Opening Up

As I'm sure anyone who had read this blog will know, opening up emotionally is not my strong suit. I'm not completely used to the idea of being capable of opening up to someone so completely that it leaves me vulnerable for all to see. For some reason though, for the past few days, I've been feeling far more vulnerable than I usually allow myself to feel. This has left me feeling weepy without the ability to shed tears (and I assure you that it takes quite a lot to get me to cry). It's left me exhausted and hyperactive. It's left me feeling more alone than I care to realize.

To those who don't know me well enough to know this, I am a big believer in the metaphysical, as well as the supernatural. I believe in energy around us being capable of alter the very way which we feel. I believe in a good number of things, but it was mostly the latter part of what I just said.

I've got to wonder if it's this energy around me that's causing me to feel this way.

I don't know, but I'm definitely not enjoying this sensation at the moment. Vulnerability is not a good look for me.

A Rainy Day

To say that I hate the rain would be misleading. It would, however, not be misleading if I said that sometimes the rain can prove to be one of the banes of my existence.

Now, I won't say that I'm prone to panic or anxiety attacks. While I'm fairly high strung, I'm usually composed enough to keep myself calm. This is something I've regained over the course of the past year, give or take. Given how my emotional state of well being has fluctuated for the most part, but it has stabilised.

Now, with this said, I must admit that after a day of driving around, which I don't usually do, I find the rain feeding on old paranoia and fear stemming back to September 2006. I'm not going to go in depth about what happened. That's a story to tell later. I'll just relate that this time it was in the role of the passenger that I felt the old anxiety rise up.

For a slight clue -- not being able to see more than five feet in front of you while riding in torrential rain is bloody well terrifying when you're more than a little tired. Granted, a cat coming up to you and silently asking to be pet is most definitely a great comfort. Especially when said cat was previously too scared to come near you.

With that said, I'm going to clutch at a strawberry blonde tom who is currently climbing all over me. (Don't you wish you could say that at various points in time. ;)

The Myth of the Biological Clock

It seems that whenever I mention not wanting to ever have children, someone winds up bringing the tripe bit of garbage about the so called Biological Clock. They tell me that, as a woman, my clock will be going off soon, blaring about how it's time for me to expel a larger bit of biological matter from my body.

I don't believe it.

If the propaganda about the biological clock were true, then how does it affect nuns? These women dedicate themselves to a lifestyle that leads them away from an existence filled with carnal desires, and as a result, producing progeny. Does one say to them, "Oh, give it time. Your biological clock will be screaming when you're older?"

I'd hope not. It'd be considered offensive, so I have to wonder about what makes it right to say such a thing to a woman who simply refuses to bear a child without the added condition of lifelong servitude to a deity. What makes it right to belittle a woman's choice so freely?

Nothing, in my opinion. The garbage about the biological clock is just that-- garbage. If one feels the desire to reproduce, then go right ahead, but don't belittle those who don't. Some of us are just realizing how overpopulated the world really is.

And the rest, well, I'm guessing they just don't care. I don't.

It's a sad thought when I think about just how readily some people can lose themselves to an obsession with television shows. How readily people are willing to welcome worlds drenched in fantasy and imagined horrors is a thought that leaves me worried for the people who want these worlds. Can life really be that bleak?

Take a friend of mine for example-- instead of working on issues with her boyfriend and spending time with her two kids, often she is lamenting about how she's treated or yelling at her young boys. Every time our schedules mesh, I spend the time listening to her go on and on about the latest show she's been watching or to descriptions of the dreams in which she is with whichever character she finds attractive or desirable.

I wish that there was something that I could say, but what can one say to a friend who feels trapped by the family she loves?

Anonymity

Now, readers, I've been reading a bit about anonymity, and it's led me to want to make one thing clear.

I've no intention of remaining anonymous. If asked (which I doubt will happen), I'm not going to shy away and say, "Oh, I'm just my pseudonym." I make no open attempt to go about revealing my true persona, but I'm not really secretive enough to go through and hide it fully like so many bloggers have been in the past. I am who I am.

And honestly, if you look hard enough to find my email address, you're going to find out a couple of things about me right off the bat. If you click the first link under suggested readings, you'll find a link to a real life friend of mine's blog. If your take on word play is good enough, from her information, you'll find out even more about me.

With this said, I don't encourage you to go through and actually look me up. I've had enough stalkers in my day.

That and I encourage you to read this blog with an open mind. To go through and read about the various bits of drama that take place without your perception having been altered by knowing what some of my interests are and just how crazed I am about certain subjects. If you want to know the truth or about some of my interests, ask. I'm an open person. Just give me a while to get back to you. I don't have constant internet access after all.

An update from me because the last few have been on such blase notes--

I am such a girl. Crying over Japanese dramas. Well, what can I say except I'm a sucker for sappy story lines, emotional finales, and good acting. Especially the acting. Though I suppose this could be an instance of the grass being greener. When one grows tired of seeing nothing more than bad comedy or over the top cat fights (both verbal and physical mind), one has to find entertainment from other cultures.

Ah well. Now, I'll just have to find another way to get my fix. That or just indulge the part of me that loves British science fiction until my brain no longer wants to blurt out "Tadaima!" the moment I step in the front door.

Reader,

I'm a little afraid to admit what I think is happening lately. After years of romantic autonomy fueled solely good friendships with members of either sex, I believe that the outer shell I've depended upon so greatly is cracking. I find myself wanting someone in my life in a way that is solely mine. Someone to create a sort of balance that one finds with a "significant other."

