Birthdays, headaches, and miscellaneous tid bits.

It has been a while since I have last written...partly because my internet is crappy and partly because I have not felt motivated to write much.

Between then and now, I had a birthday. It was actually one of the better I have had in a long time. Just about all my friends were available to help celebrate with food, alcohol and great conversation. To top it off, I got laid that night and woke to a leisurely day with a lover.

Eating at a new restaurant in town, my friends and I played some pool, drank some ale and laughed our way through the night...retiring to my porch for more of the same. I wore a nice little dress I bought, and I felt like a belle at a ball. It was really a great time. Of course, by the end of the night, I was ready to pass out, happily drunk, thoroughly buzzed with impassioned love making, and tingling from head to toe with that sort of happiness one feels when they realized they are loved.

Then back to work...

I know I have mentioned work before, but it is downright hellish sometimes. It just reaffirms that the human race needs to be wiped off the face of the earth (me included).

This past week, despite my best efforts, has left me feeling a bit detached and depressed. I think that the past few weeks of stress have finally gotten me down. My monthly visitor was late...very late, and I was stressing about that for a bit. And then about finances...whether I had enough money to pay the rent and eat at the same time...

But now, the stresses are different. Mum has not been well, and we got news yesterday that she needs a major surgical procedure...a long story, but still not the best news. And then the ex called...which freaked me out, and gave me nightmares last night. I'm not scared of the guy, just wary. The most important question being: what the fuck does he want? Grrrr. I'm not playing this game.

When he called, I thought it was my friend Terry...he sometimes calls from different phones. And I told my mother that was who I thought it was...and I was wrong. I did not want to alarm my mother, but flipping out on the phone...so I laughed and played along. It was painful. I would have really liked to tell the guy where to step off...and hang up.

He is the past. A memory. And that is where I want him to stay.

Wet love, top fives, and dreams

Life can be truly amusing from time to time. Just a simple and general observation I have made today.

At any rate, last night the Sergeant came to visit. He's heading off somewhere doing his army thing, pretty hush-hush stuff, apparently. He can grow a beard because of this hush-hush stuff, and I could not help but admire his beard. It makes him look like a man...a real man. Granted, his beard is red versus the tawny hair on his head and dark hair on his body...goes to show he's truly of the Scotch-Irish Appalachian sort.

He watched a bit of Hannibal Rising, more talking than watching. And finally, the film was abandoned in lieu of some lovemaking. The Sergeant loves to shower with me for some strange reason, but I don't mind. He claims to love the water, and I believe him. It was in the shower last night that I got the 'fucking' of my life. I came within moments of passing out from the combination of the heat and the fact that all the blood in my brain had drained southward...and the fact that I was 'fucked' within inches of my life...did I mention that? It was brutal pounding, me clawing at the walls of the shower, blacking out from such intense orgasms, and eventually being held upright when I couldn't catch my breath and my pussy would not stop quivering and my knees shaking. I had not been fucked like that in god knows how long or if ever.

I know my neighbors were probably cringing, the bathroom being the only place in these apartments where sound carries. I know I was quite vocal, enthusiastically so, until I nearly passed out, of course. My hips are still sore from the Sergeant's hold on them, and the back of my head where he pulled my head back by the hair and suckled my throat. I have what looks like a rug-burn bruise on my chin and shoulder from some sort of oral attack on my person. And my knees and thighs have finger marks all over...bruised impressions of his hands.

Yum.

It was a whole evening ordeal, and by the time he came, it was dawn. I was wrought out completely, but we still had enough energy to talk a while, talk about our 'top fives' in life. I rank in his top five of all time greatest women. A compliment to be sure. I rank in a tie for the best lay...number two. I would be number one, except for the fact that the Sergeant and I have not really had the chance to rut anywhere else than my flat. He claimed that he has a fantasy of being caught, or nearly being caught...public acts. I admitted that I was not adverse to the idea, the truth being that if given the chance, I would have him anywhere.

I admitted that he was in my top three of all time best lovers, at least in the basest physical sense. We are not in a relationship, although I sense a bit of jealousy from him when I mention other lovers. But the Sergeant is the type of person who would collect lovers, make them exclusive only to him, just because he is that much of a control freak. He has his issues, and I have mine...but the point is that he is a fantastic lover.

We slept in late, he at my left, wrapped up in my thinnest blanket, I on the right, cocooned inside a flannel comforter. Occasionally, he would wrap a big arm about my waist and snore into my hair. *chuckle*

At one point, I know I kicked the hell out of him, because he woke up and in turn woke me. I apologized and muttered I had dreamt I was in a fist fight with my father. He chuckled, rolled over and went back to sleep. I don't think I hurt him.

