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Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Auckland Vipassana Meditation and The Rooster Update!

It's a fine line between pleasure and pain ...
 
I am the Equani Mouse!
I decided to do the Vipassana Meditation Course because I wanted to go deeper in terms of ‘waking up’ from needless suffering and haunting desire.
I had forgiven The Rooster for behaving aggressively when he had his big break down at the end of January. It seemed I was doing incredibly well and could face my own inner demons. 

On April 22nd, we met up in Devonport for his birthday. We’d been talking again, re-building friendship, but this was the first time I’d seen him face to face since the day I left Waiheke in a mess of tears.
I took my guitar and played the songs I’d been working on. The sun broke out over the sea and a double rainbow appeared. We hugged for a long time and it felt like home.  I was surprised my love was so present. I thought I would focus on all his faults and find him no longer to my taste, but it wasn’t the case. When we went to the ferry building we hugged again, and then he kissed me softly. I kissed him, and then again, and it was brief but passionate. My heart lifted. I wondered if we were going to get back together. I would be patient with him. I would respect the space that had opened up between us over the months that had gone by.

When we were next to meet up to play guitar together he made excuses not to meet me. I was harsh with my responses and then he admitted he started worrying and thinking, thinking, thinking.  Stop thinking, I advised. Feel. I sent a harsh email but that my love does not get shaken by a storm. He said he wasn’t sure he deserved my love.
He apologised for his selfishness. Warmth crept back in. Yes, I thought, all the pain has been worth it. There is so much love here. Before I went away, the trajectory seemed set. The texts and phone calls were frequent. 

Romance was back on the menu. With this in mind I went to Vipassana in Kaukapakapa, New Zealand. it's in a beautiful setting, and there's a small walk through the woods that eventually serves to remind you of the path you walk within.

Vipassana Meditation isn't religious, but it is based on the teachings of Buddha and involves a pretty intense meditation routine. No communicating (not even eye contact) for 10 days, no sexual shenanigans (including masturbation), no lying, no killing, no singing, no dancing etc. The rules are there to help people get into the zone, something that becomes clearer as the days go by. There was also complete segregation from the males which gave them an even greater allure.

THE COURSE TIMETABLE
The following timetable for the course has been designed to maintain the continuity of practice. For best results students are advised to follow it as closely as possible.
4:00 am
    
Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 am

Meditate in the hall or in your room
6:30-8:00 am

Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 am

Group meditation in the hall
9:00-11:00 am

Meditate in the hall or in your room according to the teacher's instructions
11:00-12:00 noon

Lunch break
12noon-1:00 pm

Rest and interviews with the teacher
1:00-2:30 pm

Meditate in the hall or in your room
2:30-3:30 pm

Group meditation in the hall
3:30-5:00 pm

Meditate in the hall or in your own room according to the teacher's instructions
5:00-6:00 pm

Tea break
6:00-7:00 pm

Group meditation in the hall
7:00-8:15 pm

Teacher's Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 pm

Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 pm

Question time in the hall
9:30 pm

Retire to your own room--Lights out



On Day One: I was vaguely bored. We were all focusing on natural breath, the feeling of physical sensation around the triangular region of the nose, nostrils and underneath the nose. I kept wandering away in my mind, constructing fantasies about having a shop, writing a book, becoming a teacher, travelling to Thailand and Vietnam, recording my songs, learning to sew. I feared not speaking for 10 days, but soon realised it was a great relief to me. I usually talk a great deal and sometimes I can’t even seem to stop all the words pouring out; to be silent felt quite luxurious. The luxury of nothing.

 On Day two, when I got my ‘moon time’ I got incredibly horny and fantasised about some of the great sex I’ve had, then about great sex I might yet have.  I fantasised about great sex I was unlikey to ever have (two hot men, that sort of thing). It was very, very pleasurable to get lost in these fantasies at first. I made up all sorts of stories and acted them out in my mind over and over again. I burned and burned. That's the burn of addiction and eventually you find that it really is the craving itself that you get lost in.

