time and things


I can’t believe that I’ve let this much time go by without comment here except of course I can believe it because that’s kinda my jam now. There are a lot of online spaces for me to share my sage wisdom so, you know, neglect. And I just don’t know what the purpose of this space is. On the other hand, I am attached to it.


So here I am reluctantly updating my resume. School has been going so well but work has slowly been getting questionable. Someone puked, like, a whole bunch in my office last week and that I’m totally fine with. I love working with people with substance abuse issues. Love it. For this silly career I’m pursuing, I have another 800 hours of internship that need to be completed in the next two years and if my current workplace can’t accommodate that it is simply not worth me staying there. I wouldn’t have imagined a problem with doing internship at work but there may be a problem, so that was a shitty surprise.

I’m still in love, no big deal.

It is funny to look back at the last several months because it was a lot of he doesn’t care about me and nobody ever will pining when we were just on different schedules. When we were casual and stopped seeing each other it was always some conflict or me feeling clingy and telling him he was bad for my feelings and ending it prematurely and angsty separation followed by reconciling. I don’t know what my relationship would look like if I were secure. I am resolved to keep my fear from destroying me.

So it’s not like things are perfect, in that communication is an issue and we both have a lot going on emotionally, but it’s so worth it. I have never been with anyone like ohmyfuckinggodican’teven…it’s just…there are these moments where it does feel perfect. Fucking just…the best. Amazeballs. Awesome sauce. As I’ve alluded to many a time here, love makes it hard to talk pretty. I have the head feelings and the pants feelings. He makes me laugh. He’s smart and sensitive and has good, Christian-loathing values. UGHHHHHHHHHH IT’S SO OBNOXIOUSLY THE BEST.

[Considering that we aren’t waiting three years to address our issues and then exploding all over town, the outlook is bright. And that, nonexistent internet reader, is the last comment I will ever make about that relationship that one time where I almost got married.]

I’m lucky, no big deal.

Hamlet is my primary source of attachment anxiety now. In class last weekend our instructor was talking about impermanence and how we are culturally bound to so much and attach to things when truly not a single thing we cling to could last forever. “What are you attached to?” she asked us.

And I thought:

C360_2014-07-24-11-55-02-477 C360_2014-08-11-06-11-32-797

Same cat, same stuffed turtle he’s sucking. Hamlet knew me before I was a best-selling self-help author with a no-nonsense straight-talk empire to rival Suze Orman.





gross love stuff


Back in January, when I still remembered I had this space, I wrote about pining for someone I wanted so badly but believed I was wrong to want. (There’s that whole doubting my emotions thing.)

Here we are, 5 months later having celebrated our back to back birthdays together, pretty fucking happy and pretty fucking coupled. The sweet, nerdy guy faded away. The guy my heart has been drawn to for nearly a year loves me back.

There are no guarantees. My hyperviligence and fear and insecurity persists to some extent. Therapy – I’m into it. But fuck it because this is great. This exactly why I needed to be open and vulnerable. So I could feel this.

You never know, anyway, these two crazy kids might work out. I believe we will.



I am the worst! Well, I’m inclined to think men are the worst but that is too cliche so I’m going with me. I. Am. The. Worst.

A few weeks ago I took an ill advised late night trip into the city, to fuck my most reliable of fuck buddies. These past couple years, I’ve had the most sex with this person and his selfish but impressive sex style in combination with generous marijuana supply made us good buddies. But that last time was a horrible experience for many various ways. He thought it might be the last time, because I have been honest about my casual sex fatigue, which made him weird and turned me off. Everything hurt and I left in less than an hour. I felt guilty and obligated and you don’t need to be a women’s rights detective to understand those are bad circumstances to have sex under. I was mad at myself.

Meanwhile, my brother and roommate knew where I was going and openly judged me for it, as he has witnessed this person have less than great character. Worst weekend excursion in recent memory.

He apologized for…whatever…and said he was really drunk and I shrugged it off and told him, “It’s at least partly my fault.”

Last night he texts me under the flirty pretext of his shirt having been left in my bedroom July 4. He is not the best fuck buddy! I should be able to admit that after all these various issues and demand better more respectful more pleasurable sex for myself. Instead I am so fucking tempted to say FUCK EVERYTHING and, hey buddy, fuck me. And just keep the whole thing going so that, at least, I get laid.

The truth is, honestly, I don’t want to fuck ANOTHER fucking new person. I don’t want to find out if it’s better or worse. I DON’T WANT TO MEET ANOTHER HORNY HUMAN BEING WITH NO INTEREST IN ANY OTHER PART OF MY LIFE. We are all entitled to seek out sexually contact. I’m entitled. But I have to be honest that at this moment in time, I am not a detached sexually confident person with great boundaries. I’m a person who is nearly convinced that I’m never going to be in a romantic relationship that I want to be in.

