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Living in the whirlwind. Here's the change, the chaos, in which I ride like a cork. Even corks get sucked under, you know, but we pop up pretty quick when we're released.

I trust myself to pop up pretty quick when released. I'm still learning, but becoming better, at knowing what triggers that release. Funny how it's the same litany it always was: creation, intimacy of mind and body, assurance, love, home, connecting with my own body and with nature and with my thoughts.

So many things are forefront in my mind that they're getting lost. I don't want to start writing things down yet -- more paper, more to manage -- but shortly I'll have to.

Househunting is taking a tremendous amount of my motive power: either to do, or to procrastinate on, it takes the same energy. I build dream castles in the sky that come crashing down, I second-guess myself, it's not necessarily the prettiest scene but it's started rolling some. I need to go to the well pretty often to keep up with it.

Tenay is the well right now. She listens, she shares back in kind, she is snuggles and sex and approval in ways that leave me totally unconflicted about my interactions with her. It's pretty great.

It's important for me not to draw too hard on any one of my relationships to support any others. I don't like the idea of being in a relationship that's dependent on any of the other ones remaining the same; what happens then when things change? Does everything collapse? It has in the past.

So I'm thinking a lot about my relationship with Dave. I'm thinking a lot about this often-supportive, occasionally blindingly thoughtless, no-promises, somewhat ashamed of me, encouraging, sweet, sometimes surprisingly responsive, insightful, kind, steady and rather unruddered person I'm starting to have old relationship feelings about. I'm wondering whether it's a net drain or a net benefit. I poke at it a lot, and yes, I've initiated some self-examination on his part, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. What are we offering each other? Is it worth it? Short term? Long term? Should I be spending all this time and energy I use thinking about it on something else? Should I stomp out the fire and go searching for more appropriate tinder? I don't know. As Tenay reminded me, I'm acting on incomplete information right now. I'm looking forward to getting that information and going on with my life, whatever that looks like.

I'm also looking forward to getting through the waiting list for counseling and seeing if maybe I can find a good fit to talk about this stuff with. My boundary issues finally identified as issues, I'm eager to fix them up.

UBC, the giant machine into which I'm trying to cast myself, is also taking some time to get back to me. At least I can backburner that without worrying too much.

Yoga is fabulous but the difficulty of it is wearing off as my body adapts. Infuriatingly this doesn't mean I can do it better, it just means I get less exercise high and my butt is disappearing. I'm pretty much halfway through the 75-day commitment I made and it's starting to take more willpower to get there, what with less endorphin payoff and my desire to, you know, do things with folks sometimes. Still, I'll make it to the end, it's helping keep me engaged in my body, and by the time I'm done I'll be moved and onto my bike.

I've been ultra flirty lately, and strongly desirous of a new lover/playmate/more spark in my life. I have a couple flirtations that can't go anywhere, so I figure it's time to go out and start seeking folks. Seeking nonmonogamous kinky compatible folks, taking a pass on anyone who isn't actively involved in a compatible flavour of poly already. There are a couple avenues for this I suppose I should explore, but I am somewhat disincentivized by the work involved. So much work. Who knows if the payoff will be worth it? That said, I'm definitely nosing around and should do so in a more organized way to get what I want.

Valentine's day brought a ton of relationship articles from the woodwork. I am meditating on this passage
This person cannot handle sacrifice or compromise. She believes her needs and desires and opinions are simply more important than her partner’s, and she needs to get her way in almost any big decision. In the end, she doesn’t want a legitimate partnership, she wants to keep her single life and have someone there to keep her company.

This person inevitably ends up with at best a super easy-going person, and at worst, a pushover with a self-esteem issue, and sacrifices a chance to be part of a team of equals, almost certainly limiting the potential quality of her marriage.
from http://waitbutwhy.com/2014/02/pick-life-partner.html

Is this me? Is this a problem? I guess I still have trouble fighting off all that internalized polyphobia. I know poly is something I need. All evidence suggests it. But it's hard to remember that I'm legitimately allowed that need and allowed to choose relationships that fit it, instead of thinking that I should just compromise on it and then everything would be fine. It would not be fine. I would be, have been, and am a shitty monogamous mate over the long term.

