The ChaunyBaby Blog: Sep 2, 2016

Friday, September 2, 2016

Intentionally Untitled

I didn't title this one because I'm not sure what this is. At best, I guess this is just a random collection of thoughts that probably don't bear expressing, but I will anyway. I'm having another one of those challenging days. One of those days in which my role in The Universe is much cloudier than it usually is. Meaningful conversations going on around me sound like white noise or verbal pollution. I don't think I make sense to anybody either. I'm sure to 'them' I'm inaudibly incoherent…like Charlie Brown's teacher (a historical reference for those over 30). I can't seem to complete an idea, thought or sentence. For me, that usually signifies some major change on the horizon (emotional or 'physical'). This is one of those days that are best spent in bed with the covers pulled over my head, reflecting on the meaning of life and my roll in it. However, the annoying habit of eating and paying the mortgage frequently gets in the way of that kind of escapism. I'm having unbelievably vivid fears of all my vital and reproductive organs being riddled with cancer and spontaneously dropping out of my body at will. I also have a reoccurring 'nightmare' in which I break out all my front teeth. My whole ride to work this morning was spent continuously feeling my front teeth with my tongue (to make sure they were still there). Actually, the broken front teeth thing is more of an intense phobia. I mean, that would be a horrible thing to have happen to anybody but the prominent size of my gums would make that particular fate even more visually frightful. I often stare at my feet when I walk, not just because of the groundless fear of my uterus suddenly plummeting to the ground as I gleefully walk along, but from the very real fear of tripping, falling and breaking all of my front teeth out my mouth. My brain waves are so scrambled with so many scary thoughts right now that I'm actually making myself physically exhausted with all the ridiculous scenarios my mind is continuously creating for me. I want my life to be a certain way right now but I'm not sure how or if I have the emotional insight or physically stamina to make it happen, even if I did know how. I'm thinking a Cheez It binge or a nice stiff alcoholic drink might make all the difference in the world but that damn dietary lifestyle change prohibits me from taking those courses of action. My usual jovial spirit was mysteriously absent this morning as I could barely bring myself to smile 'Good Morning' to my co-workers. Whenever possible, I stayed confined to my office and only those common areas in which human interaction would be minimal or limited. Today I didn't want to talk to or look at anybody and I didn't want anybody to talk to or look at me. I just wanted to do my uncanny hermit crab impression, which I've perfected over the years. Some days are just made for quiet personal reflection, today was just such a day for me. But I spent most of it thinking about my fears, actual or imagined. More than a small part of me secretly believes that if I openly chronicle those things I fear most here, they won't actually come to be. It's kind of a literary 'reverse psychology' thing. But that isn't the real story here. The story here is my total disconnection with the world (again). You know I've had plenty 'the world doesn't get me' moments, I'm sure I'll have many more. Somehow though, it feels different this time. I left my phone off all weekend and didn't even bother to bring it with me on most of my weekend excursions. I have yet to check any of my messages or voicemails because I simply didn't have the energy to carry on a polite conversation with anyone, no matter how light. As I eluded earlier, this latest disconnection seems to be tied to something big just over the horizon. I just hope it's good news, my spidey senses tell me it's truly 50/50...which is hardly a telepathic development. All I know is that this feels like the calm before the storm, that confusion that prefaces all grand events. Deep down though, I have an intense fear that my scrambled mind waves will invent something horrible for me. I told you a few entries ago that the brain is an amazing organ that can be responsible inexplicable events. I remember back in high school, one of my very best friends (we'll call her 'Betty') told me she would never, ever have kids. She said it without one moment's hesitation and with wholehearted sincerity too. I asked her why she was so adamant that she never wanted kids when were just in high school and could never know what we'd want as grown-ups. She replied that she knew she didn't want kids because of the labor pains. She told me that the pain would be too much for her and she would probably just 'die' from them. I laughed and told her that many women, not even particularly strong women, had gone through it. Women used to drop babies in the fields when they were working, without benefit of pain meds (though I haven't concrete proof of that). I told her she could do it and she was just being silly and worried for no reason. I dismissed her fear as small, insignificant and profoundly naive. I lost touch with her after we graduated. When I came home from college for a Summer visit, I talked to a mutual friend of ours (Betty and me). I asked her what 'Betty' was doing nowadays. She [the mutual friend] looked at me really strangely and replies; "Didn't you know? Betty died during childbirth a couple of years ago." I was floored. I cried for several hours that day and was torn up for a good long while about it…I still am. Did I take her fear too lightly and dismiss it as groundless because I simply didn't understand it? Was that always to be Betty's fate? Could she do nothing to reverse it? Or, was her death a self-fulfilling prophecy projected by her own mind and intense fear? I mean, if you really believe you're going to die, you could probably find a way to make it happen. Maybe that's the lesson; Believe in good things for yourself and make them happen. Don't let fear, disconnections, misunderstandings and ugliness rule your life (easier said then done). I don't know. I'm still waiting on answers and am no clearer now than I was before writing this entry. Well, I might be a tiny bit clearer. I'll just continue to do what I've reluctantly become an expert at…waiting. So that's it, that's all. No clever conclusions or posh plot twists. I'm just waiting, hoping and praying that I'll soon be able to plug myself back into the world, so I can start completing coherent sentences again. But then again, maybe this feeling isn't as prolific and meaningful as I'm making it out to be. Maybe I'm just in a bad mood. For some reason, completing sentences is not as nearly as appealing to me as kicking somebody (really hard) in the back of their head is. Yep, that sounds more like a run-of-the-mill bad mood to me. Man, what a colossal let-down.

The Exquisite Ex Factor

The following is result of Operation Blog Recovery (Of what I could retrieve): The following content is collected from a platform that is no longer operational. Gaps and spaces in the formatted text could be the result of broken and/or expired emoticons, links or web-hosted pictures. You can be assured that the opinions and thoughts expressed are from the original writing. Hell, I’m not even going to correct spelling or grammar. Enjoy! Or not.

