talk about love or talk about dishwasher tablets

[Fever Ray, 'Seven']

This is the first day I've had off in ages. Well, by off I mean I took a final exam in Organic Chemistry first. Then I met S and got to play with a puppy and see CG (all three= very cute), which was so much fun. S grounds me so much. Perfect start.

Then, I rushed back to my house to be picked up by GZ. I met GZ on Monday when I went swimming at the Y-- he's a lifeguard. As soon as I walked into the pool room I could see he was attracted to me. As I was swimming (head out of the pool, not concerned with speed) he asked me if I wanted some goggles, and then proceeded to give me a swim lesson. By the end of the time I was there I was much faster, and then he asked for my number. So today we were on a seven hour date (this seems to be a common theme. I do very long dates-- this used to happen with Ju, too.) Teavana (yum. love tea.) then Farmer's market for food (also yum) and then walking around Decatur and the graveyard (making out where J and I never did) and talking. It was pretty cool. He's awesome, but I have a few reservations already. I'm not going to judge him on them yet, though. a) He's a little young. I know, it's just a number. b) Some of the things he says seems like they are edited so I'll like him more-- this is part of the reason a) is an issue, actually, because I feel like that's more of an immature/unsure who you are-type thing to do. c) He doesn't seem like he'd be able to deal with all of the aspects of me-- I mentioned the queerness, and he seemed ok with it, but not entirely comfortable... I'll probe that a bit more. I suppose as a straight cis male hearing that from someone you want to date is a little confusing, so I give him props for handling as he did. He also handled my mentioning of my ED very well. (I don't usually spring these things on first dates, but it was 7 hours long. After a couple of hours it amounts to the second or third dates of "normal length".) We have plans to go night-swimming at a private pool he used to look after, but not definite as to when.

Speaking of plans, I have plans with S and CG for the 4th! Possibly the most exciting week in a while.

Speaking of exciting, today is the third day that I have honest-to-goodness been eating healthily-- by which I mean eating when I am hungry, and just enough. And it feels amazing. I feel like I am in a really good place. The only thing is both Monday night and tonight I had to go back and eat more dinner after I'd eaten with my family, because I felt light-headed and/or cranky and knew that I was way under 1100 kcals. [I really do not want to starve myself. No.] Tomorrow (or Friday, maybe) my brother is coming over for his birthday dinner and there will be peach cobbler, but I don't feel that worried about it. I feel so good about it. Go me!

Now all I need to do is talk to the cute guy in my program, ace semester 2 of organic chem, and ace the MCAT. Piece of cake, right? Life does seem a little more manageable today.

Woah. Major league exhaustion. Bed is a good idea.

Things I am: A Stress Blip, and Emotionally Messed Up

What's new, right? Right.

Life these days consists of: (weekday) wake up, study, eat, go to school, study, eat, study, eat, go to MCAT prep class, eat, study, sleep. Repeat. The weekend is not that much of a deviation, actually, just more disordered eating because I'm in my house more, and less structured study.

On the subject of eating: I was doing really badly when I first got back from Europe. I'm still not doing well, but I have improved. I also found out that the supposed laxatives I was taking weren't actual laxatives, which makes me feel simultaneously relieved and disappointed. I am feeling pretty good about my body notwithstanding the way I have been treating it, possibly because I know I don't really have time to remedy the maltreatment.

Study-wise: Organic Chem would be fun if I wasn't doing in the summer, specifically this summer. MCAT prep and Orgo at the same time, all condensed like this, is not conducive to avoiding burnout. Nope. Add onto this the stress of trying to figure out what schools I want to go to, how I'm going to fulfill all of the requirements of clinical experience and shadowing before I apply, etc. and I'm pretty much at my wits end. If I have any wits about me, that is.

Emotionally, I am fucked. I am so over doing anything with SJ, I am torn by not hearing from JB, and the attention-whore part of me wants to hear from CM (I don't honestly think that anything would come from it, I just would like to clarify some things.) I miss J, but wonder how I would feel if I saw him again. I got a pretty cute admission of fancying from VE, but I don't think anything is going to come from that, and if it did it would me just messing her around more than she deserves. I do that a lot. I am done with romantic love for a good while, I think. I'll stick to some good old friend-love (and no, not the kind of friend-lovin' I know I've done in the past.) I don't have time for it anyway.

