Like a door that keeps revolving in a half-forgotten dream

I posted my usual “off to bed, goodnight!” on Facebook ages ago, but I couldn’t sleep… so I pulled out a stack of hard drives I’d taken out of my stuff in storage last time I was there, to see which (if any) of them worked, and what might be on them.

Found a bunch of video diary clips I thought I’d lost forever, although not (sadly) the ones I have been hunting for from when I was head-over-heels in love for the first time. (I recall seeing myself giggling as I attempted to recite lyrics to “All The Things She Said” for example, and it was both delightfully cute and acutely painful to know just how ignorant and blind I was, and how much misery she’d leave me with just 3 weeks later.)

Then on another disk I found a directory full of images, video clips, and miscellaneous documents I’d downloaded ages ago from a handful of sites that don’t exist anymore and would be difficult to track down at best… and more likely impossible for me to find again. I had put a significant amount of time and effort into getting these, and I thought they were gone. Turns out I have them still… score!

As if that weren’t enough, I also came across a handful of photos my mom had sent me, at my request, of me at various points in my life before I left home. They were lower resolution than the ones she’d sent the first time, but those high-resolution copies got eaten on my end and then later when her system crashed, too. Either way, I have several old photos of myself that I had though were gone forever.

Took a bath after copying files off of several drives, and as I stood up from the tub, I opened the window…

Outside, I could see only a patch of starry sky. I was struck again by the intense reminder that I haven’t been out under a starry sky in a very long time, and I want that again. I don’t have any interest in camping alone, mind you; I want to go out with someone I care for, but not to go out in the woods and have sex (even though I hear it’s, like, fucking in tents!) but to get away from everything with somebody who understands that we can get away together, and can share both silence and conversation as we both desire. The last time I had that was… long ago. Before the last time anyone came inside me, and the last person to do that was Highlander, back at the very beginning of 2011.

I need a break from all of this, though. From the daily stress and constant overwhelming sensory overload. From the petty squabbling and pointless chatter around me. From the isolation when I dread it and the complete lack of privacy when it’s essential.

Oh, and sex on a more frequent basis would make a world of difference, too… just one night with Again and I felt so awesome, so refreshed and so alive. And then I slept wonderfully, and my sleep was filled with dreams, and my dreams were filled with sex, sex, sex, and more sex. My mind and body remembered this thing I’d gone so long without; the appetite again awakened and stirred from sleep left my sleep stuffed with sex of all sorts.

I write quite often when I’m tired, I’ve noticed. Ditto with making my audio and/or video diaries. I’m okay with that, just something I’ve noticed. Also, going back through some of those old entries, I’ve found several bits where I detailed a dream I’d had, and I want to transcribe some of them… there’s some pretty interesting stuff in there!

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It’s all up to you.

A few thoughts rattling around that I want to get out before I sleep…

Self-determination. I see it as essential. It is what underpins my support for access to abortion for anyone who chooses to do so. It’s why I see it as important for people who fuck to be able to do so in any way that works for the ones involved, and why I think that the law needs to back out of the bedroom.

It’s also why I feel it absolutely critical that someone who chooses to end their life have that as an option. Whether that’s someone who is at the end of a long and happy life who is ready to leave, whether that’s someone old and miserable and in the final stages of cancer and asking another person to help them die, whether that’s someone young and hurting for any number of reasons — the ability to determine one’s own course is more important than pretty much anything else.

That’s why I’m not comfortable forcibly preventing someone from suicide. I’m not okay with involving law enforcement to negate the right to self-determination, not to mention all the other ways that cops fuck things up.

And yes, I realize that it may sound contradictory when I say that I’m doing everything I can right now to keep someone I care deeply about from suicide… but I’m not going to force anything. I’m hoping to change a mind, but I also fully acknowledge that the choice is not mine to make.

“My body, my choice!” It’s not just about so-called reproductive rights. And I can’t claim to support doing what I want with my own body if I won’t equally support everyone else in doing the same, no matter how much or how little I agree with their choices.

I’m going to sleep now.

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You never know until you reach the top if it was worth the uphill climb…

Today I have been single for longer than I was together with MFP. We were together 1 year, 1 month, 11 days. It’s now been 1 year, 1 month, 12 days since I broke up with her (though it was much earlier than that things were falling apart, sadly.)