Originally posted on Fri 10/24/2008, 5:36 AM

Current mood: peaceful Category:
Romance and Relationships

Well, the Cheez It withdrawal symptoms seem to have subsided somewhat. One driving force behind that is probably that I'm experiencing significantly less 'waistband spillover' nowadays. I could have even used a belt this morning as I repeatedly (and ungracefully) pulled up my sagging pants throughout the workday. Luckily, my panties matched my slacks perfectly, so an unintentional sagging moment might not be as visually jarring as if I had been wearing two wildly contrasting colors (I've heard embarrassing work horror stories about that). I hate to admit it, but the new 'diet'/lifestyle change is definitely working. Seeing 'improvement' in one major area of concentration can certainly aid in sticking to the plan. Now that my Cheez It problem is at a manageable level, my weakness seems to have transferred itself to the 3-week no-alcohol pledge I'd taken. That weakness was never more evident than this past Saturday night when I was out. I don't think I'd ever fully appreciated just how much more fun it is to dance after you've had something to drink (I hope my niece doesn't read that) but the night still had some notable highlights. By some strange coincidence, three 'ghosts from relationships past' were there that night. Their ages spanned over 27 years (from 25 to 52) and they couldn't be more different in appearance, temperament and my fondness for them either. I suppose having three past partners under one roof at the same time is kinda creepy-cool, if not a little scandalous. The other strange thing is, those exact three had showed up in that exact order I'd been with them. Earlier in the night after my first Ex appeared, my girl jokingly queried, "I wonder which one of your exes will show up next." (She was hoping it would be Ex Lax from many years back but I saw him there the weekend before and didn't expect to see him that weekend too). One by one they trekked in, in perfect order...least desirable to most. It also made me think about the way things ended with each one. None of the endings were exactly amicable in nature but not all ended with irreparable damage either. Of the three, there was only one I was actually happy, surprised and excited to see there that night. I hadn't seen him in a social setting for well over a year, perhaps even closer to two. It would've been nice to have toasted to a happy & friendly reunion with him but that pesky 3-week no-alcohol pledge got in the way. After he realized I wasn't drinking, he stopped drinking too, which was nice. We exchanged pleasant small talk all night, without a glimmer of discussing the not-so-pleasant past, just the good stuff. He seemed to be emerging from a long period spent in solitude, getting his social feet wet again. After voluntarily cutting himself off from family and friends (presumably to concentrate on personal goals), I was glad to be present as he entered social society again, privileged even. Even though he seemed to be a bit uncomfortable 'taking in' the highly entertaining (and a little gutter) nightclub patrons, happily, he stayed much longer than I expected him to. When he got ready to leave, I walked him to his car and we continued the polite small talk. He, in true gallant and "chivalristic" fashion, insisted on driving me back to the nightclub door, even though I told him multiple times that I'd be just fine walking back. While sitting in his car, he amped up his information on what he'd been up to since we were together last and I replied that I really hoped to see him again soon. As I stepped out of his car, he responded with a definitive; "Oh, you definitely will." I (mostly) believed him but I still had that nagging feeling that it could be well over another year before that actually happens. It was right then that I realized just how much I deeply missed his friendship. So, the happiness of seeing him again was suddenly mixed with sadness of not knowing when/if I'd see him again, despite his confident reassurances. Fast forward and abrupt subject change. This morning, every freaking signal light stopped me on my way to work. Generally, I breeze through the lights because of the time of morning I leave for work. I left on time but the lights seemed to intentionally delay me from my usual stress-free trek to work. Funny thing is, every time I'd approach a traffic signal light, I would just know that it was going to stop me. Every single time I stared at the approaching stale green light, knowing in my head and heart that it was going to turn yellow then red in just enough time for me to stop semi-safely...it did. I'm saying to myself, what the hell is going on here? That almost never happens. And you know me, my brain instantly starts hypothesizing about what all this really means. I think to myself, are The Cosmos conspiring to teach me another life lesson? Is it because I'm telling myself that this next signal light is going to stop me, I'm somehow responsible for it actually happening? I don't claim to have Carrie-like telekinetic powers or anything but I know the brain is a remarkable organ and I'm not arrogant enough to think I, or anyone else for that matter, could possibly know all that it's capable of. I also believe that there are cosmic occurrences that sometimes defy logical understanding and explanation. So, I sat at my desk this morning wondering what the message could be. You see, all week (since Saturday night), I'd thought about how glad and sad I was to see my young friend again. I'd made myself sad thinking about how long it took for us to talk again and worried that it would be many moons before we'd reconnect (again). Maybe by not just allowing myself to feel happy to see him again, relieved he's doing good and excited about when we would see each other again, I might be unknowingly sealing my own fate. I might be ridiculously fearing and expecting the worse, and as a reward for my negativity, I'd be getting just that. By not releasing the negative of the unknown, I'm burying the positive of what is. I'm intentionally swapping good for bad. Profound and exquisitely simple isn't it? Still, I can always look forward to knowing that whenever that welcomed re-reunion happens with him (again), thanks to my new diet/lifestyle change, I'll have a much "svelter" physique to show off. See? When you look close enough, things are never as bad as we make them seem sometimes. We can all thank goodness for that.