To complicate everything a little further, my brother is staying with me. I ultra love him, it'll be good to spend time with him and have conversations with him, but... I need to wear clothes in my house, and not use loud vibrators or have loud sex, and I have to use roommate skills like self-checking frequently and knowing when and how to ask for alone time etc.

Plus, the friends group is drifting away a little bit, yoga is getting in the way of some socializing, there's no core of souls to hook my own onto. That's not awful or traumatic but it is different. I can see into a future where I leave Vancouver as gently as a dandelion seed in a slight breeze, nothing holding me here anymore.

Who ever knew, ten or twenty years ago, that all this could be? I never would have guessed. On the whole I'm happy with it, with myself and how I navigate my choices.

Enough of this update. Be well.
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Emotional pain is icicles to the chest, full speed. It's almost cold enough to be numb, not quite, and invasive in a way that doesn't quite allow the lungs to function. It's a dull but sudden pressure, the weight of everything in the world squeezing but with no sharp edges to bring even the relief of brightness to pain.

My pain tonight is not my own. It's carried, remembered, empathized, siphoned ritualistically from those around me who hurt as if by taking their pain on I could lessen the feeling of it.

I suppose it never has worked that way, has it? Thirty two years and I'm still learning. I'll give their pain back to them, then, and tell you about my joy and my trepidation, because that's where my own life is right now. Not borrowed, but real.

I keep doing yoga. I am not moving yet. I do yoga nearly every day, and while it's not as heavy labour as bike commuting or proper landscaping it helps me a great deal. Every time it's a deliberate interaction with my body. Every time I leave seated better within myself.

It's not a linear workout progression -- are bodies ever linear? -- but it affords opportunities for practice, for improvement, for small goals within big ones. It works well for me. It demands that I listen to my body. That, too, works well for me. I always need practice listening to myself, to know what I want, what I need, what I do not want, what I must hold firmly at arm's length.

I also keep brewing. Yoga is a ritual that focuses me on the here-and-now, on what I need and can do in the moment. Brewing reminds me of my pagan ritual experiences in exactly the opposite direction: it's a set of actions planned and executed with intention for the future. I brew crazily, artsily, a backbone of research occasionally making up for my intense lack of experience. I brew like I always imagined I would paint or sing if I did those things: to capture a thought or a feeling or a mood and carry it forward to share with people. I don't expect it to be received in such a way, but it comes from that same creative place. Really what I do is more about process than the result. It's too early yet to know how my results will be.

I've brewed an apple mead that's thick and sweet like sunlight at the end of August when it just starts to go gold. I've brewed a juniper apple wine that's resinous and clean like sitting on the rock slope of a mountain where the air starts to thin and looking far down and below to the ocean. And now I've brewed a barleywine that is thick and dark and bitter like strong coffee with a little sugar, like the days right after solstice where you have to go through the darkness again to get out but viburnum and witch hazel promise that spring will come.

I have rose petals for a mead (this one following a recipe, I have had it and it's truthfully like this) that's fragrant and warm and sweet like the sleepy press of a bedmate's skin in the morning, the sensation of intimacy before any pressure from the day forces motion and thought.

So as you can see, I'm enjoying this.

I am enjoying friends, a little distant from them as my life settles into its rhythms. No one, or very few people, match me: I wake up in the morning, I go to bed in the evening, I am not awake in the late evening or the night. If my schedule is an insurmountable obstacle for someone in my life, they drift out of my life for awhile.

I am enjoying my lovers, leaning especially deeply into my connection to Dave to explore it as greedily as my life and his will allow and gently letting time with Tenay unfold as it wants to. My body stays hungry for touch most of the time, definitely also for sex, but my appetite is picky and my time and energy are limited. I'm not sure I remember a time when physical affection has been so scarce on the ground for me. It's an interesting feeling, and not as bad as the complications that can arise when I try to banish it by any means necessary. I am, therefore, practicing patience.

