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Don't worry. I'm not getting broody. Occasionally I wonder if I will actually have children or if that aspect of life will pass me by. Not getting any younger, you know. But really, that's not the thrust of today's musings.
I find children fascinating in that lab-rat experiment sort of way. The way their minds work and the way they learn things is truly amazing. As a parent, you are given the responsibility to nurture that process. But as a twisted individual, you could fuck with that process, and produce unusual and amusing results.
As an example, my good friend S's parents taught her to speak like Inspector Clouseau from the pink panther movies because it was entertaining. It was only when she got to kindergarten that she learned she was talking strange and had to unlearn it. That's not cruel, it's funny.
I never had a sibling, so it's not like I got to take out this sort of aggression when I was younger. Well, that's not entirely true. I remember when I was seven that me and my little friend Z taught her younger sister, aged 3 that "fuck you" meant "I love you". The we convinced her to go tell her mommy that she loved her in the new way she'd learned. We got in some trouble for that. I remember when I was six, I was made to take a nap with a family friend who was four. I got her to drink blue shampoo and then freaked her out because I convinced her she was actually turning blue like smurf and that it would be permanent. I got in trouble for that one. When I was under ten I think I would stare at children to see if I could make them cry just by looking at them (I could). I'm not saying these things to prove that I'm a horrible person, I'm just looking at my history of child experimentation (I think abuse is a very harsh word) and considering a future where I might have an ankle-biter of my own.
I have always thought it would be fun to have a child because you could make it believe lots of things that weren't true. For example, you could take all those books of colors and change the colors around so that your child learned that red was blue and blue was green and green was purple and purple was yellow, etc. How would they know any better? I mean, eventually, when they would get to school, the trick would be up, but how amusing would that be?
The one that particularly sticks out however, is that I would absolutely teach a child of mine dog tricks by using the same methodology. Sit. Roll over. Play dead. Lie down. Shake. Beg. I mean, wouldn't that be fantastic? How much fun would that be at parties. Of course this would be reinforced by the laughter that the child would get from such antics.
My mom tells a story about how when I was little people would say "Where's your nose?" and I would point to anything but my nose because adults would laugh. Positive reinforcement you see.
Think of the possibilities....
I haven't seen much of my house the past two days. Even though I really need to do some shopping for some clothes to wear to my friend N's wedding in Sienna in a few weeks, I think that I will not leave my house today. But we'll see.
Friday was office drinks at Dalston Jazz Bar after office tea and cakes as picked by S as it was his leaving celebrations. We didn't stay at the Jazz Bar that late, I went over to T's house after- we stopped by Sainsbury's on the way back to hers and picked up some dinner fixings. I think I got home around midnight.
Saturday I was up early, as it was a long day planned. I had told C I would vacate the flat so that she and Amsterdam resident boyfriend D could have some quality alone time. Which was fine. I had planned a day full of activities so I put a bag of stuff together and headed back to T's.
Before that however, I had to sort out my clothes for the day. Can't go to a bdsm festival in street clothes. Well, I suppose I could have, but I wanted to make a little bit of an effort. Settled on long black skirt, green tank top, with dark green crop sweater over. T was sorting her black attire when I arrived. We had planned to go to Broadway Market first- to get some food and kill some time in the morning before heading to Kinkfest. Which we did. T was looking for a necklace to go with a dress for a wedding she is going to be in. We ended up at a stall where two guys made jewelry from Italian glass. They were very cool and started making one on the spot for T to her specification. It turned out perfectly as a matter of fact. But since we were there so long, I kept looking at the wares on display and ended up buying a funky necklace that I had not intended on buying. T was a bad influence on me yesterday. More on that to come.
In the market we bumped into C and D who were picking up things for their evening dinner. We also saw S from our office, though it is unclear if he saw us or not. We didn't say hello to him and he did not say hello to us which caused T no shortage of grief throughout the day. But it didn't bother me. I didn't really want to chat with him, and we didn't, and so that was the end of it for me.
After the market, T and I headed to Kinkfest at London Bridge. It was pretty cool. Got to see some interesting displays and demonstrations. How can one explain to anyone who has not been? I'm not sure. Got to see caning demonstrations. Bullwhip demonstrations. Electro demonstrations. Needle demonstrations (yuck). Shibari demonstrations. Lots of nudity. Lots of corsets. Lots of rubber. Lots of school skirts. Some feathers. Some strap-ons. Tattoos. Piercings. Many colors of hair. And lots of things to purchase. I got a couple of padlocks on matched keys, always useful. And T got a fantastic feather fluff on a small wooden handle. Then we passed a whip and flogger vendor who had a lovely flogger in green, reddish brown, and mustard yellow deerskin. It was the green that caught T's eye initially. And once we expressed interest, it was a short time after that I was forking over cash for my new purchase. I had NOT intended on buying a flogger. But it is lovely..... What I had wanted was a gag and a different set of nipple clamps. Didn't end up with the clamps, though I saw plenty, I wasn't feeling inspired. I did manage to buy a gag that was reasonably priced, but when we got back to T's, and I looked at it more closely, the buckle had been put on wrong. So I'm going to have to send it back to them for an exchange. Annoying. But dealable with.
We left Kinkfest and went back to T's place where I changed half my clothes into something more comfortable and tried to get in touch with S and C whom I had plans with for the evening. They only live a hop skip and jump from T, so even though I couldn't get S on the phone, I headed over to theirs. Of course they were in, trying to get their outfits together for going out. They recently added an old gymnasium horse to their living room which was stunning. Anyway, we were off to see Circus Oz which was a ton of fun. After which we went to Studio Six at Gabriel's Wharf.
We finished dinner at around eleven. If I had wanted to, I had been invited to a party on Isle of Dogs. But I was exhausted and couldn't stomach yet another exchange of friends. So I skipped that and headed back with S and C and got in just past midnight.
Today I have work to do that I brought home and laundry is beckoning. I would like to go out and do stuff, but it's that whole weekend conundrum. Fun, chores, relax. One always get the short stick with only two days to fit it all into. Still, yesterday was good enough to carry the weekend in terms of excitement level.