Living Without My True Love

Only four days in, and I'm already having regrets. I'm not a woman of many, if not any, regrets. Not because there aren't things I wouldn't do differently if given the chance but because I don't (yet) have access to a time machine to reverse my bad choices/experiences. Besides, even bad choices/experiences teach you something important, if you're somewhat intelligent. I consider myself more than somewhat intelligent. My 4 day old 'regrettable' choice was born out of love. As a demonstration of devotion, I reluctantly agreed to start this new "diet" with my best friend. She calls it a lifestyle change, not a diet but we'll see just about that. I must emphasize here that I personally don't advocate dieting (for myself). I've always resigned myself to simply buying size-appropriate clothes, whether they get bigger or smaller in size. I'm really more worried about looking good in clothes, not out of them. Nobody sees me naked anyway and a little extra poundage doesn't really bother me. Not only do I not advocate dieting, I'm a very strong proponent of exercise too. Simply put, in my opinion, exercise blows! Well, let me restate that, exercise blows except for that of the passionate kind. But for me, that kind of exercise is like a rarely-enjoyed delicacy. So, if not used for sweaty, steamy & sloppy romps, I'd rather be using all that good physical energy…for…well, nothing at all. Maybe blogging and surfing The Net but that's about it. Now understand, I have made lifestyle changes for the purpose of "getting healthier". First, I gave up all refined sugar in 2004. The first month after that decision, I was like fiend coming off of heroin. After that month however, it's been smooth sailing ever since and I haven't looked back. After the invention of Splenda, the world became a much better place. Also, I gave up taking the elevator at my job. Sounds small, but I work for a very large company with big buildings and ample stairs. (Not a small thing I don't mind telling you.) Anyway, unless I'm trying to get into this one specific (too-small) outfit for a specific event, I'd planned to never diet again. Basically, the first week of the diet is said to be the hardest. So true. In the first week, you completely give up carbs and have to eat a very specific amount of approved foods. Then, you begin to slowly introduce carbs back into your diet. I thought I'd be ok but my Cheez-It addiction seems to be taking over my life. Let me admit, I have a very substantial emergency reserve of Cheez-Its. I keep two boxes in my office at work, so when I suddenly finish a box (I never see it coming), I don't have to let a pesky, inconvenient grocery store trip interrupt my daily Cheez-It intake. I have two boxes in my bedroom…for the exact same reason. One box is on the under shelf of my nightstand and another box sitting on top, so I can roll over in bed and inhale a handful without walking all the way to the kitchen (wasted time). I don't usually commit myself to stuff (or people) like that but once I do, I'm in it to win it. I actually have great reserves of willpower but this is much harder than I thought it would be. All I think about is Cheez-Its. I think about them when I'm sitting/working in my office, while my two back-up boxes tease me every time I open my cabinet door for something unrelated. So naturally, I think about them when I'm driving home from work. When I give our dogs their dog treats, I start to wonder what their dog treat would taste like atop a Cheez-It. I start to seriously believe that worldwide Cheez-It donations would not only cure hunger but it could actually improve our economy, aid in national security, restore the Ozone layer and bring world peace. I daydream about slowing biting into one, savoring that cheesy crunch, which instantly makes my eyes roll back in my head in sheer euphoric ecstasy. I was so hungry when I got home from work yesterday, all I wanted to do is punch something (or somebody) because eating anything but Cheez-Its at that moment, would only send me into a deep depression. Yesterday evening when walking back to my truck after grocery shopping for more of the overly expensive "approved" foods for the rest of the week, guess what was on the parking lot ground, right next to my truck door? Guess!?! An empty Cheez-It box!!! It looked almost brand new too, like someone had just purchased it! I kid you not! Why doth tease me so? It was a cruel irony perpetrated at exactly the wrong time. I lay in bed with visions of Cheez-Its circling my head. You know what else? I had a horrible confrontation/argument with a new friend yesterday morning. An "argument" so bad that we traded insults by text for about 15 minutes straight. But he was no match for me. His best zinger about me was that I was weird (well, DUH!) Not to boast (too loudly), but I can use words as a weapon quite effectively when I choose. He knew it too and quickly conceded (a smart move on his part). With that "linguistical gift" of mine, coupled with my Cheez-It addiction & withdrawal symptoms, he's lucky I didn't make him cry! After our last "exchange", I wasn't even remotely upset, I just started counting down the days in my head until I can tenderly taste a Cheez-It again (23 days & 12 hours). It will be better than hot, sweaty "love" or hanging with my beloved friends. I can always find a booty buddy (if I were so inclined) and make new friends, but my love and devotion to Cheez-Its will truly last forever.

Containing The Foul Fury Of Man

What the hell was I thinking? Dear friends, my sincere apologies for the graphic tone of this entry. This will be the third entry within the last few months in which I've insinuated the 'presence' of turds (either mine or someone else's.) Friends, my severe childhood affliction of chronic constipation, has carried over well into my adulthood...full force. 💩 You might suggest a healthier diet of more fruits and vegetables but in my case, that isn't the problem. To rewind a bit, my work pants were a little tighter than usual this morning. Sure, the culprit might be hormonal or plain & simple weight gain from over-eating but I concluded that my problem might have more to do with not having a bowel movement for quite some time now (it could be weeks, in some cases). 😞 The occasional use of Maximum Strength Senna laxative pills and a lot of prayer have been most helpful. I even keep a freshly stocked card of my favorite Maximum Strength Senna laxative pills in my purse at all times (I know it's sad to have a 'favorite' laxative pill-but so it is).💊 While sitting at my desk this morning, I decide, my infinite wisdom, to kill two birds with one stone; 1.) Loosen my newly restrictive work pant's waistband and 2.) Relieve the debilitating pressure on my lower bowels. I take the pill card out of my purse and see that I have exactly 4 pills left. The suggested dosage is 2 pills but given my particular "constipational constraints", I have to take 3 for any effectiveness. Obviously, taking my usual 3 today would leave me with one measly pill. With my system, one pill wouldn't even produce a tiny turd the size of rabbit pellet. I ponder to myself; should just take all 4 and get a fresh pill card for my purse when I get home? Yeah I'll do that, it only makes sense. I take all 4 pills and take huge swig of my ice cold water. I'm straight now, it's about 11AM by this time. Perfect. By drinking lots of water and with the larger dosage I took today, I'll surely be 'enjoying' success inside a couple of hours. (Generally, it's an overnight thing for me). ✔ At about 11:05AM, I suddenly remember that I signed myself up for a 12:30PM to 2PM training class today. Dang! That's going to seriously cut into my "relief period." I wonder to myself; if I shove a couple of fingers down my throat, I could probably reverse the damage, right? Then I think; no that wouldn't work, after all, the 4-pill relief & recovery team had already had 5 minutes to travel through my complicated digestive system. Maybe if I stop drinking water, I can prolong the inevitable effects until after my training class and pray really hard that I can make all the way home before the dam bursts. 11:30AM rolls around and I'm already seeing signs of trouble. 😟 That's okay, I'm a resourceful woman, I can make this work…this is an opportunity, not an obstacle. I'm convinced that I can control/trick my body into doing what I want it to, regardless of how much I'd increased the dosage this time. Easy Breezy. 11:46AM, Ouch…this isn't a good sign. Perhaps I don't have that David Blaine-like ability to control my bodily functions by sheer brain power alone. Not good, not good at all. I go to the bathroom to move my underwear waistband well below my waistline and instantly, relief.😄 Hey this could possibly work! If I sit at my desk like that, with the top button of my work pants undone, I can throw my office cardigan over my work ensemble and fool all of my co-workers into believing in the normality of my physical condition. I won't let on, I'm cool as a cucumber. 😎 This is a piece of cake! Surely if I sit still and work diligently, I can pull this off. 11:58AM, Uh Oh…trouble on the horizon. 😢 My training class is in 32 minutes and if things continue on this downward spiral, I don't think I have any chance of making it through without abruptly excusing myself. 12:31PM, I'm in the 4^th floor training room awaiting "training." It's bleak my friends, very bleak. I wouldn't want to repel/repulse you further with anymore of the embarrassing details. I'll just summarize by admitting that I clearly annoyed the whole class with my pitifully desperate questions, interjections and nervous laughter, in a feeble attempt to drown out the atrociously loud gurgling of my stomach. 😵 I don't think I fooled anyone though. But even with the repeated inquisitive glances my way, I just kept my eyes firmly fixed forward, as if I heard nothing at all…which may have been the very act that gave me away. See, the gurgling sounds were so loud that anyone that wasn't declared legally deaf, could hear very clearly, as if I had an amplifier attached to my belly button. I think by trying to seem 'unconcerned' and 'unfettered', I looked guiltiest of all. 😕 Fortunately, I managed to make home before "the foul fury of man" flooded the gates 😱. If someone mentions it tomorrow, I'll just play it off as if the training session was so riveting that I couldn't hear anything but the instructor. Ok I admit, it probably wasn't nearly as bad as all that. My colorfully creative mind runs away from me from time-to-time. 😁 As you should well know by now, my mind is hard-wired a little differently than most. It could be that, or this life of chronic constipation has permanently damaged some of my brain cells over the years. 😨 Any excuse to seem normal will work for me. It could be worse, I could have uncontrollably loose bowels…I doubt that condition would win me any new friends. BELIEVE my friends; always believe in the power of positive thinking. 💓