Right, break over. Time to get back to studying.

kvetch, kvetch, kvetch

is all I can seem to do today. Organic chem since 8:30 (well, actually since 7, since I got up early to work on it) until 3, then a diagnostic for the MCAT from 6-10. The only good part about my day was I went for a run.

Then I stuffed my face with trail mix and have again abused the laxatives. It seems 'recovery' is not part of the picture right this moment.

The problem with me

is [my] problem with you (not the actual lyrics, adapted from the Buddy Peace remix of Her Space Holiday's 'Something to do with my hands.)

I am a stress blip.
I don't want to be back in the States, and while I don't mind doing Organic Chemistry (in fact, I'm rather enjoying it) I would like a two-second breather. Alas, that is not so, and I have to dive head-first into an 8-week intensive course while I am depressed and jet lagged.

I am very lonely right now. SJ thinks he can remedy this, but in actuality it's just a distraction. It's not something that can be cured, unless maybe I go back to the UK, and even then I know it wouldn't be remedied because a certain someone doesn't ever take what's in front of him. *sigh* If only it were possible to test.

So I've been eating more than I can possibly handle (over by more than I have been in years, and no time to exercise) and to make matters worse I've been mis-using the laxatives that I had to get on my trip to help out my digestion. I know. I know. But I'm still doing it.

The two things I need above all, besides the time to do everything I need to: sleep and love (preferably in the form of hugs. Or even just a short note.)
*sad emo face*

This is one more day on the verge of tears

['Failure by Design', by Brand New]

I start to like my body, start to feel comfortable again despite disordered binge-starve patterns... and then I try on clothes that I think should fit, and they don't, and I want to break down and never eat again. Except I don't do that, instead I go an eat the best parts of a 28-serving package of peanut m+ms in 3 days. I gross myself out, and worry about the epigenetic traits I'll pass on to my grandkids. It's not the fat that grosses me out, it's the eating patterns. This is what makes me hate myself with a burning rage that is otherwise reserved for the likes of ignorant bigots.

Angels don't eat fairies, though

[from a silly Sunday comic: prefaced by "fairies have insect wings, and angels have bird wings. Birds eat fairies."]

There feels as though there is very little time to blog, and (with that) very little time to process. I suppose I always feel that though-- a kind of suffocating, overwhelming sense of 'there's something important that I need to be doing' that contributes to my constant denigration of myself. But anyways.