T and I went to Nando's for lunch and were gossiping as we usually do. At some point the conversation blipped on the female use of the word 'fine'.
Mainly, we highlighted the fact that when a woman says "Fine." she rarely, if ever actually means 'fine'.
Now, thinking upon it, I recognize that there are often times that I say 'fine' and actually mean 'fine'. Though usually it will be incorporated into a longer sentence. For example, "No, that's fine.". The extra two words clearly indicating the use of the word is actually the given meaning.
But when 'fine' is used on it's own, as a single word response, chances are very high that really the intent is "Fuck no that's not fine," with the underlying subtext of "and if you cared about me or thought of me in any way whatsoever, you should instantly recognize that it's not fine."
Of course, the problem arises frequently that men seem to be a bit simple minded occasionally. Which means that when a girl says 'fine' to them, unless it's done in a drawn out sarcastic tone (and even then sometimes) they don't recognize the clear cue for what it is.
Boys, listen to me. If a girl ever responds with "Fine.", just think about it for a second. Ask yourself, "Does she really mean fine, or is that just my wishful thinking. If I were her, would I really be fine?". If not sure, ask for clarification. Either you'll get a much bitchier "Fine." which will clarify that really, things are not fine, or you'll actually get a better answer.
It would save everyone in the world a lot of grief.
That's me. Here to make the world a better place.
*smirk*
At the moment I am merrily listening to my freshly received Live @ the World Cafe, Volume 6. Like an uber-geek, I won it on eBay recently. Out of print, I have all the discs from I think number 8 up. I'm currently anxiously waiting for 18 and 19 to become available to the general public so I can snap them up. Volume one commonly sells for over $100 when it shows up. So I was super pleased to get 6 for the bargain price of $30 (well, $34 with shipping to here).
I really like music. In fact, I have a large CD collection. But I don't love music in the sense that I know everything about one particular musician or get really into the nuances of music. I just like music and seem to have a lot of it. I just don't make a big deal about it.
There's this girl N in our office. N loves music in that obsessive sort of way. She loves music so much, that I posed her the question a while ago, if you had to choose for the rest of your life between music (all types) and sex (all types - including solo), that you could only have one and not the other, for the rest of your life, which would it be?
She didn't really like my hypothetical question having also admitted to being hugely fond of sex to me on a previous occasion. But she thought about it throughout the day and decided in the end that she would give up all sexual pleasures for the rest of her life over music.
This caused something of a ruckus among our group of friends. And the question ricocheted around. Only one other person picked music over sex. Everyone else (correctly) picked sex over music. Giving up a lifetime of orgasms just so you could listen to Mariah Carey? I don't think so....
You can love music, just don't LOVE music.... know what I mean?
One of these. I don't know what I'd do with it really. I just want it.
I have just purchased tickets for me and T to go to London Kinkfest this Saturday. I suppose if Mr.Aloof was still around I would have seen if he wanted to go. I mentioned it to Mr.Ball but he has plans to install a new tap in his kitchen that day. So while he offered to go to the afterparty with me, he didn't want to go to the day events, whereas I don't really want to go to the afterparty, but want to see all the stuff that's on during the day.
So I asked T if she wanted to go. Which is cool as a couple months back, I came clean to T about my general activities and she's shared some stories of her own. Which is useful when looking for a friend to go to a bdsm festival with.
Still, it's a difficult thing sometimes I find. These ideas of 'community' and such. There is a strong uk bdsm community, but equally many people enjoy it, without being part of 'the group'. I think I tend to fall into the 'not in' category, though I do know some people who are, just from attending a few functions, and briefly seeing someone who is most definitely 'involved'. On the other hand, all my current Mr.'s are not what I would call 'involved' though Mr.Aloof has been to Torture Garden, here or in Japan I'm not sure, and has had private parties for some selected invitees in his attic space.
I suppose that's a good example of what I find more common actually. Small groups of people who know others and share within their small group. But seeing as how I'm mostly new at all this, I don't really have a 'group' though as I said, I know a couple of people here and there. So it's a bit strange to go to something like Kinkfest where I know there are lots of people who will be 'meeting up' and socializing- which is great for them.
But it leaves me feeling a bit left out I suppose. Or worse, like somehow I don't belong because I don't really belong to a group like that, not that I particularly want to. I think sometimes this is what kept me away from my bdsm interests for a long time. This idea that in order to participate, one must conform to a group, which I don't. I suppose the lesson from this is that I do not have to belong to a group to participate because obviously I'm going to go, and know some people, and it will be fine. Fun even. As there will be some excellent stuff to tempt my wallet with.
So really I should stop fretting about it and just look forward to it because it will be hugely entertaining.
Now, the new question of the hour? Whatever shall I wear....
This morning I said to C as I got up and she was getting ready to leave that we should schedule a date for dinner as I hardly get to see her. She said she'd be home this evening so we could have a date to schedule a date, which seemed like a very good plan.
Until I got into work. Where I was asked told to work on this project that has a deadline tomorrow. Seeing as how there are not so many people in the office with 3D skills. Which I don't actually mind so much, because it's the sort of mindless greuling work that is somehow fulfilling as you go through it and tick off how far you've come and how far you need to go.
However, after having such a lazy weekend, maybe a long evening of sitting at my desk was not so great after all.
First of all, my ass is hurting from sitting so long. Same damn broken tailbone problem. It's not a good pain.
Second, I think I'm having both eye and wrist strain. I can get really absorbed in what I'm doing and hours just pass me by. When I need glasses and have to wear an ugly wrist brace, I'm going to be seriously pissed off.
And lastly, I just saw a mouse. It was a cute dark mouse, but still, it was far too close to my feet for my liking. I was absorbed in watching my screen and saw something moving out of the corner of my eye. I thought it was maybe a moth or something (like, for example, some sort of hallucination from repetitive eye strain) and ignored it for a while, but then for some reason decided to look and there was this fucking mouse looking back at me. Then it ran like a mother fucker and I've not seen it since.