I’m lonely.

I’m horny.

I’m stressed out and frustrated and homeless, and the last few times that I’ve had a glimmer of hope that things might go somewhere with a girl, it’s ended horribly.

One chick who was crushing madly on me and when we sat down to have a talk about “where do we wanna go with ‘us” from here” she realized that me just being me was going to bring up childhood trauma for her, and she cut things off. Another woman who brought me back to her place and then stopped returning my messages after the sex was mediocre at best, didn’t even have the decency to say “hey, this isn’t going to work.” Another woman recently was totally into me, making a point of how much she wanted to hang out and get closer… and then told me to fuck off and get a sense of humor because I had the gall to say, “actually, that ‘joke’ is kinda mean and it hurts my feelings.” And just before I met her, there was the amazing lady who spent a good chunk of a night out at the club smooshing my face against her tits and both of us enjoying her having me as a service submissive… and then a few days later I got a threatening message from her boyfriend telling me to stop “harassing” her, or else. Still no fucking clue what happened with that situation.

And so when there’s the possibility of a connection, I don’t even really want to put myself out there, because it’s hard to feel like it’ll be any different from all the other times before. I need my heart held, my body connected with another, mutually pleasurable sex and pain and whatever… but I’m scared that I’ll have my heart torn and dropped, my body remembering the touch of someone long gone, lousy sex (if any sex) and the only pain coming from “goodbye.” And there’s a fine, fine line between that and “you’re wonderful” — I just keep finding myself on the wrong side of that line.

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Taste your lips of wine… anytime, night or day.

Sunday, I didn’t get much sleep. On Monday I only caught about 4 hours, and couldn’t get any more rest despite all efforts to do so, and wasn’t feeling all that great. Went out for a drink, and on the way back — about 11:30 — I asked Rabbit if she wouldn’t mind stopping for something along the way. Went to Wing Stop, since I knew they’d be open, and grabbed 20 “boneless wings,” half Atomic (AKA “Flaming Asshole in the Morning”) flavor, and half Teriyaki flavor. Since it came with a side dish I got fries, and as for the drink — I wanted to steer clear of caffeine, but I didn’t feel like whatever their lemon-lime offering was, so I went with orange.

Fast-forward to 9am Tuesday morning, and I was still awake, and frustrated, and wondering what had happened. Then I suddenly realized: I bet their orange soda was Sunkist! Caffeinated, no question. Oops! All that careful work to avoid it, wasted. It was almost noon on Tuesday when I did finally get to bed again.

So! My plans for Tuesday rather went out the window, then… but I got quite a bit of sleep. And when I slept, I had some intense and incredible (or perhaps incredibly frustrating) dreams!

When I woke shortly after 8pm, it was from a dream where I had been at my usual pub, making eyes at a very lovely young woman across the room, and she had been quite enthusiastically returning my glances. I can still see the low scooped neck of her blouse, thin blue and white stripes making plenty of room for her ample cleavage to show… I can picture the exact shade of her skin, the way her long hair moved around and with her…

Anyway, after a few moments of distant flirting, she stood up, walked over to me, and the first thing she said to me was, “Um, excuse me, but… are you trans*?”

Ouch. Not exactly the best opening line ever, but I tried to handle things gracefully, and I replied, “Pleasure to meet you! You’re quite lovely. You might keep in mind that your first words to me were to ask about what’s between my legs… now, I’m also quite interested in the potential for seeing your naked body [in the dream I paused briefly, took a pointed look down to her crotch, looked back up, then began speaking again] and I’m certainly flattered that you’ve expressed such an interest in mine. My name’s [I gave her my name] — what’s yours? Oh, and yes, I do have a cock.”

I woke just before she could reply. My brain, I tell ya — it loves teasing me! Grr. Even in my dreams things end before they get started.

