Deep Fried

A: the easy part:  Business plan that had me stressing is a Plan, not a move. That was just too much too soon.  I'm tired of change.  I'm relieved.  We have a goal in mind, we feel we'd be good business partners.  I just hope we can make it happen.  We both have a way to go though.  I'd prefer if we were both more than reasonably out of debt.  I have to begin collecting things I need to function in a professional capacity and that takes a back seat to my debt.  Actually, I don't even really care right now.  Figuring that shit out is now at the bottom of my priority list.

My 'bad decision' was my tattoo.  Instead of having sex with several men and using my grief as an excuse to go off the deep end I chose a tattoo... something I've wanted for a while based in subject matter I've liked since I was a girl. My point with that is this... it isn't just a random, 'I think I'll get a tattoo to mark this awful year of my life because I'm emotional'.  It's for me.  Sure it has meanings but really I just wanted it.  
It's gorgeous by the way.  It isn't finished, but it is lovely.  I love it more and more every day.  Japanese floral partial back piece.
I am putting myself into debt with this tattoo.  I chose it, I accepted it, I'm doing it, I'll pay for it. 

Yes, John is gone and even though the weekend really threw me off the delicate (false) sense of balance I was gaining I understand he's gone.  I understand I am moving forward even if I still cry every day and not just because of him.  Even if it is only that I am breathing and continuing to face each day and continue to take care of my sons and life as we know it.  I know I am picking up the pieces and starting over.  I know I have a lot to sort through.  I know I lack joy and happiness.  I know I'm going through the motions...

I know I am not ready for someone to come into my life and after this afternoon I don't know that I could no matter how badly I want someone to trust and RIGHT now, lean on.

I feel really alone. 

This afternoon, I now KNOW, not just guess, KNOW my youngest son is Bi-sexual.  I suspect he's gay but I accept his definition of himself. I totally support him in his sexual preference whatever it may be.  I don't believe love is relegated to color, sex, or even age.  In fact I'm relieved we talked about it and he knows I support him and I'm not disappointed or anything ridiculous like that. 

I'm afraid though.  Only a little more than if he were clearly straight.  I'm afraid for Both of my sons to suffer broken hearts.  I'm afraid of them being used, disregarded, disrespected, hurt. 

That isn't what has me freaked out.

What is just breaking me right now is the issue of porn in regard to my youngest son. 

Porn.  I believe porn corrupts real intimacy.  I know intimacy can be had without sex.  I am focusing on my sons future experiences with sex, intimacy, first love(s).  I am afraid his turn ons won't be from the heart, from his mind, from love.  I am afraid Porn will infect his expectations before he's even experienced real intimacy.  There is no innocent discovery through attraction, feeling, a mutual crush.  His exposure has now taken away from those moments and he now has these base images that are stripped of all real intimacy and are just in fact base acts of gratification as his teacher.

I'm not trying to be over protective crazy unrealistic Mom here either.  I get that porn is a turn on.  I would feel this way if my son was looking at straight porn.

I'm not stupid.  Gay, Straight, Bi, etc... everyone ends up with hang ups, their fucked up a little or a lot, they struggle.  There is always a down side.  Clearly I get that.  I'm living it and I have lived it.

I don't want my son to be in danger.  I don't want my son to have to have such a difficult road before him.  Is there more acceptance towards Gay-Bi-etc, yes.  But there are also crazy fucking assholes out there that are dangerous.  I can't protect my sons from heartbreak, how can I protect my youngest in particular from predatory people if he's already been exposed and desensitized to visual base sexual gratification when he's still forming up his sexual identity?

He's already being bullied for being different.  He's struggled with adhd and has struggled socially.  He's very intelligent but his behavior has set him apart. 


I'm overwhelmed by too many things at once.  I'm tired and I'm scared.

I hope I wake up tomorrow and find a little hope...

Recalculating

I feel like I have taken a wrong turn. 

This last weekend really put me off balance.  I need to sit down, close my eyes, get my equilibrium back.

I'm glad I am driving to pick up my 13 year old from So Cal today... maybe the drive will help me clear my head.