Oh, on top of all this, I don't get paid for my extra time. But as we just found out in a staff memo today, due to complaints about working hours, "As you know the general rule is that people must work as long as it takes to get the job done." Now that's teamwork!
Just to prove that I can, in fact, be productive.
I am still in my jammies however. 
Well that's a matter of opinion I guess. I went to feed T's cats only to find her flatmate had already done it. I made it to the market and didn't get anything in particular out of the ordinary. I wasn't feeling that inspired. I ended up eating the neighbors super hot and spicy Nigerian food before going, so I wasn't that hungry but did not manage to resist a nutella and banana crepe from the French guy. Mmmm....
Came home and where did the time go? I did one load of laundry, though it's been done for a few hours and I've not been able to bring myself to hang it up. I managed to get the batteries to my drill charged with the intent of hanging the kitchen curtains. But I'm not sure I see that happening today. Tomorrow perhaps. Though I would really like to get those up. Made from super-fun Marimekko fabric I picked up in Finland and that my coworker S made into curtains for me. She is still working on the ones for my bedroom- hopefully finishing them this weekend. Though I am really happy to get my makita drill back in working order. I needed a power converter/adaptor plug in order to bring it back to life. Every girl should have a drill. I love my power tools....
I am also in the middle of yet another cooking experiment, though this is less an experiment as I'm basically following directions from a book. Madhur Jaffrey's Indian Cooking to be precise. I haven't made tons from it yet, but everything I've made so far has been really tasty. I'm doing a spicy chicken bake at the moment. But it needs to marinate for another couple of hours.
I'm not actually sure I've accomplished much of anything else today. Oh, I did manage to pay for some eBay purchases I won. Now I just have to sit back and wait for those to arrive. Must have more music. Must have more books. I just can't get enough.
Still, it's been raining out and it's not like the weather was nice. I'm enjoying my time at home actually, as I always do. And anyway, there's always tomorrow to be productive...
Well, first I'm off to T's house to feed her cats. Then I'm going to go to the market and indulge in buying lots of tasty things. Question of the moment, to have a spinach egg and cheese crepe or pie and mash for brunch? Hm.....
My neighbor just came by and gave me some food as well. She's a good neighbor. I am going to water her plants while she's away for ten days which is fine. She took care of my plant last October when I went away, before I had a flatmate. She's been having some work done in her flat by another of our neighbors who I don't really know. But the work looks pretty good. I've been desperate to get someone to come and paint my hall. I painted all the other rooms in my flat, but I'm sick of painting and the hall is tricky what with having the staircase in it and stuff. Also, one wall is vibrant sunshine yellow and it's going to take a few coats of paint to cover it up. But if I can get him to do it, that would be fantastic. She also says he's a good carpenter, so once he does my hall and I save some money, maybe I can get him to do the built in thing I have planned for the lounge.
Astute readers may have guessed by now that Mr.Aloof did not appear last night. I didn't hear from him all day. I determined he wasn't dead by calling his office- he was 'somewhere in the building'. So I ripped off a curt email and left work. Of course, though the curt email was perhaps superior in coolness factor, I was actually really pissed off/upset/hurt/angry so wrote a much longer email when I got home. Which managed to elicit an email reply back. Which was good. Unfortunately the reply consisted of the information that he's just too busy at the moment. That for three weeks he's basically out of the picture.
So after a period of wallowing in being not happy, I composed myself. I suppose I have a bit of a free pass at the moment. Mr.Noshow and Mr.Ball have both been propositioning me and I've been putting them both off. Perhaps I shouldn't. Of course... they aren't Mr.Aloof. And it's him who I really want to see. But maybe that doesn't matter. Mr.Noshow was quite excellent in bed and was rather well endowed in a quite satisfactory way. Of course he also plays hard and I'll have at least a week of bruises if I go see him- not that I mind of course. Mr.Ball is an unknown. But we did have a naughty street corner moment once upon a time.... Oh the possibilities. I think I can manage to distract myself for a few weeks. Oh yes.
Right. It's market time. Productive weekend, here I come.
We just had a lunchtime CPD on various elements of office safety. While watching the instructional video, I was struck by how humorous the scenes were of people being injured. Everyone laughed. Including myself. Hell, I probably laughed some of the hardest. But watching everyone respond to misfortune in this way made me think of this game that I saw profiled on 'we make money not art'. In particular, the commentary about how people in a civilized society do not enjoy the suffering of others.
Thank god I'm not civilized.
*hehe*
What were you doing surfing the web at six in the morning? I'm glad your search for CJC could bring you to my site. And I'm pleased you took the time to peruse my archives. However, you missed a month. Please let me direct your attention to the month of July where the story continues (well at least you get a spot of porn for your troubles).
Thank you for visiting. Please come again.
*smirk*
I spent a good many years of my life avoiding relationships. For any number of reasons. In the past year, I changed all that, and took an active step towards pursuing relationships. This has worked out somewhat well. I suppose it depends what aspect you may be looking at.
At the moment however, I'm looking at the bad aspect. Tuesday I was supposed to meet up with Mr.Aloof for dinner or drinks. But he ended up busy working and while I spoke to him at almost ten, it was clear he wasn't going to make it. He promised me however, that we would have plans today. Insisted in fact. Told me to write it in my diary in pen. Which I did.
Have I heard from him since Tuesday night? Not a word.
So it's Friday morning. I am trying to hold onto feeble hope that he will appear some time today and this worry will be in vain. But a small voice, which is actually not so small, is suggesting to me that he is not going to appear. That he's vanished. Like he did before.
So which will it be? I hate waiting. I hate not knowing. What the is wrong with people??
*grumble*
In the meantime, I am not impressed by assholes trying to copycat bomb trains and buses. Fuckers should have blown themselves up. They're going to be caught. I hope they end up in prison for the rest of their lives learning what fear is really all about. "When you're in prison, don't pick up the soap...."
No matter what though, it's finally Friday. C is away for the whole weekend so I have my flat to myself. If Mr.Aloof isn't part of it, I feel a seriously productive weekend coming on. Taking out my aggression on all the things that need doing in my flat. Perhaps I should get pissed off more often. The antidote to my slack nature!