When the alarm went off, we were slow to rise...searching for hastily stripped clothing, something to drink. I tease him about the fact that he is a big, hairy army machine, adding that I would not have him any other way. I do care for the guy, but not so much as to beat myself up over the fact that we are not together. We have a good time, talking and sleeping together. He kissed me when he left, a sweet little kiss that left me tingling.

At work today, which was quite slow, I could not help but remember how he pounded into me in the shower. The feeling of his large hands upon my hips and the way he kissed my back and shoulders. How he overpowered my body and mind and held me so easily. In his domination, I felt beautiful.

I'm exhausted now, and I work two eight hour shifts...ugh.

Sore feet, and other bits...and Sympathy for the Devil

I have been rather naughty as of late, which goes to show that my emotional ups and downs usually end up with me doing something depraved...or lascivious.

Wednesday night, I met with a friend who I had not seen in over a year. He is a very handsome black man with his life in order, his Masters in Psych under his belt, a job, a car, and a great like for me. He stayed the night, and for once in a very long time, I made love to someone. It is nice to feel totally and utterly adored by someone, and that was how I felt with my friend. It was a nice evening of talking, touching, kissing and lovemaking. He slept next to me quietly, holding me close and randomly kissing my face or hair, running his fingers along my ribs and caressing an exposed breast. I really care for the man, he has been nothing less than wonderful and the lovemaking was exquisite, although new to me. I am sure with time we will find a new level of intimacy if our relationship continues.

The next night...another man in a totally different manner. It was raw, rough, wonderfully painful where I ached afterwards in the most fantastic way...the bed soaked with sweat and juices...and the comfortable, exhausted cuddling afterward. This is the Sergeant...familiar, funny, intense...a big hairy winning machine (says he). It had been a long time, and it will probably be another long period of time until it happens again. But I also care for the man, even though he can be a complete arse from time to time. He's great in bed, big body, hair and all. I love the sounds he makes when I clamp down on him. I also love watching his face, he has a very handsome face, and gorgeous eyes... I just love the way I know I can let loose with him...scream and scratch and bite like a madwoman. He takes it all.

Two different lovers, two different styles...both a welcome distraction from my more serious and morbid thoughts as of late. It is my life, my way, and it is nice to get back into action again after denying myself for a while... Frustrations vented...check.

Mourning a passing, celebrating a life.

My grandmother passed away this morning after 81 years and 6 months of life. This past week has been marred with the anticipation that she would pass, but still when I got the word from my dad a few minutes ago, I broke down.

I have blogged several times about my grandmother, she has been integral to my life, my education, and various other aspects about myself. She has been my best friend, my confidante, my support and perhaps my most precious person.

For the past month, she had been more ill than I or anyone has ever known. My grandmother had several health problems working against her, let alone her age. Up until the past month she had been very active, living in her own house, doing her own errands, but had slowed down ever since my cousin passed away two years ago. My cousin and I were the closest to my grandmother and when my cousin passed it seemed like a fraction of my grandmother's soul was ripped away. She had not been well since.

My grandmother had been in extreme pain due to an aneurysm in an artery running from her heart, putting pressure on various nerves. Doctors had hoped to repair the aneurysm next week, but I believe my grandmother knew that it was near time for her to die, or time to let herself go after being in so much pain.

I started a new job last week, and my grandmother was delighted. I tried calling her everyday last week, but most days she was resting, trying to fight through her pain. I finally got to speak with her on Thursday for about 15 minutes. I could tell that she was exhausted, but she was cognizant, concerned that I was fitting in at the job, and asked if I needed any help, financially until I get my first pay check. We laughed and talked, like we always had.

By Saturday, my first day off, I went to see her. From Thursday to Saturday, I could see a change. She had failed so much between the time I talked to her and the time I saw her. She laid in bed, curled up in a ball, her eyes unfocused, drifting all about the bedroom she lay in. It hurt to see her so weak and in so much pain. But she knew I was there, and tried to talk to me even though she had no strength to do so. She walked only from the bedroom to a chair in the living room, hanging on to me for support. At that point she only weighed 87 pounds.

After a shower, my grandmother declared she wanted to go to the hospital. The pain was so severe and the medicine she had at home was not cutting it. And so, we dressed my grandmother, I dried and combed her hair, and the ambulance came to get her. She only stayed two nights in the hospital. There was nothing the doctors could do except medicate her.

My aunt and uncle took her home yesterday, with a hospital bed prepared and a hospice care worker coming in to give her morphine. All of her veins had collapsed so no IV would do any good, the hospice worker had to insert a dissoluble tablet in my grandmother's lip. My aunt talked with me over the phone, telling me it was only a matter of time, but my grandmother was comfortable. In truth, I only wanted for her comfort. My grandmother was not conscious and even if I were there, she was not.

