Nothing Of Consequence

If reading about sex is going to bother you, don't read the whole middle of this post. Skip to the end or something. It's not described graphically, but it is personal. So if you are a family member of the male variety, you may not want to go there. And if sex otherwise makes you queasy, this may not be the post for you.


I like Rhianna's new album. It's pretty good I think, even some of the slower songs which aren't generally my thing are pretty listenable. I like the one line, "I'm such a fuckin' lady". Because a lot of people think that women who swear must be trashy and uneducated. But that's not true at all. I think you can be a lady and still know when the situation calls for getting down and dirty. Being a lady doesn't have to be synonymous with prissiness. I think the main attribute a lady must posses is being able to handle almost any situation with grace and ease (or what looks like grace and ease by those on the outside, no matter what she may be feeling on the inside). I'm sure there are many who don't agree with me, but that's still what I think. I aspire to be able to deal with anything from a flat tire to making an edible meal with whatever's in the fridge; anything from a crazy person opening fire in a crowded shopping plaza to getting a red wine stain out of a vintage lace tablecloth, all without freaking out. But that doesn't mean a well placed 'Fuck' doesn't have it's place sometimes. Anyhow.....

We had a little bit of snow last night. I love snow, actually. I hated being forced to stand out in it in the middle of the night with massive eighteen-wheelers careening towards me; but from the comfort of a warm place behind glass or down, it's lovely. It looks like a magical wonderland outside of my window. Snow leaves a feeling of peacefulness for me. Some of the best times in my life were in the snow. I'll remember forever some of the days when I lived in this little cabin with the one I may always consider to be my best love, snowed in with a big fire, cuddled up reading or listening to VPR. The cabin getting so hot we would end up laying there naked, perfect, so happy. Often I wonder if I will ever be in love like that ever again. I know I could if I just got out of the rut I'm in. I love Mikey but in the way you love a brother or a best friend. I really hope we can stay friends, but there is no passion. And I'm way too fiery of a person to have such a lack of passion in a relationship.

I get so annoyed when I hear men who complain that there wives or whatever won't have sex with them enough. It's the opposite for me. I'm sure any men who read this will think, "Well, you probably got all fat and ugly and your man is simply disgusted by you". Well, honestly, I have gained a little weight but I still only weigh about one thirty and I'm about five-two. According to self magazine I should weigh one seventeen to be healthy. So I am about fifteen pounds overweight. That's not un-fuckably fat, right? I mean he's no Jude Law, okay. He's a bit flabby himself and I can look right past that. And I'm, like, what you may call fit fat. I had always been really thin and fit until I got off dope and on methadone and I just don't know what happened but I ballooned up for a while. I've lost a lot but not all. But still I have really good muscle tone from being being so active for so long. And I have a decent face, I'm no model but I'm not ugly. So what's the problem? I don't know, he won't ever give me an answer. He says he's tired, or his back hurts, or he used to blame the methadone or the dope. But he's not on it anymore, so what is it? Is he gay?(I don't think that's it because I find hetero porn all over the house when I clean. That's another thing. I don't care if a guy likes porn, really, I don't. But if he can get it up for that, what gives? I'm always saying that it's not fair that he can do it with a fantasy but saves none for me.) What kind of red-blooded man pushes a woman away when she's trying to pull off his pants to suck his dick? I mean, really? Who doesn't want a blow job, like, whenever? Right? I've blatantly told him to start getting it up or I'm getting out, or I'm going to, eventually, cheat on him. And that just sucks. It's ruining our relationship. It really is the main problem. I don't think we would fight so much about other things if we had more sex. I know it stresses me out to not have sex, like, every day. He says that's not normal, but I think it's him that's not right. Maybe everyday sounds like too much for some people. I can be reasonable though. But he doesn't even want to get down once a month, I swear! I'm not exaggerating! Why should I be okay with that? It's messing with my self-esteem, you know? I'm beginning to think it must be me, even though I know, logically, it couldn't be just me. Our sex life was never the best thing about our relationship. But it was passable for a while. I figured we could make it better once we got to know each other better, but we're just at a barrier in our sex life right now. I've always had a great sex life with other boyfriends. Other guys hit on me or look at me like they'd hit it. He won't even have make-up sex with me. He says when he's mad at me, it turns him off and he just can't. WTF? Is he serious? Is he a fuckin' girl, or what?
Sorry if all the sex talk is making some people uncomfortable. I just have to get it off my chest. Whether anyone reads it or not doesn't really matter. I just have to wonder. I don't like to talk to people who know us both about it because I don't want to embarrass him or myself. But it's really taking a toll on me. I feel like I'm wasting some of the best, most fertile years of my life. Despite the fact that I bitch about overpopulation and how I'm not a huge fan of kids, I do actually want to have kids some day. And so does Mike, but I try to explain to him that that's not ever gonna happen if he won't have sex with me. He just ignores me. It sucks because I think he'd make a really good father too. If you saw the way he treats the dogs, you'd think so too. He made a f'n YouTube video of the tricks he taught his favorite. I'm embarrassed to even admit to that. (I'm pretty sure he posted it, but he may still be working on it at the time of this posting. He was trying to erase my voice from the background saying, "This is gonna make people puke".)I told him I wanted no part in it but he made me video part of it because he said he couldn't orchestrate the tricks and hold the camera at the same time. Definitely goofy. But he spoils the crap out of them. And he's really good at taking care of plants. And I believe that if a person or people want to have kids, they damn well better be sure they can at least keep a small animal like a cat, dog, or guinea pig alive. And certain plants take a lot of care and love to keep alive, too. Seeing the way he treats the plants and animals in his life makes me think he'd be good at raising kids. Of course those are not the only reasons I think he'd make a good parent, obviously. I know I mostly complain about Mike, but clearly I wouldn't have been with him as long as I have if he didn't have redeeming qualities. He's a good guy, don't get me wrong but I just get the feeling that we're not meant to be together for the long haul, you know? We just don't mesh as well as I think we could.

