Celine's last day in Paris and she wanted to grab lunch at a super hotspot in the Marais (where she's seen models and the famous).
Then, she wanted to do a pedicure/manicure thing. I have never done a pedicure/manicure thing. First, for the ethical reasons that these shops are horrendous on the Asian employees (why are they almost all Asian?). Second, I'm just not girlie enough for it. Third, I'm very aware that my feet are not my best feature - and they're ticklish.
When the Asian lady lifted up my foot from the tub to do some scrapey scrapey thing on the bottom, the 4 teen girls behind her cracked giggles and popped their eyes. One even leaned over to get a better look.
No, my feet are not clubbed. But yes, it's why I always wear sexy thigh-highs or cute knee-socks on dates.
For dinner, I went over to an international affair of all these kids from my grad program. And, who did I run into but the classical guitar player.
Ahhh, life.
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Pieces for now
I submitted my report of Homestay 2 on Sunday, beating my deadline for turning it in by a few hours. I'll post some of it here soon so it can accompany and explain the photos.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
I swoon and feel silly afterwards. I'm swooning hard now. Donkey Kong, chess genius, he listens to my petty daily grievances, he asks if I was intrigued by rough play, he is pushing me to new places, he is the first in a long time to wish for all things uplifting and realizing my long-held dreams.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Yesterday was overly stressful with the running rush to the end of the grad project. Never made a documentary before and don't feel like I want to be the artistic director, but we have to review all the 23 interviews, select clips of each (hour to two hour interviews), write up narration, choose graphics and statistics, be interviewed ourselves to fill in the gaps and turn the camera on us as producers. And this is all in the context of the fact that no one has done a project like this. We started with a potential client who fell through. We quickly made our own project. We demoted the project leader to adviser. We took her contacts, did the studies, made the appointments, made the questions, negotiated rough waves, convinced them to not fear the camera, eased them into answering, got what we wanted, were diplomatic and driven. The piecing together is precious because everyone else will stand up there with their projects highlighted in powerpoints and reports. We will have a useful tool to shop to governments, private firms, NGOs, unions, and the like. We are pioneers and if the blazing of the trail fails, we fail and the possibility for future alternatives fails.
Today was joyous. We made enormous progress, high on caffeine, locked in a room, me and the other American girl. We went for hours bouncing off each other, feeding, agreeing and politely challenging. We made strides. And then the other members joined us and it was magic.
What happens between a day?
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Yesterday I also noticed something. I like strong men. I talked to my sister and her fiance on Skype on Sunday, planning their visit to Paris in June, our trip to Italy, and where we'd go after. They will file the paperwork to have a civil ceremony in Cinque Terre somewhere. I will be a witness (despite being legally able to marry people - I got the certificate online in Wisconsin and promptly married myself to myself at the Orpheum one drunk night with friends). But, while we were planning, I noticed her bossing him around. He'd come up with good suggestions and she'd shoot them down, she'd tell him to stop rambling and do the research. I sent her an email after the call, much later in the night, and commented that I only get to see glimpses of them together and don't know - nor is it any of my business - what their dynamic is, but that I wanted to be sure things were alright. The prospect of three weeks together with them fighting does not seem appealing to me at all. She replied back the day after that it's just a bit of strain on the relationship and they're working on it.
This affected me though and carried over into the bad day yesterday. The Filmmaker wasn't showing enough backbone, wasn't telling us what to do but was suggesting meekly or hinting at. The four of us women in the project are strong, Alpha types. Play on our field or pony up harder, but don't even think of revealing a weak throat or we'll take it and tear it. We demand. We expect. We want perfection. We want strength. And he seemed to easy too push around yesterday. And this just made me even more disrespectful of the situation.
I told my sister once that I did not envy her situation with her fiance moving into her apartment. I said that the only way I could live with someone now would be to be the accepting partner of the relationship: told where the sugar goes, told how the towel is folded, told what days laundry is done, etc. Otherwise, I'm sure my personal habits and OCD would take over and I'd want to arrange things as I've had them. Whereas she said she has the upper management of household and needs to. So, she finds herself sighing at the misplaced coffee grinder, boxes stacked high in their bedroom, and rearrangement of her furniture.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Back to the Filmmaker, what I did realize today is that while he might be overly kind and concede to our wily demands, anyone else in his place and this whole thing would fail. If he were more dominant or arrogant and told us how things would be, it wouldn't work. If he were trying to drive our project and prohibiting our input, it wouldn't work. So, I realized I just need to take a breath, be thankful and grateful, and accept things as they are.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
This is challenging, as well, trying to be the dominant leader girl during school and then the submissive in my special time when talking with Mr FD. It's a balancing act: re-reading what I write and how I write it to him after hours and hours of writing directions and shorthand comments. Switching my voice - inside and outside. Switching my brain. I thought for a while that it might be better just to turn it all off while I try to finish this last month of school -- not cancelling the May homestay per se, but shutting down communications. Earlier, I've felt almost obsessed or possessed by the topic of bdsm, by thinking of him and what we'd done and were doing. And now, I have to become re-obsessed with school work in order to throw myself in and finish well. I can't give up now. And, Mr FD has expressed his complete support (and demand) that I do well. It's all about finding a balance, because I can't envision living right now without having Mr FD and bdsm in my life and can't let myself slide out of finishing school well either.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
I'm encouraged as a person and a student that we have sort of valedictorian elections right now and several people asked to nominate me. I've declined because, frankly, I am not so eager to represent our class in the final days. I'll be happy to move on and I'm not so stuck on getting that kind of recognition. Sure, share the podium with the former President of Ireland, but I don't have the heart to express admiration for all my colleagues, and certainly don't share the same vision of our future.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
I swoon and feel silly afterwards. I'm swooning hard now. Donkey Kong, chess genius, he listens to my petty daily grievances, he asks if I was intrigued by rough play, he is pushing me to new places, he is the first in a long time to wish for all things uplifting and realizing my long-held dreams.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Yesterday was overly stressful with the running rush to the end of the grad project. Never made a documentary before and don't feel like I want to be the artistic director, but we have to review all the 23 interviews, select clips of each (hour to two hour interviews), write up narration, choose graphics and statistics, be interviewed ourselves to fill in the gaps and turn the camera on us as producers. And this is all in the context of the fact that no one has done a project like this. We started with a potential client who fell through. We quickly made our own project. We demoted the project leader to adviser. We took her contacts, did the studies, made the appointments, made the questions, negotiated rough waves, convinced them to not fear the camera, eased them into answering, got what we wanted, were diplomatic and driven. The piecing together is precious because everyone else will stand up there with their projects highlighted in powerpoints and reports. We will have a useful tool to shop to governments, private firms, NGOs, unions, and the like. We are pioneers and if the blazing of the trail fails, we fail and the possibility for future alternatives fails.
Today was joyous. We made enormous progress, high on caffeine, locked in a room, me and the other American girl. We went for hours bouncing off each other, feeding, agreeing and politely challenging. We made strides. And then the other members joined us and it was magic.
What happens between a day?
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Yesterday I also noticed something. I like strong men. I talked to my sister and her fiance on Skype on Sunday, planning their visit to Paris in June, our trip to Italy, and where we'd go after. They will file the paperwork to have a civil ceremony in Cinque Terre somewhere. I will be a witness (despite being legally able to marry people - I got the certificate online in Wisconsin and promptly married myself to myself at the Orpheum one drunk night with friends). But, while we were planning, I noticed her bossing him around. He'd come up with good suggestions and she'd shoot them down, she'd tell him to stop rambling and do the research. I sent her an email after the call, much later in the night, and commented that I only get to see glimpses of them together and don't know - nor is it any of my business - what their dynamic is, but that I wanted to be sure things were alright. The prospect of three weeks together with them fighting does not seem appealing to me at all. She replied back the day after that it's just a bit of strain on the relationship and they're working on it.
This affected me though and carried over into the bad day yesterday. The Filmmaker wasn't showing enough backbone, wasn't telling us what to do but was suggesting meekly or hinting at. The four of us women in the project are strong, Alpha types. Play on our field or pony up harder, but don't even think of revealing a weak throat or we'll take it and tear it. We demand. We expect. We want perfection. We want strength. And he seemed to easy too push around yesterday. And this just made me even more disrespectful of the situation.
I told my sister once that I did not envy her situation with her fiance moving into her apartment. I said that the only way I could live with someone now would be to be the accepting partner of the relationship: told where the sugar goes, told how the towel is folded, told what days laundry is done, etc. Otherwise, I'm sure my personal habits and OCD would take over and I'd want to arrange things as I've had them. Whereas she said she has the upper management of household and needs to. So, she finds herself sighing at the misplaced coffee grinder, boxes stacked high in their bedroom, and rearrangement of her furniture.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Back to the Filmmaker, what I did realize today is that while he might be overly kind and concede to our wily demands, anyone else in his place and this whole thing would fail. If he were more dominant or arrogant and told us how things would be, it wouldn't work. If he were trying to drive our project and prohibiting our input, it wouldn't work. So, I realized I just need to take a breath, be thankful and grateful, and accept things as they are.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
This is challenging, as well, trying to be the dominant leader girl during school and then the submissive in my special time when talking with Mr FD. It's a balancing act: re-reading what I write and how I write it to him after hours and hours of writing directions and shorthand comments. Switching my voice - inside and outside. Switching my brain. I thought for a while that it might be better just to turn it all off while I try to finish this last month of school -- not cancelling the May homestay per se, but shutting down communications. Earlier, I've felt almost obsessed or possessed by the topic of bdsm, by thinking of him and what we'd done and were doing. And now, I have to become re-obsessed with school work in order to throw myself in and finish well. I can't give up now. And, Mr FD has expressed his complete support (and demand) that I do well. It's all about finding a balance, because I can't envision living right now without having Mr FD and bdsm in my life and can't let myself slide out of finishing school well either.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%
I'm encouraged as a person and a student that we have sort of valedictorian elections right now and several people asked to nominate me. I've declined because, frankly, I am not so eager to represent our class in the final days. I'll be happy to move on and I'm not so stuck on getting that kind of recognition. Sure, share the podium with the former President of Ireland, but I don't have the heart to express admiration for all my colleagues, and certainly don't share the same vision of our future.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Two months
Insane.
It's been two months since Mr FD and I have known each other.
My first connection:
Date: March 30, 2008
Subject: Cheers
Message:
From a fellow kinkster in Paris.
This is the first time I've composed a message to send on this site. Late night inspiration and wistfulness that you're over in [another European city].
Best of luck to you in your search,
Lola
He replied:
Date: February 22, 2009
Subject: a quickie, albeit virtual
Message:
Hiya,
I am much too busy too write anything substantial (ending a long nomadic period next week while juggling to finish several projects) but I really dig your profile.
And since I notice I had already saved you in my fav's without any memory of it (that tells as much about my palimpsest memory as about the kind of Log-Under-Influence states that see me around here at times) I'd rather do something about it before I forget totally about you again.
Anyway, since there is not guarantee at all you have any interest in being in touch, it is no catastrophe.
If you have 2 min to spare have a look at my profile and I promise I won't shun a note dropped, in case.
Une bonne nuit, si tu dors.
Mr FD
...and so it goes... and so life goes...
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Second homestay in CH was amazing and I am a painting.
Now, school. Hot for teacher. Readings. Last month of everything. Writings. Meetings. Editings. Senioritis. Future fears.
Things are moving quickly. The picture flickers 100 beats per minute.
Just breathe.
Through my eyelids.
Like the lizards.
It's been two months since Mr FD and I have known each other.
My first connection:
Date: March 30, 2008
Subject: Cheers
Message:
From a fellow kinkster in Paris.
This is the first time I've composed a message to send on this site. Late night inspiration and wistfulness that you're over in [another European city].