I'm tired.  My mind is all wrapped up in things that are not helping me move forward.  My girlfriend wants me to make a business move I am not financially prepared to make, though if I could it would financially be beneficial.  I'd just have to buy all the equipment I need... not possible right now.  It's stressing me out. I mentioned it to a friend/client... about wanting this but not being able to now.  She said something to a girl  used to work with that works with Cindy and I'm worried my damn mouth may have caused my friend problems. 

As well, two men I have recently become acquainted with are having problems with their rather new buddy friendship and I am at the center of it.  I think they are nice, but I don't see serious relationships in the future at all...

I want to cut everyone off.  I want men to go away.  I want my mouth to shut.  I want things to settle out.  I want my tattoo done.  I want... whatever...

I want my clients this morning done and I want my kid home. 

Hush Little Baby, Don't Say A Word

Job 6:24

Teach me, and I will hold my tongue: and cause me to understand wherein I have erred.

Jam 3:6

And the tongue [is] a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our member, that it defileth the whole body, an setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell.

Jam 3:8 But the tongue can no man tame; [it is] an unruly evil, full of deadly poison .

Please for give KJV

I should have gone with something more pleasant to read

However, I am too lazy to go back now and fix that

Please, please don't think I am Bible thumping.  These words often come back to me when I open my mouth and speak.

I'm being hard on myself.  I am.  However, there are many times I wish I had just waited. 

It seems to me tonight I forgot I'd resolved to listen and not speak. 

I haven't said anything that will set a fire, nothing poisonous.  I'm just disappointed I spoke.

Pro 17:28

Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: [and] he that shutteth his lips [is esteemed] a man of understanding.

I want to speak less and listen more.  Why?  It's because I don't want to be so open.  I have these unguarded moments where I am too open.  I share things better left unshared and I share myself in this hectic, disorganized manner.    I'm wondering if maybe this was another little lesson preparing me for a bigger thing? I'm horrified by that thought because at moments like this I'm disappointed in myself and feel I've learned nothing and opened my mouth and proved it.

What am I holding out for?  What am I trying to hold on to?  Some idea of the life I want?  Some idea of the woman I strive to be?  Some thing, some compass within guiding me?  According to who's will?  Nature?  Nurture?  My true self fighting for dominance over My outer socially influenced self?  I'm getting dizzy trying to put words on this suspicion of a feeling I feel growing in me.  Is it a perfected me or just some parasite sucking moments of my ever shortening life away?

I'm wondering if my 'process' is a complete waste of my time.

Process... this process I'm going through.  I feel like my heart is beating in a hollow space just a little bigger than my heart itself yet it echos back and forth to me and sounds like a hundred hearts in my chest.

I used to tell John all the time Life is so short. I spoke the truth, not realizing its impact and how near that future was.

I'm beginning to think I am making these frustrating mistakes because I am wasting my time and efforts on the wrong things.  These things being people, thoughts, activities...

But how do I arrive through that process, and where, when I am barely learning to put one foot in front of the other?

Is my arrival my end?

I don't want that inevitability... I want... I realize I may never get what I think I want.


Should I be less noble?  More so?  Should I stick to my (possibly misguided) path or live it up with no thought for tomorrow.  A point I think some might argue  look the same to them depending on the angle.

Or perhaps something greater is brewing, something world dominating which will make these girlish worries and wishes as pathetic as they seem in text on a blog.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word
Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird

If that mockingbird won't sing
Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring

If that diamond ring turns brass
Papa's going to buy you a looking glass

If that looking glass gets broke
Papa's going to buy you a billy goat

If that billy goat won't pull
Papa's going to buy you a cart and bull

If that cart and bull turn over
Papa's going to buy you a dog named Rover

If that dog named Rover won't bark
Papa's going to buy you a horse and cart

If that horse and cart fall down
You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town

Hush, little baby, don't say a word
Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird

If that mockingbird won't sing
Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring

So hush little baby, don't you cry
Your Mama loves you and so do I .

Anchor

Sand Dollar Beach, this last Thursday through Sunday, was beautiful.  John's riding the waves now, he's resting on the beach, he's floating in the crest and fall, and in the setting sun sparkling on the waves.  He's evaporating into the heat of the day from the sea spray of a wave brake on the sand.  He's in the wake of a surfers cutbacks... he's in a little container that proved to be superbly waterproof in the pocket of my cut off jean shorts while I was walking waist deep in the cool salty water, my feet sinking into the sand as the sand crabs scrambled to hide between my toes while I searched for sand dollars.