On a more positive note......I really like my new schedule, awake in the daytime, asleep at night. It's just so, I don't know, normal. After only a week I feel so much more alive than I have in almost three years. That sounds crazy, but it's true. Maybe even four. Ever since I started working nights. First at Price Chopper, a local grocery store, in the bakery over night. Than at C&S as a "Security Guard", which was the absolute worst. I was talking to Mike about it the other day, and we agreed that it was around the time we both started working nights, about a year or so after we first got on the methadone (yikes, it maybe has been almost five years) that we really started to get fat. I know I'm going to lose weight so much faster now that I'm working a normal job. I'm moving around constantly, eating a normal breakfast, lunch, and dinner instead of just eating crap whenever I could at weird times because of when I had to be awake. And because I'm working at a health food store I'm becoming more conscious of what I eat. I mean , I've always been picky about what I eat. My Mom always fed us well, homemade meals with a lot of vegetables and no soda and very little sweets. And I've always tried to stand by that. I was really into natural medicine and eating all organic and shit like that for years. That's what I studied at Bennington, along with dance. But once I started getting high all the time, I sort of changed my mentality about a lot of things. Some of the ways in which dope liberated me, I'll never regret. But other things I lost, I'll always be sad about. But anyhow, I've been working out almost every day since I started a couple weeks ago. And now it's my primary job, and I'll have a lot more time to spend on improving my quality of life. I really want to lose the rest of the weight I put on. My goal is to weigh one fifteen. That's not that crazy, I'm pretty small. That's about where I should be. I know I will be much happier with myself if I can fit into my clothes without being self-conscious. I hate that. I hate, hate, hate looking at myself in the mirror and thinking, "Ugh, look at that. It looks horrible". I want to think I look hot all the time, not just sort of hot but, like, wicked hot. I can't wait for my hair to grow out. It's really getting better now that it's not totally short, short. Short is NOT my style, trust me. It has to grow fast. I wonder if I could afford really well done extensions? Is that insane? Yes, okay, I know it is. I'll just have patience and try to make it as un-hideous as possible until then.
Oh my God, it's one! I can't believe I've been on here for so long. This things sucks up my life. That's why I haven't been posting as much. Because I'm not sitting at a desk in front of a computer for twelve hours at a time anymore, I don't have a lot of time to post. But now look what's happened, I've let it all cram up inside me and it's come gushing out in a pus of never-ending-nonsense. I'm going to try to post more often. It's difficult to pry Mikey away from the computer. He's, like, glued to stupid facebook games. I hate facebook, it makes me feel lame. Anyhow, I have to run. Literally, run, run on my stupid elliptical machine. So I'm not fat anymore, and maybe my boyfriend will have sex with me before I run away and find someone who will. I guess I don't feel guilty that it's one o'clock in the afternoon. It's Sunday, my day off. I worked hard at my new job this week. As much as I like the job, my boss is kind of a mean dweeb. I thought I was the only one who thought so. But it turns out, so does everyone else. He can hardly keep staff around a few months, I'm told. He's really mean, he accused me of lying already (I didn't) but that's a story for another time. I don't care, I'm not going to think about it. I'm going to try to let it roll right off me. Like my co-worker, the other-worldly handsome one, does. It's as if he doesn't even hear dweeby man's insults and accusations. That will be me too, if I can pull it off. I need the job. Oh, wait, and I was invited to a party!
So for now, Goodbye.