Seriously though. Things shouldn't be so hard. I need some spontaneous happiness, and I need it soon.
Before I go off on a total bitch-fest, I need to say at the outset, that I really love and adore my flatmate, C. I've known C for twelve years (or is that thirteen?). We met one summer in the States when she was doing the CampUSA program and I was finding a way to avoid staying with either of my crazy parents for my first summer after my first year of college. C is a ton of fun and I wouldn't change her for the world.
I also need to add that my mortgage is such that I must rent out my second bedroom or live the life of a hermit. I love my flat, but it stretched the limits of my spending power. And if it wasn't C, it would be someone else. Someone I didn't know and would have to learn to trust and maybe they'd turn out to be psychotic and steal my things. So it's great that C is my flatmate, because it's good to live with someone you already know, like, and trust. But living with people can have it's own issues.
And every now and then one needs to get the shit off their chest. Hello blog!
My obsession with ridding the house of garbage started yesterday. I actually managed to clear a box from my room (they have only been there since November). The kitchen garbage was full as well and so there had been a pile of garbage accumulating around it. I put all the piled garbage in the box and left it by the door so that the first person who goes out (which takes you past the bins) could take the garbage. This morning I decided to additionally empty the kitchen bag, the bathroom garbage, and also the garbage in my room- as it had filled up yesterday with my spur of activity. So I tied everything up and put it all by the front door to go out.
This morning C says "What's all this?" to the piles of bags and boxes by the door.
"I've decided to purge the house of garbage."
"Oh." she said. And with that, moved it all away from the door so that she could go to work- walking RIGHT PAST THE BINS. What the fuck??
I think I'll be able to manage all the garbage myself but does this make sense?
There is also a pile of dishes in the sink- most of which are hers. Most of which were there when I got back from Wales. I don't think she's done the dishes since I've been back from Wales and that was Sunday. I did the dishes once- basically I did enough to clear the sink and used up one 'soap filled' sponge. I thought to myself that this may indicate that I did some, she could do some. But apparently not. The dishes have re-piled back to the earlier proportions and very little of it is actually mine. What the fuck??
Then there's the ongoing pet peeve I have with the bathroom. C never props the door back open when she uses the bathroom and I always prop the door open. Otherwise it gets moldy and smelly and cuts off the cross ventilation in my flat- critical in this hot weather. She also leaves the bathmat on the floor and doesn't wipe up the water after she's taken a shower. I always do these things. Doesn't she find it strange how the door is always propped open and the bathmat is always neatly folded on the side of the tub, DRY, when she wants to take a shower? What the fuck!?!!!
Like I said, I adore C and while people who know me may cluck their tongues and say something about not living with friends. It's really not that big a deal. I just need to blow of steam every now and then and then it doesn't really bother me at all. Or at least, I can manage the irritation fine. It doesn't impact how I feel about her.
It's just fucking annoying.
(Just as I start to write this blog, my boss has returned- figures.)
This morning, before I even headed to work, I thought to myself, "I have nothing to work on today."
It happens like that sometimes. Feast or famine. Usually I have something I can pretend to busy myself with- but the reality was, I did most of that yesterday. And in order to not look like a complete slacker, I was going to have to ask for work this morning.
So I get in and sit down and am just getting my computer on when I see my boss is getting up to leave. I quickly ask him if he's leaving, which he confirms and so I then say something about needing some work.
"Oh, F and A are going to that site down south- you should go with them." and with that, he left.
So I called F who said she and A had planned on riding their bikes to London bridge, getting a train, and then riding their bikes to the site. Need I say it? I don't ride my bike in London. So F tells me I should get on a bus immediately so I can meet them down there in time. So not in the office for even fifteen minutes, I was back out the door.
Got on a bus, got to London Bridge. Found F waiting for me in the ticket line. Got my ticket and we met A on the platform with a minute to spare to catch our train. We got to the site and it was alright. Seven towerblocks on an old asbestos quarry or some such. It was really windy. It was really sunny. I wore the wrong shoes.
I have this pair of red shoes that I really like, but somehow, I've never been able to break them in. They always rub my feet raw, even though they look like they are tremendously comfortable and friendly, so far, they haven't been. And I didn't know I'd be traipsing to the BFE and up and down this site and these towerblocks in the midday sun!
So I'm back at work. It's almost time to leave. I'm tired and my feet hurt and I'm sure I've had a bit too much sun. Softball was cancelled- so I'm just going home. Sitting on my sofa and watching some television. I don't even think I want to surf the web. Maybe I'll clean my room or something. No. That takes too much energy. I should have dinner with T but I really don't want to go to her house. I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to do anything. I want to go home.
I blame the shoes.
I think I may have mentioned some time before that my friends adore when they find out I was wrong about something. This is, of course, because I am rarely wrong about a great many things. And perhaps even come across as somewhat smug about this. Which only means, that when I am wrong (which is perhaps, statistically not that much less than anyone else) and a friend of mine finds out about it, they usually jump with glee and rub their hands together in a most unsightly fashion. Well, at least I have the capacity to give my friends joy.
So S came to Wales on Friday because he may teach there with me next year. He had never been to CAT before and so I suggested he spend some time just walking around the place and seeing what they had.
He came down to meet up with me and my students in the eco-cabin classroom and was showing me the photos of the things he saw that he really liked. He said he loved the striations in the rammed earth wall at the bookshop. He said if he built this place he was thinking of in London, he would use rammed earth. I said, well, fine, if the wall was indoors- but it's too wet a climate here for an exterior rammed earth wall.
S got all uptight and flipped through the pictures on his phone. "No see- right here, this is the wall, and you can see the glass and you can see the outdoors- an external wall."
I scrutinized the photo. "No.... see, if you look, you see a window edge beyond this window. That's a window into the atrium and then it's protected. It's not outside"
"It is, and you are so wrong. I was just there."
I thought about this. I would have sworn I was right, but S made me doubt. He was being so confident and snotty about it. We argued about it a bit more and settled on him showing me how wrong I was when we were up at the bookstore later.