I'm still not sure how I feel having a bit of him in a little container... only S and I know.  He gave me what I asked, months after I asked it he remembered and gave it to me.  I can't describe how it feels to hold that little bit of him.  I can't imagine his reaction if he were here and knew and could tell me what he thought. 

He could be squeamish.  He could be, superstitious?  He was sentimental... but with cards, pictures, secrets.

I suppose I am too.  Sentimental, in my own way. 

I wanted to be on the beach as much as possible.  I managed that.  A few times drawn away reluctantly.  It was so difficult.  So many things are difficult with out him. I realize there were so many things we did together.  He made so many experiences possible.  Six months later I know I am changed, and yet I can't define it.  I still cry in quiet moments.

I'd managed to compartmentalize things though.  This weekend opened me up again.  J said it is clear I am raw.  I'd thought I had it hidden better.  I am though.  My capacity to filter things, particularly stress, emotion, the unexpected, is sadly lacking. 

Being with his family was an uneasy combination of familiar comfort and, and... I think an end to those relationships.  Not with J (her) but with John's family.  Maybe it's just me being overly sensitive but I don't think so.  Listening to my instincts I see the chasm opening wider and wider.  Too much loss for me and my sons.  I sense a deep sadness with a slick of fiery anger on top.

We got home yesterday.  My oldest son stayed behind for school, my youngest and I with my step-son and his girlfriend came home.  J and her kids stayed in Monterey with her husband before he flew back to the Midwest for a job he's on. 

Then, everyone left today.  My oldest for school, my youngest for a week with J and her son and daughter and my step-son.  My step-son's girlfriend and J's other son to her Mom's up north.  She's moving there, he's just staying with his gma for a while.  I am driving down south again Saturday (I was just there Memorial weekend) to pick up my boyo.  June has been a busy month.

Then life will go back to this quiet routine existence again for a while.

I spend time with my friends.  I have made a few new ones.  I've even had a few men show interest.  I still have this total disconnect mentally in regard to any interest in sex, relationship, or anything like that.  A disconnect with experiences in general.  I'm floating barely registering.  It's like I'm vaguely people watching while standing in a really line at the DMV to find out I've been in the wrong line all along and my time is up.

Something I don't understand... my periods are tied into the full moon.  Something John and I both experienced.  He'd get weird, I'd have my phase, both of us during the full moon.  It wasn't like that at first... like a bunch of women in an office together, we eventually came together in that respect.  His man period, my woman one.  It actually sucked because we'd both be sensitive, crazy, Lunatics at the same time.
Now it's just me, but, damn... always right around the full moon.

#sigh

I'm hoping things will settle out and I'll find myself.  I want to live again.

Reading Is Bad

Yesterday I arrived at work a little early for my client, as usual.  My co-worker was there with her girlfriend.  The Chinese ones I went to lunch with a few weeks ago.  We exchanged pleasantries, Irene (I'm sure that is her Chinese name given at birth) thrusted some packaged snack at me.  It looked like the crystallized, candied Ginger only white.  It was coconut and it was delicious.  They complimented me on not being like other white people in that I am unafraid to try new things.  I told them I learned a very long time ago to try, that way I don't have to regret years of not being able to enjoy something... like crab or calamari.  Picture a stubborn ten year old, crying at the table terrified of the 'seafood' in front of her.  Having her parents Force a bite, and the dawning excitement coming over her face at the first bite.  After that I am sure they regretted that particular force feeding.  I love seafood now.

Why is reading bad?  Reading is bad I am a little superstitious.  Nothing like not changing my socks during a summer long winning streak at baseball... just... enough that it created some superstitious paranoia which led to some actual anxiety. 

I have mentioned I have little capacity for extra triggers. 

You see, I forgot it was the Year of the Snake.  For me this is a year of trial.  Duh.  An unlucky year for finances:  Don't borrow for it may be a difficult recovery as there may be unexpected expenses that come up.  Too late.  Now I am dreading any More unexpected expenses.  This year has been a bitch like that.