Best of luck to you in your search,
Lola
He replied:
Date: February 22, 2009
Subject: a quickie, albeit virtual
Message:
Hiya,
I am much too busy too write anything substantial (ending a long nomadic period next week while juggling to finish several projects) but I really dig your profile.
And since I notice I had already saved you in my fav's without any memory of it (that tells as much about my palimpsest memory as about the kind of Log-Under-Influence states that see me around here at times) I'd rather do something about it before I forget totally about you again.
Anyway, since there is not guarantee at all you have any interest in being in touch, it is no catastrophe.
If you have 2 min to spare have a look at my profile and I promise I won't shun a note dropped, in case.
Une bonne nuit, si tu dors.
Mr FD
...and so it goes... and so life goes...
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Second homestay in CH was amazing and I am a painting.
Now, school. Hot for teacher. Readings. Last month of everything. Writings. Meetings. Editings. Senioritis. Future fears.
Things are moving quickly. The picture flickers 100 beats per minute.
Just breathe.
Through my eyelids.
Like the lizards.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
without a skin
I cried tonight.
Not for torture, but for those that are tortured.
She broke his heart. Her mom was schizophrenic. She is acting out.
He loved her so much. He did all he could.
I love them both.
And there is nothing I can do.
She has tortured me by my willing to let her insecurities in.
I torture myself with his torment.
I grabbed his lapel. I love you. I respect you. I don't know what to do with her. She aches and cries and is longing and I have learned now to repel it. She could easily bring me into her spiral downwards but I can't let it feed me. I have to let her be who she is.
My mantra: accept you all for who you are.
But don't let you come live inside me.
I have enough personalities inside.
I love you both and you are now divorced, separated, free from one another. She is crazy and hurtful and he is desirous and wanting.
All I can do is let you both have space near me, but not within me.
It's so hard to not feel what they feel.
I rub my arm over and over thinking I can coat it in protection.
But I love you both.
So, I cry. Emotional ejaculate. Eye expression. Soul living.
I hug him. She is abroad and far from reach. He needs to be free. She needs to be released.
I cry tears to him. I love you, man. I do.
Not for torture, but for those that are tortured.
She broke his heart. Her mom was schizophrenic. She is acting out.
He loved her so much. He did all he could.
I love them both.
And there is nothing I can do.
She has tortured me by my willing to let her insecurities in.
I torture myself with his torment.
I grabbed his lapel. I love you. I respect you. I don't know what to do with her. She aches and cries and is longing and I have learned now to repel it. She could easily bring me into her spiral downwards but I can't let it feed me. I have to let her be who she is.
My mantra: accept you all for who you are.
But don't let you come live inside me.
I have enough personalities inside.
I love you both and you are now divorced, separated, free from one another. She is crazy and hurtful and he is desirous and wanting.
All I can do is let you both have space near me, but not within me.
It's so hard to not feel what they feel.
I rub my arm over and over thinking I can coat it in protection.
But I love you both.
So, I cry. Emotional ejaculate. Eye expression. Soul living.
I hug him. She is abroad and far from reach. He needs to be free. She needs to be released.
I cry tears to him. I love you, man. I do.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Nada but Crap
Nothing at all interesting is happening.
Christmas Eve, I slaved and made 2 apple pies (which I keep automatically typing applie pies) and 2 vegetarian stuffings (which I am still eating since there were only 7 of us, and not 15 like I had dreamed). Great dinner with new and old friends. Lots of drinking and one embarrassing fart at 3am. I'm trying not to remember it.
I have left my apartment, since Friday 19th, a total of 3 times. Once to see the Italian. Once for Xmas dinner. Once for my friend's birthday out on the town. The rest of the time I've forced myself to at least take a walk around the block or do grocery shopping. I'm turning into Jabba the Hut. But seriously (which I've learned is spelled "srsly" in the www), my staycation (which I've learned is vacation-at-home) has been editing and uploading photos, acquiring new music (mostly from emusic.com, such as Pas Chic Chic, BBC Music Magazine Sampler, The Walkmen, Rodriguez, Bonobo, Heart, Ida Maria, The Pretenders, Pawel Osmolski, Black Mountain, Flying Lotus, The Cinematic Orchestra, Santogold, The Beatles, Lou Reed, Mr. Scruff, Kanye West, Télépopmusik, etc), watching movies (Contact, Virgin Suicides, American Beauty, Y Tu Mama Tambien - in Spanish without subtitles, There Will Be Blood), and then realizing that I have five papers due at the end of January, which should all be written now. So, I pushed one out over Saturday and Sunday and started on another today. I think my ass is taking on the form of the crap chair I sit in.
Friends have called to go out and I've been recluse and bored. A bit of depression for my manic. Yes, the internet has been my world of late. Rather pathetic, and really not a good use of time. I should be job hunting and networking and researching. Not goofing off and Tumblring and Facebooking. Sigh. The internet is my enemy.
In preparation for the new year and my annual superstition that I need to be doing something positive at midnight, I'm going to take a nice, long walk tomorrow in no direction whatsoever. Then, I'll work at least several hours on the current paper. I'm eating a fresh salad and will allow one jack off. And I'd like to drink a nice Pinot Noir if the $ to E hasn't hit 1.50
And you? Got any plans of preparation for your new year? No, no, don't tell me. I don't need more distractions... Ok, well, email them to me instead. My naughty lola inbox has been very, very quiet since all the boys left town.
Christmas Eve, I slaved and made 2 apple pies (which I keep automatically typing applie pies) and 2 vegetarian stuffings (which I am still eating since there were only 7 of us, and not 15 like I had dreamed). Great dinner with new and old friends. Lots of drinking and one embarrassing fart at 3am. I'm trying not to remember it.
I have left my apartment, since Friday 19th, a total of 3 times. Once to see the Italian. Once for Xmas dinner. Once for my friend's birthday out on the town. The rest of the time I've forced myself to at least take a walk around the block or do grocery shopping. I'm turning into Jabba the Hut. But seriously (which I've learned is spelled "srsly" in the www), my staycation (which I've learned is vacation-at-home) has been editing and uploading photos, acquiring new music (mostly from emusic.com, such as Pas Chic Chic, BBC Music Magazine Sampler, The Walkmen, Rodriguez, Bonobo, Heart, Ida Maria, The Pretenders, Pawel Osmolski, Black Mountain, Flying Lotus, The Cinematic Orchestra, Santogold, The Beatles, Lou Reed, Mr. Scruff, Kanye West, Télépopmusik, etc), watching movies (Contact, Virgin Suicides, American Beauty, Y Tu Mama Tambien - in Spanish without subtitles, There Will Be Blood), and then realizing that I have five papers due at the end of January, which should all be written now. So, I pushed one out over Saturday and Sunday and started on another today. I think my ass is taking on the form of the crap chair I sit in.
Friends have called to go out and I've been recluse and bored. A bit of depression for my manic. Yes, the internet has been my world of late. Rather pathetic, and really not a good use of time. I should be job hunting and networking and researching. Not goofing off and Tumblring and Facebooking. Sigh. The internet is my enemy.
In preparation for the new year and my annual superstition that I need to be doing something positive at midnight, I'm going to take a nice, long walk tomorrow in no direction whatsoever. Then, I'll work at least several hours on the current paper. I'm eating a fresh salad and will allow one jack off. And I'd like to drink a nice Pinot Noir if the $ to E hasn't hit 1.50
And you? Got any plans of preparation for your new year? No, no, don't tell me. I don't need more distractions... Ok, well, email them to me instead. My naughty lola inbox has been very, very quiet since all the boys left town.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
my little vacation
Somehow I slid some sex in at the end of the conference that I organized. It was the last night though, so no points for almost-caught, super-sneaky sex without being noticed by 3 strangers sleeping at my place. And, no, none of the strangers were intriguing enough. Tall boy from Halloween Party night invited me to his place and we had sex three times between sleep (2am) and reason (2pm). God bless youth.
I packed on Sunday.
Monday I took the Eurostar over to London (or, under to London - as it goes under the Channel and all). Slept all days long at my friend’s LSE dorm. During the day I went out for a massage in some danky hair salon, lunch, brief shopping, and email-checks. Stayed up late enough to close the tired ass pubs down (2am) and gained like 6 pounds drinking beer and eating fish & chips.
Thursday I left for Bahrain on British Airways, which offered free beverages including blood marys and wine. Flew over burning oil fields and felt solemn over Iraq. I hear that Saudi Air flies around Israel, as if they care I’m sure. Bahrain was desert, sex, 50E bills for each naughty act I performed or let him perform on me, an ex-pat party, finding the Tree of Life, taking some sunrays on my bikini body, more sex, more drinking, more euros.
Saturday at 2am (technically Sunday) I caught the BA flight back, took some Tylenol PM, a bloody mary, curled up over my 2 open seats and tried to sleep until we got fed again 6 hours later.
Sunday I got out of Heathrow, took the 1 hour tube to Saint Pancreas (well, it sounds like an organ to me), ate again and hopped the Eurostar back to Paris. I was going to take EasyJet for like 50$ but they wanted me to fly out of somewhere called Liddy, England - stupid cheap airlines. And I’d already booked when I realized this, of course. And, of course, I was mid-conference conundrums when I booked my last minute Eurostar back to Paris. I thought it was so expensive because it was booked a week before I needed the ticket. When I was getting into my car, the Eurostar employee guy looks at my ticket, tells me I’m 4 seats back on the right side, and there are magazines for my enjoyment. Shit. I accidentally booked First Class. No wonder it was so damn expensive. And, it wasn’t even worth it. I got fed AGAIN, worked on some photos, watched some crazy old people argue, napped, and basically didn’t even really enjoy the twice-as-much ticket adventure.
Today I’ve been catching up with work and getting back into school. Shit’s starting to be due soon and I’m totally out of it. My neighbor guy, the Actor (who I fucked a couple times when I first moved here and now just see him as a lowly hunchback for some reason), stopped by and asked for vinegar. Several hours later he knocked again and asked if I had some free time. “Do you need something?” I asked him. He took a step closer with a sly smile and started to rub my tit. I brushed his hand off and tried to play it off so he wouldn’t feel like a total ass and I’d get to keep my free wifi… “It’s just that I’m super busy catching up with work, have an overview of a paper due tomorrow, and I’m waiting for them to deliver the new fridge any minute now.” I kind of wanted to wash my sweater, my shirt, my bra, and my tit where he touched me. Odd how he was attractive then and now is just desperate and grody.
The TV Producer has sent an SMS. The Spaniard Big Cock sent an email. I’m a bit under the weather since the conference ended so I’m not rushing into anything. Plus, I found out just before leaving Bahrain that no one’s a dad this month. Celebration… and down time.
(from Tumblr)
But now... well, oh boy oh boy. My first day back to class on Tuesday was a long one. From 10am - 8:30pm. Everything was going well until I was heading into the last course and got an SMS from Halloween Party Host aka Tall Tom: "Lola, where are you?" Only, he calls me by my last name, which leads me to think that I'm on his basketball team and that it's endearing and that it's kind of dirty that he's being endearing to a woman six years his senior, which then makes me feel naughty and school-girl-esque. So, then, while the boring lecturer launches into a discussion on risk perception, I'm thinking of Tall Tom's cock and how he fucked me the last night of the conference - after sneaking into his apartment past his uncle - and then fucked me again two other times before we got out of bed. Risk. Perception. Whatever. Fuck. All I could think about was cock.