I can imagine the mixed reactions that I might draw out if I were to tell people. "Aw, you're finally growing up/developing a compassionate heart/acting human," is the kind I dread and expect. Especially since I've already gotten the heart one. Another, slightly more welcome reaction is, "Oh, bollocks/hell/fuck, another pathetic whiner griping about being single. Goodbye, blog."

I assure you, none of these will be the case. I don't like reading blogs focused solely on finding another person. Give me observational blogs. Or ones from a varying perspective.

Anyways, I just felt like posting it so that I'll have gotten it off of my chest.

And with that said, I bid you farewell, dear reader.

Curiosity

Sometimes, I have to wonder what the appeal is to tying ones self to another person. Days like this, I find myself wanting to propose to someone.

I think I need to be slapped on days like this.

New Thoughts

The more I read on feminism, the less I seem capable of describing myself as one. At one point, I would have found this sad, but as my world has shifted to encompass ideas outside of what I knew, I'm finding myself to be glad for the loss of this label.

Why? Because with it comes the idea that many of my favorite bloggers are nothing more than contemptible faux human beings who are setting women back by decades.

How? Because they enjoy/work involving some sort of sexual "deviancy." Former call girls, dommes, pornography pioneers who are working towards broadening the scope to include hard core made for women. These women are the ones who are promoting true feminism.

Not women who promote the idea that sex should always be vanilla. That women shouldn't be using sex as a means of supporting themselves. Yes, some women live hard lives that leave them feeling as if they have no choice but to go to sex work, but not all women in the industry are like that. Not all women using sex to get money are crack whores. In the case of Belle de Jour, you have a brilliant woman who willingly chose to prove the idea that sex sells.

Anyways, enough of my prattling. Ta for now.

I must learn to avoid picking up my phone on bad days turned good. Doing so usually winds up leading me back down the bad day path once again.

After working and then spending a few hours with an old friend of mind, I went home and tried to have a few hours to myself in which I could write and read a little Carlin. Half an hour into my evening, however, I make the major mistake of the evening.

He at first texted me with a goofy comment much like before all of the drama began. I was hoping that maybe he just wanted to be friends again. what can I say? After a good day, I'm allowed to be childishly hopeful, aren't I?

Apparently not.

Shortly into our conversation, he wanted to speak seriously. Warning signal number 1. I should have realized where this was going to go, but I, being childishly hopeful still, believed that maybe he was working towards the last bit of closure. Nope. He wanted to continue on about my lack of interest. He wanted to continue to push me into dangerous territory that is the emotional aspect of my being. This may seem like I'm being irrational about it all, but take into account that the last time I became as emotional as he wanted me to go was in January of 2008, which he himself admitted. This is dangerous territory due to the fact that around this time, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown due to the stress that was continually piling on due to deaths, bad roommates, and other personal issues.

Now, when my head is back to where is should be, how can I be expected to be so emotionally fragile? It's not a part of who I am normally. He knows this but still fails to comprehend that pushing me to talk is simply a means of pushing me away.

I wound up emotional, all right, though not the way he wanted. In this girl's opinion, it seemed like he wanted me to be all weepy and gushy, declaring that he was right, and I should want to shag him and be his emotional fuck toy. Instead, he was dealing with the enraged girl who doesn't show this side of herself often.

It's for that reason that I'm tempted to cut off communication permanently. To cut this source of drama out of my life. I don't need someone who needs me on the verge of a nervous breakdown just so I'd run to him as my shoulder to cry on. I have other friends for that, and they'd rather see me stable and healthy.

And as an ironic ending to this post, I have to say that Belle de Jour once again proves to be right. Here is the post that I read that seems to perfectly describe the way he's been acting. And please note, dear readers, that I had all but this last paragraph written before I came across this entry. My points as to how this works --

• "In other words, what Nice Guy is hoping to do is wear down a woman’s resistance over time in the hope that she will give in someday – most likely shortly after a breakup, or under the influence of alcohol – and bestow on him a Pity Fuck" -- I cannot count the number of times that he's referred to himself as a "Nice Guy." In addition to this, he's blatantly tried to get me drunk, insisting that I "get wasted," on my birthday during which time he was going to be in my presence.
• "A Nice Guy will only establish a friendship with a woman with the intention of cracking on to her eventually." -- I believe that the current drama is a sign of this.
• "'Nice Guy' will: hand her a tenner for the taxi 'only as long as you meet me for drinks next week’."-- A different take on this but along the same vein. When I last saw him, I left a ring at his place. I've politely asked for it to be returned twice. He's since then stated that he's only going to give me a ring when I let him stay with me for a week.
• "'Nice Guy' will: steer the conversation towards relationships. Either hers (the better to put her in a vulnerable position) or his (the better to elicit sympathy)." -- Yes, I do believe in honesty, but I also recall how he was asking me about my past relationships both simply romantic as well as sexual shortly after our first conversation. I also recall telling him that my past sexual partners have been ones who I've lost interest in almost immediately, only to have him say that we should sleep together just to see if that would happen. I told him that I'd rather remain friends than risking it all over a simple night of fucking.
• "'Nice Guy' will: come on strong, move quickly, and throw blame at her if she gets cold feet. He'll jump straight to the L-word, often without knowing much more about her than surface qualities. Is considerably nicer to her when he knows others are watching." -- The first time he ever hugged me, he moved in for the kiss and grope. For which I almost decked him. He's said the L-word more times than I can recall, and all I've told him is what I either wanted him to know (as bad as that turn of phrase sounds) or what I'd revealed during my more fragile moments. Nothing truly about me. No depth to his knowledge. No caring for anything that doesn't really involve him getting shagged.

So, after all of this, I'm tempted to go ahead and say "keep the ring and lose my number." This drama has gone on long enough, and I'm frankly tired of it.