Angry Bitch

Current mood: angry
Category: Life

Oh shut your face! I don't care that you found a $20 bill in the parking lot on your way to work this morning. I don't care that junior couldn't get to sleep last night because he's cutting his second tooth but you didn't mind 'cause he was so cute with the way he was chewing on his chubby little fist. By the way, I don't care how many women gather around his stroller, pinch his cheeks and tell you how adorable he is, he still looks like a fat alien to me. 👽 So what, you found the love of your life at the gas station when you were putting gas in your car with that $20 you found. Big deal, you found that sentimental gold ring under the dryer you thought you'd lost at the park. I know your car is in the shop and I don't have any idea how you're gonna get there either. You can ask me for a ride and I'll probably agree. But just before I pick you up, I'm gonna drink me some milk, with lactose, so that when you get in my truck, I can pummel you with silent-but-deadly ones, lock all the windows and make you smell it. 🤢 I don't care that you lost 10 pounds on that new popcorn, chocolate & shrimp diet you tried (actually-I do care a little about that one). 😕 I want to be in a lousy mood and complain about the things that aren't going well in my life right now. I don't feel like asking you how your day is going…I could care less. 😒 You know what else? You talk too damn much anyway and about nothing of consequence to me. 😴 I don't have to explain myself, I feel how I feel. Get outta my business and find you some! Incidentally, I saw you wave "Hi" to me in the hallway but I intended to ignore you because I didn't feel like talking. I don't feel like sharing. I don't feel like caring. I'm in a pitifully bad mood and that's exactly how I want it at the moment. 😠 And yeah, those pants do make you fat! Call me Oscar The Grouch. Call me Scrooge. Call me Bitch but you'd better not say it loud enough for me to hear because I'm in the mood to hit someone square in the face…and I don't care how many nails I break in the process. 😡 I feel wicked. I feel selfish. I feel fed up. I feel "too through". I don't want to take a "chill pill". I want to be constipated and miserable.…..Man, I wish I could go off on a rant like that sometimes! I wish I could tell someone that's getting on my nerves, to "shut up" and have them forgive me whenever I feel like talking to them again. (Which could very well be never knowing me.) I wish I could get lost in my own little world and take an emotional pilgrimage of self-discovery for while. I wish I could come back to the real world only when I feel ready to and not one moment before. 😤 But the world doesn't work that way, does it? If you're a descent person, you have almost an obligation to be, at the very least, considerate. I suppose the momentary satisfaction of breaking someone's spirit, face or feelings, may not have the payoff you hoped for in the end. 😖 Maybe you do care, even when you wished you didn't. Maybe sometimes, being a good person seems like a chump/ sucker move but all in all, being good is really what you are at your core. How exhausting it is sometimes! I can't tell you how many times I wanted to go off on people today. But right when I was on the edge, right at the precipice, right when I thought I couldn't hold it in any longer, I decided it wasn't worth it. And it isn't. I suppose some solitary downtime would be good for decompressing and getting back to my normal cheerful & happy self. 😁 A little (or a lot) of alone time can do wonders for a person. Lord knows, I need it more than most. Does Midol work for non-PMS related moodiness too? I'll take one anyway. Hopefully, the combination of Midol and Ex-Lax will have a positive effect on my current mood. I'll try it and call you in the morning. ☎