And I'm practicing impatience in my career, exploring my intention towards school and enjoying the uncertainty and trepidation that come with it. It will be good to have a challenge again, I think. I'm always best when I have my teeth sunk into something.

For now I need to shower, still, after yoga, and to eat. Be well, lovelies. Less of the pain to you, and more of the joy.

Grown-Up

Apr. 13th, 2011 10:40 pm
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Going to bed alone.

It's less luxurious when you'll be woken at some random time after 1am by someone coming in in an indeterminate frame of mind, smelling like a stranger, and you need to get back to sleep again because you have a 9am meeting.

It's more luxurious when it's your own goddamn bed and you lock the door and you're the only one with the key, but hey.

There are tons of great places for rent. I'm... torn. I could start viewing in my copious free time (did I mention I don't have days off anymore?) but then if I liked something I'd likely have a month overlap and that's $$$, plus I'd be moving soon, which is a hassle I may not have time for.

Gah. What to do.

In other news, reaffirmed the you-don't-love-me-but-I-love-you status I have with Michael the other night. Just a warning, if you've dated me you should stop reading at this point, but:

why can I not meet someone who can make their own life so interesting that they give a fuck about it, can support themselves like a grown-up, and actually cares about me? I mean, seriously.

On the other hand I'm playing in a garden full of friends right now. Paul is in town, Michael is neat and soothing, Andrew is reliable (rarest of traits!), other people who I like and who are sweet to me stick their noses into my life to offer nice things from time to time. Kynnin didn't even wait six months before seeing if we could find time to connect this time! I may hang out with people from school outside of school!

Physical things are receding. My sex drive has almost completely shut down; my ability to playfully have sex certainly has. I don't have the money/time matrix to eat particularly well and tastily, and I hardly notice how my food tastes most of the time. I'm biking again, to and from school (it's about 20k per day, that's just about an hour of riding all told) which is lovely but probably the least physical exercise I can do. I am touched seldom enough that the instinct is burying itself and touching people feels a little foreign. I am never naked except in bed, mostly because I am never home except in bed.

This is an impoverished existence in many ways. So many of the things I value are absent. Independence burgeons, though, self-reliance and pleasure in my own companionship rise up. My shell is forming, smooth and seamless against the world. I think some people are entombed halfway through it, half in and half out, and I can go to the edge and visit them there, but no one is within it.

I am grown-up, single in the sense of one entity complete in itself. Don't think this means I'm not sometimes lonely, or tired, or needy: there's just no face in that void.

I don't know what else to tell you tonight. I want to write a lot more than I do, but I'm never in front of a keyboard with enough privacy, energy, and lack of school deadlines.

Pretty much every word in here is lonely in some way, said when I don't have a person to speak to, when there's no one who can just listen and understand. This is no different, typed at night in an empty house to avoid bed.

Oh, enough of this. Goodnight.
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Today was all about my bike. I headed to work on it, nervously-- I'm always nervous for the first few months of road riding (if you're all endorphined up, you may well type 'nervous for the first few' as merely 'new' and not notice for a moment or two because things move really /fast/). Riding a bike in traffic is dangerous, I haven't done it much at all in almost a year. It's even more dangerous when you're going downtown only an hour before rush hour, they've changed the bike baths and routine, and you don't know exactly which way you're going.

There was a little bit of annoying, but in general everything was fantastic. And when I say that, I mean really fantastic. I got to work and worked through my half-day, leaving the bike in a hotel in which I work because I'm terrified of it getting stolen, then I met up with Brendan and Paul and we went for lunch and then Paul and I took off on our bike adventure.

Now first, Brendan and Paul are good friends, and both have something I recognise as a sense of humour-- not entirely a common occurrence. Brendan is also an urban planner, and as such shares as certain awareness of cities and the planting thereof as I do-- he's more likely to be aware of architectural details and history, but he can also appreciate poor plant placement &c. He's one of the very few people I can "geek out over street trees" with, to use his term, and we also share a similar level of cynicism about urban systems and sustainability. Paul is Paul, has done a fair amount of environmental planning work in his life, has some environmental background, is mostly about the people side of the equation but is absolutely someone I can talk to as an equal about this sort of thing, and I respect his greater knowledge in some areas (as in I ask questions and expect good answers).

