Of note:

Damnit he's gotten into my head. Not gonna let him win. Even with his "you're the only one like me..." routine. Or his evil hint game. Where he basically started to wonder if I was special even though he was older. Aka:

"I know I am (pick a large number between 30 and 40) but still maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"Nothing. It is nothing."

"Okay."

Heh. I really like acting like I don't give a damn. And actually I kind of don't. Because it's all a game and I understand that now.

And yet I can't stop fantasizing about his holding me tight and kissing my neck, trying to ignite my arousal, trying to seduce me, whilst I struggled.

DAMNIT!

I do believe this calls for a post on bondage.

Horriblescopes:

Taurus love horoscope for yesterday:

"It will help you to stick firmly to your inner feeling about a certain relationship, and to refuse to be dissuaded from taking the course of action that you know is best. The current astral configuration indicates you have considered the issue deeply, and are even willing to admit that you could be wrong, yet a persistent hunch has become too overpowering. Listen to what it is telling you."

First ever applicable horoscope. This is an important moment in history. (remember, yesterday Goth guy came crawling back. On his knees. Wow. I can't believe he got on his knees.)

But I know the best course of action was the one I took. Where I said NO. Because I am awesome.

Of note:

Little does the horny bastard know that I too have decided to grow a goatee.

I'm awesome

You won't believe who got down on his knees and apologized to me tonight.

And tried to kiss me. And FAILED. Twice.

"Can I kiss you?"

'No.'

"Just a small one?"

'No.'

"Please?"

'No. No no no no no no no.'

He leans forward.

I lean backward.

My only regret is letting him hug me. And then not being able to escape when he started kissing my neck the way he knows I like it.

But I continued my reign of girl power by pulling away as soon as he let me go and telling him it was no good. I was going to be strong. Goodbye, I said. And then I left.

I AM awesome.

Of note:

I'm so relieved I don't have to see your face on my facebook wall anymore. Huh. I guess I must be getting over you! HUZZAH!!

Redeeming bad habits

Each man, woman and child battles a bad habit.

Thumbsucking. Porn. Smutty romance novels. Smoking. Drinking. Masturbation. Art school. Crack cocaine. Take your pick. The options are limitless. Some are cheap or free, like porn. Some are really expensive. Like smoking. Some will kill you faster than others. Like art school.

But maybe we need bad habits.

I was texting with a friend and in a deep blue funk about my lousy luck with the *other* gender. We argued for some time (amiably) about the making a big deal out of it versus faking improvement while I'm still miserable on the inside and dreaming pathetic dreams of return and revenge in the day and having nightmares about it at night.

She finally concluded that it sounds like I need to start a bad habit.

I said, "I smoke, I drink, I read romances, I masturbate, I go to art school AND I'm vegan. What bad habits are left to redeem me!?"

We decided that crack was too expensive and that I didn't have enough options and just a little less than the required courage for nymphomania, so she suggested porn. It is generally cheap... Or even better, I could run my own site and actually profit from it!

"Does whoring my image count as a bad habit?" I wondered.

Any habit would do. Anything to obsess over that wasn't him. Perhaps he in himself was a bad habit? And what better way to kick one habit than with three others? I managed veganism all in one shot... I didn't have to ween myself off of animal product.

Smoking is something I choose to do, maybe once in a week. Some months I just don't smoke. It's never been a vice. Nor has drinking. But fooling around with some fella? I guess I've found my own personal crack.

I wonder how well me-porn would sell... Do you think I could use pay pal? Hmmmmm.

I could probably use it to support my art school habit.

Of note:

I drank a whole bunch of almond milk yesterday.
Today my lady space smells like almond extract!

Awesome.

The evils of Natural Flavors

I hate those two stupid little words. "Natural. Flavors." A new vegan's worst nightmare.

It's the company's sneaky way of not telling you what's in their product. For all I know, beef bullion is Captain Crunch's secret ingredient. But since it's part of what gives it that unique flavor, it gets stuck under "natural flavors" and I can never be certain.