Tall was in a lecture by some South Korean diplomat who was loving and hating on the US. I was done with class and went home. He SMS'd me that I had to come out and meet him. I had just finished my period, but already I was entering into 18-year-old-boy-Adam taking over my body. (Poor, poor Bahrain lover who got me at PMS girl time - although he still got his rocks off by half-raping me in the morning and making me dry-mouth suck his cock.) Yes yes, I'd dress and take the metro and meet him at Odeon. We had a few drinks and I hadn't eaten and hit a moment of back-in-the-day crazy Lola and almost stormed out on him due to a miscommunication. Instead, he calmed me and tossed me a cab to his apartment, where his uncle was asleep. (Thank god. And thank god he wasn't there when we got up at noon the next day because the last time I got up and met him he served me coffee and croissants and we talked about quantum physics and philosophy - he's a philosopher. This time I wasn't interested in deep conversation so I lucked out.)
This time he held my wrists - tentatively but held them down - and told me to shut the fuck up. It was worth going back out for. He persuaded me to cut class and came over to my apartment and then we went for sushi for lunch, where he ordered us a bottle of wine and I worried that I'd be tipsy for the group work meeting I had at 5pm. He studied elsewhere and we found each other during a break before another class meeting and, again, he ordered a bottle of wine. (He'd also taken my 50E and bought a very, very, very nice bottle of champagne that I'll gift to my Madison friends Amanda and Leo when we see each other on Saturday - they got married and champagne seems a better gift than a toaster or some shit.)
(Boy, this post is full of asides!)
We got through the dumb class meeting and went for pizza and beer with 2 other kids from class and then he pushed me to invite him to my place. Remember if you will that a) I fucked my neighbor when I first moved here (and fucked him in a group setting at a bathhouse), b) my neighbor has a teen daughter sleeping on the other side of my paper-thin wall, c) I am now repulsed by my neighbor, d) I am still embarrassed by making loud fucking noises knowing that people can hear me. I caved and brought him home.
This time he fucked me from behind while pushing my head down, or when I'd try to get on all fours, he'd push my back down. Mmmmm god that was nice. I'm starting to move into the place where I'm getting enough sex (finally!) and now need to fulfill the submissive side. I'd explained this a bit to him over lunch. Whereas he'd said he was taken by the [insert last name] power during the conference, leading the whole thing, controlling the crowd, etc.. I explained that I didn't mind having that confidence and control in my work life, but I needed to balance it with my submissive side and explained a very small part of what I meant. It wouldn't have been wise to tell him I wanted to be used as a toilet, pissed on, tossed around, degraded, controlled. It would have shocked him too much and frankly, I need to keep him in rotation and not scare him away. So, when he flipped me over and fucked me more and then whispered, "Are you going to cum? Are you going to cum on my cock? Cum on my cock. Do it." I had no other option to but let loose in wildness... dirty talk, repeating words I'd said before, feeling over-powered, my god yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, I'm cumming on your cock. Who knows how loud we were really - after 2 bottles of wine, a few beers, I didn't care if we were repulsing the teen girl next door.
And then, he had early class this morning and I have no class today or tomorrow, which only brings trouble from Adam. I slept until noon and then sat in the grey sky dark apartment playing with myself and waiting until dusk to drink the wine. It's not even really Adam Time yet ... he's growing stronger and bigger and taking up more of my free time.
I'm not convinced I'm a orgasm addict, although I love the song.
I packed on Sunday.
Monday I took the Eurostar over to London (or, under to London - as it goes under the Channel and all). Slept all days long at my friend’s LSE dorm. During the day I went out for a massage in some danky hair salon, lunch, brief shopping, and email-checks. Stayed up late enough to close the tired ass pubs down (2am) and gained like 6 pounds drinking beer and eating fish & chips.
Thursday I left for Bahrain on British Airways, which offered free beverages including blood marys and wine. Flew over burning oil fields and felt solemn over Iraq. I hear that Saudi Air flies around Israel, as if they care I’m sure. Bahrain was desert, sex, 50E bills for each naughty act I performed or let him perform on me, an ex-pat party, finding the Tree of Life, taking some sunrays on my bikini body, more sex, more drinking, more euros.
Saturday at 2am (technically Sunday) I caught the BA flight back, took some Tylenol PM, a bloody mary, curled up over my 2 open seats and tried to sleep until we got fed again 6 hours later.
Sunday I got out of Heathrow, took the 1 hour tube to Saint Pancreas (well, it sounds like an organ to me), ate again and hopped the Eurostar back to Paris. I was going to take EasyJet for like 50$ but they wanted me to fly out of somewhere called Liddy, England - stupid cheap airlines. And I’d already booked when I realized this, of course. And, of course, I was mid-conference conundrums when I booked my last minute Eurostar back to Paris. I thought it was so expensive because it was booked a week before I needed the ticket. When I was getting into my car, the Eurostar employee guy looks at my ticket, tells me I’m 4 seats back on the right side, and there are magazines for my enjoyment. Shit. I accidentally booked First Class. No wonder it was so damn expensive. And, it wasn’t even worth it. I got fed AGAIN, worked on some photos, watched some crazy old people argue, napped, and basically didn’t even really enjoy the twice-as-much ticket adventure.
Today I’ve been catching up with work and getting back into school. Shit’s starting to be due soon and I’m totally out of it. My neighbor guy, the Actor (who I fucked a couple times when I first moved here and now just see him as a lowly hunchback for some reason), stopped by and asked for vinegar. Several hours later he knocked again and asked if I had some free time. “Do you need something?” I asked him. He took a step closer with a sly smile and started to rub my tit. I brushed his hand off and tried to play it off so he wouldn’t feel like a total ass and I’d get to keep my free wifi… “It’s just that I’m super busy catching up with work, have an overview of a paper due tomorrow, and I’m waiting for them to deliver the new fridge any minute now.” I kind of wanted to wash my sweater, my shirt, my bra, and my tit where he touched me. Odd how he was attractive then and now is just desperate and grody.
The TV Producer has sent an SMS. The Spaniard Big Cock sent an email. I’m a bit under the weather since the conference ended so I’m not rushing into anything. Plus, I found out just before leaving Bahrain that no one’s a dad this month. Celebration… and down time.
(from Tumblr)
But now... well, oh boy oh boy. My first day back to class on Tuesday was a long one. From 10am - 8:30pm. Everything was going well until I was heading into the last course and got an SMS from Halloween Party Host aka Tall Tom: "Lola, where are you?" Only, he calls me by my last name, which leads me to think that I'm on his basketball team and that it's endearing and that it's kind of dirty that he's being endearing to a woman six years his senior, which then makes me feel naughty and school-girl-esque. So, then, while the boring lecturer launches into a discussion on risk perception, I'm thinking of Tall Tom's cock and how he fucked me the last night of the conference - after sneaking into his apartment past his uncle - and then fucked me again two other times before we got out of bed. Risk. Perception. Whatever. Fuck. All I could think about was cock.
Tall was in a lecture by some South Korean diplomat who was loving and hating on the US. I was done with class and went home. He SMS'd me that I had to come out and meet him. I had just finished my period, but already I was entering into 18-year-old-boy-Adam taking over my body. (Poor, poor Bahrain lover who got me at PMS girl time - although he still got his rocks off by half-raping me in the morning and making me dry-mouth suck his cock.) Yes yes, I'd dress and take the metro and meet him at Odeon. We had a few drinks and I hadn't eaten and hit a moment of back-in-the-day crazy Lola and almost stormed out on him due to a miscommunication. Instead, he calmed me and tossed me a cab to his apartment, where his uncle was asleep. (Thank god. And thank god he wasn't there when we got up at noon the next day because the last time I got up and met him he served me coffee and croissants and we talked about quantum physics and philosophy - he's a philosopher. This time I wasn't interested in deep conversation so I lucked out.)
This time he held my wrists - tentatively but held them down - and told me to shut the fuck up. It was worth going back out for. He persuaded me to cut class and came over to my apartment and then we went for sushi for lunch, where he ordered us a bottle of wine and I worried that I'd be tipsy for the group work meeting I had at 5pm. He studied elsewhere and we found each other during a break before another class meeting and, again, he ordered a bottle of wine. (He'd also taken my 50E and bought a very, very, very nice bottle of champagne that I'll gift to my Madison friends Amanda and Leo when we see each other on Saturday - they got married and champagne seems a better gift than a toaster or some shit.)
(Boy, this post is full of asides!)
We got through the dumb class meeting and went for pizza and beer with 2 other kids from class and then he pushed me to invite him to my place. Remember if you will that a) I fucked my neighbor when I first moved here (and fucked him in a group setting at a bathhouse), b) my neighbor has a teen daughter sleeping on the other side of my paper-thin wall, c) I am now repulsed by my neighbor, d) I am still embarrassed by making loud fucking noises knowing that people can hear me. I caved and brought him home.
This time he fucked me from behind while pushing my head down, or when I'd try to get on all fours, he'd push my back down. Mmmmm god that was nice. I'm starting to move into the place where I'm getting enough sex (finally!) and now need to fulfill the submissive side. I'd explained this a bit to him over lunch. Whereas he'd said he was taken by the [insert last name] power during the conference, leading the whole thing, controlling the crowd, etc.. I explained that I didn't mind having that confidence and control in my work life, but I needed to balance it with my submissive side and explained a very small part of what I meant. It wouldn't have been wise to tell him I wanted to be used as a toilet, pissed on, tossed around, degraded, controlled. It would have shocked him too much and frankly, I need to keep him in rotation and not scare him away. So, when he flipped me over and fucked me more and then whispered, "Are you going to cum? Are you going to cum on my cock? Cum on my cock. Do it." I had no other option to but let loose in wildness... dirty talk, repeating words I'd said before, feeling over-powered, my god yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, I'm cumming on your cock. Who knows how loud we were really - after 2 bottles of wine, a few beers, I didn't care if we were repulsing the teen girl next door.
And then, he had early class this morning and I have no class today or tomorrow, which only brings trouble from Adam. I slept until noon and then sat in the grey sky dark apartment playing with myself and waiting until dusk to drink the wine. It's not even really Adam Time yet ... he's growing stronger and bigger and taking up more of my free time.
I'm not convinced I'm a orgasm addict, although I love the song.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
It's still Happy New Year
I really need to get the video up. I went to town on the short video clip from up on the roof at midnight. It seemed like the Eiffel was a lot closer than it is in the tiny window now. Anyway. Completely uneventful and I was on my own - exactly how I wanted it. And, only you, dear reader will get the full scoop.
But this all has to be super quick because I said 'no' to a phone call from James a few days ago when I was in a run on the papers and I told him I had not even 10 minutes for a conversation. I forget that I can be biting, rude, and an awful person when I'm PMSd and under time pressure. This is not a good personality to shop around for an international job. I need to be more friendly and forget myself. I've always said this and it'll never change. Ok. ... sorry, James.
Then again, this is the first break I've given myself since, essentially, this past Saturday night, Jan 5th. Since then I've been reading, writing, going to class. Literally getting home at 8:30p/9p to make a quick dinner while I read more and then wrote until midnight. Then, up at 6am or 7am for another full day of the same. Add to that PMS fat bitchy girl who wants to crush heads and has no patience. Yup, I'm a nice package.
Anyway. This is my break and I'm going to enjoy it.
Yes, literally. Monday-Thursday up at 6/7am and working non-stop until midnight. Ok, maybe for occassional breaks to goof off on Facebook, but jesus - I'd go insane if I didn't look elswewhere once in a while.
So, I bought 2 bottles of Champagne. Yes, I should have explored a bit but I went for an old standard of Cliquot and a new friend of something else that is currently over there in the cupboard waiting for recycling. (Which they don't really do in this country which worries me to no end.) I had a good meal and started drinking at 8pm. Basically I wrote a bit of work until I couldn't any longer and then switched to surfing the 'net for jobs, information, new things. It's a big wide huge world out there behind this flat screen. I read so many new fun things. Then, I climbed up on the roof at about 11:30pm. The unknown first bottle was almost cashed except for a bit I mixed into a plastic bottle to climb up to the roof. Totally horrible if any French person caught me: champagne in a bottle AND mixed! But see, I thought the climb to the roof was going to be like climbing one of those challenges in Fear Factor where not only is is sloped and possibly slippery, but also way way above ground with chances of falling to my death equal to 100%. I put a few things into a backpack, got bundled up and headed off on the adventure... the adventure that took 2 seconds with no difficulty or fear at all. Chalk it up to the fact that it's extremely easy to get up there and I had drunk a bottle of champagne.