Friday, dancing with SJ again-- First of all, left the house in a heavy thunderstorm, with tornado warnings. On the way out of the door, my mother screamed at me that I was a fucking idiot, as lighting flashed. I lived, obviously. Later, was forbidden (by SJ) from wearing my watch. [for me, this is big. I constantly and compulsively check my watch.] In lieu, I was presented with a pair of purple restraints, which were worn out to MSR. Saw the drag show, danced dirty, then proceeded to the 'cottage'. (Was apparently commented about muchly to SJ.) I have mixed feelings about going out with that sort of marked "ownership", albeit for a short time period-- I know I like to be submissive (oh, yes) and that was a hell of a turn-on, but the loss of some degree of independence, while contributing to the overall submission factor, also irritates me somewhat. I guess I just want to be able to flirt with anyone and everyone that appeals to me(or, as my pattern goes, flirts with me.) [I'm sure I'll get more into this later ] So, the 'cottage'-- real restraints and rope, a spreader bar, just extra-light stuff, except a little bit of choking. (First impression: 'what the fuck??' *ensuing panic*; subsequent impressions: 'well, I can still breathe for the most part' and getting too caught up in coming, then starting to like it.) I made SJ come like crazy, which was gratifying but a little disappointing for me at times because it was often when I was close but not there. Luckily, there were many more gos :P Overall: was fun (very), but I feel kind of off about it, maybe because I'm not crazy about him-- which is not to say that I don't like him, because otherwise I wouldn't be doing this, it's just... well, I'm making comparisons, when I probably shouldn't be. But that's a bit off-topic. I'm getting better at asking things properly, but there are times when I'm a bit too lippy to be classified a Good grrrl... but then, a little bit of naughty just makes things more fun. :P
Saturday morning I drove home, tried to get some work done, then met S, C, and SJ at the cottage again. There was cooking, naked hot-tubbing (S, C, and I. Not sexual, fyi), laughter, and a bit of fumbly-ness on the part of SJ (cute.) It was really nice to get to talk to C more, and S and C's interactions are adorable. Soon after dinner (I cooked! Not up to my usual standards, but my excuse is I'm out of practice. Lots of nutritional yeast made up for what it lacked, though :P) and special cookies, S and C departed for the hot tub again, and SJ and I stayed in on the couch. Later, after some hot tubbing of our own, we retired to the bedroom... this time, there was a little more stuff that I haven't experienced before-- briefly, a flogger and paddle; some frontal spanking... I guess I'm a little filthier than I used to be-- I remember not liking some things when JF did them, but that might have also been because he had no idea about topping (either proper practices or otherwise. Another reason JF and I weren't wonderful together: we're both bottoms.) I liked the vulnerability of it, the power play-- as a bottom, I still felt like I had a lot of power (especially with how many times he came, it was pretty amazing. I guess that's what some of my other lovers must have thought of me :P) Complaints: I couldn't seem to come as well as I usually do. I was certainly turned on, but something wasn't hitting right. That's not to say that I didn't, because I made the properly phrased requests that I knew would get me off, but I would have liked to match him in notching up the orgasms (ha. competitive rubbish.Yes, I know sex isn't all about the orgasm.) So yeah, much fun. Plus, I get the feeling it'll get better as we play some more (as well as venturing into realms yet undiscovered by yours truly.) Part of my hesitation about this all is that I feel like he's getting waaay more into me than I am into him. I don't think that he's under the impression that I'll be exclusive (I should clarify this before I cause trouble, though... not that I anyone in mind) but he started talking about stuff way in the future, and that made me nervous (I don't like to make assumptions and/or promises I can't keep.)
I think my issues with it were also heightened by the aftermath of my usual strong wave of emotion when J called (before going to the cottage Sat night.) Whenever I'm on the phone with him I feel so dumb, like there's so much that I want to say but it all disappears, and then I'm just overcome with the yawning gap in my chest where a bit of my heart feels like it's been ripped out. (Wow, way to go me: I've got the angsty emo drama down-pat-- but we knew that already.)
Also Saturday before returning to the cottage, my mom asked me about whether MSR was a gay bar or not, so I told her, and she reacted weirdly, and said something like "but I thought you were bi", which was really fucked up and made me really upset. I ran away for a bit, and then soon after approached her and asked her what she was talking about. She said that she thinks that I'm very susceptible to my surroundings, and that if I was only going to gay bars all the time, then I wasn't giving myself an "equal opportunity", as well as the same old stuff about it being a hard lifestyle. I acknowledged that sometimes I can be swayed by my surroundings, but I told her that I was going to dance and relax, and it wasn't her choice, or my choice. I kind of wish that I'd said that maybe this was my balancing, my "equal opportunity" if you will, of the years of straight dating JF. At some point, I also remember pointedly asking her if her concern had anything to do with the possibility of not having grandkids by me (she didn't answer.) All in all, her reaction appalled me. For someone so liberal, she's so close-minded when it comes to her daughter... but then, at least I'm able to tell her, I'm so thankful for that.
Today, my eating was fucked up majorly. But hey, that's what Easter is for, right? By all rights, I should have thrown up around twice by now. With my eating habits, I'm really surprised that I'm not so much bigger than I am... I can't even sleep (or am not even attempting to) because I have so much sugar coursing through my veins... it's really gross. More than putting on weight, it's this weird-ass binge cycle, this lack of a grip on self-control, that scares me. I really need to establish my self-trust, and my therapist gave me an eating plan to help that, and instead I fuck it up royally, and I feel that much worse for letting someone else down as well as myself. (But berating myself will only make it worse. Tomorrow is a new day.)