Unless I call them. And ask. And then I have to argue with customer satisfaction representative after customer satisfaction representative, assuring them that I am not in fact trying to steal away the secret recipe, but just want to make sure it's safe for consumption. Half the time I won't get anything out of them. Why is it so hard to assure somebody that it doesn't have any animal products in it?

They could overpass this whole disaster by just assuring us that it has no animal products according to the unvegan list. OR they could be EXTRA awesome and actually print it at the bottom, under the ingredients list, after the WARNING: MAY CONTAIN SOY OR PEANUTS. Just one little word. VEGAN. Or if they want to look good, VEGAN FRIENDLY.

It doesn't have to be in big words. Just a tiny little word after the list of ingredients. It would make my world twice as awesome.

Unfortunately that's something you don't see anywhere but in natural grocery stores and the like. And let me tell you, I once paid four dollars for a can of pineapples at one of those places. They are FREAKING EXPENSIVE! A jar of vegan mayonnaise can cost you upwards of SIX DOLLARS!!! HOW am I supposed to get my veganaise fix at those prices!?

Ergh. I yearn for a more vegan friendly world. I mean, come on. We're low fat and fat and sugar free friendly, but not VEGAN friendly? Companies are aware of being green and looking out for transfat, but can't be made to care about vegans? It's not hard check your recipe and type out either CONTAINS ANIMAL PRODUCT or VEGAN FRIENDLY.

That's EASY!

Of note:

When your vanilla soy milk burns going down, you know you've added too much whiskey.

Of note:

As one might be able to derive from my last post, goth guy defriended me on facebook. I've been facebook burned.

Facebook

Heh. Facebook etiquette is a complicated, dangerous thing.

The first thing a couple does is extend relationship requests, so they can proclaim their love to all their accquaintences and friends of friends. And as soon as he catches her cheating on him, the relationship status goes from married to single, and a flurry of comments follows. For the bitter, mean facebook friends, it's that one chance to like a status for full villain points before they get defriended.

Ooh. And defriendship. It's petty if the other party hasn't visibly done anything wrong or offended you on facebook chat, and you actually know said other party. If it's someone you randomly friended, it's okay, probably. Unless they're a friend of a friend and ask the friend why. Then it might get awkward.

Defriendship can be the ultimate burn. Say you've been on and off with a fella (or lady) for a while, and finally come to your senses and ignore a phone call, then they might defriend you, just to retaliate. Do not initiate contact after this burn. You must let them simply fade away. They are fishing for a reaction. Do not give in. This would result in your being the more pathetic individual, rather than leaving it at them.

It was a petty move, but if you call to say what the hell or send them a new friend request, then you've lost.

Buuuuut if they send you a friend request once they've realized what they've done, then you win!!

Of note:

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

Fool me three times.... well that was stupid of me....

Fool me four times.... Well NOW I'm just getting desperate. That's pathetic.

But fool me FIVE times? FUCK THAT!

Of note:

Watch me come crashing down like a bird that's hit a window should he come back. Ugh. I hate how resolve never seems to work out in the long run.

Heh. Is it wrong of me, as a vegan, to laugh at the idea of a bird flying into a window?

Silver lining

Well, seeing as I no longer have a really sexy reason to murder my own conscience, I suppose I can start nursing it back to health.

I felt bad doing this, knowing full well that God didn't approve. I mean, I questioned him about it, and I prayed. I always prayed. I actually prayed for goth guy. For God to touch his life. Somehow. Seeing as I wasn't doing a very good job of it.

I love my God. There's never been something that came between me and Him like this. There was never a sin I preferred at the expense of my faith. I always thought, this is wrong and I will not do this or continue doing this. It was always easy to fight.

Not easy to win. But I at least fought.

This time I fought the hardest I ever had. And then I fell. And I felt terrible. Never again, I said. And then I fell again. And again. And soon it wasn't even falling anymore. It was jumping. Sliding in, feet first, eyes wide open. For the first time in my life, I stopped fighting.

The first time he kissed me I was terrified. I'd already decided I didn't want him. He wasn't a Christian. I wasn't so much disappointed as determined to get away cleanly.

And then, when I said I should go, he took my face in his hands and brought my lips to his. And the whole time I was panicking because I didn't want it.

