July 2012
43 posts
1 tag
This week will have:
New tattoo
Productivity at work
The sex
The happiness
Trusting myself
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“We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together...”
– Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
<3.
(via housewifeswag)
Perfect words.
(via bawdylanguage)
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Handprints from two men wave hello to me from my...
I wave hello back, thinking of my two friends, happy that I can barely make out five fingers on each mark, even after 24 hours.
My skin currently looks like a war zone. On top of the ever-present tattoo collection, freckles, and blemishes lies the scars and marks of past deviance. Marks from last night’s flogging, paddling, etc (damn that wet towel!) surely paint purplish-red marks on my...
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Multiple facets of trust.
I’ve started to realize over the last year how important it is that I trust the people with whom I develop relationships. As I’ve started to interact with different types of people, though, I realize that it’s never as simple as telling someone “I trust you.” That statement is always context dependent.
There are people I trust in the context of a BDSM scene, and know...
“When they say “I am my own person,” “I do not need a...”
– David Foster Wallace, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men
“She took a sort of abject pride in her mecilessness toward herself.”
– David Foster Wallace, Brief Interviews With Hideous Men
“Everything I’ve ever let go of had claw marks on it.”
– David Foster Wallace (via existtruly)
Awake.
I stir from a light slumber at the feeling of a hand on my face. My cheek turns toward the slight pressure and I smile. At this signal of awareness, the hand clamps around my throat.
My smile instantly changes to a smirk. Without opening my eyes, I breathe a melodramatic, despondent sigh. The attempt to antagonize succeeds, even more than I predicted. The hand clenches tighter and my eyes fly...
“Cada palavra que me ensinaste repete mil vezes o teu nome.”
– Each word that you’ve taught me repeats your name a thousand times.
José Luís Peixoto
(via wandering-street-radio)
I want calm, peace and quiet from the current state of my life.
I want a wide veranda with a porch swing, or even rocking chairs. A summer night, not too hot or humid, and a gentle breeze which barely ruffles my hair. Moonlight, a few stars. Cicadas and other insects chirping and buzzing. A dog at my feet and a cat prowling in the twilight, periodically rubbing against my legs. A glass of iced...
Tension creeps.
I’ve been struggling with growing tension in my upper back and neck for over a week now. Even frequent stretching can’t prevent the onslaught of tight muscles which inevitably grow into tension headaches, especially when I’m working almost exclusively on my computer, and feeling pressure to step up my professional productivity.
Here are the thoughts which make me click...
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Thank you for courage.
I started blogging from my professional account again. I haven’t posted in years, and I hadn’t ever really posted seriously. The habits into which I’ve fallen for my personal life are slowly but surely permeating my professional life as well…I want to share my thoughts, my perceptions, and my stories, albeit of a slightly different vein, to my work colleagues—many of...
Red flags.
People ask me how it happened when I tell them about my marriage. They wonder at the person I am now, and ask how I found myself in that position. They immediately notice the red flags in my narration, the choices that led me to the union’s inevitable end. Perhaps it’s the way I tell the story.
I wonder what the wasband says about me when he tells his friends. Do his friends point out...
Absent minded professor, indeed.
Today I have:
Walked past my intended destination while thinking about something else.
Stared confused at a door when it wouldn’t open with a push, only to realize I had to turn the handle.
Stood up from a chair, took a step and fell off a small stair.
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On the sources of melancholy.
I’ve been getting a little sad at nights. I understand why; I’m on a week-long trip for work, now nearing its end, and I’m quite exhausted. I’m fed up with being engaged and professional for 14 hours a day, of networking, and mostly, of having to think so fucking hard.
My friend who was murdered a few weeks ago…her birthday was today, which FB was so kind to remind...
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What happens to tears we don't cry?
I spent lots of time in high school and college competing and performing. As a result, I have a special relationship with stress and anxiety. I used to say that I didn’t get nervous. The truth is that I have finely honed my ability to tamp down nervousness until I don’t consciously feel it, either physically or mentally. Perhaps a more honest truth is that I feel my anxiety, but in...
On ambition and a burning desire.
So many brilliant people dedicate themselves to their career, expending enormous amounts of time and energy to work. The rest of society often benefits from these efforts, so it is a noble cause which drives these people’s burning desire to work, work, work.
At some point, however, I hope they realize the value in their personal lives, as well. Avocational interests deserve time and energy....
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My fucks are disappearing.
I’m adding tattoos to more readily visible areas of my body. My filter on Facebook is slowly disintegrating. I’m honest with coworkers and family about my relationships and extracurricular activities (polyamory, fetish events, etc). I strive for an open countenance, and hope that people feel comfortable enough to talk to me about any of these things. All of the fucks I used to give...
Emotional modulation.
There’s static on that channel. I can’t quite make out what’s playing, but I can tell it’s angry. I turn the dial slightly to the left and then right, trying to clarify what I sense, but sharpening the noise only lets me know to avoid it. I try a different station.
Quiet music, soft dulcet tones. It doesn’t last long, as the source must be slightly out of range. The...
I like my silver jewelry tarnished.
I’m comfortable in a house slightly cluttered with unmatched furniture and eclectic knick-knacks.
I prefer my dishes unmatched, cookie jars kitschy, and dishtowels vintage.
I eat crackers slightly stale, pizza room temperature, and drink water from the tap.
I wear socks which clash with my shirt, crazy yet practical shoes, and clothes a bit wrinkled.
I like my hair slightly mussed,...
Canadian Foreskin Awareness Project →
This website is amusing and education. A cause I can really support, and not just because I think foreskin is super fun.
I wish I had been camping tonight.
The lightning was spectacular as I drove home. Not just flashes of light, but bright, white, jagged lines streaking through the sky while simultaneously illuminating the clouds in shades of orange and yellow. A cacophony of sound welcomed my ears as I walked from my car to apartment—insects, frogs, and the distant rumble of thunder. The air weighed heavy on my shoulders with humidity and...