I am relieved that she is now without pain, and I am relieved that her wishes to die at home had been granted. We had talked about her dying many times and she had made it clear that she did not want to die in a hospital with tubes running in and out of her body. She wanted to die in her sleep, pain free, and at home...and so she did.

When I spoke with her Saturday, she mentioned, like she has many times while growing up, about dreams. She dreamt that she saw my grandfather, my cousin, my great-grandmother and great-grandfather, my aunt Annabell and my uncle Archie, all waiting for her, and calling to her to come. My grandmother tried to laugh at this, saying that if it were heaven, it was her personal heaven. My grandmother was raised a Christian, but did not practice. She had many eccentric ideas about religion, but she believed that our ancestors are waiting for us to pass, something akin to Viking beliefs. My grandmother believed in the power of dreams and the portents they hold, and she knew then that she was ready to go. It made me think of a Viking death hymn, and I told her so. She smiled and patted my hand, and simply told me that someday she would be waiting with all the others for me too. And not worry or mourn, but to be happy that she was off again, on another adventure in another time.

I'm so glad. My grandmother found peace, despite her body being in so much pain. As much as I would love to have my grandmother all my life, I could never be so selfish.

Arrangements are being made today, and I know I might miss either the wake or the funeral. But I don't think I could stand to see people mourning, crying out their personal griefs. It would be something my grandmother would not want. I mourn, but it my selfish nature to do so. But I also celebrate, because I know that my grandmother passed with little or no regret.

I loved my grandmother, I will always love her. She was not perfect and she made many mistakes in her life, but she learned and went on to teach me and my sister. She had a rough, but full life. She knew love, she knew the love of others, she had children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, brothers and sisters...all who loved her for her fiery spirit. So, I do not want to mourn, I want to remember and be grateful.

In the meantime, I go back to work Wednesday and also work Friday and Saturday. A friend is coming to visit on Friday whom I haven't seen in a long time, so there is something to look forward to. This is a friend whom I told my grandmother about, a friend who is very supportive of my life, and I look forward to seeing him again.

I will have to keep myself together as much as I would like to breakdown and sing my grief, but my grandmother would never want that. Even now, I feel her love and her wish for me to do all that I can do for myself. I will never lose that, and no one could ever take that away from me.

So, thank you, Mamaw...you have given me so much, and I never forget.

End of a long run, papers galore, and the luxury of a hot shower

I know I haven't blogged in a while...ah well, I haven't really written much besides work on the ole thesis. I have the rest of this week and then half of next and then???it's over!!!

It will be nice to give myself some time off, read books that I WANT to read, write on things besides the thesis/monstrosity.

It is really sad that I have not had the time to go out or even prowl a bit. Academia calls, and I must obey.

Pictured to the right, one of my heroes...Vampira. I need to get back into my 'vixen' mode before I forget what it was like to be female, horny, sexy, and just damn irresistible. *chuckles to self* or something close to that. I need a haircut in a dire way, and I need to get some sun and some air...I must face a zombie like creature every time I look into the mirror.

But, at any rate, I hope to get back into the habit of blogging about my boring little life in the near future. Cheers!

Pie, limpness, annoyance, and stupid cunts.

Strawberries and creme pie, ah, you sit in my refrigerator tempting me to shove my entire face in your pan. After not having anything the least bit sweet in my flat, here comes the pie. I shall eat you and never regret.

After NOT being invited out to drink for St. Patrick's day (who gives a flying fuck about an Irish holi-whatever when you are not Irish in the least bit...Scottish all the way), I was called to pick up two male friends from the bars. Why I did it, I will never know. To break the monotony? At any rate, I should start a fucking taxing service. So, I picked their drunk asses up, and ended up staying over a bit at the Man Whore's flat while the Sergeant crashed on the floor of the living room, a drunk, snoring blob. I was frustrated. The combination of alcohol and conquest made the Man Whore amorous. When he's completely sober, I should ask him to invest in something to keep him hard long enough for one of us to get off. Besides, he is a bit too skinny for my taste. I almost want to tie him down and teach him how to get a woman off. The Man Whore is mostly talk, I have gathered, and is quite clumsy when it comes to pleasuring a woman. Then again, it really is only about him.

Although, sleeping next to him is quite nice. I will not write him off totally. He is an endearing bed fellow...when asleep. I do like sleeping next to him, and that's about it. Perhaps the next time he is interested in touching me, I should simply say that I want to sleep...and let him and his amazing deflating cock be. I left his bed last night, or early morning, with a spent condom still on his cock, reaching out for my body that was no longer there.