It was indeed very nice up there. The wind was blowing, I think. The view was pitch black except for the sporadic fireworks all over the circumference of my existence. I don't remember much else except being very giddy and surprised into happiness when the Eiffel all of a sudden lit up in sparkling lights and I knew it was midnight. Frankly, I don't even remember if I said anything or thought anything profound or made any wishes. There goes the superstition I guess.
I climbed back down, which again didn't seem scary or hard at all. Kind of bored, I decided to go check out the world downstairs on the street. All I remember is walking up to the top of my street where the Moulin Rouge is and seeing more people in the street than I've ever seen before. They weren't all congregated together in a crowd, but moving, walking, grouping, separating, streaming. I think all traffic had been stopped or ended or blocked or something because there wasn't any, and people were walking all over the street. I had to lean up against the giant neighborhood map to stay upright as all of a sudden the champagne just really hit me and put me into a huge dream stream, not drowning but slowly bobbing or drifting in a dirty, busy aquarium. Some guy talked to me and I said I don't speak French so he switched to English. He might have been cute. I lied and said my friends were 'over there' and I think I basically walked away from him once I realized I couldn't quite see straight and needed to go home.
Yeah. I had to. I had to because I was dizzy and spinning and knew if I tried to lay down it would have been the death of me. So, up and out came the lovely spaghetti and bubbly champagne. I think I took a sleeping pill and went to sleep.
Hm.
Kind of pathetic. Kind of sweet. Kind of lame. Kind of weird. Kind of very appropriate.
I woke up happy and alert and started working on my papers again.
Wednesday and Thursday I went to school. Much easier to write there than at my apartment where I think about cleaning, surfing, singing, and playing with myself.
Friday I just couldn't get up out of bed earlier than 10am so I lazed all day and got some hardcore writing done and then met the young French-Canadian, JC, down at The Canadian Pub over on the Seine because the USA was playing Canada in junior hockey or something. Of course, what do you think I am a moron? Of course, I agonized whether to go or not. After all, I'm old and I know I don't like sports unless they're live and in front of me - and even then, I don't like them unless I get a press pass to the floor where sweat flies all over me and there's a great likelihood that a huge tight end might land on top of me. But really, I didn't party at New Years. And he used to play on this team. And I had nothing else to do. And I could tell, because I was once 23 and wrote my emails in a passive-agressive wishful way like no really I don't have to go but the address is such and such. And the conversation was forced and we really have nothing in common or even anything interesting to share. It's all a falsehood between civilized and fucking. But we did leave the Pub and go to a cool club where all the nouveau punks go, and met up with some of my colleagues who ended being one of my colleagues since the others ditched out to go home and fuck -- leaving 2 out-of-town friends from California and Alaska with us. And, we did go to the pool hall and play some nice rounds. But the drinks weren't stiff and I didn't get drunk and I wanted him to touch me because I was a bit buzzed and he just seemed very far and very uninterested.
And the sex wasn't all that either. The last time we fucked the futon creaked and screeched and the small bed slide across the wood floor. And I think, when he wanted to do it, he said, "Let's dance." Not like David Bowie. More like "Swingers" on Ice. This time it was awkward and I had to roll over and do it. And - god I'm horrible - there wasn't much to do. He's a tall boy for such disproportions. Sigh. But he did let me cum first and he did pant, "It feels so good... so good..." which makes me grateful for kegel exercises and my resiliance in youth.
I couldn't sleep any longer and I wanted to go get lunch together, but he was confused and didn't understand and left almost immediately on a very grey, very rainy day. I hope he didn't go home feeling dirty and lonely and achy because I know those mornings, too, and that's not what I wanted.
I had some really good Greek pita sandwich on a bench in the drizzle on the island on Blvd de Clichy. Tourists still travel in winter. It's amazing.
My landlord and I went shopping for sheets, pillows, a new white comforter ("White, like a virgin," he joked. Oh, I never told you. After Nuit Demonia he came over for something.. to see or do something. And the rubber clothes were out drying from being cleaned and moisturized or whatever I did to them - Wilfried? So, the landlord saw and now knows that I'm a sub. He even joked about me giving up the bedspread to my guests because I was the sub and had to sleep like a doggie. He's very cool and funny and honest and nice. ... no, I don't want to fuck him. Really. ... no, really.) It was fun. He bikes everywhere so we started walking down Rue Blanche alongside his bike and then he suggested I get on back. So, I sat side-saddle on the rack on the back of his tire. I think the last time I shared a ride or got 'pumped' (isn't that what they call it where you sit on the seat and the other person pumps the pedals without sitting the whole way?), was definitely more than 8 years ago. I swear I thought I was going to die - for no reason other than it's fun to think that, like on a rollercoaster - and I had a smile the whole way down the hill. It was so much fun and I wanted to do more, go faster, go again!
And then. This week from hell.
I don't mean to be a bitch but I really wish everyone would leave me alone and would stop acting so damn relaxed about all the papers they have to write because this is their second Masters program. And, man, was it a blow to my ego when I heard this 2nd year student had written her paper on a very similar topic. She sent it to me and while I was happy to receive it and glanced at it, it's totally not a good idea at all to read it very closely. It'll just worry me and make me want to plagerize.
So, that's that. And some guy from Denmark wants to come visit me at the end of the month. We were chatting on OKcupid.com for a while and seemed to strike a similar kinky chord. But there's no way I can entertain more than I am this month with friends coming to visit over my holiday and 2 papers due at the beginning of February, an exam at the end of January, and books and articles I should read before our trip to India. Yeah, it's pretty cool to have a field trip thrown into my education. It's fucking expensive. But that's one of my resolutions - not to think about the cost of my education. I had a panic 2 days ago when I heard from another colleague from the US who is applying for the dual-degree program at Columbia next year. We're offered the opportunity to apply to Columbia, London School of Econ, Herttie in Berlin, or Lee Kwan Yew in Singapore for our second year. I've professed the whole time since accepting this program that I'd stay for 2 years and become fluent in French. But the money! The money drives me crazy. This is my first experience with major debt (the most I ever owed was $1000 and James helped me get rid of that rather quickly). These two years will be the equivalent to me buying a decent house in Madison. Except the house is in my brain. God help me if I get brain cancer. ... I never wanted to own a real house anyway. I'm too transient. So this makes sense, but going back to the US makes some sense, too.
Ugh. I just have to suck it up and know that God has a plan for me.
Hahahahahhaa... fooled you!
Ok, now I'm just typing gibberish to avoid papers.
Happy fucking New Year!
Bonne année!!
But this all has to be super quick because I said 'no' to a phone call from James a few days ago when I was in a run on the papers and I told him I had not even 10 minutes for a conversation. I forget that I can be biting, rude, and an awful person when I'm PMSd and under time pressure. This is not a good personality to shop around for an international job. I need to be more friendly and forget myself. I've always said this and it'll never change. Ok. ... sorry, James.
Then again, this is the first break I've given myself since, essentially, this past Saturday night, Jan 5th. Since then I've been reading, writing, going to class. Literally getting home at 8:30p/9p to make a quick dinner while I read more and then wrote until midnight. Then, up at 6am or 7am for another full day of the same. Add to that PMS fat bitchy girl who wants to crush heads and has no patience. Yup, I'm a nice package.
Anyway. This is my break and I'm going to enjoy it.
Yes, literally. Monday-Thursday up at 6/7am and working non-stop until midnight. Ok, maybe for occassional breaks to goof off on Facebook, but jesus - I'd go insane if I didn't look elswewhere once in a while.
So, I bought 2 bottles of Champagne. Yes, I should have explored a bit but I went for an old standard of Cliquot and a new friend of something else that is currently over there in the cupboard waiting for recycling. (Which they don't really do in this country which worries me to no end.) I had a good meal and started drinking at 8pm. Basically I wrote a bit of work until I couldn't any longer and then switched to surfing the 'net for jobs, information, new things. It's a big wide huge world out there behind this flat screen. I read so many new fun things. Then, I climbed up on the roof at about 11:30pm. The unknown first bottle was almost cashed except for a bit I mixed into a plastic bottle to climb up to the roof. Totally horrible if any French person caught me: champagne in a bottle AND mixed! But see, I thought the climb to the roof was going to be like climbing one of those challenges in Fear Factor where not only is is sloped and possibly slippery, but also way way above ground with chances of falling to my death equal to 100%. I put a few things into a backpack, got bundled up and headed off on the adventure... the adventure that took 2 seconds with no difficulty or fear at all. Chalk it up to the fact that it's extremely easy to get up there and I had drunk a bottle of champagne.
It was indeed very nice up there. The wind was blowing, I think. The view was pitch black except for the sporadic fireworks all over the circumference of my existence. I don't remember much else except being very giddy and surprised into happiness when the Eiffel all of a sudden lit up in sparkling lights and I knew it was midnight. Frankly, I don't even remember if I said anything or thought anything profound or made any wishes. There goes the superstition I guess.
I climbed back down, which again didn't seem scary or hard at all. Kind of bored, I decided to go check out the world downstairs on the street. All I remember is walking up to the top of my street where the Moulin Rouge is and seeing more people in the street than I've ever seen before. They weren't all congregated together in a crowd, but moving, walking, grouping, separating, streaming. I think all traffic had been stopped or ended or blocked or something because there wasn't any, and people were walking all over the street. I had to lean up against the giant neighborhood map to stay upright as all of a sudden the champagne just really hit me and put me into a huge dream stream, not drowning but slowly bobbing or drifting in a dirty, busy aquarium. Some guy talked to me and I said I don't speak French so he switched to English. He might have been cute. I lied and said my friends were 'over there' and I think I basically walked away from him once I realized I couldn't quite see straight and needed to go home.
Yeah. I had to. I had to because I was dizzy and spinning and knew if I tried to lay down it would have been the death of me. So, up and out came the lovely spaghetti and bubbly champagne. I think I took a sleeping pill and went to sleep.
Hm.
Kind of pathetic. Kind of sweet. Kind of lame. Kind of weird. Kind of very appropriate.
I woke up happy and alert and started working on my papers again.
Wednesday and Thursday I went to school. Much easier to write there than at my apartment where I think about cleaning, surfing, singing, and playing with myself.
Friday I just couldn't get up out of bed earlier than 10am so I lazed all day and got some hardcore writing done and then met the young French-Canadian, JC, down at The Canadian Pub over on the Seine because the USA was playing Canada in junior hockey or something. Of course, what do you think I am a moron? Of course, I agonized whether to go or not. After all, I'm old and I know I don't like sports unless they're live and in front of me - and even then, I don't like them unless I get a press pass to the floor where sweat flies all over me and there's a great likelihood that a huge tight end might land on top of me. But really, I didn't party at New Years. And he used to play on this team. And I had nothing else to do. And I could tell, because I was once 23 and wrote my emails in a passive-agressive wishful way like no really I don't have to go but the address is such and such. And the conversation was forced and we really have nothing in common or even anything interesting to share. It's all a falsehood between civilized and fucking. But we did leave the Pub and go to a cool club where all the nouveau punks go, and met up with some of my colleagues who ended being one of my colleagues since the others ditched out to go home and fuck -- leaving 2 out-of-town friends from California and Alaska with us. And, we did go to the pool hall and play some nice rounds. But the drinks weren't stiff and I didn't get drunk and I wanted him to touch me because I was a bit buzzed and he just seemed very far and very uninterested.