So lunch was great. And biking was great even though my tyres were pretty damn flat going around the park-- with that and the headwind it felt like uphill most of the way. When I finally had air in them again it was like flying-- that was after going around the park, when we stopped for creampuffs (we each ate 4, if Paul incites me to be a hooligan I'll damn well incite him to be a hedonist) and to start a wonderful discussion on evolution. Paul made an argument for some pretty extreme mass extinctions in the world of Avatar, and we kind of took it through snowball earth hypothesis and through the largest organism in the world (populus sp vs fungus) from there while we biked around Yaletown and up home.

I have to admit, keeping up with Paul on the bike took some doing. I absolutely had more speed on the flats than he did, but I'm still working on getting the new gear shift system on my bike down (if you shift the wrong way when you're going uphill, sometimes you just gotta get off and walk up the hill like an idiot), my tyres were pretty bad, and-- Paul spent a lot of the last year biking in Nepal, so any time we were in traffic he was at an advantage. I hate riding on sidewalks, switching at will from pedestrian to vehicle traffic and back (well, I love it, but I don't like to do it, on the principle that it pisses people off) but he was the supreme master of that kind of element. It was a joy to watch him and a terror to follow.

All told I was on the bike for maybe three hours or a little more today. I feel great. Now, I love biking-- I absolutely adore the feeling, like flying, like a fish in water. There's something about the way the world feels on wheels, and especially the way the weight and heft of my new bike sits between my thighs so that I steer with little shifts of weight without even thinking about it, so the bike just goes where I want it to, that is kind of transcendent. I feel neither like I'm being carried nor like I'm one with the bike, but instead there's a synergy of two organisms. Together me and the bike are more than the sum of our parts. And it's fun, it's a game the bike and I play together to go fast and play with precision of placement and just everything --I love biking, but afterwards is just as wonderful. When my body is well-used, when I push it and it listens, just living in my flesh feels like the part of a song where the choir suddenly soars out of a hush of background hubbub. Right now every bit of my body is singing to me.

Yeah, there are endorphins going on. Obviously I'm having a very good afternoon for many reasons. In addition to the mental glow, though, I just love the way my body feels.

In conclusion, I like biking and intend to keep doing it. Today was both a gift (you know who you are) and an awakened memory. I am reassured that no, I'm not just dicking around with this, I love it, and I can do it a bunch-- and I will. And now, I will go play Home by the Magnetic Zeroes over and over, and perhaps scrape some of this sweat off me.
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It's morning. I've done a couple of hours of dishes; have another one left. Laundry needs to go in. Music is playing; Angus just left a couple of hours ago for the weekend.

I'm savouring having space to myself. When I'm alone in my home something in me unfolds to fill every bit of airspace, no matter what I'm doing. It's not a matter of who's in the space, or what they're doing, or what I'm doing. It's not a matter of relaxing, or anything really.

It's been quite awhile since I had this space last. I'm supposed to be meeting up with Derek for breakfast and then Lee for the rest of the day; I was really wanting to go to Wreck Beach Butoh. Now, though- here I am, and I am reluctant to leave. I will get bored of housework after a couple of hours, and I would regret missing out on Derek's company, but...

And the house really is a mess. A little less so now, but it's bad enough to really bug me when I'm in the space. There's all this stuff we haven't got around to finding permanent homes for or just throwing out; there's stuff that needs to go up on walls that hasn't been put there; there's random shit lying around (why is there a length of rope in the middle of the dining room floor? How about all those empty cardboard boxes? Garlic on the sidetable? Seriously). I have a tendency towards nesting-- accumulating a pile of books and interesting objects near places I sit a lot --but when things spill out beyond those little clumps it bugs me.

Oh well.