When you are meditating off and on for at least 10 hours a day and all you keep thinking of is sex, it goes from being pleasurable to painful.  Surely a little bit of self help couldn’t hurt? There was an assistant teacher assigned to the women and one for the men. I asked her if the no sex thing really did apply to masturbation and with wide eyes she said it did.  Well, I could have broken the rules of course. Who would have known? But I was determined to ‘do it properly’ and wished someone could tie my hands up so that I wasn’t tempted. Tied up. Leads to another fantasy. On it went.

Men speak of  ‘blue balls’ and now I can tell you the female equivalent: ‘red walls’. The inside of one’s cunt is made of aching molten lava, it pulses and cries out as if it has a whole life of it’s own. It actually reaches a point where it hurts. Fortunately I had a lot of other physical pain, so now and then I could observe it and momentarily focus on something other than my fantasies. It seemed impossible to retain equanimity when I got into the flow of a self made porno. I even had a great one called ‘The Retreat’. You can imagine.
I think it was on Day Three that the assistant teacher said that if I wanted to ask the main teacher (a lovely man) for any advice about my sexual fantasy pains that I could. She said he might have helpful advice, you never know. At the end of Day Three I thought I may as well ask, but I also noticed the lust was losing the burning madness of day two.
 There is a question time in the hall after the last session of meditating, men or women can approach. Questions are supposed to be about technique alone, but I asked what I could do about my ‘relentless sexual fantasies’ because they were certainly keeping me far from technique. The teacher guy, Rob,  told me what I already knew. He said ‘return to anapana’ which is the observing of the breath. Oh. Okay. So I asked  in front of heaps of people, and afterwards the assistant said she actually meant for me to ask during one of the private lunch time ‘interviews’ with Rob. Oh. I burst into tears, felt like such a dick. I suddenly imagined that by saying ‘relentless sexual fantasy’ that I’d now planted the idea in people’s heads. A couple of girls told me later that it did send them off in that direction.
On Day Four we learned how to use the same observation technique starting at the fontanel (the soft spot on top of the head) and moving ‘part by part, piece by piece’ down the body. We were always given instruction via videos or audio recordings of Goenka;  his voice sounded like an Indian version of ‘The Count’  from Sesame Street. 

It was all observation. On that day I moved out of fantasising and found I was able to observe sensations more easily, though my mind was still running all over the place. Sometimes the sensations were very light along the body, and other times I experienced feelings of pressure, or as if someone had cracked an egg on the top of my head and it was pouring all over me.
I distinctly felt like a jar of warm honey had been pushed down on me a few times, all tight, close and yet comforting. I had a lot of pain in my eyes, as if I was continually straining to see something. I noticed how my body slotted into place, hips, bones, flesh, a jigsaw of pieces and spaces. My lower back, knees and hips hurt like fuckery for the first four days, then the pain would play out in my middle back, my shoulder blades and neck. Because of my old injuries I was allowed this little chair that gave me some back support. Without it I don’t know that I could have managed the physical challenge of the course.

 I kept accidentally replaying scenes from ’Game of Thrones’, or the series ‘Girls’. I thought in depth (without meaning to) about characters from these programmes. Also ended up accidentally thinking of 1980's sitcoms like 'Charles in Charge' and felt quite scathing towards them.

Then I would replay some scenes from my own life and start analysing. Hang on. I'm meant to be here. I’m here. Look. Feel. Be. What are the sensations of my body?

 Again I would return. By day four and five the creativity was flowing freely, and spontaneous knowledge seemed to rise up. I also thought a lot about a situation where a man chooses between two women that he loves. I kept thinking of this couple I know in which that had occurred, wondering how she dealt with it.

I thought of The Rooster, and that if he had to choose between me and someone else then I would instantly take myself out of the running. Or at least, I imagined I would. I said to myself “that would be pushing me too far, I’d never feel secure”. So I looked at security. I observed my thoughts about it – because there is no security anyway is there? What is romantic love? Does anyone really love anyone else, or do they only love what they think they see?

I wondered why on earth I imagined that Paul would ever be choosing between me and someone else. Ah, I thought, I’m just making up sorrows for myself! He loves me.  I think he loves me. He’s had a break down. I’ve done the right thing persisting with him, showing him that love is not conditional. If he can’t be with me due to his mental instabilities, I will be fine. I will be EQUANIMOUS!