I slipped out and home while both men were sleeping. I came home and took a shower and went to bed. At 1, the Sergeant called and woke me. He thanked me for giving him a lift. And I told him that the next time he drunkenly tells me that I "don't know shit about politics, because I am a woman," I would not be responsible for my actions. Prick.

Half an hour later, the Man Whore called...wanting another ride...this time to his car. I expressed my annoyance, but agreed. We have a compromise. He buys me dinner or gas for my car, I'll occasionally drive his skinny white ass around a bit. It annoys me, but in the end, I like the company. Not always, of course, just on occasion.

While picking up the hung-over men, I looked like utter shite, and I know it. That's what you get when you wake me up after a long night of nearly no sleep. The Sergeant paid for a full tank of gas. I used every bit of the advantage to fill my nearly empty car up to the brim. All the while the Man Whore was telling me the latest bit of drama. I guess some stupid cunt the Sergeant was messing with tried to kill herself. I couldn't help but laugh.

The Man Whore is supposedly 'pro-suicide,' "for stupid cunts," he says. I have to agree. In my own life, there have been times I have tried (and obviously failed) to take my own life, but it was NEVER over someone in particular. I told the Man Whore that my reasons had more of a global view...to which he laughed and patted my shoulder and ruffled my hair. I then went on to say that I had no sympathy for anyone who tried to kill themselves over being slighted. I have been slighted many times over, and yes, it hurt and I felt like doing something rash...but it usually culminated in me drinking far too much and calling people drunk and saying something obscene. Ah, a fantastic way to vent one's spleen.

I also noted that I had no sympathy for the Sergeant either. I like him, I really do...that is when he is sober and not around the Man Whore. He's an okay guy. He's fantastic in bed, and he's very warm with his lovers...but...when he's drunk and in the presence of certain folk, he's a prick. I suppose that can be true for most men. Supposedly he said something to the stupid cunt and she tried to kill herself. That's what I gather. The Man Whore also noted that the girl was very much 'in love' with the Sergeant and sought a relationship beyond the Sergeant's means. I shrug... I had a similar itching a while ago like that...but quickly killed it. As much as I can be fond of someone...that doesn't mean I want a relationship.

So...I love the drama, when I am not involved. In a way, it serves the Sergeant right. He can run off at the mouth sometimes...his particular brand of machismo working overtime. He really needs to be more careful with what he says and does. Not everyone is so blase about things as I am. Yeah, it hurts a bit (my ego mostly) when a lover of sorts doesn't return your calls, but that's the breaks, eh? But my life is not effectively over because I see the Sergeant with other women or he blows me off. It will piss me off, but I will move on to someone else quickly.

Ah, one of the reasons I hate my own sex.

So, I am going to return to bed. I have no plans for today. Tomorrow evening I am going to my grandmother's to stay the night. And perhaps this evening the Man Whore will take me to a good dinner. He makes more money than I do, so it's only natural. I should express to him the fact that he's a lousy lay, but that might damage our congenial relationship. Then again, he uses me too much, and I let him for my own gains. I just wish he were better in bed.

*sigh*

Sleep, oblivion, and painful waking

I slept though my alarm at 10 am this morning. It was still going off at intervals until 4 pm. I woke 15 minutes ago....now being a quarter till seven.

Christ. I slept from about 1 am last night until 6.30 pm the next day. I did not hear the alarm, and I only rose once to go to the bathroom...sometime when it was still dark.

So bugger it, I missed a whole day. I did not want to wake...how odd.



On some evenings, such as this evening, the wind is quite warm although a cool rain blows upon the breeze. It is refreshing after the temperature being so low and the wind like razors.

I realize how strange my life is. I get lonely. I called my sister and spoke with her for a few moments...telling her about my 15 hour sleep. She asked me if I had been drinking. In truth, I have not had a drink in about 2 months...not since New Year's. I just have not been in the mood to drink, and no company to enjoy a drink with...

There is a giddiness in my thoughts...a euphoria after sleeping so long. I am lonely, but I am not lonely. I am sleepy, but I am not sleepy. I am hungry, but not...

There is a surreality surrounding me. Maybe I am slowly becoming unhinged?

I did dream during my long sleep...disjointed dreams...dreams of old houses in which several tenants lived...dealing with water rising into their verandas and back porches. I dreamt of having a light haired daughter, a toddler with black eyes. I dreamt of driving down a great mountain road in a three wheeled car. I dreamt that I was very old, but my body was young.

If I had the time and less responsibility, I wouldn't mind being able to sleep 15 hours a day.

I woke and immediately took a shower. My face feels tight. My left leg tingles, and I stretched after my shower.

No class tomorrow, only work in the morning. And then I'm off to the mountains for the weekend. I really cannot stand to be here at the moment. I am ready to leave.

ugh.