You know, even after all that, I still remember it fondly, somehow. It was my first kiss.

A couple months passed without incident. He smiled at me, he waved, he tried to call a couple times. I didn't answer. I would never let him get in my car because I knew he'd try it again.

He always wanted me to come see a movie at his place with him.

The last night of classes. The night I thought might be the last I'd ever see him. I was decked out. There was a TOP HAT, for goth's sake. I finally I went to his apartment.

He made me dinner. And when I couldn't calm down, he kissed me on the right cheek, then on the left, and then again on the right and told me not to be nervous. And my resolve was melting.

Kiss me here, he said, and pointed to the side of his neck just below his jaw. And I did. Keep going, he said. And I did.

And we went to his bedroom. And I lost my shirt, and bra. And he kissed my breasts and it felt so good. And I didn't even think twice about plying my tongue when he exposed himself. It just came naturally to me.

Yet the whole time I felt an undercurrent of shock and shame and guilt. And afterwords, I told him I would never come back.

I almost went back to him on Christmas eve. But I decided against it. Only just. I was halfway to his apartment before I turned myself around. I still know it was the right decision.

We'd seen each other around the workshop, in the previous semester. That's how we'd met. I just enjoyed his looks until he beckoned me over and held my hand too long when he introduced himself, and told me I had beautiful eyes.

Everything went back to normal. I did not pine or whine. After the first week of my new semester, I had not seen him at all. You can imagine my shock when the next week he walked into one of my classes and sat next to me.

This is going to be an interesting semester, he said.

I said no for weeks. He was so persistent. I told him it was against my faith. He said I could keep my faith. I said I wanted to stay a virgin. He said I could keep that too. I said no. He was hurt. And I was dying inside because I'd never wanted something so much. I ached and deliberated. Would I disobey my God for a taste of this forbidden thing?

I finally said, ok. Let's try this. He was so glad that he pulled me to him and kissed me. So softly.

And then I went to his apartment again, and learned what pleasure could really be. The pants came off and he plied his tongue to my secret places. For a couple weeks everything was wonderful. I was excited and delighted and he was sweet and seductive.

And then he said he couldn't do it. That it'd all been a lie. He didn't care about me at all. I was so hurt. I cried, right there in front of him. After he worked so hard to have me, it was all for nothing. After I deliberated so long about having him, he ditched me on the turn of a dime.

And then the next week, he invited me to his apartment.

Baby's first friend with benefits. I’ve still never been in a real relationship.

But it felt so good, what he did to me, that I didn't care. I was addicted.

Now he’s ditched me again a few weeks later. I'd been hiding it from my parents, after he broke it off the first time. They'd been so disappointed at me for seeing a guy like that. And I cried to them when he hurt me. So I didn't want to further disappoint them.

It's nice to not have him between me and God anymore. Even if it wasn't my choice. Maybe I'll have the strength to tell him off if there's a next time. Maybe I'll see it coming the next time a guy like him starts to throw me for a loop.

I have a chance to be free. The feelings are very slowly dying down inside of me. Hopefully they will be gone and I'll be able to mean it when I say never again.

I will flee temptation. Not run into his arms.

Of note:

When I'm unhappy, my body likes to wake me up extra early so that I can contemplate my misery.

back again back again

It's funny how quickly I reverted to the heart-ache part of my grief cycle.

Last time, I cried for days. I wondered why and fantasized about how to get him back. And then, at last, at long last, I just felt a dull, hollow, massive ache inside of me. It was a horrible feeling. But it was so much better than the first hunk of grief that I was actually relieved.

I'm not as much relieved to feel this again. It's right back where I was when he decided friends with (limited) benefits was an acceptable exchange for a real relationship. And so I was saved from the large empty chambers of my heart. In a sense. Or maybe I just found a way to put off recovering from my hurt.

That's probably not something that should be put off.

Of course I still think, what could I have done to stop this?

The answer? Maybe nothing. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned when I didn't cum. Maybe I should have mentioned it while we were still naked. Maybe I should have taken more initiative throughout the whole thing.

But all that doesn't really matter now, does it?

