I lay myself bare here, before my own eyes as well as before those of some people I know and many i dont, I am forced to be honest, forced to face the realities, evaluate things on a more even keel than when they bombard and smash about inside my head. I am sure I will, on many occaisons, hit the PUBLISH button and feel sick to my stomach that I have laid myself so bare, but that is all a part of the growing up, the being honest, because being vulnerable can make you stronger, and the way I see it, if anyone I know does feel they have one up on me because I have been open, well that says more about them than it does about me......
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