I should dress modestly because if I don't I will attract a bad man.  Well... I think I dress modestly, but according to whom?  If you are fundamentally, legalistically religious I am probably the Whore of Babylon.  I don't do the Low-High-and-Tight thing.  I do like wear pretty things that are feminine. 

In health I need to watchful of accidents and falls.  Well, I am a klutz and John used to say I was a terrible driver.  He drove like eighty year old woman that was nearly blind.  His assessment of my driving was probably the one area he could feel superior in the relationship because outside of being devious (he was very devious) we were fairly equal.  I drive the speed limit, I don't always look at my phone, and I have never been in an accident that was my fault.  I guess I need to watch out for accidents in which other people fall on me.

I can't remember any other categories but they were all about the same.  Big red flags of warning.

So I was nervous.  Mainly about the financial bit because this year has been one big financial stressful pile of OMG help me get through This.

I even cried.  I'm pathetic.

So I'll amend that to Reading Chinese Horoscope year pamphlets is Bad.

This Year has been rather awful.  Thankfully I am enduring.  It's already been six months.  I can do this.  It's just a year and I'm not Chinese, I'm not even Asian.

I'm Scottish, French, Welsh, and Russian.  Read that.  I'm hardy, I'm spirited, I'm a little crazy, I'm a fighter.  I'm passionate about living, even if it seems like I am in a holding pattern running low on fuel and ammo. 

It's just six more months until another year.  I don't know enough about it but next year better be Boss! 

I think I am okay.  I'm happy, even with all the downs, all the tears, all the hits.

It's the little things.  Tonight I am going out with a girlfriend, and invited another, to a local Winery (they sample other local wineries as well) for live music.  A Rockabilly/Rock-n-Roll band. 

My prayer as usual these days, God get me through this month.

I'm going to go read something now.

Shaken, Not Stirred

Either way I'm all mixed up.

When I sit back and think about it I realize I am being protected and I am being schooled.

Lessons are often not fun.  In particular, lessons involving self change.  The results can be useful.

I'm learning a lot about myself. 

Last weekend I had a birthday.  Not a very good one.  I am moving forward though, thank God.

Outside of my finances being frustratingly day to day I am content.

However... I'm craving intimacy, still.  It's been about six months, outside of that kiss experiment in early May.  Disappointing.

I am craving, but I am not looking.  The sensation is uncomfortable.  Last night I woke up at 2am.  Restless.  My back was itchy from my tattoo healing.  Nothing I couldn't handle, but, it was an added distraction.  I needed touch, release.  I got up, took aspirin, drank water, laid myself down.  Restless.  It's strange, as much as I crave intimacy, touch... when I am alone late at night awake masturbation is not easy.  My mind just won't connect with my body.  It's like... I want to say an itch I can't scratch, but that isn't it.  It's like waking up from a dream but not being able to remember it while the sensation of the dream is still there, but quickly fading.  It takes Work.  I often find my masturbatory thoughts interesting.  This time I found myself picturing myself and my sons at a house of someone I know only a little.  We were having a backyard pool bbq.  I was in my bathing suit, the kids in the pool.  I felt the sun on my skin, heard the noise of splashing and talking diffused in the yard.  I pictured him inside masturbating while thinking of me.  See?  So complex!  Then the yard became John's yard, the pool his pool, I'm in the sun alone on the pool deck and I can picture John with the sun in his hair, on his skin.  This feeling wells up, and not the feeling of climax.  I stop what I'm doing for a moment... then I embrace thinking about him.  I climax.  And get buried in loss and cry.  Then I sleep.  It's after four and my alarm is set for 5:15. 

I dream a nothing kind of dream.  My alarm sounds and hit snooze.  I lay in bed until 5:35.  I take a long shower, slowly trying to shake off how tired I feel. 

And here I am... confessing some intensely personal moment to the quiet nothing.

What did I learn about myself.  I have no idea. 

Doing It

Frustrating.  My mind is on all the time.  I sit down to write and I short out.

I'm craving touch.  Sometimes it is sexsexsex... most of the time it is just intimacy.  I'm sure if I started with that it would certainly end up with sex.