Yesterday I really pushed it; nine and a half hours at work, and when Angus and I were wandering around looking for dinner afterwards my knees and hips just-- started hurting. Aching, grinding, I don't know; this hasn't happened to me before. We limped home, today my hips are okay for the bit of standing I did but the bottoms of my feet feel raw, like the first day of walking barefoot in the summer does to them, but I wasn't barefoot. This seems to be a prescription for more sleep and less play, but I'm not so happy with that. Summer is playtime. I have been fitting in an awful lot of stuff; I will continue to do so. Really I do need to remember to try to get a day off work, or maybe it will rain sometime for me.

I forget every year that plantwork is like this, or maybe I just don't believe it will get to that point; it's slow and easy for the longest time, then suddenly you could work sunrise to sunset every day and there would never be enough time. After a bit, as suddenly as it came, the rush is gone and you start frowning at your paycheques again instead of at your free time.

I like it; variety is important to me. I don't do a thing well if it's not variable in hours and content both. Still, the reason it works is _because_ it keeps me jumping, and because it's not entirely comfortable.

Bodyfeel

May. 2nd, 2010 11:02 am
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TS Eliot put a few words next to each other which keep sticking in my head. He was writing to his wife when he said, 'to whom do I owe this leaping delight' but that phrase stuck with me, and it rings through my head on days like these over and over.

Leaping delight is what I feel. My shoulder muscles are tired-- they've done very unusual things lately, from unusual directions. The tops of my shoulders were especially stiff and exhausted last night, and I slept lots. This morning carrying a bag a block takes those shoulder muscles past wooden feeling into that thin tight metallic feeling of intense exhaustion, and I am aware of muscles I don't normally notice. I am really sad that it's over-- I want to hook those balls up again and feel them pulling against my flesh in that crazy predictable dance with momentum and gravity.

I'm in my center. I like it here, I like being here, and here I am.

Gonna heal astoundingly fast, piercing wounds, even 11gauge, are tiny. Not sick anymore, and will stay that way if I sleep tonight. Couple hours' work and couple hours' snuggling on the agenda today, so it shouldn't be too hard.

Off to work in the rain now. Be well.

Body/Head

Mar. 24th, 2010 10:46 pm
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So I've spent the last two months in my head, more-or-less. There have been a couple reasons for this. Some of them have to do with work, especially doing graveyards when I had to deliberately disregard anything my body was telling me. Others have to do with sex, or more specifically with desire and the way that pulled me out of the here-and-now in this particular case. Some of it has to do with stress, and with the way power dynamics operate for me. I'd bet the new phone has something to do with it too.

Tonight I got put back in my body. I'm gonna describe it a bit under a cut, and then ramble on for awhile.Read more... )

So there I am walking home and I am noticing the air particularly around my legs. It feels like rain. It's a little chilly. It's not quite cold enough to worry about, so my body is vibrating between being cold and comfortable, poised to do something-- either to settle or to be uncomfortable with the temperature --and I am particularly aware of the distinction between the inside of my body and the outside. My skin is, all over my body, a very particular sensing membrane that is the limit of my body. It's not just where my awareness ends; it's a thing in itself.

That was nice.

Here's a freewrite, fifteen mins, not supposed to make sense.
Read more... )
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My interaction with my body (interaction implies a separate entity?) has changed a lot over my lifetime. I've learned what it's not good at, and more surprisingly to me that it is good at a bunch of things, and that it can do things I really like-- and it does things I really like better if I take care of it in various ways.

I've learned that my mental health is absolutely completely directly linked to what I put in my body and what I do with my body in a strange synergistic link with my situation. If I am biking to work most days, I will be so happy and so confident that I can deal my way through anything and even smile through most of it. If I keep gradually increasing the amount of exercise I do, I keep happiest (this begs the question of what happens when I run out of time to keep increasing exercise in).

If I don't sleep enough, I start proactively cancelling things because I become afraid I won't have enough energy to do them, and then I exercise less because I cancel things, and it all goes downhill.

If I eat bad stuff (greasy junky sugary stuff) but also eat good stuff (veggies and fruits) I'm okay but slowed down, though the longer I do it for the more I slow down. If I eat only good stuff, I'm good. If I eat only bad stuff (because I'm busy and trying to eat on the flu) I slow down pretty quickly, feel sluggish, and start to worry again.