I've lost the pleasure that was helping me to fill the empty chambers, and now the silence is ringing in my ears. My own voice doesn't echo in the void like his did.

Of note:

UTI: Universal Technical Institute or Urinary Tract Infection?

The worst part was telling my mother I didn't know why I was crying. I was so glad I fessed up. Of course she'd known. She's a mom. They're psychic.

He can't come back. He just can't. I hope, I hope, I hope that he doesn't. Everyone thinks he will. I suck at telling this guy no. He controls me, manipulates me. He can't. He can't do that. I can't take it. Please. He can't.

Dear Goth Guy

I'm very tired of being treated like a child. I do not have an Oedipus complex. You were the one that treated me like a child. So it is YOU who is the pedophile, rather than me the Oedipus.

I'm sure it's a good thing that you've dumped me again. Maybe this time it will be permanent. YOU're the one that didn't make ME cum, you monster.

How did we get from my first butt sex to scanners to my trying to tell you how I didn't cum to you breaking it off with me to you kicking me out of your apartment? We weren't even dating!!

Look, you aren't always the victim. You really do try to make yourself seem that way. "I'm so sensitive..." "I don't mean to seem rude..." "I don't want to hurt anyone which is why I..."

You are the villain. Stop pretending. You're the bad guy, goth guy.

I'm so glad you didn't make me cry this time. There's almost tears at the moment. But those will pass.

It's funny how you were just talking my ear off about women deserving respect, and women getting what they deserve. Please don't give me the chance to throw that back in your face. Don't come back. I'll miss you, but frankly your not making me cum really did help.

I was addicted to you.

Hopefully now you'll leave me alone and I can be free.

To cry. And be alone. And have no one to lust after my body and touch me in all the beautiful ways that I love. And to continue on into my twenties, diving into my art career and resurfacing in a decade, unhappy.

Of note:

Oh. And apparently google betrayed me. My doctor says my hymen really is kaput. I never even felt it. Probably broke it with a tampon. Then any and all blood would have blended in with the rest... It should have been right inside the lip. Seriously, I feel bad for the girls that have to have it intact the first time they bang their husbands. What if they really are a virgin, but broke it with athletics or a tampon? Poor girls.

Of note:

Alternative to lolcats:
















wtfcat says,

"I HAZ A YEAST INFEKTUN!!"

The great divorce

I'm not finished reading it, but it's the most intense short read I've ever read.

The Great Divorce is a book written by C. S. Lewis (think Chronicals of Narnia, you masses of illiterate monsters). It's a story of a trip from hell to heaven, I think.

Hell is a grey city where you live forever, and can have anything and everything that you imagine, materially. People imagine massive, beautiful mansions. They start philosophy clubs and art groups.

And they argue. They always argue. They don't seem interested in peace. Or in heaven. They aren't happy, but it seems like they don't want to be. They just want to complain about their unhappiness or contemplate the existence of joy without actually having any joy of their own. They don't think they need God.

I know that I am probably ruining this as I describe it. Please, please read it. It's a really short book. And the imagery is lovely. You can really see the city. The people in it are easy to see.

In this book hell is a state of mind whilst heaven is the realest of places. Heaven is based on fact and reality, a beautiful reality, while hell is just whatever people can imagine it to be. People there are limited by their own minds.

Here is the paragraph that has made me reflect upon my own life the most:

"Ink and catgut and paint were necessary down there, but they are also dangerous stimulants. Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from love of the thing he tells, to love of the telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about Him. For it doesn't stop at being interested in paint, you know. They sink lower-- become interested in their own personalities and then in nothing but their own reputations."

Scary. Am I there yet? Am I only interested in paint? Or have I sunk to the pride in my own reputation already?

No longer. I will take up showing what I love again. Telling stories for the truths behind them. Painting pictures for the feelings that they shadow. Learning about my God for the need to know him, rather than the image of one who knows Him.

Of note:

hate doctors. hatedoctorshatedoctorshatedoctors.

Apparently my mass in my arm is a fat pad. It'll go away with weight loss and exercise. Ironically I've lost twenty pounds since it appeared, and it's only gotten bigger. Oh. And I need yogurt.