And the sex wasn't all that either. The last time we fucked the futon creaked and screeched and the small bed slide across the wood floor. And I think, when he wanted to do it, he said, "Let's dance." Not like David Bowie. More like "Swingers" on Ice. This time it was awkward and I had to roll over and do it. And - god I'm horrible - there wasn't much to do. He's a tall boy for such disproportions. Sigh. But he did let me cum first and he did pant, "It feels so good... so good..." which makes me grateful for kegel exercises and my resiliance in youth.
I couldn't sleep any longer and I wanted to go get lunch together, but he was confused and didn't understand and left almost immediately on a very grey, very rainy day. I hope he didn't go home feeling dirty and lonely and achy because I know those mornings, too, and that's not what I wanted.
I had some really good Greek pita sandwich on a bench in the drizzle on the island on Blvd de Clichy. Tourists still travel in winter. It's amazing.
My landlord and I went shopping for sheets, pillows, a new white comforter ("White, like a virgin," he joked. Oh, I never told you. After Nuit Demonia he came over for something.. to see or do something. And the rubber clothes were out drying from being cleaned and moisturized or whatever I did to them - Wilfried? So, the landlord saw and now knows that I'm a sub. He even joked about me giving up the bedspread to my guests because I was the sub and had to sleep like a doggie. He's very cool and funny and honest and nice. ... no, I don't want to fuck him. Really. ... no, really.) It was fun. He bikes everywhere so we started walking down Rue Blanche alongside his bike and then he suggested I get on back. So, I sat side-saddle on the rack on the back of his tire. I think the last time I shared a ride or got 'pumped' (isn't that what they call it where you sit on the seat and the other person pumps the pedals without sitting the whole way?), was definitely more than 8 years ago. I swear I thought I was going to die - for no reason other than it's fun to think that, like on a rollercoaster - and I had a smile the whole way down the hill. It was so much fun and I wanted to do more, go faster, go again!
And then. This week from hell.
I don't mean to be a bitch but I really wish everyone would leave me alone and would stop acting so damn relaxed about all the papers they have to write because this is their second Masters program. And, man, was it a blow to my ego when I heard this 2nd year student had written her paper on a very similar topic. She sent it to me and while I was happy to receive it and glanced at it, it's totally not a good idea at all to read it very closely. It'll just worry me and make me want to plagerize.
So, that's that. And some guy from Denmark wants to come visit me at the end of the month. We were chatting on OKcupid.com for a while and seemed to strike a similar kinky chord. But there's no way I can entertain more than I am this month with friends coming to visit over my holiday and 2 papers due at the beginning of February, an exam at the end of January, and books and articles I should read before our trip to India. Yeah, it's pretty cool to have a field trip thrown into my education. It's fucking expensive. But that's one of my resolutions - not to think about the cost of my education. I had a panic 2 days ago when I heard from another colleague from the US who is applying for the dual-degree program at Columbia next year. We're offered the opportunity to apply to Columbia, London School of Econ, Herttie in Berlin, or Lee Kwan Yew in Singapore for our second year. I've professed the whole time since accepting this program that I'd stay for 2 years and become fluent in French. But the money! The money drives me crazy. This is my first experience with major debt (the most I ever owed was $1000 and James helped me get rid of that rather quickly). These two years will be the equivalent to me buying a decent house in Madison. Except the house is in my brain. God help me if I get brain cancer. ... I never wanted to own a real house anyway. I'm too transient. So this makes sense, but going back to the US makes some sense, too.
Ugh. I just have to suck it up and know that God has a plan for me.
Hahahahahhaa... fooled you!
Ok, now I'm just typing gibberish to avoid papers.
Happy fucking New Year!
Bonne année!!
Monday, May 14, 2007
One day older and deeper in...
You all are so sweet... so many well wishes in my inbox over the past few days. And, oooo, I'm excited for my surprises from noman over at My Secret Life.
Please don't take offense if I compile my thanks and updates here. I'm short on time right now... but long on appreciation and love for yous all.
The Paris-London trip was quite the quick jaunt overseas. I'm still pulling my pics together but we did a sort of slideshow at my parents this weekend with my sister's pics and mine on their new HDTV thing. Very diverse viewpoints and great snaps. We spent the first 24 hours just travelling. Plane, train, tube, train [under water!], metro, walking to the Paris hotel. You'll get to see a snap my sister took of me just as I popped out of the metro underground into the plaza in front of the Louvre and I've told a few that that was the definitive moment I realized I wanted to go to school there.
We ate at a nice, out of the way corner restaurant where no one really spoke English and I got to try my hand at French. Freshman year of HS in Argentina I took a French course from Madame Bousquet who taught us with a proper Parisian accent and those words and lessons have stayed lodged in my brain. I did quite well, and the old label that the French hate Americans didn't seem to ring true at all. My entire time there I was well-received - from the bus conductor to the small sandwich shop owner to the hotel employees to friendly passersby.
London wasn't quite as impressive for me and the school program/Open Day less so. I'm grateful that I went over and checked them both out because it cemented my decision to go to Sciences Po for sure. Yes, I am going to Paris. Yes, it still feels foreign to say out loud. Yes, it's totally unreal and doesn't feel like me who is planning this or doing this, but some alien occupying my body and saying these things.
I told my family today that I wish I could just be more simple, more simplistic. It would make things a lot easier. But I'm not one to be content to just work a 40 hour work week in Shopko. Listening to "This American Life" in the car on the way home today - about the historic change in the Amer Psych Assoc no longer qualifying homosexuality as pathological - I almost felt I could compare my situation. I can't help but make difficult decisions in my life. Wouldn't we all just wish to be normal, easy, happy, simple? Unfortunately we are who we are and must live up to that or struggle eternally with unhappiness and yearning to fulfill our destinies.
I'm not sure any of this writing is making sense.
There was no sexy fun in Europe. In fact, we both got sick by the end of the trip. When I got back I was still sick and then got my period. No sex for about 2 weeks now. I'm kind of starting to lose my mind but sex has taken a back-burner to all these plans and finishing up my Stats and Econ. I finished out my Econ final last week [and had a very strange conversation at the end of the class with crazy cat lady professor as I was the last one out of the room - the conversation involved her recommending some weird book by some woman who could channel some dead guy named Seth]. My Stats final is tomorrow afternoon. [Although, the Monday after my trip I had my last Stats exam and got an unprecedented 90% on it so there's hope for the final yet!]
Last week and this week at work I'm focusing on department interviews for my replacement. I haven't approached it as such as it still hasn't sunk in. Instead, I'm just going about it as interviewing someone new for our team.
No-name Joe took me out for an early b'day dinner last week. It was a weird day because I'd just seen James at the gym and was literally wiping tears when I saw him b/c I've really missed him so much and just feel rather alone in this whirlwind of decisions. But Joe bought dinner and gave me 2 really cool books, a small box of Godiva, and a handy Paris map. I told him I might cry when we're in Mexico because I've just been holding it in for so long. This is all very overwhelming.
Don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled, excited. But terrified. I've never taken out a loan before and to have to take out 2 or 3 for a total of perhaps 120,000$ is daunting. It's an investment. Yes, yes, yes it is. Instead of a house I'm getting a brain.
I spent this weekend and Mother's Day / my b'day with my family. It seemed apropos and my mum was happy. I still woke up forgetting it was my b'day. It's just kind of taken a backseat.
This week it's more interviews and me racing between Madison and Milwaukee to do so, a run up to another city to focus some work, a free Thursday for packing, Friday back in Milwaukee and back in time to meet up with Joe for the totally sold out and hot tickets for The Hold Steady, then we'll nap, jump on the plane that leaves at 6am for Mexico. I'm totally not sure what I've gotten myself into here but I'm sure it will all work out. Hurricane or sunshine, it'll be a needed vacation with no agenda but to see, feel, breathe.
And then I'll be completely out of money. Lord only knows how I'll re-coop in time to get my things out of my apartment by mid-August lease up, buy storage space, buy a plane ticket [one-way or round indefinite?], crash with my parents for a bit, get on a plane, get an apartment in Paris, feed myself, and start school.
Will there be any time for breathing ever again? Any time for my luxurious down-time of days spent with my hand down my pants? Any more binge drinking? Will I carouse on the town again? Or, has my age of innocence passed into a sultry, focused adulthood?
In ten years, I'm sure I'll look back and .....
Please don't take offense if I compile my thanks and updates here. I'm short on time right now... but long on appreciation and love for yous all.
The Paris-London trip was quite the quick jaunt overseas. I'm still pulling my pics together but we did a sort of slideshow at my parents this weekend with my sister's pics and mine on their new HDTV thing. Very diverse viewpoints and great snaps. We spent the first 24 hours just travelling. Plane, train, tube, train [under water!], metro, walking to the Paris hotel. You'll get to see a snap my sister took of me just as I popped out of the metro underground into the plaza in front of the Louvre and I've told a few that that was the definitive moment I realized I wanted to go to school there.
We ate at a nice, out of the way corner restaurant where no one really spoke English and I got to try my hand at French. Freshman year of HS in Argentina I took a French course from Madame Bousquet who taught us with a proper Parisian accent and those words and lessons have stayed lodged in my brain. I did quite well, and the old label that the French hate Americans didn't seem to ring true at all. My entire time there I was well-received - from the bus conductor to the small sandwich shop owner to the hotel employees to friendly passersby.
London wasn't quite as impressive for me and the school program/Open Day less so. I'm grateful that I went over and checked them both out because it cemented my decision to go to Sciences Po for sure. Yes, I am going to Paris. Yes, it still feels foreign to say out loud. Yes, it's totally unreal and doesn't feel like me who is planning this or doing this, but some alien occupying my body and saying these things.
I told my family today that I wish I could just be more simple, more simplistic. It would make things a lot easier. But I'm not one to be content to just work a 40 hour work week in Shopko. Listening to "This American Life" in the car on the way home today - about the historic change in the Amer Psych Assoc no longer qualifying homosexuality as pathological - I almost felt I could compare my situation. I can't help but make difficult decisions in my life. Wouldn't we all just wish to be normal, easy, happy, simple? Unfortunately we are who we are and must live up to that or struggle eternally with unhappiness and yearning to fulfill our destinies.
I'm not sure any of this writing is making sense.
There was no sexy fun in Europe. In fact, we both got sick by the end of the trip. When I got back I was still sick and then got my period. No sex for about 2 weeks now. I'm kind of starting to lose my mind but sex has taken a back-burner to all these plans and finishing up my Stats and Econ. I finished out my Econ final last week [and had a very strange conversation at the end of the class with crazy cat lady professor as I was the last one out of the room - the conversation involved her recommending some weird book by some woman who could channel some dead guy named Seth]. My Stats final is tomorrow afternoon. [Although, the Monday after my trip I had my last Stats exam and got an unprecedented 90% on it so there's hope for the final yet!]
Last week and this week at work I'm focusing on department interviews for my replacement. I haven't approached it as such as it still hasn't sunk in. Instead, I'm just going about it as interviewing someone new for our team.
No-name Joe took me out for an early b'day dinner last week. It was a weird day because I'd just seen James at the gym and was literally wiping tears when I saw him b/c I've really missed him so much and just feel rather alone in this whirlwind of decisions. But Joe bought dinner and gave me 2 really cool books, a small box of Godiva, and a handy Paris map. I told him I might cry when we're in Mexico because I've just been holding it in for so long. This is all very overwhelming.
Don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled, excited. But terrified. I've never taken out a loan before and to have to take out 2 or 3 for a total of perhaps 120,000$ is daunting. It's an investment. Yes, yes, yes it is. Instead of a house I'm getting a brain.
I spent this weekend and Mother's Day / my b'day with my family. It seemed apropos and my mum was happy. I still woke up forgetting it was my b'day. It's just kind of taken a backseat.