Saturday evening before dinner we walked up past the bookstore. S didn't really remember our disagreement so I looked at the bookstore as we were walking past it slyly out of the corner of my eye. "Oh S, please come look at something with me for a moment."
He instantly knew he was wrong. So wrong. So utterly, terribly, and completely WRONG. The rammed earth wall was inside, as I said it was. Completely protected from the wet Welsh climate. I did a victory dance. I gloated. I laughed. "You made me doubt." I said to S. For that I was not willing to forgive. I was going to rub his face in it for all it was worth.
I guess that was exactly how my friends feel when they catch me out.
Did I learn my lesson?
Nah......
*smirk*
The fact that I have bug bites prompted me to pop a Benadryl this morning upon C's recommendation. Why did I trust the doctor? Benadryl is an antihistamine. I am now blindly tired although it is only 10:30 because of the effects. I am struggling not to faceplant on my keyboard. Of course this is not helped by the fact that I did not eat breakfast this morning. No time to go to the shop when I got home last night. And I was feeling lazy about buying something on my way in. I regret that decision now. At least the fact that I am wearing my Birkenstocks means that nothing is rubbing on the two particularly evil bug bites that are on my left ankle. So I will remember to go to the shop on the way home so that I can at least have some dinner. When I do, I must also remember to get some drain clearing goop as the bathtub seemed a bit clogged this morning. It's difficult coming back to work as I'm a bit at a loss for what I should be doing. My boss is out today so I'm picking up some work from an old project. This utter boredom has obviously led me to blog. Where I have determined that most of the things on my mind all begin with the letter B. Funny that.
Got back about an hour ago. Again, my time in Wales seems like a sort of hazy dream. It went well. The lecture was exceptionally well received. The students were good. The project was good. The weather was amazing. The only bad thing is I have bug bites and I HATE bug bites. But really, it was good. And now, now I'm back and wondering if I was really there, or if that was some other K and I am just a shadow of her memories... or the other way around.
I missed my office summer party, and have heard via the wonders of modern technology, mainly the mobile phone, that I missed one hell of a fucking party. Can't wait to see the few pictures, and there is an overdue lunch with T tomorrow to get all her juicy gossip, of which she has teased me by texting teasers, that there is very much to tell.
The weather is too hot for my liking and my skin is in a rash.
Hormones are raging and I find myself being particularly critical of my appearance- I suppose this started before I went to Wales, as evidenced by my last posting somewhat. I suppose it will pass eventually like most things. In the meantime, I am hating all things physical about myself at the moment and this always gets me down.
Am supposed to see Mr.Aloof some time this week- though for what I'm not sure. Perhaps not a play night, which though sad, is also practical (see comment re: hormones last paragraph). But I would really like to see him- self criticism notwithstanding.
Am not looking forward to going to work tomorrow, what else is new?
Here's a disgusting thought I had while I was away. If you ate exactly the same thing, at exactly the same times every single day, would eventually you start to shit like clockwork exactly as you were eating like clockwork? Obviously the amount of physical activity would influence this, but really, this has been a thought on my mind that's somewhat taken hold. I mean, why do people not crap as often as they eat? There's something seriously wrong there.
And now to ease your mind of disgusting thoughts, another thought I had this past week, is what is it about plastic bags that make them make noise? I mean, we all know they make noise, and actually, they can't NOT make noise, but where the fuck does the noise come from? How exactly does the folding of plastic create sound?
My mind. Always spinning.
It has always been more socially acceptable for women to look at women. Every male has the two girl fantasy. Or just the girl on girl obsession. Whereas men are programmed at a very early age not to look at other men for fear of seeming 'gay', women learn at a very early age to scrutinize other women around them and assess them in terms of beauty.
This has occurred to me lately as the weather has gotten warm again and the local folk seem to leap at the chance to wear as little clothing as possible. I find myself critically looking at the women around me.
She has pimples on her back.
She has flabby arms.
Her gut is hanging over her too tight jeans.
That woman has no hips.
That woman is an apple.
I can see her ribs.
I can see the base of her spine.
She couldn't make her thighs touch even if she wanted to.
That woman has cankles.
That woman has VPL.
And so on.
I appreciate an attractive woman. I covet her beauty. I wonder what she feels like, and I wonder what it feels like to be her. While I am not averse to the thought of bisexuality, I know I am generally more hetero-leaning. I do appreciate a beautiful woman. I think women are attractive. Screw that, I think women (well, some women) are downright hot. It doesn't mean however, that I want to touch them.
And with that thought of the day.... I'm off to Wales. Later y'all.
So tomorrow I am off to Wales again. Cut off from modern communication methods (mostly) and forced to eat lots of beans and lentils. I will give my lecture, teach some students, and return confused about where my time went and why I have to go straight back into work with no respite.
SA is coming on Friday though, so that should be cool. He's not been before- but may teach with me next year, so he's coming down to check it out for the weekend. We haven't seen each other for a while. It'll be nice to have him there and know that phones don't really work so he won't be calling T every five minutes. Don't even get me started on that one.
I've been printing out filing all morning and I'm dreadfully bored. Mr.Aloof is being difficult- still having his midlife crisis and it's impossible for me to be objective about it when he starts talking about wanting to change everything in his life. I know he doesn't mean it personally but perhaps I'm just selfish in that it's the first thoughts I have when he speaks like this. *sigh*
Is it lunchtime yet? I'm starving.
That's what I'm missing. I'm going to have to scan it in at work tomorrow. The picture I tried to take using my digital camera just didn't work out. The notes will just have to do. I think it's all good enough. It's going to have to be. On the plus side, half, if not more than half of the people I will be giving my lecture to are not architects. This means they won't know any better. My casual style will go over well, and my collection of eye candy will ensure that even if my talk is terribly dull, there will be interesting things to look at.
I should have done laundry tonight considering I am leaving Tuesday night which means really I will need to pack that morning. If I do laundry Monday night, things won't be dry. If I was smart, I'd stick a load in tonight and hang it up tomorrow morning. Am I smart? We'll see. I just almost finished my lecture for chrissake. How can I possibly find any additional motivation?