Mistress of Masturbation

I think I've pin-pointed one of the sources of my latest bout of emotional frustration. Before I go any further, I want to warn you, this subject isn't for everyone. So, stop reading now if you're easily offended by 'vulgarity'. My latest low level psychological state-of-being, seems to be brought on by all the physical attention I'm not enjoying at the moment. Truth be told, I can go very long periods without it (though that isn't my chosen path). However, periodically, there seems to be an almost tangible need for "it" that actually makes me a little physically ill, almost like a heroin addict that goes too long without 'a fix'. Unlike a heroin addict though, the desire can sometimes pass without intervention…but not all the time. Many moons ago, right before I decided to remove 'virgin' from my list of attributes, the first thing I did was call my mother. I was in college at the time and had been sort of dating this guy I liked okay, but not that much. I really didn't want him to be the first but my young-and-ready, tender 20-Something year old body was screaming for me to "take action-QUICKLY". Me and The Guy just kissed a lot. When I was with him, I stopped shaving my legs and always wore leotards (without the snap crotch), to keep myself from going there with him. It worked too. I also told my mother all that. Since we'd never discussed those types of things before, I didn't know how she'd react to my confession. After all, she was back home and I was 250 miles away living in an apartment on campus, so I could really do whatever I wanted to do. Still, I wanted to tell her. After a few seconds of stunned silence from her (I don't think I took one breath while telling her all that), she replies to me that she's grateful that I thought enough of her to tell her something like that. She goes on to tell me that I'm a grown woman that can do what she pleases and that if I felt that I was ready, then I was. What?! No Anger?! (I didn't really expect anger from her-she's kind of a hippie.) So, I breathe a sigh of relief and go on…I told her of the guy I was dating at the time and how close we'd come to 'doing it' but that I really wouldn't feel right about making him the first (he didn't know I was a virgin). My mom told me that she knew I'd choose wisely and she's very proud of the woman I'd become. She even cried a little. Thankfully, that guy (that I'd only liked a little), was soon out of the picture. He was presumably tired of kissing and frustrated by the fact that he could never subtlety pull my shirt over my head. (Leotards Rock!) In true romantic style however, my first true love B, comes back into the picture shortly after the other guy's departure. You've read the 'Ode to My Boy B' entry so you know the rest. That's kind of the reason for this entry. I'm thinking that maybe, if I just 'put it all out there', a great solution will just drop in my lap. (Like B did) Part of my current dilemma is that I'm pretty sexually selective. Let's face it, anybody (ugly or beautiful) can just go out and get that, it's the easiest commodity in the world to obtain. But 'getting it' with someone you can truly connect with (on any significant level), isn't quite as easy. I feel that the absence of sensual and passionate attention is turning my brain into mush and making me a sexless zombie aimlessly wandering the earth in search of a magnetically sensual connection with someone. The right one. (for now) And honestly, I've never mastered the fine art of masturbation. Believe me, I've tried many times with only marginal success, at best. Pitiful, 'marginal success' with masturbation leads to even more frustration-not one measure of relief, not for me at least. I think for me personally, a huge part of the feeling of sheer ecstasy, is being sexually and sensually in sync with another person. I realize that there are several spiffy gadgets on the market dedicated to self-pleasure. But no matter how realistic the toy is, it's useless to me if it isn't permanently attached to a man. I wished I'd figured that out before I paid all that good money for the goodies in the 'toy box' discreetly placed under my bed collecting dust bunnies. Ya know, I think a dildo-burning ceremony might be in order here. A noble sacrificial bonfire that will bring about a season of sensual pleasure beyond imagination and measure. A season of delightful sensual fulfillment that compares to no other. Then again, maybe not. I just hate the smell of burning rubber and plastic. I dunno, it's a head thing for me I guess. (No pun intended) That's probably why masturbation has never been my cup of tea. Though I must confess, I'm truly jealous of women that have mastered it. They're probably able to successfully separate their head from their body (sounds painful to me). But my head is firmly affixed to my neck & shoulders; mind, body and soul. I'd even contemplated going to one of those 'do-it-yourself' workshops but I didn't think that was for me. Not because I'd be embarrassed or anything, it's just that I don't think my problem/issue could really be resolved by simply and skillfully touching the right area…there just has to be more to it than that, hopefully MUCH more. I already know all my areas anyway, I'd prefer somebody else find some new ones. On the bright side, my personal short-comings in that particular area might actually be a blessing in disguise because if I could take myself to the heights of sexual ecstasy, I would probably never see another naked man for the rest of my life. What a bummer that would be.

Chauny bin Laden, The Big Butt Slut

Sis and I had a spirited discussion last night about relationships, like we usually do. She and I compared notes on how our last attempt at ‘kicking it’ with a man, ended in a fiery crash. As we get older, we’re almost completely devoid of relationship games. Honestly, it’s exhausting anyway. She and I are very similar in our views on men, the state of masculinity (as a whole) and just our overall outlook on the way (we think) things should be done relationship-wise. Our conclusion is that the sweet, honest and direct approach to caring for ‘a potential’ is not being met with the appreciation it warrants. Back in the day, I would say that we were both, a little more detached to the concept of what the other person may have felt, in comparison to what we felt. We weren’t mean or uncaring (necessarily), we were just not as “concerned” about them. Nowadays, we’re pretty straightforward, understanding and kind. But for that, there is no reward, no appreciation, no reciprocal tenderness. It’s a sad and ironic state of affairs when you have them ‘dropping out of the heavens’ for you when you treat them like dirt. What is that? Oh, most men can claim that they want a sweet and caring ‘wifey’. But the fact of the matter is, their greatest love, that vixen-of-a-woman that stole their heart and soul; was that mean, arrogant, self-centered Dragon Lady that they still wonder about from time to time. That one chick that put them through “changes”. The one that cheated, talked to them crazy, burned their clothes, slit their tires and broke all the windows out of their car. Ok, I exaggerated a little on that but seriously, am I missing something here? We (Sis and I) have always agreed that the male of the species should be the aggressor, the one that needs to work a bit for the female’s eye and attention, like they do in almost every species of animal. Those poor, misguided women that do everything except wipe the nose of their men, are frequently cheated on in favor of the one, he “courts”. The one he opens the door for, pays for meals for, the coy/hard-to-catch ones. I get that part. Not only do I get it , it’s also my relationship religion. Women tirelessly chasing (and doing everything for) a man isn’t just weird, it’s unnatural. But why do I have to treat someone I care about like dirt in order to get what I want? I don’t need much in comparison to what I’d be willing to offer, just a little appreciation. I think I need to reevaluate my approach to relationships. Honesty, effort and consideration are not being fully appreciated, or appreciated at all for that matter. I suppose there is a place for a little game-playing in romance but I don’t think it’s worth the effort to do it half-way. If I’m going to do it-I’m going full-throttle baby! I’ve already told you of my advanced ‘emotional’ regenerative transformation powers. Oh yes, they do exist! My phobia of spiders and small reptiles is almost nonexistent. Last week I put a small lizard safely outside that I’d accidentally just brought in with the mail. No screams or hesitations. Why, just yesterday, I stomped on a big ugly snake egg in our rock garden in my flimsy flip-flops (after my sister urged me to). Why get all womanly and emotional about it? I made a decision to man-up on that kind of stuff and I’ve done just that. If I can do that, I’m certainly capable of transforming myself into that big butt slut that never has a shortage of men at her beck-and-call. (I mean ‘slut’ figuratively) I’m going to transform myself into that self-centered woman I used to despise so much. After careful consideration, I’m thinking she might actually have a point and the solution to my relationship problems. Sweet & nice is boring anyway. I’m many things but boring is not one of the things I’d want count among them. I need to shake things up a bit. I’m tired of taking his needs and desires into consideration, when he has no regard for mine. (Whoever he might be) Marriage isn’t really a goal of mine anyway, I might as well have a little fun for a while. I want to be the Osama bin Laden of romantic relationships; relentless, rebellious and fanatical in my conviction. Think about how many people, women and men, are chasing him.