I went back to sleep a few minutes later, and woke again around 10:45pm. This time, I had been walking around in public somewhere in my dream, and there was a guy leading a woman around on a leash, crawling on hands and knees. She wasn’t wearing much; I seem to recall that whatever she had on made room for her extremely large breasts to hang out in the open.  I moved closer to see what was going on, and by the time I got near, it was quite obvious that he was fucking her face, and doing so in the middle of the sidewalk. This wasn’t gentle fellation on her part, either, this was rough, throat-deep, how-does-she-not-have-a-gag-reflex fucking from him. He had just pulled out and left quite the load of cum in and around her mouth; she was licking herself clean and I stepped up to him to ask, “Pardon me, sir, do you mind if I have a go?” He shrugged, said simply, “Sure,” and handed me her leash, stepping to the side to watch. I lifted my skirt, slipped her head under, and just as her lips touched my skin…

I woke up. Seriously?! And yes, unsurprisingly, I was extremely erect when I awoke, and because everything was so noisy here and I needed to get to the bathroom to empty my bladder, I couldn’t do anything about it.

I really need sex. And soon. And more often than once every few months (it’s been since the beginning of October, and before that would have been maybe sometime in August.) Because at the moment, I’m dreaming my life away!

Used the wrong method, with the wrong technique.

I guess I’m just weird in my ability to just not give a fuck about so many things.

I drink — and enjoy — Coke and Pepsi, and diet versions of both, as well as plenty of other colas and other flavors of soft drink. I use Windows on my main computer, but I’ve used — and had both good and bad to say about — multiple versions of Mac OS, Linux, and a handful of other less-known and less popular operating systems. I don’t drive, but I also don’t see the sense in zealously clinging to one manufacturer and the bloodlust for anyone who doesn’t drive the same kind of vehicle. Sports team rivalries, fights about which genre of music is “the right kind of music,” or about which band is “actually good” within a certain type of music, seem strange to me.

And then there’s all the other false dichotomies I watch people set up, seemingly so that they have something to be “right” about (and so that those who disagree can be “wrong.”) Like, the completely bullshit division between “good” herbs and “natural” medicine on one hand, contrasted against “artificial” pharmaceutical drugs and “manufactured” treatments — or, if you’re on the “other side” of the made-up argument, the “benefits” of modern medical technology and the “backwards” attitudes of the people who “still use folk cures.” And similar to that is the artificial divide between “good” medicine versus “bad” drugs / “fun” drugs versus “Big Pharma’s” pills.

Guess what, though? It’s all bullshit! You can totally take ibuprofen or Vicodin in the morning to help with your headache, if you partied hard the night before with lots of drinking and other drugs. Recreational use and therapeutic use work together just fine. You can boil some willow bark in the evening for a pain-killer tea, and take your prescription blood-pressure pills with it. Modern medicine and herbal remedies can go hand in hand. Or maybe, like I said, maybe I’m just a freak because I have no interest in picking an artificial “side” to stand on, and I’m happy doing whatever work in any given situation.

And I see the same thing play out in other areas, too. Articles crying about how “we’re addicted to technology” and how we need to start interacting with other people face-to-face “the right way” before it’s “too late!” Other people talking about how it’s critical to “move fully into the future” and how being able to connect digitally is essential, that we should strive to transcend the “limitations of” physical interaction as a thing of the past. I’ve heard passionate arguments about how “games with physical components” like boards and tokens are so much better than “those stupid techno-gadgets” and how we need to “get kids off of the computer” to play “real games” instead. And I’ve heard equally passionate arguments for “immersing kids in tech” from the earliest ages, making sure that they can “adapt to the new world” so that they don’t get “left behind.”

Again, bullshit. And I don’t understand why it is so absolutely critical for some people to cut themselves off from possibilities in order to fashion an enemy for themselves to hate. I’ll pick up my e-reader sometimes, and other times I’ll grab a paper book. I can enjoy shooting aliens on an Xbox, and have plenty of fun with Cards Against Humanity too. I can appreciate Carcasonne whether it’s played with physical tiles or digital ones. I can get out and take a long walk, smelling the flowers and trees… and taking some amazing photos of them with the camera/computer/communications device in my pocket. I can go play frisbee golf in the park, and use Facebook to organize a group of people to play… or I can play digital golf online, and happen to do so with some of the friends I was in the park with a few days before.

I know that people have their preferences, and that those preferences often not only inform their actions but dictate their worldviews. I just don’t get why so many people insist on creating such arbitrary and artificial distinctions, and adhering so closely to one “side” while loudly declaring how they abhor the other “side” of the division they’ve created…

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