This week it's more interviews and me racing between Madison and Milwaukee to do so, a run up to another city to focus some work, a free Thursday for packing, Friday back in Milwaukee and back in time to meet up with Joe for the totally sold out and hot tickets for The Hold Steady, then we'll nap, jump on the plane that leaves at 6am for Mexico. I'm totally not sure what I've gotten myself into here but I'm sure it will all work out. Hurricane or sunshine, it'll be a needed vacation with no agenda but to see, feel, breathe.
And then I'll be completely out of money. Lord only knows how I'll re-coop in time to get my things out of my apartment by mid-August lease up, buy storage space, buy a plane ticket [one-way or round indefinite?], crash with my parents for a bit, get on a plane, get an apartment in Paris, feed myself, and start school.
Will there be any time for breathing ever again? Any time for my luxurious down-time of days spent with my hand down my pants? Any more binge drinking? Will I carouse on the town again? Or, has my age of innocence passed into a sultry, focused adulthood?
In ten years, I'm sure I'll look back and .....
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
I see London, I see France
whirlwind
I'm not even able to stay home to pack decently. I have to be on the road for work today, off-site all day Wed, off across the state Thurs to return at 9:30pm and pack for my 3pm flight. Sigh. Not a moment to actually stop and think and enjoy this so unusual jet-setting.
Sat - fly into London, hop the Eurostar train to Paris
Sun - Paris
Mon - Paris, visit Sciences Po
Mon night - Eurostar to London
Tues - London, visit Univ College
Wed - London
Thurs - fly back home
Sex? What's that? R-n-R? What's that? This is official business.
I guess you'll hear all about it upon my return. Hopefully my new digicam will arrive [dumb Amazon mix-up] and you'll get pix when I get back. When I get home, I make a decision about schools that Friday and I get that first May weekend alone. Then a week of work, a weekend to visit the parents and celebrate Mother's Day with my birthday [it's Sunday, May 13th and I'd like a laptop, PDA, and anything else found on the Amazon wishlist - I'll be 32 - you should buy me something]. Week of work and then May 19th off to Mexico with "no-name Joe" for a week. At least he planned the trip so we'd get Memorial weekend back home. Settle down, settle in. June work and train a new staff person. July work, train, quit, pack up my life. August store my life, move somewhere. September start school.
The train has left the station. And it's like a super fast jet train. I'm not driving. I've turned my wheel over to jesus, the cosmos, Mother Nature, buddha, allah, the aliens, the secret plotting between my soul and the universe.
I guess it's what I wished for and I guess it's coming true. Impermanence is permanent.
If I could have anything without worrying about the consequences, I'd go for two years in Paris. Learn my third language, spend my days roaming Henry Miller, Picasso, Toulouse Lautrec, and learn to debate social policy in French.
My horoscope says I should take a minute on Monday and have a tea or be by myself to contemplate and take it easy. If you send your post mail addy in time, I will send you a postcard.
I'm not even able to stay home to pack decently. I have to be on the road for work today, off-site all day Wed, off across the state Thurs to return at 9:30pm and pack for my 3pm flight. Sigh. Not a moment to actually stop and think and enjoy this so unusual jet-setting.
Sat - fly into London, hop the Eurostar train to Paris
Sun - Paris
Mon - Paris, visit Sciences Po
Mon night - Eurostar to London
Tues - London, visit Univ College
Wed - London
Thurs - fly back home
Sex? What's that? R-n-R? What's that? This is official business.
I guess you'll hear all about it upon my return. Hopefully my new digicam will arrive [dumb Amazon mix-up] and you'll get pix when I get back. When I get home, I make a decision about schools that Friday and I get that first May weekend alone. Then a week of work, a weekend to visit the parents and celebrate Mother's Day with my birthday [it's Sunday, May 13th and I'd like a laptop, PDA, and anything else found on the Amazon wishlist - I'll be 32 - you should buy me something]. Week of work and then May 19th off to Mexico with "no-name Joe" for a week. At least he planned the trip so we'd get Memorial weekend back home. Settle down, settle in. June work and train a new staff person. July work, train, quit, pack up my life. August store my life, move somewhere. September start school.
The train has left the station. And it's like a super fast jet train. I'm not driving. I've turned my wheel over to jesus, the cosmos, Mother Nature, buddha, allah, the aliens, the secret plotting between my soul and the universe.
I guess it's what I wished for and I guess it's coming true. Impermanence is permanent.
If I could have anything without worrying about the consequences, I'd go for two years in Paris. Learn my third language, spend my days roaming Henry Miller, Picasso, Toulouse Lautrec, and learn to debate social policy in French.
My horoscope says I should take a minute on Monday and have a tea or be by myself to contemplate and take it easy. If you send your post mail addy in time, I will send you a postcard.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Trailer park girls go 'round the outside
Oh stop me now.
Who's a bad girl? Who? Who?
Thursday with Andy. We tried a bit of bumstar visitation. We tried a bit of cock sucking. We got to where we needed to go. [Short snipets for Lola tonight as I have been on the road.] I do love how he knows my shyness and knows my body and takes what he wants. Flipping me over to lick my star. Holding my head to thrust down my throat. Climbing on top and pushing my thighs apart. ... And then a bit of dreamland chatter post and then ... then.. he's out the door. It's a nice balance.
Friday with Spiderman. Dinner is so strange with people who have children and forget table manners or how to treat a lady... And upstairs in his attic bedroom where he had a go of spank spank spanking my ass over and over as a newbie could. He didn't put it to me and I wondered if he missed his only opportunity to get a Lolacicle. I had thought better of sleeping at someone's house but stayed anyway and avoided cute loving embraces. He wrote me a song and it sounded so sexy as he hollared out "dolly."
Saturday with "no-name" Joe. Good margaritas. Good laughs. Watched Babel which was intense and interesting but lord why'd it win so many accolades? At his place. In his bed. I guess maybe I'm on top these days because of the yin-yang balance... less control in my day life, more control in my night? I still wish for being taken and men without self-consciousness. His tongue might not like my honeypot which is allright with me, but his fingers can find the button to work magic. He asked if I liked to cuddle after sex. My timeframe is not about love, is not about like, is not about making lasting impressions, is not about touchy-feely, but I'm not wholly against it. I curdle at those advances on the inside, but would rather succumb to someone's control or desires than petty prancy around mine. Secretly, I think he's found the blog, too. Secretly, I also think our trip to Mexico will be an eye opener for us both.
And now... London's Calling. I'm trying to finalize accommodations for London next weekend while also dealing with a super hectic work schedule. I'm not used to operating at this high octane level. I was dreaming last night about what ifs - what if Sciences Po in Paris accepts me and I dreamt of taking the train to Paris from London - which side of my actual day visit to the Univ Coll London? And now, I have the paper in my hand. And, now, add on the fact that Sciences Po in Paris has accepted me. Life is getting faster and complicated... and it'll all end on May 4th. I have gotten extensions to finalize where to go to school from Univ of Chicago and Carnegie until then. NYU which has waitlisted me has not replied. And after May 4? What becomes of a pumpkin? I guess I focus on my Stats and Econ finals, the awesome adventure with Joe in Mexico, hiring a new "me" for my job, and the 2-month long saga of sorting through belongings and what to do with it all. It will be nice to have a destination then. But it's also nice to be in this internal war, strife, gripe, rollercoaster.
I talked to my sister tonight. We have an internal string-and-can phone system between her and my mum and me. Someone thinks of someone and they call. Usually it's stronger between my mum and sister, but tonight I got home from long trip, long day and wondered if I should call my right-brain sister who can also still feel my impulsiveness [unlike dad]. She called me 20 minutes after that thought. All of a sudden it was her quitting her big marketing job, being hired at another firm, and taking her vacation with me to London and Paris. I brought it up. It might be nice to have someone to bounce shit off of and nice to have a compadre. Sure, I don't get along with her much, but it'll also be all about me and in turn, in her free time, all about her. We're both sluts, we're both independent, we're both drinkers, we're both travellers, we might just work out. "Like I told dad," she said "it's the way of our family. Trouble? Change? Life changes? Bring it on. We like to pile it on, we like to add more on to what we're already facing." Yes, this is so true. I could have made it easy like this girl in my Stats class who applied to one school in Illinois and banked on that. But I piled it on. And then on some more. And now, on some more. I know I'll miss these days of excitement and woe-is-me and deciding. At least I recognize it to enjoy it.
I'd like to cut all boys out of my life this week. I need to stay to me and do some work and investigating and playing with a new camera I bought and rearranging my IRA for my tax refund and looking up trains from London to Paris, but I also know that a good fuck is good for the soul.
Who's a bad girl? Who? Who?
Thursday with Andy. We tried a bit of bumstar visitation. We tried a bit of cock sucking. We got to where we needed to go. [Short snipets for Lola tonight as I have been on the road.] I do love how he knows my shyness and knows my body and takes what he wants. Flipping me over to lick my star. Holding my head to thrust down my throat. Climbing on top and pushing my thighs apart. ... And then a bit of dreamland chatter post and then ... then.. he's out the door. It's a nice balance.
Friday with Spiderman. Dinner is so strange with people who have children and forget table manners or how to treat a lady... And upstairs in his attic bedroom where he had a go of spank spank spanking my ass over and over as a newbie could. He didn't put it to me and I wondered if he missed his only opportunity to get a Lolacicle. I had thought better of sleeping at someone's house but stayed anyway and avoided cute loving embraces. He wrote me a song and it sounded so sexy as he hollared out "dolly."
Saturday with "no-name" Joe. Good margaritas. Good laughs. Watched Babel which was intense and interesting but lord why'd it win so many accolades? At his place. In his bed. I guess maybe I'm on top these days because of the yin-yang balance... less control in my day life, more control in my night? I still wish for being taken and men without self-consciousness. His tongue might not like my honeypot which is allright with me, but his fingers can find the button to work magic. He asked if I liked to cuddle after sex. My timeframe is not about love, is not about like, is not about making lasting impressions, is not about touchy-feely, but I'm not wholly against it. I curdle at those advances on the inside, but would rather succumb to someone's control or desires than petty prancy around mine. Secretly, I think he's found the blog, too. Secretly, I also think our trip to Mexico will be an eye opener for us both.
And now... London's Calling. I'm trying to finalize accommodations for London next weekend while also dealing with a super hectic work schedule. I'm not used to operating at this high octane level. I was dreaming last night about what ifs - what if Sciences Po in Paris accepts me and I dreamt of taking the train to Paris from London - which side of my actual day visit to the Univ Coll London? And now, I have the paper in my hand. And, now, add on the fact that Sciences Po in Paris has accepted me. Life is getting faster and complicated... and it'll all end on May 4th. I have gotten extensions to finalize where to go to school from Univ of Chicago and Carnegie until then. NYU which has waitlisted me has not replied. And after May 4? What becomes of a pumpkin? I guess I focus on my Stats and Econ finals, the awesome adventure with Joe in Mexico, hiring a new "me" for my job, and the 2-month long saga of sorting through belongings and what to do with it all. It will be nice to have a destination then. But it's also nice to be in this internal war, strife, gripe, rollercoaster.
I talked to my sister tonight. We have an internal string-and-can phone system between her and my mum and me. Someone thinks of someone and they call. Usually it's stronger between my mum and sister, but tonight I got home from long trip, long day and wondered if I should call my right-brain sister who can also still feel my impulsiveness [unlike dad]. She called me 20 minutes after that thought. All of a sudden it was her quitting her big marketing job, being hired at another firm, and taking her vacation with me to London and Paris. I brought it up. It might be nice to have someone to bounce shit off of and nice to have a compadre. Sure, I don't get along with her much, but it'll also be all about me and in turn, in her free time, all about her. We're both sluts, we're both independent, we're both drinkers, we're both travellers, we might just work out. "Like I told dad," she said "it's the way of our family. Trouble? Change? Life changes? Bring it on. We like to pile it on, we like to add more on to what we're already facing." Yes, this is so true. I could have made it easy like this girl in my Stats class who applied to one school in Illinois and banked on that. But I piled it on. And then on some more. And now, on some more. I know I'll miss these days of excitement and woe-is-me and deciding. At least I recognize it to enjoy it.