Some things my body loves to do. I could bike forever if I took some breaks to eat and five minute breathers. At the end of nearly every bike ride I think, 'I could keep going...'

Some things my body hates to do. There are certain kinds of spatial/physical coordination I just can't get. I spent nearly 200 hours trying to learn three-ball juggling from someone who's good at it, and didn't manage it. Anything that involves calculating trajectories outside of the plane of my vision when I'm in glasses just won't happen (I think my brain didn't develop that, since I grew up in glasses).

So I love dancing. I love biking. I used to love sex in this way, but I've become super picky lately about my partners and so I'd say I do it less for the fact that I am good at it than that -we- are so good together.

And I took my first hooping class on Wednesday, and I loved it! The time was over super quickly, I was sweaty but not tired, I'm a little sore two days later but not badly, and I wish I had time away from moving to do it again. Christa also managed to teach me spatial stuff in a way I could comprehend. It was an intensely meditative experience for me, practice being aware of my body (one thing I've traded lately in exchange for greater strength and endurance is the ability to back off a little on my body's signals- sustained muscular effort no longer reads as low level pain, but maybe the volume was just up too high before, though there are also a lot of tricks to learning to use less effort effectively that I'm picking up)

Also, I am happy and still in love.
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First:

Marriage

Years later they find themselves talking
about chances, moments when their lives
might have swerved off
for the smallest reason.
What if
I hadn’t phoned, he says, that morning?
Read more... )And in the morning
I also knew it was you, but I just
answered the phone
the way anyone
answers a phone when it starts to ring,
not thinking you have a choice.

Lawrence Raab

There's something I haven't been telling you. I've been busy this week -- it's been a lovely, lovely week and I've worked hard so my body's remuscled all over. I've biked to the rubber-leg point (I've never been there before-- felt like my thighs are sheathed in fire, felt bowling balls in my calves, or weak, but never before like my bones bent ever-so-gently like stiff rubber with each pedal push. My commute home is a half-hour of uphill) and loved it. I've carried one or two cubic yards of soil up a very steep slope in buckets, dodging old shrubs and keeping my balance. I've helped disassemble, move, and rebuild two lock-block retaining walls (I've never used lock blocks before, they're easy enough that a retarded kindergardener could put them together).

I've ditched my bus pass, and may buy some more bus tickets, but not right now. So, all my commuting will be more-or-less on the bike. I want it to snow so I have an excuse to get snow tires for my baby. She's in the shop right now after a gear-shift exploded; when she comes home I'm going to take my auxillary bike apart down to the frame and put it back together to learn how. Whee!

I've been snowed on. I've watched Angus start to grow into himself, to begin to feel the personal power that we all have over ourselves and our actions but never seem to know about for the longest time. He's just beginning to be confident in his own decisions, to challenge the world around him when he knows he should, and it's beautiful. I've been looking forward to this since I hooked up with him. Perhaps because of the exercise I've felt re-empowered myself. I've discovered all sorts of cousins, bought a gift that would have had me shaking in my shoes to contemplate two years ago, and begun to win a fight with bronchitis.

I've learned that my dad is dead.

Realise I haven't seen my dad since I was two or something. My rediscovered family includes a relatively eccentric bunch of people ('colourful characters' was a term invented for us). I'm breaking down into incoherency now because I have no idea how to say this, or what to say. My cousin told me the news, and it hurt like crazy for about two seconds, and now I don't know what I feel. I usually take my griefs and drag them away from the incident into the safe space of the future where I can mourn them and lick any wounds they inflict. I don't know if I'm sad or if I'm just... I don't know. I have to tell mom, but she's sick right now and I want to tell her face to face. I don't know if she'll care or not. I don't, you see, know anything.