My friend and I were talking about kissing.  It's been on my mind!  We both agreed it was so much more fun being young.  Kissing and anticipation was where it was at.  Yes, sex happened, but not the same way things progress the older you get.  I was a little wild when I was young, not as much as some.  I was more of a loner.  I liked going places alone.  I liked spending time with myself.  I'd like to think I was less obvious, but I probably wasn't. My doing things alone meant I experienced moments in life groups of girls do not.  I'm not just talking about sex here btw.  I just wasn't needy.  I didn't need my girlfriend to walk to water with me, walk the boardwalk, walk to the bathroom.  I liked being alone.  I liked hanging out, but I didn't need the crutch.

I could, at this moment, have all the intimacy and/or sex I want if I'd stayed the course with Steve.  However, I have this problem with my own version of high standards and I can't get past those boundaries.  He wasn't enough for me. I shut down completely with him.  WTH.  Wouldn't it be more convenient if I could just... go there?

 A small part of me entertained for a moment messaging him, then as I considered it, my stomach let me know how revolting an idea that was.

Part of me finds that to be a good thing.  The Fury in me finds it completely annoying.  Fury wants me to get my groove on.  So do I... just not with a guy like that.  But why not?

I can't really put my finger on it.  He was sloppy, though, I find some sloppy guys delicious.  Maybe not sloppy.  He was moody.  Again, moody isn't all bad either.  He tried to figure out what I liked, what I wanted, and wanted me to have it.  That's sexy as hell ... unless you're a guy that comes off  Needy, whiny, transparent, and sloppy.

Poor Steve.  I guess I will amend my boundaries to not considering a guy named Steve.  I married one.  Ugh.  I'll say it. They had the same personality!  Total turn off.  Controlling and Needy.  Yuck.

I'm very eclectic in my taste in men.  I'm not into one kind of guy.  I like tall men.  6' or more.  It's just how I am made.  My ex was 5'7" maybe.  It was always an internal struggle for me.  I tried too.  To overcome it.  I couldn't.

Race/color has never been an issue for me.  I typically like men with dark hair... however my longest running crush from elementary through high school was on a boy named David and he was blond.  I've been attracted to blonds (Southern California bleach blond was what I loved growing up), dark hair, red hair.  I typically do not like boyish looking men.  I like Men.  I'm fine with facial hair, I'm fine if he's clean shaved.  I like 5 0'clock shadow.  I love a man with a great haircut.  Short, mid-length, long doesn't matter really ... but a great haircut is just sexy on a man. 
I like a man that can clean up, but jeans and tee-shirt is super attractive too. 
Jean shorts on men... seriously?  No. Only women, and only cut offs.  ha

When I'm attracted to a man I love the way he smells.  Not like when I have a client come in and he's wearing a terrific cologne or his hair gel smells great... I mean that subtle individual scent.  I like the salty smell of a man after sports.  John had that.  He Had that.  He tasted amazing too.  His skin.  My ex was absolutely disgusting, on the flip side.  He was like an unbathed for months on end homeless person.  Probably because he never washed his gear and probably because I was never actually attracted to him in any way at all. 

I am completely shut down if I am not attracted to someone.  If I am attracted though, it's sublime.

Sex is a wonderful gift, it can be.

Sadly, I won't be having it for a while.  I haven't had it for a while.  I am having a problem seeing myself ever having it again! 

I have to be attracted to a man to have sex with him.  I tried the 'John' way.  Distraction with someone else from pain.  It is NOT me.

I'm in this holding pattern.  Grateful and resentful all at once.

Even when I see a man I'm attracted to I'll find myself looking past him, avoiding that opening glance or return eye contact.

Out of the corner of my eye I'll look, I'll stare as though slightly open mouthed and nearly panting with craving taking over my body and soul... but its secreted inside and this wall, this bubble reflects disinterest.
.
I want to be bold.  I want to touch.  I want...

But if I do I'll end up on the same path I've been on before.

I guess I'd rather anticipate, need, and desire some nameless unknown than actually go there right now.

I worry too... I worry Fury (you know, that other visceral me) will just take over some impulsive day and I'll end up tumbling down the rabbit hole of sensation.

Then what?

I want to be selective.  I don't want to take what might be offered just because I am hungry.  I want something more for myself now.