TerribleHorribleNoGoodVeryBad

Has anyone ever read 'Alexander and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day'? You know some days are even like that in Australia? It was a favorite book of mine when I was a kid. Everything that could go wrong for a kid does. Breakfast sucks because his brothers eat all the good cereal, he has to carpool to school in an overcrowded station wagon, after school when his mother takes all the kids to get new shoes they have nothing cool in his size, and then his dad is an ass to him when they visit him at work later on. Of course it's not quite on par with wondering if you will have any breakfast at all, or wondering what it's like to ever own a new pair of shoes; but it's just as bad as all that for Alexander because that's his reality.



Well, today I feel like Alexander. And although my problems pale in comparison to the problems of the universe, they are still my problems and they suck for me. And so why then would I be so bold as to expect anyone else to care about them? Well, care or not people, it does not really matter that much because what it comes down to is that there seems to be something therapeutic about verbally purging your frustrations.



I only have Internet access at work, so far all my posts have been written from my work computer while I'm on the clock. That is great for me because I get paid to dick around on the computer; the downside is that my posts take on a certain tone because I'm at work. They lack a certain sense of vitality and depth because I'm in work mode. I was at home the other night and it was late and I was alone sitting in the kitchen with just the stove light on wishing I could write a post at that moment surrounded by such a melancholy atmosphere (I know I could have written it on a Word program and saved it to post later. But it's just not the same). When I'm at work I don't feel as if I am fully myself. I feel sterile and protective of the best parts of myself in this linoleum swathed shack. I'm also wary of simulating the typical sob story blog, I don't want to be the whiny victim of my own bad choices. I don't want to repeat the same story of how I shot myself in the foot and then cried as it bled, metaphorically speaking of course. But at the same time I feel like it's just as bad to be too cautious which can translate into boring. I've been avoiding revealing too much about family members, co-workers and work situations, and the less acceptable of the daily activities in which I partake (i.e. everything to do with buds) because I don't want to start conflict or get myself in trouble. But I'm not sure anyone in my family reads my blog, nor do I believe the government cares too much about me; work is a little bit more sensitive because I can't get fired unless I'll qualify for unemployment. But my point, I suppose, is that I am going to make an effort to expand my repertoire. I think a good way to start is by writing posts from different locations, attempting to add richness to my posts by infusing them with the vibe of aspects of my life previously withheld.
One thing I've noticed is that I hardly ever write about my relationship with Mike. I mention him often in passing a few times. It's easiest to just pretend that it's fine. We get along really well on a day to day basis. We have a lot of things in common, we share the most basic of values and beliefs about life. Not a day goes by without him talking about us buying a house, opening a store, having kids, marriage. We are best friends for sure, and that makes it that much more painful to admit that we are just not physically and sexually compatible. It's so bad, I just can't ignore it any longer. I totally love Mike as much as you can love another who is not your child. But I'm terrified of of the possibility of living the rest of my life without experiencing the physical intensity that I know can exist between two people. It's not like Mike's my first love, or even my first fuck. I've loved others just as much, and I've definitely had a better sex life in the past. And it's time to acknowledge that it may just be one of those things that is what it is. We just may not be meant for each