I don't know if you can dance

(Lisa Hannigan, "I don't know" She used to go out with and sing with Damien Rice. It's cutesy stuff.)

The last two days have been very good. The days before that (from Saturday) were pretty good, too, except for the nightly emergence of my funk. It feels so amazing to be able to live by myself, to choose when and what I eat, to set my own schedule. I guess I got scared of that considering last year, but that really wasn't conscious solitude, it was induced by T going off and disappearing up N's bum. I love them both, but that hurt me a lot. It made me feel like I was not worth spending time with, and I expressed this to T, and she just wrote it off as something that she does when she's in a relationship, saying that people can't change. I really hate when people say that, because I believe that they can, if there's a need and/or a strong enough desire. There are plenty of examples of people changing for the worse, why not for the better? Anyway, I'm going off on a tangent. The kind of solitude that I've been experiencing in the last few days is really refreshing, like what JBa (haha another J) was attempting to cultivate last year. The kind of solitude that doesn't necessarily mean isolation, just plenty of alone-time and being social when I feel like it and not when it's mandatory. The food thing probably has a large impact on all this serenity, and vice versa. I've been eating mostly when I'm hungry, and stopping when I've had enough, and it feels good. I also am eating strange-ass things that I would never dream of serving to my parents without first testing it out, and being vegan. It feels so healthy, but in the good, satisfying sense, not in the "rabbit food"/granola sense. For example, last night for dinner I had an edamame, arame, sundried tomato, and dried mushroom salad, and roasted butternut squash with rosemary and nutritional yeast. Omnomnomnom.

I went for a run yesterday in the graveyard where J and I walked and talked a long time ago... (I just checked, it'll be 2 months ago tomorrow) I always think that I'm going to hash things out when I'm running out, but usually my deep-thinking thoughts are fleeting, like little wisps of dreams that float up between the rhythm afforded by my pounding feet. I end up being more than thinking when I'm running, which is why I like it-- it's my meditation. I never was good at sitting still, anyway. At any rate, there were certainly some fond flashbacks interspersed between the paces. Fond, and sad, both of which I expected. And there was also something else, maybe a sadness that my memory is so fickle and that though it's only been a little over a week since he left I feel as if it were all a dream, as if it never really happened except in my head. (That's why I journal as much as I can-- otherwise I'd have very little recollection of anything that goes on.)

Also contributing to my improved mood is the fact that I shared my J-involved reasons for funk-ness with S, and she was wonderful about it and suggested I tell him, which I did, which of course made things better. I should know by now that communication usually clears things like this up, but I guess I usually wait until it escalates and I've done a lot more to hurt myself at that point. At any rate, it's out there now.

Yay, more planning to see people in May. It's coming up sooner than I think, which is both good and crazy scary, since that means I need to a)crack down on studying and b)sort out applications(and even institutions. Oh bugger.) *deep breath* I will not freak out.

Falling down to get back up

I started counting calories again today. Initially, I was going to do it to lose weight again, and I'll admit that's still part of it, but not in the same old keep-myself-under-1200-and-kill-myself-running bullcrap. I don't want to feed into my eating disorder, but I also need to get some balance, and if counting calories helps, I'll do it. I'm approaching it as taking care of myself, though. More of the tone of writing stuff down so that I am holding myself accountable and am aware of what I am eating, so that I am present in that moment and enjoying what it is I'm putting in my mouth. So far today has been very successful, and I'm hopeful for the rest of the week. The plan is to continue like this until I feel stable, and then by then I will have the body trust to not need to count or write anything.