Equanimity (Latin: æquanimitas having an even mind; aequus even animus mind/soul) is a state of psychological stability and composure which is undisturbed by experience of or exposure to emotions, pain, or other phenomena that may cause others to lose the balance of their mind. The virtue and value of equanimity is extolled and advocated by a number of major religions and ancient philosophies.

The word ‘equanimous’ is used repeatedly, a state of remaining in calm balance at the deepest level even when storms of pain and pleasure rage. I kept thinking ‘Equani Mouse’ and imagined a little mouse that learns to stay centred despite all sorts of challenges. I saw it as a children’s book.

It became a blur of meditation, delicious vegetarian food, and of course looking around and judging everybody else around me. I am shocked to find out how harsh I am on the other women. I look at one girl and think “well she’s used to being The Beautiful One. Ugh.” My judgements are one of the few things that has me in tears during the course. I liked to think of myself as being so kind!

I see another girl and decide that Paul would be really attracted to her as she has a waifish heroin look about her. By day three I decide it isn’t heroin, that she probably smokes (but is of course a vegetarian) and does Capoeria (that dancey martial art thing people are always doing at festivals). She has long, straight red hair with a thick fringe. I name her Pip. Pippi Longstocking grows up and goes to festivals, takes drugs, does Vipassana and all the boys love her.

On the first day of the course, when we were still allowed to speak, I connected with Wendy and Marit. When I walked past either of them I would have to look down and smile at the ground. I felt the same about Pip. I developed an intense and unreasonable dislike of a little woman who looked like she was constantly in the depths of self pity. Whenever I saw her I would think ‘there’s that ugly little woman’. I went to the teacher privately to ask how to deal with finding out that you’re more of an asshole that you realised, that your self image of kindness is being ripped out at the roots and you are dismayed and disappointed by it. He said to just keep observing when these judgements came up. Not to label myself, but to just say ‘ah, there it is, well we all have that’ and to remain …. EQUANIMOUS! 

Interestingly, it was probably day 8 or 9 when I observed an intense wave of pressure so strong that it forced my head to one side. Oh, okay, so perhaps this is … no wait … don’t label it … leave it … just look …. Watch … feel. The pressure is hard to explain, but it was a bit like the mildest taste of the side show ride ‘Gravitron’ (the ride spins so fast that gravity forces you into paralysis). I didn’t feel afraid. I allowed it to be. It felt like something left my right ear, some kind of pressure. Oh, interesting. Now the pressure is inside my head, and it’s sort of pulsing in and out rapidly. How. Do. What. Describe. Don’t describe. Notice. Notice. Notice. My head is coming back up. I’m sitting straight. I am very alert. I feel the pressure changing, then a voice, not my chattering labelling voice, but a calm voice saying ‘that was your self pity’. Oh. Interesting. Then it felt like my face was disintegrating very slowly and pleasantly. Tiny molecules of it were floating away. Oh. Interesting. Don’t get attached to it though. Just observe it. The word ‘interesting’ featured rather heavily for me.
 
Does my Ego look big in this?
By day 9 I didn’t find the Ugly Little Lady quite as ugly anymore. Interesting.

On day 10 we were allowed to talk. I talked so much that I nearly made myself vomit. I got to find out how accurate I was in my imaginings about people. Pretty close at times! It was so great to finally talk with Wendy and ‘Pip’. They had a naughtiness about them that I really loved and then in turn felt overwhelming.

 I was sensitized in a way that I’ve never been before. Everything felt amazing and also sickening. I went to bed and couldn’t sleep. I felt waves and waves of sensation running up and down my body so fast that I felt off balance. I sat up and kept meditating, noticing the way knowledge, shapes, sensations and desires continually engulfed me and then moved on. Day 10 was one of the most significant for me, although you are told that it's 'hard to meditate' on the day that you can finally speak, I found the opposite to be true.

I lay down and the waves of sensation kept running like a ring of pressure up and down and within my body. I kept noticing. Kept noticing. By 2am I wondered how I would get up at 4am without feeling like death itself. A still voice within said ‘you’ll be fine’. At 4am, I woke up and my eyes were free of any tiredness or pain. I had energy. I had been taking less Ritalin as the days had gone by, the structure and focus of the course was affecting me like another form of medication. Meditation = medication.
 If I took the usual amount of Ritalin it was starting to make me ‘speedy’ which is what it does to someone who is not ADHD. I’ve spoken to my doctor about this – it’s quite common for a person to watch and regulate their use of Ritalin according to what’s going on in their life. This kind of self regulation is not recommended for those who have serious mental disorders or hard core depression.