I'd like to cut all boys out of my life this week. I need to stay to me and do some work and investigating and playing with a new camera I bought and rearranging my IRA for my tax refund and looking up trains from London to Paris, but I also know that a good fuck is good for the soul.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Hesitation Frozen
I'm having hesitation problems.
All dressed up and nowhere to go. To go to the dumb 80's Cock Rock Extravaganza at the local club or stay in my sexys at home.
To go to school in London or stay at home.
Whiney lil dilemmas that seem to plague me.
All of a sudden ... literally just this minute... I could hear Hex of Sleep Dirt saying.. Good lord woman, Cock Rock?!? GO!!!!!
Okay okay...
So, if you have a Good Lord Woman for London or Chicago or Pittsburgh or New York, please do pass it along. Especially if it's London because I booked a ticket to go to their open tour day at UCL end of April to early May and I need accommodations. Yeah. Really. Apr 28 - May 3. Booked.
Oh, and I started an analysis of my tour of Univ of Chicago but didn't finish it. After all, I'm "spring break" -- ha. Back to Stats exam studying tomorrow. For now, to fulfill Hex's scolding.
All dressed up and nowhere to go. To go to the dumb 80's Cock Rock Extravaganza at the local club or stay in my sexys at home.
To go to school in London or stay at home.
Whiney lil dilemmas that seem to plague me.
All of a sudden ... literally just this minute... I could hear Hex of Sleep Dirt saying.. Good lord woman, Cock Rock?!? GO!!!!!
Okay okay...
So, if you have a Good Lord Woman for London or Chicago or Pittsburgh or New York, please do pass it along. Especially if it's London because I booked a ticket to go to their open tour day at UCL end of April to early May and I need accommodations. Yeah. Really. Apr 28 - May 3. Booked.
Oh, and I started an analysis of my tour of Univ of Chicago but didn't finish it. After all, I'm "spring break" -- ha. Back to Stats exam studying tomorrow. For now, to fulfill Hex's scolding.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Snaps
I haven't updated the photos in a long time. There are now new pics on the flickr. If you haven't viewed before or can't seem to see anything when you click, just ask me [click on "view my complete profile" for email addy]. There's no test required to gain entry. .. unless you want one.
Other things:
I'm healing well, I think. I kind of don't want to go back to work tomorrow and am hoping there's a snow day or there's something to let me stay in my little bubble. I went for a nice, slow, long walk today in the foot+ snow. It was really wet out and the snow was still falling. I like walking with a destination so I decided to go scam quarters from the laundromat nearby. I took the messy way home through the park and went back out again with my camera. It was so quiet. Not because there was no traffic or cars, but because the cars were silenced in the slush and people stayed inside. I realized that this was the last February 25th I'd have in Madison and that made me kind of sad. A little lonely on the inside with visibility like the Arctic Pole and only slowly-filling prints in the snow to remind me that I'm not alone.I wish I had a boyfriend:
**to tell my silly jokes to [a blizzard outside last night, I would have liked to call him up and say, "Can you drive over and take me to the grocery store? I'm out of juice." Then, I would have said I was totally kidding. Because it really was a blizzard outside.]
**to crack my upper back - I just can't seem to do it on my own.School is plugging along. I'm happy that crazy cat lady Econ prof is so flaky. It helps relieve me from studying so hard for her class while I'm constantly trying to keep up with Stats. My next Stats exam is a week from tomorrow. Probabilities are not as easy to understand - especially when I don't have good, everyday or professional examples. I don't play poker. I am not a geneticist wondering what the probability of 4 girl babies from 10 couples.
The acceptance letters from schools have slowed as I won't hear anything until March - which, I know, is around the corner. I am requesting an expedited renewal of my passport though. Why not wait? Well, there's this possibility [which is not a probability] that I'll go to Mexico in May with the new guy [who needs a name]. He's got a gifted-over time share and a ton of frequent flier miles, and for the most part so far we get along really well. Minus a very important factor which I've only shared with James - and so shall it remain until I'm ready to talk.I'm totally riddled with senioritis at work. I really could care less about things and feel like my performance and dedication is slowing to about 80% right now. Then again, I guess it's only due. After all, I have like 115.32 vacation hours and 161.86 sick hours left to use - which only means I've fucking worked my ass off for years.... Jeezus. I just tallied that and divided by 8. I better get to work on taking time off!!!
So, I totally omitted any info on my last weekend before the surgery. It was like "The Last Supper for Lola's Snatch." I was truly horrible. I don't even know if I want to confess out loud. If James and I were still going out, he'd totally guess what I mean when I say "I was bad." And, he'd secretly get a stiffy thinking about how naughty and slutty I can be. And, he'd love me for who I am. There are those of you out there reading who I'm not so sure you'd be so happy for me and my conquests and accomplishments. I do remind myself often to not remind myself of the readers. This is my space and my place to write. [I think you're right, Clichemonster. I do tend toward some kind of confessional self-observance of my writing right before I launch forward with whatever truth I'm going to tell. God, even this sidenote is a reflection on that confessional self-observance. Make myself sick.]
Anyway. I filled Lola's lil' holes with my darling dates. If you're smart, you'll note that Flickr adds dates to the photos. Andy in the Friday afternoon, [new guy] in the evening, and SirMax on the Saturday. Okay, so that's not so bad, is it? Shuddup. Yes, yes, yes, it's true, I could actually understand how Anna Nicole's custody conundrum would come about. [I couldn't pee to save my life at the hospital for the pre-surgery pregnancy test. I was asked if there was any way I might be pregnant. I said no. I mean, there's always a way a chick could be pregnant. Shit, the Immaculate Conception says so. Then again, I wasn't about to say, "Well, maybe, but trust me. If I am, there is no way I'll be having it so a little anesthesia won't kill anyone."]Yes, I had a wonderful last hurrah before I had to calm down, starve myself silly, poop everything out of my body, and go through the craziness that was the hospital. I have to say that I was remarkably calm throughout the whole process. I think the most I freaked out was when I wasn't allowed to eat after 12noon on the day before the surgery. By about 10pm I was soooo hungry and so sick of berry-flavored clear water. And, I only shed one tear in the out-patient cubicle I was assigned to - when my nurse [her name was Festival] asked if I was experiencing any anxiety about the surgery. "No, no anxiety but I'm a bit nervous." One little tear of pride mixed with bravery and a bit of fear.I stopped taking the meds yesterday. They gave me a dehydrated hang-over drowsiness and I wasn't digging sleeping for 14 hours straight. My body was starting to ache and the bed was starting to sag and I was wondering if I was going to start growing bed sores. So, if anyone wants some A-grade codeine something something rather - I've got like 12 of 'em left.
Here's a taste:
Other things:
I'm healing well, I think. I kind of don't want to go back to work tomorrow and am hoping there's a snow day or there's something to let me stay in my little bubble. I went for a nice, slow, long walk today in the foot+ snow. It was really wet out and the snow was still falling. I like walking with a destination so I decided to go scam quarters from the laundromat nearby. I took the messy way home through the park and went back out again with my camera. It was so quiet. Not because there was no traffic or cars, but because the cars were silenced in the slush and people stayed inside. I realized that this was the last February 25th I'd have in Madison and that made me kind of sad. A little lonely on the inside with visibility like the Arctic Pole and only slowly-filling prints in the snow to remind me that I'm not alone.I wish I had a boyfriend:
**to tell my silly jokes to [a blizzard outside last night, I would have liked to call him up and say, "Can you drive over and take me to the grocery store? I'm out of juice." Then, I would have said I was totally kidding. Because it really was a blizzard outside.]
**to crack my upper back - I just can't seem to do it on my own.School is plugging along. I'm happy that crazy cat lady Econ prof is so flaky. It helps relieve me from studying so hard for her class while I'm constantly trying to keep up with Stats. My next Stats exam is a week from tomorrow. Probabilities are not as easy to understand - especially when I don't have good, everyday or professional examples. I don't play poker. I am not a geneticist wondering what the probability of 4 girl babies from 10 couples.
The acceptance letters from schools have slowed as I won't hear anything until March - which, I know, is around the corner. I am requesting an expedited renewal of my passport though. Why not wait? Well, there's this possibility [which is not a probability] that I'll go to Mexico in May with the new guy [who needs a name]. He's got a gifted-over time share and a ton of frequent flier miles, and for the most part so far we get along really well. Minus a very important factor which I've only shared with James - and so shall it remain until I'm ready to talk.I'm totally riddled with senioritis at work. I really could care less about things and feel like my performance and dedication is slowing to about 80% right now. Then again, I guess it's only due. After all, I have like 115.32 vacation hours and 161.86 sick hours left to use - which only means I've fucking worked my ass off for years.... Jeezus. I just tallied that and divided by 8. I better get to work on taking time off!!!
So, I totally omitted any info on my last weekend before the surgery. It was like "The Last Supper for Lola's Snatch." I was truly horrible. I don't even know if I want to confess out loud. If James and I were still going out, he'd totally guess what I mean when I say "I was bad." And, he'd secretly get a stiffy thinking about how naughty and slutty I can be. And, he'd love me for who I am. There are those of you out there reading who I'm not so sure you'd be so happy for me and my conquests and accomplishments. I do remind myself often to not remind myself of the readers. This is my space and my place to write. [I think you're right, Clichemonster. I do tend toward some kind of confessional self-observance of my writing right before I launch forward with whatever truth I'm going to tell. God, even this sidenote is a reflection on that confessional self-observance. Make myself sick.]
Anyway. I filled Lola's lil' holes with my darling dates. If you're smart, you'll note that Flickr adds dates to the photos. Andy in the Friday afternoon, [new guy] in the evening, and SirMax on the Saturday. Okay, so that's not so bad, is it? Shuddup. Yes, yes, yes, it's true, I could actually understand how Anna Nicole's custody conundrum would come about. [I couldn't pee to save my life at the hospital for the pre-surgery pregnancy test. I was asked if there was any way I might be pregnant. I said no. I mean, there's always a way a chick could be pregnant. Shit, the Immaculate Conception says so. Then again, I wasn't about to say, "Well, maybe, but trust me. If I am, there is no way I'll be having it so a little anesthesia won't kill anyone."]Yes, I had a wonderful last hurrah before I had to calm down, starve myself silly, poop everything out of my body, and go through the craziness that was the hospital. I have to say that I was remarkably calm throughout the whole process. I think the most I freaked out was when I wasn't allowed to eat after 12noon on the day before the surgery. By about 10pm I was soooo hungry and so sick of berry-flavored clear water. And, I only shed one tear in the out-patient cubicle I was assigned to - when my nurse [her name was Festival] asked if I was experiencing any anxiety about the surgery. "No, no anxiety but I'm a bit nervous." One little tear of pride mixed with bravery and a bit of fear.I stopped taking the meds yesterday. They gave me a dehydrated hang-over drowsiness and I wasn't digging sleeping for 14 hours straight. My body was starting to ache and the bed was starting to sag and I was wondering if I was going to start growing bed sores. So, if anyone wants some A-grade codeine something something rather - I've got like 12 of 'em left.
Well, I've got to go finish up the laundry before the Oscars. Not that I'll be watching, I've got homework to finish, but it'll be a nice break to see all the pretty people in gowns try to hold their tongue about the war or poverty or Darfur or God Bless or Anna N.S.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
And that's all I'll say about the SOTU.