Same Shit, Different Day

Last week I felt like holy hell physically. There's nothing like a green snot, nose-blowing spell to make you forget any other problems in your life. No doubt, I was just another victim of the level orange, ragweed allergy/sinus season. Happily, I'm not nearly as angry as I was in my last entry. Sadly, as it turns out, that all may have indeed been another PMS emotional meltdown but shhhh…don't tell anybody. On September 17^th, I celebrated the one year anniversary of my Blood Blessing by taking off work with my favorite girl and chillin…hard. So, why do I write today? I dunno, I guess it's just time. On my way to work yesterday morning, I almost hit an armadillo frantically pacing in the street. The animal's behavior was so erratic, I thought it may have had rabies or something. Then, a few more feet up the road, I saw the fresh remains of another full grown armadillo. I realized then that the surviving armadillo was clearly reacting to the death of it's partner. It made me really sad, more than road kill normally would. After all, deep down, I'm a PETA-like, bleeding-heart animal lover, except for my ravenous appetite for meat and affinity for leather. It suddenly struck me of how deeply impacting losing someone/something you love is, in most all species of animal. When you become emotionally dependent on someone, you risk sending your world into a tailspin when things don't work out, for whatever reason. I just don't want to feel that again, I'm not sure my heart could take it. So, I stay "closed." Simply put, another uncontrollable desire to retire from the real world is consuming me again. I'm so painfully petrified to do anything of romantic significance, that I'm afraid I'll never be able to get myself to healthy place again. One minute, I'm confused, then happy, then content, then confused again, then petrified to move forward…a ridiculous and vicious cycle that I can't seem to remove myself from. Frankly, I've had some significant romantic happiness lately. But this morning, I made a mushy admission, a sappy declaration to someone that suddenly froze me into another unprovoked emotional coma…mere moments afterwards. I felt instantly exposed, insecure and regretful. I've suggested many armchair psychological hypotheses for my inexplicable romantic 'fickleness', none of which have provided me with any measure of relief. Strangely, back in the day, I found myself consumed by a man I thought I could never have lived without. Back then, I cursed his indifference and fickle attitude toward our life together. It was a constant emotional tug-of-war that left me psychologically battered & bruised and the consistent loser of…I'm not too proud to admit that. As hurt and sad as I was then with the things I allowed him to put me through, I couldn't help but feel pity for him because he couldn't decide what he wanted in life. It was clear to me that we were perfect together and most times, he agreed. But after spending too long together, the claustrophobic reality of relationship responsibility set in and sent him scurrying to the hills. Each time (which probably was dozens of times), he would cry (literally), ask me to let him come back and insist he would be better next time. He would beg for my forgiveness and vow to never leave again. Well, since I write this today as an unattached/unmarried woman, it's clear that those vows were not kept. Still, for years afterward, I would remember the heartfelt pity I felt for him as he pushed me away and what I thought (at the time) would be pure & perfect romantic bliss (a youthful miscalculation). However, I find myself now, almost exactly as he was then. By trying so hard to understand how he must of felt when that 'claustrophobic reality of relationship responsibility set in', I ended up making myself into exactly what I pitied so much then. My desire to get to know someone (romantically) is fearfully fleeting at best and utterly undesirable at worst. The novelty and excitement of exploring a new person's personality gets shorter and shorter with each new contestant. More out of fear than actual confusion. I truly want to care for someone deeply but I just can't, not for long anyway. Ironically, the total lack of interest and my horribly (seemingly) emotionless indifference makes me so sad, that I want to cry every time I think about it. What's wrong with me? Why am I always running away? Why can't I again feel that same deeply penetrating love that consumed me so in my early twenties? It's a confusing conundrum that invokes deep feelings/emotions in me only because I can't allow myself to feel deeply for anyone again. The confusion is only multiplied by the fact that my life is so full and fun in every other area. Am I nothing more than a partying Fem-Bot that can never (again) feel deep love for a romantic partner? Am I broken and not worth repairing? Is this just an elusive 30-Something Phase that will be almost forgotten when "The One" whisks me away to Happily Ever After? The desire to want to want to love, is making me so upset that I'm getting pains in my stomach, back and head. Seriously, I feel like I could benefit from medical & mental hospitalization or maybe a few quiet nights in a padded room with strong meds and shock treatment. Hey, whatever it takes.