I am sick of having lady issues.

Of note:

I find myself wondering if my electric blanket will burst into flames if I set it at the hottest number for long enough. This is of course a ridiculous thing to think, seeing as it was 85 degrees in tucson today. I don't NEED my blanket to burst into flames. It's plenty warm already.

But still. I wonder.

Horriblescopes:

Taurus love horoscope for today:

"The present planetary alignment could sweeten your day considerably when you are invited out for a meal with someone elegant and well informed. This is just the way that you like to spend time: wining and dining in the company of one who is delicious to look at, and who also has a lot of influence. Even better news: you will find them extremely likeable, as well. Enjoy your lunch."

I had lunch at my grandparents' house.

Horoscope fail.

Faith

Yesterday at work, as a man left the computer lab, he told us to have a nice weekend, and to not let anyone push us into believing that Easter was a big religious day. I kind of wanted to strangle him with a piano wire for trying to push us into believing that it WASN'T. Is that unChristian of me?

To be fair, easter didn't get its start as a Christian holiday. But I really don't think that jerk was planning on going home and worshiping the hare as a symbol of fertility, and dying eggs to represent new life.

But that IS still religious, isn't it? Just not Christian. Easter was a pagan holiday first. Paganists are not athiests. Generally they're polytheists, actually.

Easter was a pagan holiday on which fertility and new life was celebrated. Hence the bunny (for fertility) and the eggs (new life). "Eastre" was the goddess of spring. I suppose it's just as good a time to celebrate the resurrection.

Spell THAT five times and tell me if that still looks like it's spelled right.... resurrection. resurrection. resurrection. resurrection. resurrection.

I should probably mention that I do appreciate the resurrection... I do. I wish I could feel stronger about it. I don't get warm fuzzies when I remember how my God died for me. It's all I've ever known. Jesus died for you. Jesus died for you. Jesus died for you. You hear it enough, it becomes something that you take for granted.

Like if I were to become a millionair. You're rich! You're rich! You're rich! Eventually it's not all that special any more. I feel terrible saying that. Of course it's still special. But maybe I just don't feel it the way I once did. Does that make it mean any less?

I know the meaning of what my Christ did for me cannot be diminished. It will always hold its power. He will always hold up his side of the deal. But will my heart forget why it matters? And will that somehow make my end of the deal void? By taking Christ's death and resurrection for granted, can I lose him?

Also, First Easter without peeps. (think: gelatin. + vegan. = no go.) My world is imploding.

Pot Brownies

Every workplace has at least one anal, uptight worker. Mine is no different. This coworker of mine has told me off many times. She has wire spectacles which make her glares all the more severe. She doesn't smile very often. I'm always nervous working with her because I don't want to get told off again.

For the longest time I hated her. Avoided her. Checked to see which days I was working with her so I could mentally prepare myself. After a while I grew to accept her anal-ness, and always greeted her with a smile. On occasion she returns it. Still. Pretty anal.

Today my whole opinion of her changed.

I made brownies (vegan brownies) last night JUST so I could lick the batter off the spoon. The batter was delicious, but at the end of the night I had a batch of delicious brownies that I didn't really feel like eating.

So I took them to work. I like feeding my coworkers. It makes them like me better, and I feel like my chances of getting fired or laid off are much less when the boss likes my cookies. (heh. no, not THOSE cookies. The delicious peanut butter/potato chip cookies. (DON'T JUDGE until you have TASTED!))

Anyway, my anal coworker asked if there was pot in the brownies. Come again? But the best was yet to come.

I laughed (nervously. like I said she makes me nervous) and assured her there was no pot in the brownies. Then she regaled me with a tale from her youth.

When she was a young twenty-something, she had several up-tight, prudish older women for coworkers. And one day she baked them brownies. With pot in them. They just loooved those brownies, she said. And had no idea they were high. "It was so funny!" she told me.

My mouth hung agape for a while before I started laughing. If I were like her at that age, she'd be the uptight coworker I'd feed pot to.

And the world will never be the same to me, and I will never look at her the same way again. She is now the most awesome person I know.

Of note:

My friend is writing a public service announcement about vegans. >.<