Although I did particularly like the part when he said that medical decisions should be made between a patient and a doctor - not insurance companies. Too bad he couldn't have tossed on there "not insurance companies, or governments, or activist Attorney Generals, or the handful of crazy religious wingnuts." That's the speech I would have written. F'n losers.
Did anyone notice that the only time that Bush and Cheney drank any water was at the exact same time? I mean, hello... puppets!!!! And, what the hell was up with Pelosi? Get that woman a drink of water. She kept licking her collagenated lips like she had leftover lollipop on them. Maybe that was the situation - she thought she was going to starve up there so they coated her lips with sugar to keep her awake. Um, and hello mister cameraman, not a flattering view of McCain while he was looking down to read something -- or, was he really asleep? And, good lord, does the Prez really alienate that many legislators that the only time they can get his autograph is while he's exiting the building? It's not a fucking Ticketmaster show and he's not Justin Timberlake, you nut cases.
Yes, yes, I did listen to what he said. I wasn't just playing Inside Hollywood or something. And, I agree with the reporters, it was somber and sober. But it was a bunch of hooey all dressed up in grown-up clothes, too. The average American will wonder why Pelosi didn't stand up more and won't necessarily get the significance of some of his "plans" or that he's requesting to remove earmarks after his fucking party accepted and encouraged and made it law of the land to slide slippery policy into fucking everything they could. And, I wonder if the average Joe/Jane will get the fact that he wants to allow government to only give doles to the elderly, the handicapped, and the poor snowflake babies -- and not to the middle class or the recently laid-off blue collars or the struggling single mom or the non-traditional, older student trying to work and pay her tuition. And do you think that the average American will understand that the guy who's gonna see to it that doctor's don't get sued for such silly and outrageous offenses as medical malpractice is Michael Leavitt who won't fire a guy who believes that birth control is bad and supports bullying and threatening pregnant women into continuing their pregnancies instead of opting for abortion.
Yeah, I don't have much faith in the average population. Yes, yes, they did make a statement when they voted for Democrats [or rather, voted anti-Iraq war]. But will they understand the politics of the SOTU tonight? Will they still call for an end to the war? Will they see through his b.s.? Will they - will we still call for impeachment?
And, that's all I'm going to say about the SOTU.
Anyway..
I took a break physically last week from men. The only man I saw was my ass doctor who didn't even touch me. It was purely a consult to discuss having the "tag" of skin [aka the tail of the devil] removed from my bumstar. We had to have an official consult so my insurance would refer me and cover the cost of my future surgery. Yee-haw! Surgery! Fun! Buckets and buckets. I have no idea how this is going to go down at all. [I'd tell you a funny story about James and surgery, but I don't have his permission to share. Anyway, he'd prolly tell it best.] All I know is that this will require a cut and, I imagine, some stitches near my bumstar. I will be purchasing shares of the Luv's corporation - specifically requesting a ton of my investment in baby wipes. The hospital has sufficiently tried to scare the beegeezus out of me with a packet of info containing a form for power of attorney, pages of instructions about what not to eat or drink before the surgery, and has me second-guessing my decision already.
School's going well. Crazy cat lady econ professor is indeed crazy cat lady. I'm remembering all her stories about the snowplow her husband bought, the cat she spent $1000 on, and the mini-storage rental business she owns, but I'm not understanding the correlations to economics. And I think her lectures confuse me more than just reading the book, which btw has nice photos and colors and bigger sized font and good examples and fun stories. I do feel slightly like they're telling me I'm either a retard or a 9th grader, but it's a nice, slow re-introduction into school. Stats isn't going any better - not that either are going poorly, it's just .. average, I guess. There are some things I'm experiencing that I remember from back in the day. The immediate camaraderie you can build with a classmate if you just introduce yourself and share a bit. All of a sudden I have a study partner or two! I'm being a very good student and reading all the material - and more! - than required. I'm grasping it all pretty well, too. And it seems perfect that the econ goes with the stats as I'm learning them. Correlation but not causation. Etc...
Applying's going well. The London School of Economics turned me down but that was expected as it was a long-shot. You're the first to hear this news. Please don't tell everyone, especially not my recommenders or family. I'm not ready to tell the disappointments. .... I've only got Hertie[Berlin], Leiden [NL], and Sciences Po [Paris] left to go. The grand total will be 12. Geezus if I don't get accepted by one of them!
Anyway... this is a good week. Men on the horizon. I'll catch up with schoolwork. Work-work's not too demanding yet. Next week I get to attend the State of the State and the reception at the Governor's mansion. It's also my mum's 60th birthday and my dad's 64th. I can't imagine a world without them and I can only hope that they'll be around for forever - even though I know that's not possible. And, what kind of gift says that? Got any suggestions?
Oh, and I posted an entry below that was free-flow following a playdate with SirMax. Enjoy!
And total PS. I haven't really been following them all that much, but I just spotted The Shins on Dave Letterman [I guess they were on SNL recently?!?]. If you click the link [to YouTube] or you know them at all.. Dave Hernandez, the back-up vocals and guitarist, you know, the hottest one of them all - well, he was in a band out of Albuquerque called Scared of Chaka. SoC played our basement back in the punk rock days. And, as drunk young girls are, my gal pal and I almost flipped a coin to see which boy we got: Dave or Dameon [the bassist of SoC]. But, we both kind of leaned toward one of the boys - she got Dave and I got Dameon. And... she got nuthin' that night and I got Dameon. .......... All my Minneapolis boys makin' it big now. Sigh. I loved that time in life.
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
And that's all I'll say about the SOTU.
Although I did particularly like the part when he said that medical decisions should be made between a patient and a doctor - not insurance companies. Too bad he couldn't have tossed on there "not insurance companies, or governments, or activist Attorney Generals, or the handful of crazy religious wingnuts." That's the speech I would have written. F'n losers.
Did anyone notice that the only time that Bush and Cheney drank any water was at the exact same time? I mean, hello... puppets!!!! And, what the hell was up with Pelosi? Get that woman a drink of water. She kept licking her collagenated lips like she had leftover lollipop on them. Maybe that was the situation - she thought she was going to starve up there so they coated her lips with sugar to keep her awake. Um, and hello mister cameraman, not a flattering view of McCain while he was looking down to read something -- or, was he really asleep? And, good lord, does the Prez really alienate that many legislators that the only time they can get his autograph is while he's exiting the building? It's not a fucking Ticketmaster show and he's not Justin Timberlake, you nut cases.
Yes, yes, I did listen to what he said. I wasn't just playing Inside Hollywood or something. And, I agree with the reporters, it was somber and sober. But it was a bunch of hooey all dressed up in grown-up clothes, too. The average American will wonder why Pelosi didn't stand up more and won't necessarily get the significance of some of his "plans" or that he's requesting to remove earmarks after his fucking party accepted and encouraged and made it law of the land to slide slippery policy into fucking everything they could. And, I wonder if the average Joe/Jane will get the fact that he wants to allow government to only give doles to the elderly, the handicapped, and the poor snowflake babies -- and not to the middle class or the recently laid-off blue collars or the struggling single mom or the non-traditional, older student trying to work and pay her tuition. And do you think that the average American will understand that the guy who's gonna see to it that doctor's don't get sued for such silly and outrageous offenses as medical malpractice is Michael Leavitt who won't fire a guy who believes that birth control is bad and supports bullying and threatening pregnant women into continuing their pregnancies instead of opting for abortion.
Yeah, I don't have much faith in the average population. Yes, yes, they did make a statement when they voted for Democrats [or rather, voted anti-Iraq war]. But will they understand the politics of the SOTU tonight? Will they still call for an end to the war? Will they see through his b.s.? Will they - will we still call for impeachment?
And, that's all I'm going to say about the SOTU.
Anyway..
I took a break physically last week from men. The only man I saw was my ass doctor who didn't even touch me. It was purely a consult to discuss having the "tag" of skin [aka the tail of the devil] removed from my bumstar. We had to have an official consult so my insurance would refer me and cover the cost of my future surgery. Yee-haw! Surgery! Fun! Buckets and buckets. I have no idea how this is going to go down at all. [I'd tell you a funny story about James and surgery, but I don't have his permission to share. Anyway, he'd prolly tell it best.] All I know is that this will require a cut and, I imagine, some stitches near my bumstar. I will be purchasing shares of the Luv's corporation - specifically requesting a ton of my investment in baby wipes. The hospital has sufficiently tried to scare the beegeezus out of me with a packet of info containing a form for power of attorney, pages of instructions about what not to eat or drink before the surgery, and has me second-guessing my decision already.
School's going well. Crazy cat lady econ professor is indeed crazy cat lady. I'm remembering all her stories about the snowplow her husband bought, the cat she spent $1000 on, and the mini-storage rental business she owns, but I'm not understanding the correlations to economics. And I think her lectures confuse me more than just reading the book, which btw has nice photos and colors and bigger sized font and good examples and fun stories. I do feel slightly like they're telling me I'm either a retard or a 9th grader, but it's a nice, slow re-introduction into school. Stats isn't going any better - not that either are going poorly, it's just .. average, I guess. There are some things I'm experiencing that I remember from back in the day. The immediate camaraderie you can build with a classmate if you just introduce yourself and share a bit. All of a sudden I have a study partner or two! I'm being a very good student and reading all the material - and more! - than required. I'm grasping it all pretty well, too. And it seems perfect that the econ goes with the stats as I'm learning them. Correlation but not causation. Etc...
Applying's going well. The London School of Economics turned me down but that was expected as it was a long-shot. You're the first to hear this news. Please don't tell everyone, especially not my recommenders or family. I'm not ready to tell the disappointments. .... I've only got Hertie[Berlin], Leiden [NL], and Sciences Po [Paris] left to go. The grand total will be 12. Geezus if I don't get accepted by one of them!
Anyway... this is a good week. Men on the horizon. I'll catch up with schoolwork. Work-work's not too demanding yet. Next week I get to attend the State of the State and the reception at the Governor's mansion. It's also my mum's 60th birthday and my dad's 64th. I can't imagine a world without them and I can only hope that they'll be around for forever - even though I know that's not possible. And, what kind of gift says that? Got any suggestions?
Oh, and I posted an entry below that was free-flow following a playdate with SirMax. Enjoy!
And total PS. I haven't really been following them all that much, but I just spotted The Shins on Dave Letterman [I guess they were on SNL recently?!?]. If you click the link [to YouTube] or you know them at all.. Dave Hernandez, the back-up vocals and guitarist, you know, the hottest one of them all - well, he was in a band out of Albuquerque called Scared of Chaka. SoC played our basement back in the punk rock days. And, as drunk young girls are, my gal pal and I almost flipped a coin to see which boy we got: Dave or Dameon [the bassist of SoC]. But, we both kind of leaned toward one of the boys - she got Dave and I got Dameon. And... she got nuthin' that night and I got Dameon. .......... All my Minneapolis boys makin' it big now. Sigh. I loved that time in life.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Lola goes to school
Oh. My. God.
I start classes tomorrow. My whole life is going to change completely. What if I can't keep up? What if the other kids laugh at me? What if I'm over-dressed? What if I can't understand Professor Wu? How much are the textbooks gonna cost? How the hell am I going to go to bed by 11pm tonight and get up by 645am tomorrow? Will they let me bring my coffee in to class? What if it's too hard? What if I don't 'get it'?
Oh. My. God.
I'm so excited. I'm so so so so scared.
I think I'm going to throw up.
I start classes tomorrow. My whole life is going to change completely. What if I can't keep up? What if the other kids laugh at me? What if I'm over-dressed? What if I can't understand Professor Wu? How much are the textbooks gonna cost? How the hell am I going to go to bed by 11pm tonight and get up by 645am tomorrow? Will they let me bring my coffee in to class? What if it's too hard? What if I don't 'get it'?
Oh. My. God.
I'm so excited. I'm so so so so scared.
I think I'm going to throw up.
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