Yesterday morning I wrote a long journal entry in my recently neglected journal. I've been neglecting it since I started writing here. I managed to write seven pages, six of which described in great detail the events of last Tuesday night. As much as I enjoy writing here, I really ought not neglect my old journal. I found that I enjoyed it a lot. And am slightly sad that it's been missing out on my daily musings. Still, I type so much faster than I write- and I can blog at work. And I can stick images on here which is easier than doing my requisite one drawing per journal page. Still, this I may try to motivate myself on. I want to write in my journal. It's the record of my life and I'm neglecting it. So I'm just going to have to find the time to do both. Because really, I'm still finding the blog novel enough that I'm not willing to give it up either.
One day I may even have more than 2 regular readers.
*smirk*
After a rather productive lecture-making morning... I have fallen astray. But I'm back. Just about 8pm and I am ready to finish this puppy off. If I were diligent, I'd say I have about one hour left of work. But Scrubs is on shortly and then that class thing on E4. Did I mention I have my laptop set up in my lounge? Not to mention all the web surfing in between online 'researching'. One hour. Lets see what I can do. (Web sleuthers alert- name the architect pictured, and win my respect- NOT you T....)
I was asked this morning if I am a carrot or a stick person. I answered without a doubt, a stick. But to fully appreciate this story, I need to back up.
I know I have written about this lecture I am preparing for my teaching gig in Wales next week. On Wednesday and Thursday nights, I specifically came home with the full intention of working diligently on my lecture, and hopefully finishing it. Needless to say, though the structure is set, the lecture is still only half done.
What I absolutely did NOT want was to be working on my lecture this weekend. And yet, today, after going to Broadway Market with T, we went by S + C's house and then it was too late for me to go home so I went to T's place and then we went to see Kung Fu Hustle at Angel for her birthday. Which was all well and good and what I should have been doing- but I wasn't getting my lecture accomplished either.
I know I have written before about my apparent slackness. I sometimes wonder what shade of brilliant my life would be, if only I would learn to apply myself. Instead, as written recently, I seem to be more content to drift along. But sometimes it seems to me, that it's something of a waste.
So when it comes to things like 'work', I have the complete knack of leaving everything until the last fucking possible minute. I have never not made a deadline- but I have never not been in a mad panic to reach one. It seems to be the way I operate. Feast or famine.
What pisses me off, is that even when I try to break the pattern, I seem to end up back in it. So this morning, when Mr.Ball asked me if I needed a carrot or a stick to motivate me, it was instantly clear to me that I needed the stick. I've tried to bribe myself before with 'if you get things done on time then you can have something nice' and the fact is, it rarely works. What I really need is someone standing over me giving me mini deadlines- and giving me hell if I don't make them.
Of course Mr.Ball politely offered to come over with a stick and give me some post-productive education... now that was a bit cheeky I thought. And I'm sure Mr.Aloof wouldn't appreciate it.....
I don't want to dwell too much on recent London events. We live in a world where these things happen. You can live in fear, or you can just live. I also feel uneasy about those who become so emotionally invested in tragedies that aren't their own. I was not injured. No one I know was injured. What happened was horrible, but is it any more horrible than any other act of violence or terror that happens around the world? I was geographically closer, true. And I know one person who was on one of the trains (and got out okay). Still, I'm okay. I won't get bogged down in the 'what ifs' and 'could haves'. You can get killed every day by any number of idiotic things. Life is for living. We must move on.
Anyway. My thought for the day is introspective and personal and has nothing to do with current events. Please don't hold it against me. I think this is just how I cope with things.
Hard work. What I mean to say is, I am hard work. As a person. I am complex, can be difficult, and stubborn. I am intelligent enough to make convincing and vehement arguments about things I believe in, and to piss people off from time to time. That being said, I am also fiercely loyal, generous, and caring towards those I count as my friends.
I have been thinking about my friends and partners and what it is that attracts me to people I meet. This was partially because of recent conversations with T about looking for someone who is 'too nice'. Once upon a time, a friend of T's hit on me. What I said at the time was, he was just too nice- and honestly, I would walk all over him.
None of my friends are THAT nice. They all have the capacity to be nice, and they all have the capacity to be snarky, biting, bitches and bastards. And I love them for it, as they love me. It doesn't mean I don't appreciate someone who is really sweet and nice. And I have known people who fall into that category that I have counted as acquaintances, but not friends. To reveal my inner bitch to them would upset them, or just confuse them. I have loved them for who they are, but they can never know me wholly- so they can never be my closest friends.
I tend to collect people who challenge me and make me think. Who keep me on my feet, and are full of surprises. Who are as likely to show up with unexpected gifts because they thought I'd like something as they are to laugh at me when I do something stupid. They are also trustworthy so that in time of crisis or need, I know they will be there for me as I would for them.
But this balance, this variety, these polar extremes.... it is all hard work. Rewarding, but hard. I don't mind it. I just acknowledge that's how it is. It's what I need from people. It's what makes me complete.
I wouldn't be happy in the land of soft fluffy bunnies. I wouldn't fit in. Eventually I'd have to scare them and chase them- just because. Then, when they were afraid, I'd make friends with them again and get them to trust me, only to eventually scare them and chase them again.
At the moment I am sitting in my office refreshing the BBC page every five minutes to try and figure out what the fuck is happening in this city. Between the Olympic spotlight and the G8 spotlight, it's not a complete surprise that the time was ripe for 'an incident'.
Fucking bastards. Whoever they are.
It's all very surreal. We live in the information age and have come to expect instantaneous information about the world we live in. It's madness to be so close to something and yet so removed.
I'm sure the news will be full of horrific images and stories as the truth is revealed. These are already blossoming on the BBC page as I refresh it. Whipping society up into a frenzied mass of fear and suspicion. It'll be like I never left home.
Though maybe not. Everyone else in the world seems to have more experience with 'incidents' than we did. That was a large part of the shock of the events. Maybe everyone will be better at handling it here. We'll see.