(I drew the picture above today as part of my self-care)


Yesterday I realized another strong fear of mine (as well as rejection): being forgotten. I guess that's why I'm always so honored when friends of mine from Copenhagen or Italy or England are so enthusiastic about the idea of visiting with me, even if we haven't communicated in yonks. And why I used to write--and ideally would still like to be writing (same old theme as all the classic poets, I know.) It's like Shelley (Percy Bysshe)'s Ozymandias, forgotten though he was apparently so powerful:

Ozymandias

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

I don't have an empire or statues or even anything dedicated to me (as far as I know), and I don't need to be publicly remembered. I like attention, but that's far beyond what I want. What I would like is to have a lasting impression on all the people that I have a connection with. I don't need to inspire or change, but just leave a little indentation, a little mental or emotional 'Emma was here'. It's a selfish impulse, but I hardly think it's uncommon. It's like with T in Morton-- I took up the challenge because I wanted to see my effect (that's twisted.)-- and even with A, though in a far broader sense. Or maybe I just want feedback, want to know how I'm read so I can adjust it if it's in disparity with how I want to be? I know sometimes my meaning is interpreted differently than I intend, but is that because the other people are seeing what they want to, or because there's something off with my transmitter? (I just got an image of Batty from Fern Gully, with his little radio wires popping out of his head. I do feel like that sometimes-- though usually in the context of spouting random things because my conversational skills could use some help :P )
"Yo, the name is Batty / The logic is erratic / Potato in a jacket / Toys in the attic / I rock and I ramble / My brain is scrambled / Rap like an animal, but I'm a mammal."
(yep, Batty from Fern Gully, doing his rap.)

I just realized that I quote Batty almost every time I put on my glasses or contacts around somebody: "I can see! It's a miracle!" (I am aware that this may come from something else originally, but knowing how often I watched Fern Gully when I was ickle, I'm fairly certain I picked it up from here.) xD

Mardi Gras, indeed

(just in case you are not familiar with what Mardi Gras means-- aside from boobs, king cake, and beads-- it's French for Fat Tuesday)

There are several things on my mind, but I've been too tired and/or busy to focus and try and process. (Note that I still should be busy, but am not doing my work.) In no particular order:

I have been reacquainting myself with peanut butter, which used to be a trigger food of mine. It's been ok for the most part, but I had a little (subjective) binge yesterday, which was mostly out of boredom and desire to avoid work, plus anxiety about going out to eat with my brother and his wife (yes, I know, I never said my impulses were smart.) I'm trying really hard not to berate myself for it, and to remember that when I go for a run it's not to earn back calories but to enjoy myself and be healthy and present. This morning I remembered that Osho says something about removing yourself from thinking of whatever you're deriving pleasure from is the cause of your happiness, and recognize that it comes from yourself, not some external force. So my goal is to do that when I'm thinking about food and doing my usual quest for a specific taste.

In a similar vein, I was talking to my mom about how I feel like she's always sending me mixed messages about food, because at one point she'll talk about how skinny she thinks I am, and then the next minute she'll say something about me eating so much. She told me that the two are not related: yes, I eat a lot, but I am also skinny. She also went on to say something about how my brother thinks that I am a rail and he's worried about me still (he was extremely worried when I met up with him in April two years ago, which is when I was at my skinniest [and scariest]-- my other brother who, incidentally, also had an eating disorder, never said anything except a few snide remarks about being on a diet. You may be able to tell which brother I like more.)I told her that I have put on weight, which she acknowledged, and that it had gone past the point (for me) of feeling like it was good to gain weight, that I felt like I was as big as I was at the beginning of my second year of university. Which is true, that's how I feel. But instead of freaking out and doing what I did back then (restrict, over-exercise, hate myself) I am trying to make this into something new. I cannot sustain myself, hang my idea of myself on this image of me as something that is not healthy for me. And even in the thick of my eating-disordered haze, it was all under the pretense of being healthier. Now, I need to remember that I am healthy. I can run, jump, play... I am able-bodied and I want to be able to love my body for what it can do, what it does, what it is at this exact second. Wasn't that what I decided I would do around New Years? (I don't do resolutions, but I came to a realization that I need to love myself exactly as I am now, no preconditions, and no waiting.) While I have made some leaps (no more writing down everything I eat-- it's been just over 4 weeks!)I constantly feel like there's so much to do, so much "self-help". In reality, that's bullshit. I am worthy of loving right this bloody second. Yes.