By Sunday the 19th I didn’t want to leave. Everyone’s experience differs greatly and one of the reasons there isn’t any speaking is to prevent people from comparing. Marit, a young German woman,  said she couldn’t get ‘into it’ and used to spend a lot of time looking around. She said she would look at me and noticed I was always sitting up very straight. Guess she missed the times I was a slumping slug.

Wendy showed me how to hug ‘from the heart side’ and also gave me the line ‘jam out with your clam out’. I looked forward to showing The Rooster how to hug from the opposite side to which we are all accustomed.
I had told Wendy about Paul, and also about truly letting go of Andrew, The Sexy Ex. I was coming to terms with the fact that even though the chemistry between Andrew and I is truly amazing, it didn't mean that we are meant to be together long term. I felt that even though Paul and I had obstacles to overcome, there was enough heart felt friendship and romance to start all over again. 

I was giving Marit a lift back to Auckland and had asked mum if we could stay at her place that night. We did, and I meditated before I went to sleep. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Paul properly yet, but I liked looking at the loving messages he’d sent me before I went to the course. On Monday I took Marit into Brown’s Bay to look at Op Shops. I found the most amazing red robe with a large dragon emblazoned on the back. Paul loves dragons and I thought well, we’re not back together yet, and I don’t know what’s happening … but god he’d look good in this … sort of like a regal drug dealer or wizard.
I laughingly told the ladies behind the counter that I was buying it for my ex boyfriend. One of them misheard me and said “what? You’re buying it for your ex boyfriends’ girlfriend?”. I cracked up and responded “ha, now that really would be generous wouldn’t it?!”

When I got back to Mum’s I tried it on and then imagined Paul wearing it. I felt really happy. We spoke that day and I told him about the course.  I felt that we were working steadily towards each other again. On Tuesday we finally had a ‘serious talk’, the one where I get to find out how sorry he is for fucking around for so long, the one where he tells me how much he loves me. This is where equanimity would have come in handy.
He speaks slowly and with a lot of detail, something I have always liked. In this instance, it was not quite so pleasant. He tells me how his ex-girlfriend, (the 52 year old German with a heart problem) had come and visited him while I was away on the course.
“She wants me back”.
Well, I said, 
"you’re not attracted to her and you don’t love her. That’s what you told me."
 This is when the cold defensiveness creeps into his voice. “I always told you I still cared for her”. Well yes, but he always insisted that there was no attraction left. Then he dragged it out, saying how magical it is between us, with double rainbows over the sea. He tells me how he is still attracted to me and still wants to look up my dress. I calmly ask him if he wants to look up Karin’s dress. “Yes,” he says “yes I do”.

I am frozen and hot with the horror of it. The whole time he used to be so incredibly insistent that I was ‘over’ Andrew was really about him not being over German Mother. The pain of it is intense, especially with my extreme sensitivity after doing Vipassana. I feel my whole being writhe with agony. 

He is choosing between us and I think for a moment he must be choosing me. Then I realise he’s dragging it out too long.
He says that it came down to where he wanted to go sexually. He paused. Let it sink in. “I want to be with Karin. I have to follow my heart”.
The last time I looked, the heart was located above the belt. Pity I didn’t think of that line in the moment, but I was so hurt that I could barely speak. I could also feel rage burning in me, wanting to question, to argue.

My equanimity was fucked. Rage, sorrow and disbelief coursed through me. I texted him snottily, saying he wasn’t following his heart. He said he was.
 Sure.
 Yes I’m sure.
Yeah, and you were sure about me not so long ago.

I sat down after we talked and sobbed before making myself meditate for about 15 minutes. It was all I had time for as had to go and pick up the child I sometimes baby sit after school. I cried all the way there, and as I drove a storm was moving in. I picked up Z and as we drove towards Orakei a massive double rainbow appeared.

