chock full of more self-revealatory overshare


Can I claim temporary insanity on the last post? Similar to when I don’t shave to keep myself from sex on a date, I had a long email conversation that night with my once (and future?) selfish sex friend that ensured he’ll be turned off for the near future.

Actually, we just had an honest conversation and I expressed the same depths of insecurity and longing I did here. It was good. He’s selfish and I’ve excused it in the past, mostly because when I’ve been with him I’ve been selfish too. He’s not an asshole and I enjoy(ed?) his company. And his beautiful, enthusiastic anatomy.

BUT I don’t think I’m seeing him in the near future because (after Sex Meltdown 2013) I just might finally be free of the impulse that I have always had- ie, any rejection in any area of life -> must obtain validation -> most efficient and easy way -> SEX.

A million two years ago, when my then-fiance ended our relationship, that is exactly what I did (WITH THIS SAME GUY EVEN) and, frankly, it worked and I did the more difficult emotional work later.

A very short time ago, I met someone truly awesome who I really like and it seems that it was this potential great thing that never came close to happening, despite that I wanted it to. But I’m not high with a charming, naked man in my room, pleasuring away the discomfort.

Maybe because I went into work Friday and was really, seriously moved by the support I have there, even when things are sucky. Maybe because I had class today and it was super interesting, actually fun, and really gratifying.

I do have perspective. I have this full life and all this potential. (I’M JUST THE BEST AND MOST AMAZING ZEN PERSON AREN’T I! Gross.)

But whatever, my vag is back online, minus the sadness, cause I’m going to get mine. Just on my terms.

I’m sure this is typo-laden but I’m bed bound.




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.

bedtime blogging III: fuck off circadian rhythm, who needs you anyway


I set my birthday as the deadline for finally applying for the masters program I want to do in the fall. Today I dropped the application into a mailbox. I’m working on forgetting about it so as not to stress and analyze my chances and criticize myself into insanity. Two references have to be sent directly to the program and one I fear might take awhile, so I don’t know how long it will take for me to hear back. I was pretty confident before. I’m right for this program but you never know…

Hamlet just huffily jumped out of bed. I don’t think he likes night time phone blogging. Seems jealous that my hands are occupied. He would rather have a captive audience to pet him until he falls asleep. You and me both, mister.



I put myself out there a little tiny bit today. It is not exactly leading me to romantic bliss.

But if nothing changes and I scared a boy away with one clumsy text message, despite best intentions and that I prefaced it with “don’t get weird,” then oh well.

I’m annoyed if it means that two years of reliable and mind-altering sex is no more, but that is all I would be losing. Plus the friend part, but I’m not kidding myself.

A slightly awkward text should not be such a huge deal when people know each other and are friends, so (it’s a little too early to call but) I’m going to say we don’t and aren’t.

dec. 1


I signed up for Holidailies this year. My hope is that being motivated to write more often will somehow give me more to say. I’m working on better self-care…or at least I’m  constantly telling myself that I need to work on it, my name is Danielle and I live in the Preparation Stage of Change. Anyway, complacency aside, part of what I know is good for me is mindfulness. This Christmas season has the potential to be fantastic and I don’t want to sleepwalk through it.

I secured my very first vacation from work from 12/21-12/30. I’ll have plenty of time (sadly, not plenty of $) to prepare for my family visitors and get FESTIVE! I haven’t broken out the Christmas music but I expect my holiday obsession to kick in any day now. Let me try “The Bells of St. Paul” in the shower today and see how it suits me.

INOTHERNEWS, I am seeing my new special friend tonight for the third time. I’m really afraid. (Was I ever brave about this stuff? Probably not.) I don’t like liking someone because FEAR and adding to that is that things have gotten sexual. That part was really great and I want to keep engaging in that part. What makes me nervous is that no matter how much I want a modern, feminist relationship and that I deserve a modern, feminist partner, I see traditional “rules” play out around me. I hate to believe that my slutty nature (which I don’t want to be insecure about) is going to sabotage something with more than sexy potential. My ex once told me that he would not have kept dating me if we had sex on the first date. I know that that’s bullshit but it’s common, pervasive bullshit. I shouldn’t have to compromise my values to appeal to people because obviously the kind of people that would be put off (by my putting out, teehee) won’t work for me anyway. I’m not traditional, I don’t want to be traditional, so I should not be worried. If I’ve accidentally taken a turn with this person into Casual Sexville, population AlwaysMe, at least I’m getting…looking for a car metaphor here…my oil changed? Jesus, nevermind. The point is, as usual, I know I need to relax and believe that I’m emotionally smart enough to date in a way that works for me.



So I discovered and I haven’t bitten my nails in 7 days. I’m always able to stop for a little while if I think about it but right now my nails are longer than they have ever been and I’m obsessed with them. First of all, and most annoying, they are filthy. I wash my hands all the time and still, mysterious crud lines end up under there almost constantly. To keep my mouth from solving the problem I’ve been carrying nail clippers around and scraping the stuff out several times a day. It’s probably the number 1 thing that made me want to bite my nails, seeing dirt under there – which I would then consume with the delicious nail clipping which is, yes, gross. But I’m finding the scraping oddly satisfying, if somewhat ineffectual. The real problem is that when they get too long, I don’t actually know how I will clip them using traditional methods. I have never purchased or owned nail clippers before now and, though I have honestly tried, I have no friggin clue how to use them. That goes for my toes too, because I typically just wait until they are long enough, peel them off, and then suck on them for awhile.