So here I sit at my desk. Blogging because I can't quite bring myself to just work like nothing is happening, though I suppose that's exactly what I should be doing. After all, I'm perfectly safe here at work. I made it in okay. My day has not actually been disrupted. It has nothing to do with me actually. Does it?
So last night the plans were set. I had stressed about my clothes. Forgotten almost to change into the 'nice' underwear before leaving my house and was having a hateful relationship with my chosen shirt. I hopped on the Silverlink at the time that Journey Planner said and got on the Victoria line no problem. This unfortunately seemed to put me at Vauxhall almost an hour before I actually wanted to be there. Ridiculous.
So I called T and chatted with her for about thirty minutes. Then I listened to my zen for about five to six songs before getting on the right bus at about 9:20 or so. I got to the warehouse at about 9:35.
I suppose I should interrupt by saying I know that this will probably sound like a strange story- but I'm a strange girl, and things in my world don't tend to follow the 'traditional' path.
So anyway, the arrangement had been as follows. After my email of Monday, Mr.Aloof and I had the IM chat and he sent me instructions as to what, where, and when. The paraphrased instructions generally followed that the workers would be leaving the building at nine. That I was to enter the building via the third floor fire escape. Make use of the toilet, etc. on that floor. He said he would begin reading at ten, that I was to come to the fourth floor (which had until now been off-limits) and sit by him and listen.
My biggest hang-up about this was the entering a room I had not seen before, approaching someone who would probably be able to see me, walking towards them and taking a seat (likely on the floor). Because I had no image in my mind of the space, and I hated the idea of walking while being observed, this was the thing that stressed me out.
However, it went alright. The space is fantastic, and I'm significantly jealous. There were candles all about, appropriate music playing, and Mr.Aloof sitting on the sofa at the end of the room. I kicked off my shoes and sat on the large cushion he had arranged on the floor in front of the sofa. He offered me wine from his glass. I don't actually think that any words were spoken.
We sat for a while. Adjusting to the situation. He got up to change the music. He stroked my hair. Kissed my face- though not on the lips. And eventually, picked up the book and began reading. I have never read Kahlil Gibran as it's not my usual style. It was good though. And pleasant to be read to. I would make the effort to read the entire book again at some point. He read probably half of it, skipping some passages. He said, upon finishing reading, that though he's read the book many times, he never noticed the use of the word 'aloof' in the text. It was amusing (as I call him aloof to his face).
And then there was more kisses and touching as I sat at his feet and the music played. Eventually he said softly to me that there was a robe downstairs on the chair and that I was to go down, change, and come back in the robe. I double checked on my way down, "Only the robe?" and he nodded.
So much for nice underwear.
It's funny to me which things stress me out and which things don't. I thought nothing of going back downstairs. I saw the yukata (Japanese robe) laid out on the chair, took it into the bathroom and stripped. I removed even my jewelry- after all, nothing is nothing. Folded my clothes neatly on the chair, the yukata tucked securely around me, though a bit long, and tied at the waist. I padded barefoot back upstairs.
Re-entering the attic he was standing towards the center of the room and there was a dark piece of soft fabric- a blanket perhaps, on the ground. He guided me to stand on it. Bodies close, hands roaming, kisses- but still none on the lips. He positioned me with my head bowed, hands behind my back, and began circling. I closed my eyes.
Ever so slowly through touches and caresses the robe was removed, and I stood on the fabric, in the center of the candle lit room, music engulfing, with my head bowed and eyes closed. I could hear him moving around me. I didn't want to watch. It would be too much. Already my senses were on overload. He stood before me again with a length of red rope in his hands and began to tie mine together.
I have only seen shibari (Japanese rope-work) on websites and such. I had never experienced it for myself. It's fascinating, and extremely efficient.
A simple tie, yet completely effective. I had not noticed I was standing directly under one of the roof beams. My tied hands were raised and secured. Still I preferred to not look. I felt the flogger trace along my back, my leg, my neck- alternated by his hands. I felt exposed but it didn't embarrass me. Then he began.
Much of the next two hours is a blur of experiences. The pain of being struck. The pleasure in being touched. The security and finality of the ropes (there were later, further explorations in the rope). It seemed an entire night passed in the span of a few hours. He never removed his clothes. And we never kissed on the lips, well, not until later that is- when he drove me home.
As Bill Clinton might have said, "I did not have sexual relations with that man....." but we all know what that meant.
'An introduction' he called it. Hm.... :)
Eventually my mind races so fast and so hard that it just shuts itself off and I go into detached autopilot. I think my shirt is too bright. And I am fretting a bit about how to enter an unknown space and approach someone and sit by them when I do not know what the space looks like, where or how they will be sitting or where will be available for me to sit. But these are minor. The rest of my mind is calm. Serene even. I'm sure it's a defensive measure. Got to love the brain.
I was thinking today about futures. I realize it's something I don't spend much time thinking on. Someone said to me yesterday 'life is what happens to you while you are busy making plans'. I don't think it's fair to say that I have no direction in life, because that's not true. I have a couple of long term goals that I am slowly working towards. But I have no concrete plans. I don't have time limits or expiration dates in my future. I just exist.
I'm thinking that this is related to my 'grass is always greener' syndrome. But unlike how I am usually distressed thinking that there are other things I should be doing with my life, instead I find myself somehow content to be adrift in the world. It's like a type of life-numbness.
Shit. I think this means I'm getting old.
Oh, I've done it now. So this morning I was feeling disgruntled about Mr.Aloof still. No word since Thursday and I was feeling somewhat 'over it' and finally at a place I could send an email saying what I wanted to say. (Two previous emails, one from last Saturday and one from this Thursday are still sitting in my draft box).
I find it easier to let emotions cool before sending a sharp email. It comes off as less whiney, more rational. And I do appreciate at least -seeming- rational.
And so after lunch, the sneaky Mr.Aloof who was invisible on my messenger sent me an IM:
Sensei: Kahlil Gibran to begin what could be a long night.............
Sensei: tuesday, wednesday or thursday?
*gulp*
His opening line indicated he had read my email. Shit, shit shit. We settled on Tuesday. Like.. fucking -tomorrow-!! (No pun intended)
Some more IM exchange and then:
Sensei: so
Sensei: tomorrow..will be late.......