 By the time we got out of the car there was only one rainbow and a massive front was moving across the water, picking up and becoming a tornado. I told Z I was a bit sad and explained why. I joked that perhaps the tornado was heading to Waiheke and might rip the roof off his house. Z laughed and said ‘yeah, and he might be on the toilet at the time!’.
Then Z’s step grandfather said ‘yeah, and the pipes explode and pooh goes everywhere’. “Yes,” I added, “and no one gets hurt, but he’s covered in his own pooh’. We all cracked up, so immature.

I know I’ve been protected from being with a selfish man, a man free of heroin but who is still, in effect, a User. He mainlined my love and then when he overdosed … blamed me. So. What does that say about me and my self worth? If he’s a User, then where am I using? Did I also just get addicted to an image? Probably.
There was nothing to do but keep on meditating. I vasciallte between tears, anger and deep grief. I get lost in it and then remember to ‘just observe it.’

In retrospect I can now see that he might have been longing for German Mother for awhile. I always knew that he wanted a mother figure, something that I did find a bit challenging during the relationship.
 G Mother also fulfilled other aspects that play into the games of pain and longing: she had not been honest with him at the start of their relationship, and it was she who left him. He had said he wasn’t sure he deserved my love … yet he’s decided that he deserves the love of German Mother. So the one who hurts him is the one he wants? 

Since Tuesday I have suffered. I wondered when the spark was re-ignited. I imagine it was when he had a catch up with her a couple of months ago and she got to tell him how angry she had been with him. Ooh anger. That can turn into passion.
On the pain rampages, showing me her photo in my mind’s eye, one I’d seen on Facebook, another just of her plump torso in some kind of dress up outfit that I accidentally saw on Paul’s computer. She looks nice. Evidently she is nice. Really, really nice. Knowing she's nice doesn't help.

When I told mum he was going back to the rejecting mother figure, she said “Does she have big breasts?”
“Yes”
“Does she like to cook?”
“Yes. She bakes. She’s a really good baker.”
Mum cracked up laughing and so did I. She's also really good at cleaning and gardening. Hell. I'd take her back!

Yesterday I tortured myself imaginging them making love, her matronly body heaving beneath him, his face desperate like a dying bird. Then I wonder if she lost weight and that’s why Paul’s dick twitched so hard. Yeah. Probably. Hang on. I’m making shit up and it’s hurting me. I wonder about her Buddhism. Do no harm. I imagined her ensuring that she got to his cock before I did, knowing how closely it resounded with the beating of his heart. Anger flares up. Notice it. How it hurts the stomach. How it sends the heart racing. Do no harm. Do no harm. Do no harm.

If Paul is following his heart then only good can come of this. If not, then he will get his own wake up calls very quickly. 
I keep meditating morning and night. The emotional pain is so great that physical pain also comes up. I go to the tarot (Tarot of The Spirit) and ask for a card to clarify what has just happened. The card that shows me what’s just happened blows my mind. Here is a brief summary:

8 of Water; Still Waters
You are in a state of withdrawal; retreat is necessary and good at this time; through withdrawing , all things shall become clear; you will be protected as you withdraw, you will not lose anything important; take a break and remember, “still waters run deep”.

The longer explanation talks about ‘charging your Self and renewing your resources within a space of protection. At the Eight, you begin to understand the magical capacity of your mind. …. Stop everything and allow your Self the luxury of utter stillness.’

Even with this amazing card coming up, my mind still wants to go back to the stories of sorrow. My ego longs to mulch over the rejection, to roll around in pain like a dog joyfully rolling in the carcass of a rotting sheep. 

Then my ‘higher self’ or ‘the watcher’ gets a look in, and I’m allowing myself to just observe it all without falling into the abyss. When I find myself groaning ‘but why did he say he loved me?’ I then remember that when it comes down to it, few of us truly Love anyone. We are a mess of sensation seeking missiles most of the time, always see-sawing between craving and numbness. Dulling things down in order not to feel, or ramping it up in order to get high in one way or another. To observe is to get mastery over this mind. To observe is to demystify pain and pleasure.

Today I woke up in emotional and physical pain. I didn’t want to meditate, so I lay in bed feeling utterly miserable, totally sorry for myself. I got sick of the misery and had to meditate after all. I was afraid of having to sit with all that rejection again. Then lo and behold, I sat, and it is never quite what one expects. The pain seemed to vanish as I lasered in on it. That’s okay, I’m sure I’ll have more pain later. Pleasure and a sense of well being rose up. That’s okay, I’m sure that will also dissolve. 