My dad has always been a black hole. There have been a couple stories from mom, now a couple contradictory stories from my newly discovered and quite eccentric uncle, and a few stories from my cousin from when she was small. I have a couple of pictures of him (I could get a picture of him from when he was older, one that's not twenty-seven years old!) and a necklace that used to be his and I saw the weddign ring that was his and mom's once but I think it's lost (I wanted to keep it so badly when I discovered it, and now who knows where it is?). Now there's no way of knowing what he was like. My family wants me to like them, they want to justify themselves to themselves -- on both sides -- and so the stories will come out the way all of our experiences come out, slanted as to other people's thoughts and feelings and even behaviours. I'll never know my dad, never see when he smiles or what his eyes look like when he does or when he particularly doesn't. I'll never know what kind of a hugger he is.

Apparently nudism runs in my family.

I think so does fear of abandonment. And so does abandonment. And so does abuse.

I have no regrets whatsoever about being raised by my mom. I may have some regrets about my step-dad, but more for my brothers' sake than for my own; I think I can heal from any wounds I received. Hell, I talk to Angus about financial stuff easily now -- the first time I talked to Chris about money I could barely speak I was crying so hard, it felt so shameful -- and I've tromped my abandonment stuff down to a couple of days per month.

I do have regrets about the information black-hole I have, about never being able to meet my father, about never having told him I loved him.

So.

Wandering

Oct. 4th, 2008 06:07 pm
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It's a rainy Saturday, thunder showers a possibility for tonight, with the likelihood of a rainy Sunday tomorrow. I'm cozy in a blanket after doing a couple of hours' work today, full of sushi and snuggled some. I'd like to be doing some reading for class, but my mind is a million miles away.

I dreamed last night. I don't remember what.

It's been a relatively hardcore couple of days. Yesterday I biked out to lower Kits, picked up the work tools (including a long rake and broom, and some relatively heavy hedgers) and biked up to south Granville to do some hedging for work. That's about 24 kilometers of biking in the rain, the second half of the ride uphill with maybe thirty extra pounds of tools on the bike. I love biking in the rain, you know? I also headed to KMM with my homemade ginger beer, forsaking the usual gin and tonics in favour of my own stuff. Felt kind of awesome.

Then there was the working in the rain, and covering for my co-worker with extra hours.

It's funny, with work and play I did maybe 30k of biking yesterday all told - I just couldn't climb on a bus, I've been getting carsick on them and they're just no fun - but the sorest bit of me today was my arms, from doing the boxwood hedge shearing, and when I popped on the bike to grab sushi I was neither sore nor tired. I'm starting to feel like I belong more in the 'athletic' box than the 'average' box, and I like the feeling. The way I see it, the 'normal' box is where, when you want to do something physical, one of your primary considerations is how strenuous it is. The 'athletic' box is where you don't normally have to worry about that sport of thing, at least for a one-day activity. Bike all day? Sure. I'd have to take a couple of breaks, but my body has it in me to do.

It's also getting easier for me to miss meals without dying. That's very appreciated.
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Okay, a bunch of people have asked me what happened to my face lately. Short answer: I seem to have caught cold sores from Angus.

Unsurprising, cause I spent a bunch of time kidding him when he had one. I'd never had any before him. I was aware of the risks, was very careful to avoid exposure anywhere else on my body, and here we go. Am I happy about it? No. It means that when I have the sores I won't casually share cups and I won't perform oral sex and I won't kiss anyone (except maybe Angus, or something about someone super long-term, but I'm not really in the mood to pass this on in the manner I received it). Both these things really suck. Am I regretful of my decision to be hardcore exposed? Well, I wish now I'd made it differently, but with the info I had at the time it was the right one. Ya live, ya learn.

I realise there's also a very small chance that I'm contagious even when there's no sore visible and when I can't feel one coming on.

It doesn't hurt, but it's bloody annoying, and it looks fucking awful. The worst part is earlier on, when it weeps.

I'm really tired, I found the perfect place to live if only I can get it (unlikely because it's cheap and I was in a horde) and I got a good backrub and some companionship and snuggles in the last two days.

I really hope my face doesn't scar. This is a pretty big absence of skin.
greenstorm: (Default)
This remains an uncomfortable space in which to write. I feel like my elbows will poke people, like my words won't ring. Ignoring that, I'm going to write in an attempt to take back space. I will allow myself to be personal again, and I'll remember that anyone who doesn't wish to read only needs to stop going out of their way to be here.