Another One Bites The Dust

This won't be a clever, witty and ironic entry. But it will help you gain some insight into my present state of mind (if you care to know). I guess deep down I fear I might be like one of those obsessive-compulsive schizophrenic patients that think they're feeling okay and normal, so they stop taking their meds. Well, I know better. My blog is the medicine that keeps me sane and occasionally psycho-free. 💻 I briefly alluded to some romantic happiness in my last entry. Not surprisingly, it was over almost as quickly as it began. For pride's sake, I contemplated not writing about him, just because I didn't want him to 'score points on me' and I wanted to retain some of my dignity. However, I concluded that writing about it, might actually help. Thing is, I had high hopes for this one. 😔 While he's on the younger side of things, he possesses unquestionable maturity and a wit, that I modestly proclaim, matches my own. 💕 Not an easy thing to find in someone. We attempted this a few months back but it didn't pan out and we didn't even get out of the starting block before we stopped speaking over something really stupid. So, this time, we tried to communicate our issues a little more and it seemed to work well, even when we didn't agree. What's the problem you ask? Without a doubt, there seems to be chronic sensitivity on both our parts. I'd argue that he is far more sensitive than me, though he'd probably disagree. Thing with me is, even if I'm put off/offended by something someone says (or does), I can pretty quickly 'get over it' if I truly like the person but not everyone is as forgiving. See, I always try to see The Big Picture. If I'm enamored by a person that clearly stands out from the crowd, The Big Picture is; I want them in my life for as long as it works. Nit-picky, overly sensitive responses to relatively minor things are good for little, unimportant squabbles but are hardly worth lingering resentment. 😕 After our apparent but not yet confirmed 'break-up', I moped around the house for about 24 hours. Then the very next day, I put it behind me with a firm commitment to looking ahead. I even changed my MySpace profile pic to the most significant and infamous Ex in ChaunyBaby history. (To whom I've aptly nick-named Ex-Lax). He is a reminder that no matter how much I care for someone, nobody's worth feeling bad over. If I could get over him, I can get over anybody. No lie, he was one of the greatest loves of my life. Anyway, when I see Ex-Lax now, who occasionally shows up at my favorite nightspot, I'm even more convinced and grateful that we didn't stay together. His subtle suggestions for reconciliation don't remotely phase or move me. 😑 Not because he isn't a great person (he really is), he's just not the person for me (anymore). You have no idea how much strength I gain from seeing him now, him wanting us to try again and me knowing it would never work. So, I don't even 'go there'…it would be completely futile, for me anyway. I'm so much stronger than I give myself credit for sometimes. And while I'm honestly bummed that my latest romantic interest and I didn't get anywhere significant, I know I can boldly move on. That's a HUGE step for me because it's been a very long time (probably years) since I saw as much potential romantic happiness in anybody. Seriously folks, I like this guy a lot (yes-like, present tense). But life is a learning experience isn't it? If you never learned anything about yourself after experiencing disappointment, what kind of dumbazz are you?!?! 😡 Oh sorry, I felt myself going to an angry place…but I'm back now. 😊 We'll see how the saga unfolds. I have a sneaking suspicion it isn't over quite yet and I don't mean the good stuff either. As always, you'll know when I do. And for the record, I don't have any ill will towards him, I actually feel supreme gratitude. It wasn't until him, that I realized how much I can still like someone. A very pleasant and welcome surprise I don't mind telling you. I sincerely thought that part of my life was long gone. As it turns out, I'm not as big of circus freak as I thought I was. 👾 Oh Happy Day!

Definition: Big-Brained Broad

I haven't yet decided whether it's a blessing, curse or a simple fact of life but I seem to find 'metaphoric' meaning in everything lately. 👩🏾‍🏫 [Definition: Metaphoric means one thing representing another; a symbol or language that directly compares seemingly unrelated subjects.] 📚 Case in point, every time I get oatmeal from my job's cafeteria, I always put too many raisins in it. Every single time, I get to the last few bites and get overwhelmed with raisins. Disgusted with the look and taste, I end up tossing the rest of it in the garbage bin. Now, you'd think I'd have learned after doing that dozens of times, to do it differently the next time, but I never do. Then, I start to think, 'Is that a metaphor for my love life? Does that mean that I keep doing things the same lame way, get overwhelmed and just toss the whole idea of romance out the window out of sheer frustration?' Maybe. Next case. 💼 I've always wanted to try ceviche. [Definition: Ceviche is a form of citrus-marinated seafood salad, popular in mainly Latin American countries.] So, Sis & I decide to go on a ceviche tour and try out different restaurants and their ceviche dishes. Even though I'm pretty 'culinarily' adventurous, the thought of raw seafood was a little off-putting initially. Still, I was excited to try something new. The first restaurant we tried had a killer ceviche dish. I even ate the avocados and raw oysters in it (I normally hate avocados and raw oysters). It was absolutely delicious! The second restaurant (the next day) was almost as good as the first one. I didn't get ridiculously full but just a few bites in (and only 2 restaurants into our tour), I was done-not just with the dish itself but also with the idea of eating ceviche ever again. I thought to myself, 'Is that the way I conduct my entire life? Do I normally quit 25 yards into a 100 yard dash? Do I give up too easily? Do I tire of people and things way too prematurely?' Perhaps. Case three. 📒 As I get older, I get more and more attuned with my body. Being a healthy woman, I can pretty much set a Rolex by my monthly cycle, so I'm pretty positive of when I'm ovulating. [Definition: Ovulation is the process in the menstrual cycle by which an egg is released for reproduction.] It never fails, during my presumed period of ovulation, the desire to be touched 'tenderly' by a partner or to have sex at all, holds almost no appeal to me. Not to the point of complete and outright repulsion, but almost. I start to wonder, 'Does that mean I'm not ready for kids right now or that I'm not cut out for motherhood altogether? Shouldn't that be the time to want to make love tenderly and quiet the loud ticking of my biological clock? Or, is my body trying to tell me what my heart can't accept?' Could be. 🤷🏾‍♀️ Now understand, I'm fully prepared to accept that all these hidden meanings, aren't meanings at all, just simple and ironic coincidences. But I always try to see the wider, panoramic view of everything and never leave anything completely misunderstood or ignored. They are interesting questions and ideas to ponder though. Man, the road to enlightenment is paved and plagued with many twists and turns, isn't it? Maybe I have too many ideas, thoughts and questions swimming around in my head. Maybe my brain is larger than most because it has to accommodate everything I wonder about. 🧠 Maybe my freakishly large brain explains the inordinately large size of my head in relation to the rest of my body. I guess anything can mean anything, if you really want it to.