other in this capacity. But, HA!, Try to discuss this with Mike and it's as if I'm asking him if he wants to go out and deliberately infect ourselves with HIV. He flips! He's like, "If you break up with me I don't ever want to speak to you again. So get out then. Leave right now!!! AAAHHHH!!" It's impossible to discuss it with him. It doesn't matter when I bring it up, morning, noon, or night, it's a bad time. It's always, "Why do you have to bring this up, NOW!". I'm beginning to think it's pointless to try to part amicably. But that sucks because we are so broke that we are, neither one of us, in the position to support ourselves right now. We'd be so much better off, both of us, if we could be logical and help each other leave safely. After planning and saving, I mean, we have eight dogs. Who gets who? But to get him to plan to break up does not seem like an option. I think I'm going to have to start hiding money away so I can get my own place. I just can't live like this anymore.
In my mind, if I'm this frustrated and unhappy then he must be too. How could he be content? It just doesn't seem possible to be existing in the same reality and yet be so polarized in regards to our perceptions. Does he truly want to live out the rest of his life with a woman he finds physically unapealling just becayse she's otherwise a good friend? I may be funny and easy-going, I may be a mellow pot head who is up for most anything, but is that a worthy trade off for never having decent sex ever again??? Not for me!!
There is this perception out there that men think about sex all the time, way more than women. Maybe I'm not your average woman or something, but I think about sex all the time too. I don't think once, ever, in our relationship have I turned him down for anything he's requested in the sexual realm, but he's like Mr. No. I know I'm not ugly, and even if I were, fuck that, ugly people still need to get busy. I admit I gained a bunch of weight when I got clean. But I was not even a hundred pounds when I stopped using and now I'm about 140. Which, for my height, is not the most alluring, but it's not Miss Piggy either. According to Self.com I should weigh about 117, so I'm only about 23lbs overweight. It could be way worse. And I'm totally aware of it and trying to learn how to get back to normal. I've never been overweight before in my whole life so I'm not used to having to watch what I eat and exercise religiously. But in the meantime, I take care of my hygiene, I wash my hair, shave my legs, tan (not too much), wear nice clothes when I'm not at work. You'd think I was Ugly Betty, oh wait, she gets more play than I do.
And the thing is, Mike is no Josh Hartnett. He doesn't take care of his dreads, his teeth are all fucked up, he is missing his left chest plate so he's all lopsided, he has no muscle tone and a pot belly. But I see past all that, I don't care, nobody is perfect. But if you asked him, he's a hunky hunk. He loves to harp about how he runs around lifting boxes all night at work and I just sit around and do nothing. I would automatically assume it was all because of my weight. Except it really wasn't much better before. But then it didn't matter to me so much because I was too high to care. And I was physically satiated by the dope. Sadly, that is no longer and I am forced to rely on more socially acceptable methods of obtaining a surge of endorphins.
Needless to say, my patience is wearing thin. The resentment building inside me is going to consume me and I don't want to give myself cancer over a bitterness I could have avoided. I've thought about just simply pursuing extracurricular bedroom type activities, but I'm afraid the guilt would overwhelm me. Plus eventually I would want to leave him once I found someone who could fulfill all my needs, and I'm not sure that's fair. I wish all the time that he would just meet someone else so that I could feel guilt free about blasting. But for real, how many chances do you give a person to change, to try, to care? It doesn't make much sense to avoid hurting another at the expense of myself. I mostly do not want to one day look back and regret not taking a chance for my own happiness.