Equanimous. Equanimous. Equanimous.

Yes. I can wish kindness for The Rooster and German Mother. Well okay, perhaps not just yet. It’s less than four days since he slowly delivered his news. 










Saturday, August 4, 2012

Oh the Mystery. Adult ADD/Ritalin update.



August 5th 2012
 I've now been taking Ritalin since the end of May 2012. Here’s a bit of an update on what I’m experiencing, and I’m sure it varies widely according to each person. 

Eye Spy

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed." - Albert Einstein
The Mystery of Ritalin/ADD
·        A ‘flat’ feeling at times, but now this is rare. I am used to non stop thought and emotion. When this ‘flatness’ occurred, I decided to appreciate it. I think of it as ‘turnaround time’ like a computer down loading a lot of information. This flatness can be a small holiday from hyperactive/confused thinking. It doesn’t happen now unless I’m really trying to do too much or leave too big a gap between my first and second pill of the day.
·        Food: for awhile there I thought I might go a bit mental with food as it was tasting so, so good. I love food anyway, but this was intense,  as if you’d want to fill a bath with food and wriggle in it, turning to lick, chew and swallow mouthfuls as you writhe. This level of intensity has passed, and now I’m so interested in doing things that I have to remember to eat.
This is almost erotic to me: a runny egg with wasabi, butter and lots of salt and pepper
  Eating: I am craving more protein. I want to eat eggs every day, preferably with cheese or more protein. I am eating significantly less wheat and problems with digestion and bloating are clearing up.
·        Weight/Exercise: Without specifically trying, I have lost 4kg. I did want to lose weight, but instead focused on what I wanted to do, not what I wanted to lose. I aimed to go for a decent walk, or bike rides, every day. I usually go every second day, but combined with less wheat and more small protein based portions, I’m getting slimmer. I didn’t know I’d lost weight until I noticed that a pair of jeans looked a bit baggy around my waist.
·        So is Ritalin a wonder drug for weight loss?
Of course it is a listed side effect, everyone knows that Ritalin is a form of speed, it increases dopamine production, yet I don't like crediting that alone with my weight loss. I suppose I'd like to think "I" did it, that it wasn't a drug. 
I read some excellent notes by a guy called Timothy Sexton. He said people taking Ritalin often lose weight 'rapidly'. I don't think I did, it seemed gradual, as did the change in my appetite and tastes: http://voices.yahoo.com/ritalin-methylphenidate-side-effects-adult-5684320.html
Added note: I tried to find out a bit more in regards to food/weight loss and gain, and some people on Ritalin actually GAIN weight. Today I wanted something sweet and grilled a whole tin of peaches, half a can of pears, spooned brown sugar all over it, grilled it and then ate it with yoghurt, jam and cinnamon. Mmm. After that, I then felt like something savoury - soba noodles with tinned tomatoes and spinach, lots of butter, salt and pepper.( I did end up going for a two hour walk though.)

   Focus:  The increased focus is helping me to complete tasks, and I’m so interested in a variety of things and getting them done that it reminds me of what I was like in my early 20’s. I used to forget to eat back then too, but always loved food and enjoyed it when I ate. I remember I used to have my tea and toast, buy six ‘buzz bars’ from the dairy every morning before cycling to tech and eat them all before 11am. Sometimes I couldn't wait and I'd eat them all on the bike ride into town.
Sex/Creativity:  I think there are differences, but to be honest, I don’t know if they’re consistent enough to document. It’s a bit like food. I sometimes feel like all I am is a nerve ending, a writhing filament of light and heat, but I’m not constantly obsessed. The thing is, I believe my sex drive/libido was fairly healthy anyway, but now it might be an energy I can choose to expend in a variety of ways. Sex is creative and so any creative pursuit, for me, has an underlying passion or sexual energy. Then, when you break that down, almost everything in life is somehow creative, and therefore I find I am having the most wonderful love affair with life itself. The way of thinking and being is a form of foreplay. I am seducing myself most of the time.
Doing Stuff: This I am still struggling with. It’s 1.10 on a Sunday and I promised myself I would leave the house and go for a long walk before 12 today. Instead I started to play online Scrabble, then I looked at Facebook (Painter and his friend are currently in Germany, ooh, I think it’s going to be a transformative journey for him), and then I had more coffee, and then I read some articles online, and then … oh time, you fickle beast.