This is turning out to be a thrilling and fascinating post, is it not? I have been insanely focused on my average-length nails (it’s like having a new body part for me) but everything else on my mind has been more…complicated.


Like death, death and more death. Right after the holidays, Rob’s aunt passed away (she was 90 years old). We went back to his family’s for the wake and funeral. I found out yesterday that a friend of my family died as well on New Year’s Eve. This man was actually my father’s boss for at least 10 years and he was one of my favorite people when I was younger (and lived closer). He and his wife gave his daughter money one year to take me shopping for school clothes. My dad never liked accepting charity from anyone, but Bob could do it through us and get away with it. Actually, he was always slipping me and my brother cash when we saw him as well. He was just so good to us and always happy to see us, like we were his own family. He was only 60, I believe, but was ill for at least a couple of years. This time (exactly) last year, one of my friends and former coworkers died unexpectedly, and it was shocking and horrible and it hardly feels like it’s only been a year. For many reasons, it comes up for time to time. And if I feel that way, even a year later, I can’t imagine the pain that her family has gone through. It’s cold and there’s snow on the ground and I think I’m always going to associate winter with dying, which I suppose is obvious, with natural symbolism.


When my uncle died a couple years ago, it was also unexpected, but after a life of struggling with mental illness, it was generally looked at (by my religious extended family) as a blessing, for his soul to be at peace, finally. At the Catholic funeral last week, the priest spoke about faith being a gift for those in grief. I can’t buy into that because I can’t assume that I could ever understand the afterlife. I don’t presume to know that it’s all over, or about heavenly judgment, or anything else. It makes life more meaningful to me, to think that this might be all there is. That the limited time I have is of the highest importance. I wouldn’t really say that my beliefs make death seem more permanent and final. I’m not really afraid of dying, one way or the other, because I guess I just have some sort of trust in the universe. If it’s the end of my existence, like I suspect it is, it won’t make a difference to dead me. If it’s not, then sweet, because I live my life with good intentions and I recycle. I don’t know what it could be like to die, I don’t know what’s become of the people I’ve loved who have died and it’s not really so important to me to know, anyhow. Their lives meant something; I believe in that more than anything.


I don’t know where this is going. I’m sad today.


Tomorrow, I’m taking a standardized test for a state job and I need to have two #2 pencils and a calculator with me. I haven’t seen a Scantron in over two years. That should cheer me up hardcore.




fun times with hygiene


As an unemployed person who happens to enjoy couch potato moments even in the best of times, I have recently been spending a pretty questionable amount of time on the computer while watching tv or the like. I actually get dressed and leave the house maybe 3 or 4 times a week, but that’s including the weekend. I was talking with someone at a party awhile ago who said the key to staying sane with out a job is showering everyday. I think that’s absolutely great advice but I am decidedly not following it. I’m not grossed out if I do go a few days without a shower because, frankly, my body is not gross and I don’t smell and I change my underwear so whatever. But a shower does make me feel like I smell especially good, especially if I use my new leave-in conditioner that smells like cupcakes, and so it’s refreshing and somewhat motivating. If only I had the motivation to get into the shower.

Thanksgiving was awesome anyway, but it helped that it was a change of pace. We cleaned up the house real nice like because we were going to have company and now we are keeping it clean like civilized people. Both Rob and I tend to get lazy when it’s just the two of us at home, so before a few weeks ago it was not looking so great. I feel better when everything looks neat and I’m home all the time so it should not be difficult to clean and yet…

I know, I’m such a catch. I haven’t shaved my legs in months and I would do it for Rob, at least sometimes, to be nice but he says he doesn’t really care either way. In fact, whether I’m freshly showered or not doesn’t seem to have an effect on his attraction to me, which is nice in a way. But I don’t want to end up in a rut. Although, if we do stop having sex in the next eight weeks, it would give us something to talk about in premarital counseling! I really want to get our Rob’s money’s  worth.

I’m looking forward to Christmas and even though most of the shopping is done there are a lot of things, including wrapping, I’m going to start occupying myself with. I don’t know how I would be feeling if I didn’t have that, or the wedding-planning stuff, to distract me. Well, probably not more energetic, that’s for damn sure.

This hermit-y, sloth-y, slug-y mode is not foreign to me and though I’m not really miserable, I’m starting to think I would be better off if I could snap myself out of it. Every once in awhile I think about canceling cable and what I would do in place of TV (besides catch up on the important shows online) which would include, reading more, meditating, actual frequent exercise, listening to more music, and writing. It’s silly though to think that having cable TV is what keeps me from those things since, wow, our TV has an off function.

I have extra time not working that I feel I should be taking advantage of by doing any of those things, even if I still spend half that time playing the Sims 3, it would be more productive and, most likely, make me feel better in general. It’s my brand new initiative.

Perhaps I’ll go to the stupid gym tomorrow.