(I'll keep telling myself that.)

Also in the category of leaps, I've been on half of the dosage I was on for meds for three weeks now. I decided to stick it out, and it feels good. Especially to think that I could potentially go off of them and not feel so freaking dependent on them all the time. As so many people forget, meds are not supposed to cure you, they're a crutch. And I've always been one to get off of crutches as fast as possible. I've given it since December '06. I'm in a much better place than I was then, so the time for this peach is ripe. (Ha! oh, I do apologize.)

Right. I'll admit I've been putting off blogging about this, because. That's right, just because. Sunday night was J's leaving party. First thing that happens: knock on door, door opened by SS (no, not Nazi brute force. It's just the way the abbreviating thing happened.) It's immediately apparent that both of us are appraising each other, familiar with J's proposition of a group encounter. We settle down on the couch for some awkward conversation (NB: surprisingly un-awkward considering my record.) Party proceeds, lots of fun happens. By the way, telephone pictionary rocks my socks. There's interesting people around, J is fucked up (remnants of last week's brownies, plus some booze.) SS and I interact for little bits at a time, mostly teasing J and acknowledgments of each other's taste/humor/whatever. At some point in the night, I start to get a horrific headache, which (I'll admit) was probably due to not eating. At the end of the night, we gave S a big hug and... stood around awkwardly. Commenting on the awkwardness, but not really doing much to dispel it (thus build-up of awkward, as Jeff from Coupling would put it, grows like the blob from space. There are no puppies trapped in a car in this case, though.) Eventually, things got awkwardly started (I don't know much about it, since my only other group sex experience went awry when one of the girls decided her boyfriend mackin' on her best friend was too much for her [might I add that her 'boyfriend' was not exclusive and that I was fucking him?], but I get the impression that there's not really many cases when there's not a little bit of awkward.) I won't give a blow by blow, but it was hot. I was reminded of quite how much I love women's bodies, of how much women freaking intrigue me all the time. --Ok, so I'm intrigued by so many people, not just women, but the whole women aspect of it was particularly present at that point. Might I also note that although I identify as not entirely straight (that's the easiest way to put it) I haven't had the opportunity to be with a woman except in this and the aforementioned foursome-gone-bad. So there's that aspect of not really knowing exactly how to do things, an element of exploration, if you will.--
I'll admit that I wasn't expecting that much. I wasn't feeling well to begin with, and I was worried [when I had been thinking about it before] that I would spend the entire time comparing myself to her and generally being anxious. Which was not true at all-- because it wasn't about (for me, at least) just sharing J, it was about sharing her as well. And that was amazing. The only thing that worried me were that she didn't get to come enough. How's that for anxiety? As for possible lamentations? a)we were all tired and/or messed up, b)other people not involved in the house [I like noise. Yes, I do.] c)not being able to do it again, because like with any lover [or at least, good ones] you learn more about how to please each other as you go along.
C'est tout. (I don't know whether you can use it in French, but in English slang translated, c'est chaud.)

I also heard from A last night, he was wondering why he hadn't heard from me in a while (which is weird because I thought I texted him on Tuesday and our communication is usually lots in one go and then nothing for a week. Which typically has to do with the kind of communication it is, really.) He's not the planning type, but I wonder if I could wrangle a rendez-vous from him during spring break... (wrangle, A's in TX, get it? waa-waa.)

Et maintenant, je cours. (Oh, que j'adore Francais)

to the max

This evening I find myself, yet again, full far past the point of satiety. I am having a really hard time of it, the past few days, and I can't exercise to compensate for the excess because of my toe and because of the time constraints that school creates. Also, I feel like I need to not try and compensate, because I need to learn how to eat what my body needs, when it needs it. I don't want to restrict myself, since I know that will only make me binge more, and I'm not going to create a plan, since that's really just a form of restriction.