I’m fucked up inside my brainspace about this very fucking issue. This is not because of sex, sex didn’t ruin me, and it is annoying to admit that I feel so profoundly shitty right now because, as usual, I WANT TO BE QUEEN OF CONTROLLING MY ISSUES and not be weak or anything less than perfectly well-adjusted. I have to be, because otherwise, it’s like conservatives win! Jesus is the answer. Quick, someone sew my hymen back in!

What are my choices?! Have some sex, be gratified, get a cuddly sleepover or lock this psychologically vulnerable vagina down?

Mother of fuck.



2 days (approx) to getting a proper night’s sleep and waking up a new, clear-airwayed woman!

20 days until I visit the most scrumptious toddler who has ever lived (and my sister)!!

Huh. I guess that’s all I’m looking forward to right now but I’m still pretty jazzed.

Things have fizzled with the guy I just started dating, because of course. With no new potential dating prospects, I’m going to be slightly more vulnerable to booty calls than I already was. But maybe my wayward friend can assist me in strapping on the CPAP, which I’m certain is going to be a sexy look for me.

hard stuff


I am fighting so hard to stay awake right now. 7:30 = my sleepiness threshold. It’s hard.

Follow up next week to review my sleep study results. I hope I’ll hear something definitive but if I need a machine, I will have to do a second study.

I got a gift certificate from my favorite person to a local butcher shop with a suggestion to, quote,”fill your evenings with more meat than you can handle.” So difficult to not spend that all at once. I should donate blood – I think my iron number is about to get real high.

I want a pedicure. I’m being very subdued with the object of my potential affection, but I want to seduce him with perfectly appointed toes. I definitely will not be doing that because it would be irresponsible. This month is rough (yuck, fiscal obligation) and in three weeks I’m flying to visit my sister and my munchkin. (So, need to set aside serious breakfasting funds.) No foot spending allowed.

I want to adopt a kitten and give him a pun name. Chairman Meow. I’m sure that joke has been done but I love it. Meow! That’s What I Call Music! and so many others were suggested by my brother ages ago. But no kitten spending allowed. I don’t see any more pets in this apartment. Edward R. Meow!* Aw. Oh well, adult impulses win again.

Speaking of adult impulses, I’ve failed to be slutty for almost a month. Hope everything still works ok down there.


*Definitely stolen from The Office.


It took a week, but my car is back. The best thing is that it did not run out of oil like I was told, it was a miscommunication. It was a breakdown I couldn’t have predicted or done anything to prevent, which is my favorite kind.

I’m going to go back to school. A “full time” but weekend program would be ideal. It’s all going to hinge on student loans though and I didn’t/don’t know if it’s going to work. I really hope so. I decided I want to do school, and I want to do it now, and I will be so disappointed if I can’t.

People, especially colleagues, are always asking when I’m going to get my Masters and until now I always answered “when college is free.” I knew that’s what I wanted to do for my career but it didn’t seem at all smart to even think about with all the terrifying debt I’ve already got. But my debt won’t go anywhere if I stay at this level. I’ve seen the career I want and I’m not waiting for it anymore. If I can help it.

dec. 8 – dear santa


Dear Santa,

I would like to think I’ve been good this year. Responsible, awesome, radiant. All words that other people (should) use to describe me. I’ve already got a lot of non-material things to treasure. My friends keep getting more fantastic, my brother is the best roommate (he only has two people to compete with, but there’s really no comparison to either because he always knows what day of the week it is and has a personality), and my lovely sister and super amazing toddler nephew are spending the week of Christmas here, which I don’t have to work during because I have a nice job with real benefits.

Last Christmas was sort of a wash, let’s face it. So there are some things I want to ask for.

– I need a bigger (12 inch and up) saute pan for when I’m making tacos, which is frequently. Either hard anodized aluminum or stainless steel. Doesn’t have to have a cover.

– Hamlet needs something substantial to scratch because the cute little things I keep getting at Target he ignores and he’s turned his attention to our couch.

– I hate to waste the space in my room, but it might be time for me to have a bigger bed. The twin is just not good hospitality for overnight guests. (Hamlet has also slept with me every night and somehow he demands even more room than an adult male.)

– Speaking again of Hamlet, is there some sort of magical device that will translate his incessant vocalizing into words that I can understand? At least ten times a day it sounds as though his tail is on fire or his lover died and upon investigation, he appears healthy and in possession of all basic necessities. What is his problem? Is he just saying hello? Is he trying to warn of impending apocalypse??

– I don’t have enough storage in my bedroom to hold my pants or bras. First world problems and all that.

– This isn’t really within your purview, Santa, but I want to keep getting to know this fella I met after Thanksgiving. I like him for a lot of reasons, not the least of which (ok, the least of which) is that the date of our first date is absolutely perfect for would-be anniversaries, for a holiday junkie such as myself.

– Maybe you could work on the government a little, in terms of actually making policy with people as a priority. Things are not good! Things don’t appear to even approach the direction of good! The issues with the economy are not unique to the US, but some countries operate under the radical idea that government is for the people, and despite struggling with the same issues, seem to keep their citizens from drowning. Maybe their governing bodies actually function? I don’t know. Get on that, Santa.