Sensei: so best you sleep well tonight..............
*gulp*
I got the sensation of tingles down my spine. A clenching in the gut. I knew I wanted this when I sent the email, but the immediacy of having it said was somehow unexpected. Having things shift and move. It throws ice onto my nerves and my entire body tenses. I know I want this, but I immediately started to freak. I did mention I was complicated, no? *laugh*
And lastly, almost as an afterthought, but not at all an afterthought, he asked:
Sensei: do you want a safeword?
*gulp*
A safeword is always a good idea. I don't generally like using one in play- for the unknowing, a 'safeword' is an agreed upon word in a bdsm relationship where play immediately stops. You choose a word that wouldn't be said in normal conversation and both parties agree that if the word is said, play ends immediately. This allows people to say 'no', to struggle, to fight- without worrying their partner that they actually mean 'no', are struggling, or fighting in earnest. I have never been in a position where I felt I needed to use a safeword. I have had a partner ask for it (the general standard is the traffic light code: green- I'm fine, yellow- things are okay but don't go further, and red- stop) to see where I was at, and I never said anything but green, no, maybe I said yellow once. But never red. And I found the asking for it distracting at the moment. I prefer to simply know it's there.
It's a good idea to have a safeword when you play with things that can actually harm you.
Oh shit am I ever nervous. And grinning like an idiot. Maybe this week is looking up.
I have always been prone to bouts of loyalty.
It hits me when I have worked at some temporary job and the time has come for me to leave. I think I shouldn't. I think I should stay.
It hits me when I leave a place that I have lived (and I've left a few). That maybe I should stay put, just keep doing what I'm doing.
It's not that I think it's selfish to do things for myself. And it's not that at all these moments of conflicted loyalty in my life, I made anything except the correct decision.
But I find it an impossibility in relationships. How to stay impervious to attachment. I am trying to work out in my head if my loyalty to Mr.Aloof is warranted or not. Objective me says no way. Except I like him. And I want things.... and I want him to want them too. Maybe he does. But I can't figure it out. In the meantime, life is passing me by.
Would that I could rip out my emotional core. Beat it to a bloody pulp and lock it in a box in the attic.
At least my lecture is creeping along. This is going to be a rough week I think.
I hate Sunday because I wake up thinking about all the things I need to do and how I won't have enough time to do all of it. In fact, because of my lazy nature, I doubt I'll even get 50% accomplished, and then it will be back to work tomorrow.
The one thing I must get work done on is my lecture. There is only the rest of this weekend and then next weekend and then I am in Wales again. It is not something I can put off indefinitely and I only have four slides done in my powerpoint and not even close to all of my notes. At least I have the format worked out, but I still need to put it together. Oh, and then be comfortable enough with the material that I can get up in front of 80 people and give my 45 minute talk. Yuck.
Last night I met this guy M out for drinks in the city. It was disgustingly busy what with everything going on yesterday. We met at the bar at the top of Waterstones at Piccadilly and had a couple of drinks,then went on to Chinatown for a meal after. M is a sort-of friend of S's. They had a bit of a fool around on two different occasions and she thought it was going somewhere but then he dinged her by e-mail. This wasn't so terrible seeing as how he was GUD (geographically undesirable), but she was thinking there could be more.
So she barely knows him, and I definitely did not know him, but I offered to give him some advice on 'things to do in London' and so he offered to buy me a drink when he was here. We didn't really talk about S at all, but the only thing he did say was some comment about hoping I wasn't another lawyer who was going to go on and on about how much I hated what I did. I got the distinct impression that his reasons for dinging S had to do with her dislike of her life, and how she has expressed that to a new person. This makes me sad on two counts. First, because S is being defined by things in her life that she knows she hates, but feels trapped in. I know she feels trapped, though I don't always agree with the choices she makes or the way she sees things. But I also know she's a great girl underneath. Her bitterness is now interfering with her social life, and frankly, that's way bad. Secondly, I feel bad because I really can't say anything to her about it. If I tried she'd be defensive, and worse, it would probably get back to him. So I won't say anything at all, but it's tough when you know a friend could use help, but you just can't give it.
Anyway, it was good to get out last night, even though it was crazy crowded. I go into the city so rarely, it was nice to have a push to get me moving.
Today I'm cooking a lamb roast with root vegetables in this funky Mediterranean marinade. Have no idea how it's going to come out, and it may show up here as cooking experiment #3- of course courtesy of purchases made at Broadway Market yesterday!
No Mr.Aloof this weekend. He's dropped off the radar again. I'm so tired of his aloof behavior that I find I don't care that much. Still, I am weary of the looking and jealous of those who have found suitable partners. That can't be good. Maybe it's hormones or maybe it's just disappointment, I feel my mood shifting.
And here is another from Boing Boing. Disturbingly fun. I swear that girl moved on her own though....
Got this today off the Boing Boing site. Have spent some time making my liquid man boogie to the music on the radio. Stupid fun.
Bruise- ugly and black and kind of cool. I wore a skirt today so that I could easily show it off to people. My inner child cackled with glee every time I show it to someone and they go 'holy mother of god look at that thing!!!!!'.
*hehe*
CPD- over. And apparently, it went well. Came together alright. My part was 'really interesting' based on an informal poll. And best yet, I came off as 'really intelligent and succinct' in the question/answer bit at the end. So huge score there.
#2- is leaving the office. In October. I must say I was completely stunned actually. He's been here over 4 years and just made associate. He's moving back to New Zealand with his wife though- it's family starting time, and as a fellow ex-pat, I do understand. Still, what sort of karma is that? It's suddenly clear why my role in the office is being pushed to shift into one of more responsibility (not just because I'm smart, see above)... so that was interesting.
It's the weekend. And I'm looking forward to doing nothing. Though I have many mundane things to do, like finish my lecture on Shigeru Ban for Wales: part deux, as well as laundry, Broadway Market, and seeing if I can maybe go to the London Fetish Fair (am undecided).
Did I say I'm wearing a skirt today? I NEVER wear skirts....