A Comforting Cat Fight

This past weekend was very interesting indeed. In one of the more uncharacteristically strange events this past weekend, there appeared to be fascinatingly catty battle developing for Alpha Female at my favorite nightspot. While I’m not personally participating in “the battle” itself, I find myself uncomfortably at the center of it nonetheless. There are so many interesting (and comical) stories I could share with you here but since this is an open journal, I’m afraid I’ll embarrass some of the battle participants. For now, I will just introduce the issue and write about it in detail at a later date. I’m certain that in the coming weekend outings, the events will be become even more bizarre and too juicy to not write about. I will admit that while some might find this particular attention ‘impossible’ to deal with, I find it (more than) marginally amusing and immensely flattering…and that’s all I’m gonna reveal about that (for now). There, I’ve written it. The other ‘happening’ was a little more significant, on an emotional level. I happened to run into a past companion last Sunday, while waiting for a call from some other friends. Though the relationship between he & I never rose to the level of romantic, it was significant because it was so ridiculously intense, for such a short encounter (and NO, I’m not talking about a one night stand). I hadn’t spoken to him since February but it’d probably been the better part of a year (or two) since I’d seen him face-to-face. Our conversation was light and pleasant but a little strained and a lot uncomfortable (for me at least). I suppose part of the problem for me was that I usually take great pride, sometimes with a tinge of arrogance, in my ability to let certain people and relationships go without looking back. Frankly, that’s exactly how it is with most people. But for some reason, I didn’t feel complete indifference toward him the way I’d felt toward so many before and after him. He was one of those unexpected attractions that was totally inexplicable, given our vast differences. There is more than a decade age difference between us, we come from different backgrounds; philosophically, religiously and emotionally. However, there was and is, an air of mystery surrounding him that intrigues me more than I would ordinarily want or am reasonably comfortable with. I feel silly even writing about him but he’s the only explanation for the sudden ‘100 to 0’ plummet in my emotional wellness. Clearly after seeing him in person, I still have some emotional work to do. Maybe, the real problem with seeing him wasn’t him at all, maybe he simply reminded me of just how far I am from finding what I need to sustain me for the long haul. Intimately (not sexually) he was a real surprise, a pleasant bump in the road that probably has no place in my life now. In admitting that though, I have to accept that I don’t know which turn to make next. I’m lost, as I have been so many times before this day. I’m too claustrophobic to make any long term promises relationship-wise and too unsure of the feasibility of remaining gleefully single for the rest of my life. What do I do? Do I make a definitive step in one specific direction or wait it out? What if I take a step in the wrong direction or what if I wait too long and miss a golden opportunity? (Though I can’t imagine what that ‘golden’ opportunity could possibly be.) The confusion is consuming me and making me a total basket case. As you should know by now, I’m an optimist for the most part, so I’m sure I’ll figure it all out eventually. I just need to draw upon that famous patience I brag about so often. Unlike most, I at least have the club cat-fight/tug-of-war to entertain me until I figure out the other stuff. Don’t laugh y’all, as trivial as it seems, it’s more than most people have. That fact alone, makes the waiting a little less depressing and a lot more entertaining.

Ode To My Boy B

The following is result of Operation Blog Recovery (Of what I could retrieve): The following content is collected from a platform that is no longer operational. Gaps and spaces in the formatted text could be the result of broken and/or expired emoticons, links or web-hosted pictures. You can be assured that the opinions and thoughts expressed are from the original writing. Hell, I’m not even going to correct spelling or grammar. Enjoy! Or not.

Originally posted on August 18, 2008

This week will be jammed-pack with interesting social engagements. I have two very important weekday birthday parties and then, whatever the weekend has in store for me. Tonight, weather permitting, I'm going to a birthday party hosted by a very good friend of mine. In fact, he was my very first boyfriend. We first met in college but didn't really date until after a few years of "talking". I still remember the day we met like it was yesterday. I was in the school bookstore to pick up supplies for a class. I do not exaggerate when I tell you, that day, I looked like a holy hot mess dragged in by wolves. I really had no business going out of my dorm room looking that rough. Still, he quietly says something to me while peeking over the next book aisle. He says; "Don't look so somber." I don't know why but that comment intrigued me, even though I knew it was just a pick-up line. (I'm usually immune to pick-up lines.) Actually, I was going to an art college across the street from the university he attended but I frequently used their bookstore because of the vast selection of art supplies, plus it was in walking distance and I didn't have a car. After that day, we talked on the phone a bit, hung out a bit and kicked it a bit. But for all those months, he never tried to so much as kiss me. Not even when I was alone with him in his dorm room, me on his bed and he at his desk. (Good thing too, I was a tender virgin at the time.) His 'inaction' was even more puzzling when I found out much later that he had quite a reputation on campus as being a…how can I put this without calling him a hoe?!...um…uh…screw it…he was a hoe! One of my best girlfriends from my college years (who is still one of my best friends today) told me a hilarious story of him "kicking it" with two girls in her apartment building on the same day, on two different floors (before I met him). He would spend a couple of hours with one, then a couple of hours with the other and neither knew about the other. In between, he would stop at our mutual girlfriend's place (probably to rest). Now you have to give to him, that's the epitome of a ' Mack Daddy'. Anyway, we lost touch for a couple of years but then reconnected when he happened to see me in the play 'For Colored Girls Only' on the university's campus (I was the Lady in Red). By that time, I was going to school there after graduating from the art college-and he was no longer going to the university. After the play, he invited himself to our celebratory night out and that's when we really connected, with a passionate kiss, smack-dab in the middle of the dance floor. (My sister still says she wishes she could erase that image from her brain-but she loves him to death.) We were pretty inseparable for several months after that but it was a very PG-13 relationship. To skip to the middle, he was my first (eventually) and I had no doubt that he loved me very much. Life circumstances periodically pulled us apart, sometimes for several years but then somehow, we'd find each other again. Sometimes we tried at romance, sometimes we didn't. We haven't been linked romantically for quite some time now but each time, no matter how long the separation, we'd come together as the very best of friends. On one of our reconnections, I asked him why he never tried anything sorted with me for all those years in college, when he had such a 'checkered' reputation. He simply replied to me that there are women you do that kind of stuff with, and then there's me, a classy person (not just woman) that deserved nothing but the upmost respect. Good Answer! He was the very first man that I loved like that. He's always been appreciative of my unique eccentricities & weirdness (he didn't think I was a certified nutcase). He was never scared away by my bad moods or razor-sharp words (I was 100 times worse back then-he can tell you I'd probably cussed him out dozens of times). He seemed to always see the bigger picture which was, he didn't know anyone else like me, he wanted me in his life and that there would invariably be rough patches along the way. No matter how I looked physically, he always made me feel like the most gorgeous woman in the entire world and the effects of that, contribute greatly to my rather healthy self-esteem today. How many people can say that they are still the best of friends with the person they lost their virginity to? Not many I'd imagine. Honestly, he had quite a lot to do with positively shaping the woman I've become and that makes him a very special person to me. He reminds me that there will always be somebody out there that loves and appreciates me for better or worse. This entry is really a birthday present to him, a dedication that hopefully lets him know just how much he means, and has always meant, to me. No matter what curve balls life throws our way, I know he'll always be in my life and I find great comfort in that. There is nobody on earth quite like him and I'm so glad he found me on that fateful day. I say to him with much love and respect; Happy Birthday B! Thanks for being who you are, for being my dear friend and for finding me.