Really, what I need to do is accept myself. The way I am. I am a healthy weight, and even if I put on a few pounds I am still healthy. What would putting on weight do to me that I fear so much? I've been there, what effect did it have? I felt less attractive. Not really a problem right now, I feel attractive and if others see that diminished with extra chub, then they don't deserve my attention. I felt like I couldn't do as much physically-- well, right now I feel that way anyway, because of my toe. Beyond those two, I can't really think of much else. So I have nothing to be afraid of, except maybe not fitting all of my clothes (which, if you know me, might be a cause of fear, since I do love my costuming) but that would just mean I'd have to get a little more creative. So there: I have nothing to fear by gaining weight.

It doesn't help this uncomfortable feeling to come to that realization, though.

In which I give in

Here goes, the beginning of my blogging career. Oh, sure I had a LiveJournal account way back, and a myspace blog too, but both were very short-lived. They were too accessible to everyone I know. I want to be able to blog and have that possibility of it being read by anyone, but without the certainty that anyone I mention will definitely read it (and subsequently confront me about the extent of my TMI-disease.)

When it comes down to it, this blog is as emo as it gets, in the scene way-- bare emotions, left out in the open for anyone to comment on, because the attention is wanted. In reality, I have a journal, and I certainly have broached some of the subjects that are going to come up here, but I find it satisfying to share with others. Maybe it's my extroverted nature. At very least, I'll get some more practice with composing straight onto the computer.

There is a revolution going on in my life.

Part of me, the storyteller, wants to set this up, wants there to be a brilliant exposition so that the entire blog can be a series of rises and falls, plot climaxes (among others) and denouements like an EKG monitor. But that would require explanation, to the extent that I'd feel like it was too much, like ruining a perfectly good joke. So I'm just going to jump into the thick of it, like I do with so many things.

Things from last night that are particularly memorable: How, for once, I didn't want to be pushed around and told what to do; how I couldn't get wet because I was almost afraid (maybe it has something to do with actually seeing how the real BDSM crowd works.)
I'd overstimulated my clit earlier in the day and so couldn't really come from just him playing with it; that made me feel bad for him, like I wasn't as responsive as I should be (I don't know how I thought I should be. Ridiculous expectations, as per usual.)
I tried fucking him, and I liked how awkward yet powerful it felt to wear a cock.
I loved hearing and seeing him come (it almost made me come, in a small way.)
How fond I felt; how I told him that I'm getting too emotionally attached; how he asked me to touch his chest, even though he's sensitive about it; how he said he wanted to come inside of me. I already know I'm in trouble. I feel like I'm falling but it's such a bad situation: he's poly (not that I have a problem with being poly as such, but it's kind of hard for me to reconcile the idea with my preconceived ideas of love or whatever this is), and (much more significantly) he's leaving. Moving away. Bye bye, no more.

Tonight, I am anxious. Too much sugar and caffeine coursing through my body, too many sources of energy from my binges throughout the day. I didn't get enough work done. School is tomorrow. I have a test soon, but I can't focus. He's with her tonight.

This is very different than with T. With him, I knew about the others but didn't care; all I did was take. But this one... this one, I am getting emotionally attached to. This one is having a huge impact on my life. This one is managing to distract me from my studies, even. Big fucking deal, you say. In my world, it is. The funny thing is, before we did any fooling around, the talking was so much more difficult, more awkward. It's like the sex was our way of opening up, of getting to know each other and thus talk more, rather than the usual reverse function that seems to be most other people's mode of action.

In theory, I get the whole polyamorous argument-- I too, have felt, that I have a lot of love to go around, and that it's unrealistic to expect one person to meet all of my emotional and sexual needs. But in practice? I can't really tell: I don't know how much of this is just me being anxious, and how much of it actually bothers me. I do wonder if he compares lovers, though. How could you not? She's skinnier than I am. I hate that it bugs me. Fuck this. I don't want a competition. I am just doing what I usually do, wanting the person that I can't have. Common theme.

Speaking of the body issue thing, today has been my worst day in a long time. Mindless eating, knowledgeable binging, so much energy in my body it feels like my heart might burst if I stand up for too long-- this is not how I want to be.

This is not who I want to be.

What a start to National Love Your Body Month.