Talkin yourself out of a tree, Greenie? It may work.

My life continues, love poetry aside. It's got the same elements, mostly, though with the new year I've shrugged my shoulders a little bit and the old skin is beginning to crack a touch. With the new year something new will be born, as is the case with every new year in my life.

I'm feeling impatient, ready to shed constraints. I'm moving from the old place, where I took what was easy, to a place where I'm going after things I want that require effort. I read a post today about someone's distinction between daydream-type dreams and goal-type dreams. He mentioned that he had more of the latter nowadays. I'm in the same sort of boat. I'm ready to say "I want" to things in my life that I might fail at and that'll knock me around a little.

Since I'm done having relationships knock me around emotionally, and I'm done knocking my feet out from under myself in terms of work, it's time. I need something to give me some bruises, no?

This little jaunt into retail has reminded me that it really is important to me to make money -- not a ton, but enough, and doing something that I can be intellectually or spiritually absorbed in. I'd like to sharpen my mind again because it's dulling. I'd like to make enough money to take some more classes and I'd like enough money and/or job security to have kids in three or four years. So that's work.

I need a home to live in. I'm on the way towards figuring out what that means. It may mean finally doing what I said I'd do last fall and move out on my own. It may mean more negotiations with my current living situation in this house I adore with people who are, well, human... and possibly something of a roommate switch. We'll see, but again I need to avoid that trap wherein I'm constantly in a state of waiting for things to get better.

My rats, my garden, and cooking all remain great, important things to me. I need to get out more, though, in an exercise-and-sunshine fashion. Since money for kayaking or climbing isn't going to materialise, this likely means running at first, and getting around to doing that biking I said I was going to do (though cars do still scare me to bike around much). I will not spend all my days off housecleaning to the exclusion of this sort of thing. I'll stop losing weight and grow more muscles-- and hopefully regain my hips.

I am going to pay off my medical and rat-medical debts sooner rather than later.

I'm going to experiment with more vegan dishes because I'm eating a lot of meat at work and it's not good for me. It keeps me slowed down.

I'm going to remain mindful with my social engagements, doing things I want to do and spending time with people who I want to spend time with. I don't have extra time to kill. I remember too that I'm an engrossing social engagement for myself. This lj is sort of like a personal conversation with myself, but I'm a great person to go on walks with especially, and to go food-shopping with, and to wander through the bewitching celebratory things going on outside at the start of the new year right now with.

This is sounding like my new years' post, and this is feeling like the new year (with the window open to let out the old and in the new).

I'm going to make sure my Angus feels cherished and not taken for granted. I'm going to allow myself to care about him without worrying about who that will upset, or whether I'm over-the-top. I'm going to be sensitive to this feeling of not wanting anyone else, and mindful of it.

I'll continue to reclaim my body. I won't use 'well, you've always let this person touch you before' as a reason to permit physical contact that I don't want. I will continue to have sex only when I want to have sex, and not because I think it's the only currency I own.

I will practice being a friend rather than a sex goddess. I won't latch in to exchanging that sort of energy with someone if it's not my intention, regardless of how innocent on paper the situation may be. Harder yet, I will try to be up-front about my interest level when it's low.

I will dance more. I will get a skipping rope, and a bed frame to which ropes can be attached.

I will go to seedy saturday, come home, and plant tomatoes regardless of my housing situation (unless I can get Juggler to grow them).

I will find a park where I can eat the green things that grow there, and get myself some chickweed or dandelion or something, and practice being a part of the world.

These aren't hopes. This isn't a statement of intention. It's a notice of action. It was a hard winter. It's done. The world is crackling.
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Vacation? Weekend? Hah. Last night at 6 or 7pm, an hour or two into my first greater-than-20-hour-off-period for awhile, I fell asleep. Till more-or-less now, except to get up and get long underwear to deal with fever, chills, and also to find toilet paper to blow my nose. Yay.

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