So there’s a bit of an update for y’all.

I was bummed the other day. I got a $200 ticket because my car rego had expired. I had no idea. I got all emotional and felt like a big loser, cried all the way home. Andrew came over that night as he knew I was feeling down. I had already worked myself back into a good state of mind, but as you know, a lovely visit from someone who cares certainly makes a big difference.

Everyone seems to be travelling or planning to do so. I wanna go to New York and visit Becky, and I’d like to do that early next year. Wish me luck ducks, all I need is money.

xxx







Sunday, July 15, 2012

Pancakes, Meat, A Man List (nice dick) and More!

15th July 2012
The cat and the tarantula!

I like how you can change anal into banal or canal in scrabble.

One of my opponents appears to be an old lady so I refrained from putting ‘cunt’ on the board. Now that’s respect. David (The Painter) continues to be one of the Scrabble Lords, one of those people who work it like a chess player. I’m also playing someone who talks about masturbating. She appears to be a hot young blonde, but I bet it’s a dirty old man with a fake profile trying to get women to describe their wanking habits (oh, how many times a day do you do it?).

Look at how scary this is
16th July 2012
 Pancakes:
It’s been a massive weekend. Not massive in a get drunk and create a scene sort of way, but quite full nonetheless.  Mum came over on Thursday  and on Saturday morning  I’d invited Rob and Suzanne to join us for pancakes and happy bacon. I once referred to cage free pigs as happy bacon to a staunch vegan and she said ‘yes, I’m sure they’re happy being murdered’.
There’s no point even getting into a discussion when someone says that, you know that it’s like debating with a fundamentalist Christian or a Nazi. It’s better to just nod and agree that you are a terrible, terrible person. I wouldn’t get silly about it the way some people do though; start describing the meat and blood in order to upset someone. I usually make a feeble comment about really appreciating it when I do eat it. That’s just more fuel for an angry person to use against you though ‘oh,’ they can retort sarcastically ‘I’m so glad you appreciate how that animal died needlessly to appease your choice to ingest intestine clogging flesh’.
The outfit you would not wear to a party with too many vegans present.
 But I do. I always stand and think really hard before I buy meat. I pick up the packet quite reverently. I think of the fact that this was a living, breathing being, just like me. Not for long though, cos that would put me right off …

I find it difficult to cook for more than two people. I felt quite anxious on Saturday. I’d taken my Ritalin of course, but even with that, it felt like I was in some kind of race in which coming last meant serving cold pancakes with burnt bacon. Mum was great, she helped me (which I usually find really stressful too) in a way that worked. The only hard thing was if she expected me to speak when I was trying to do something, and I could feel her offended vibe radiating off her little frame. It’s as if my words actually get stuck coming out.
 I cannot shift course. I am pouring this mixture into this pan. If you ask me about plates right now I can’t actually speak intelligently. I might say ‘ungh … I can’t speak’. This isn’t something I’m doing to be rude or shut you out, it’s just that I can’t multi task, or if I do, I might not do any of the tasks very well.

I’ve explained this to mum. I don’t know if I get the ADHD from her or my bio father, in all likelihood, probably both. All my life I’ve been telling mum to keep away from me in the kitchen (if I’m at her place or mine she likes to come up and LOOK at what I’m doing and offer helpful advice or tell me to do something that I’m just about to do). I can’t even tell you how fucking annoying I find it, and how angry it can make me. Unreasonably so.

Right, that was a bit of a diversion. What I was trying to say is that mum really was genuinely helpful and seemed to refrain from giving excess advice. Once piece she did offer and that I think is worth sharing: cook the pancakes in two pans so that they don’t go cold. Genius.
You can't see meeeee, well that makes a change. 
 I’d put Rob and Suzanne on the deck, given them coffee and tea and invited them back in once brekkie was ready. Afterwards we all then went for a walk half way along the pipeline track. I took photos of shit with amazing hair like fungus growing on it.
To the tune of 'Sensitive to a Smile'' by the Herbs, you sing 'beautiful fungus'. Beautiful fungus, has come into my liiiiffffe, ....
 Speaking of shit, I do believe there is a correlation between clearing up your immediate environment and the state of your own bowels.  Sort of makes sense doesn't it? Living in a mess is stressful, so one might end up getting physically blocked. Clear the mess, un-block the bung hole. Ta da!

The cat and the horse
On Saturday night Lou and Johnny invited me to a friend’s deck warming party. It was an animal theme, so of course I went as a cat. Going as a cat is easy, you just paint your nose and whiskers and turn your hair into ears. Lou was a tarantula and Johnny was also a cat. There was a really funny, crazy girl there who did the best horse impression I think I’ve ever seen, and I had at least three meaningful conversations about all sorts of crap. I like that; funny people and conversations that go straight to the deep end. The host was one of those women you feel like you’ve already known all your life. She also had a cat that looked uncannily like Tosca!
Getting into cat mode.
Oh, I also ‘spoke to the angels’ (prayed, whatever) about my situation with the Sexy Ex. Really need to leave it alone, no making of tantric arrangements. It would just get in the way of what I actually want, which is a funny, kind boyfriend. You know how you write a list of what you want? This was mine from a few months ago .
  •   Available to love me unconditionally
  • Mentally stable  = resolved/resolving any issues, ready to be present and communicate honestly.
  • Happy. Likes himself! Kind.
  • Confident with money, generous and doing fine.
  •   Emotionally mature (or working on it and mostly succeeding)
  •   Feels comfortable in his body – has a nice dick, and is fit.
  •   Spiritually aware and active.

Since then I've realized I really want someone who can be silly. I look at all my best friends and that is something I LOVE so much about them. Silliness, giddiness, childish carry on. I also forgot to say they must have a reasonable sex drive.  A boyfriend I mean, I'm not going to dabble with my friends, even if some of them are hot.
 What I like about this kind of list is what it says about ME. That’s meant to be a clue isn’t it? What you want in a romantic partner is what you really want of yourself.
I can genuinely say I don’t actually want to have my own nice dick. One of the main reasons I’d like that in a partner is because it can be such a confidence issue for a man if he doesn’t like his penis, and then he puts it all onto you. Not his penis, his self loathing.  God knows people have enough self loathing as it is.  So really, it’s not the penis, it’s the self loathing that’s the issue. I've struck men with lovely dicks in recent years, so any self loathing and fear of commitment stems from something else, and I find that comforting (ha ha ha!).

I’m proud of myself for deciding to keep my legs crossed regarding the Sexy Ex; not in a ‘don’t be easy’ way, but in a ‘choose wisely’ kind of way.

Yesterday I visited Corneilius (old friend) and we talked and talked and talked. I tried to do some drawing, and I’m completely out of practice, but it was fun.

It’s raining again and water has come up through the shower plug hole. Last night I put a plastic basin in the shower so that I didn’t have to stand in dodgy water that’s come up from worm knows where. Worked fine. I showered and when the basin was full of ‘it’s only been on me’ water, tipped it down the sink. The water already in the shower couldn’t drain away, so it quietly leaked onto the lino, a small rivulet wending its way to my very own hole by the pole.  This morning the shower is once more full of mystery water, but it’s completely clear and clean looking. Rain water. I can’t seem to bring myself to complain about it. I’d rather stand in a basin.

Poor Tosca was attacked by some stinky cat last night. I felt like a real asshole that I hadn’t let her in sooner, she came in completely shaken and soaked through. She has a cut on the inside of one ear, the poor baby. I hope to god there aren’t any mystery bites on her … it’s so hard to find that sort of thing on a fluffy wuffy cat.

I’m going to visit Lisa up North in a few more weeks, ooh, I love going to hang out with her. She makes me laugh so much. When we skyped the other day we got way too much mileage out of my plastic Mary statue. 
Right, love to you all, may your dick stand strong and your labia puff proudly! May little children smile as you walk by, and rainbows appear just as you decide to go for a walk. May your heart be lightened. xxx
Warming the deck. One of the few occasions where I can wear my $3 fur cape.