Does anyone else find it even slightly amusing that blogger's spell checker does not recognize the word "blog"?

I have determined that tampons somehow aggravate my cramping. A quick web search determined that I am not the first woman to notice this relationship, either. What about it? Maybe the extra pressure against my cervix. Maybe the bleach or other chemicals used in the tampon production. Who knows. Whatever the case, the cramping seems much worse when a tampon is in, and markedly better when out (although it never goes away completely).

So. Messy, or extraordinarily painful - these appear to be my choices. I've never been that neat a person anyhow.

You know what bothers me most about pads, though?

Maybe you didn't want to know what bothers me most about pads. Or about tampons aggravating my cramping. But you're here, and you're reading my blog, and if you're going to continue to read, I'm going to continue to write. That's the way it used to be, and, uh, the way it will be again. At least for the next two minutes.

What bothers me most is the smell.

Maybe I am extra sensitive to it, because it is my smell. When I mention it to close friends, they say they can't smell it. Here is what one FAQ I found had to say about the issue:

Does menstrual fluid really smell bad?

It definitely has an odor. Menstrual fluid starts to smell when it is in contact with air. So a pad you have been wearing all day at school can get pretty strong smelling. Also, you might find that the fluid that comes at the end of your period has a stronger smell than the more liquid flow at the beginning.

You may be able to smell your menstrual fluid, but don't worry, other people will not. Think about it, have you ever smelled a woman's menstrual blood when standing near her? Probably not, even though there are menstruating women everywhere you go.

Wash with mild soap and water every day of your period if you are worried about it.

Regardless, when I am wearing pads, I start to smell. . .old blood. Slightly metallic. Warm. Earthy, maybe. But very, very distinct. And I get to feeling that everyone around me can smell it. And if they aren't aware they can smell it, their bodies can still and they then can sense it, and then we all relate to each other slightly differently.

So it's not so much a choice of messy or painful, then, but a choice of painful or smelling of. . .this smell, that I cannot adequately describe.

But what choice is there, really? I'm fed up with all the bloody cramping - lying around, curled up in the fetal position, half-coherent, feeling as if my insides were slowly being ripped out by some unseen hand.

Anyone want some free tampons?

Louie's been running away lately. Sneaks out if anyone leaves the door open even a crack, and then we don't see him for hours. One time, a whole day. I stopped home for something in the afternoon, and noticed that:
a) he wasn't there
b) his leash WAS there (meaning none of the dog sitters had taken him)
c) his breakfast was uneaten (meaning he'd probably been gone a while)

I called Chris, but couldn't get ahold of him right away. So I just went back to school and sat around and worried. Came back after school, still no Louie. Finally heard back from Chris, who said that Louie had been around in the morning, but he wasn't sure he had seen him the last time he had been home, roundabouts of 2:00 PM. So I just hung out in my living room with the door open, waiting, for hours, hoping Louie would show up. He didn't.

Finally, I went to bed, with the intention of calling up the humane society and animal control and such in the morning.

When I woke up, however, I found Louie tied up out back.

It is my theory that Rupert, one of the homeless guys in the neighborhood, found him and brought him home in the middle of the night. Nobody else really knows where he belongs to bring him back and tie him up.

Louie has taken off once more since then, and was gone for several hours again. Happily, he is at least tagged and microchipped. We are taking pains to watch the much door more closely these days, though.

Cramps make me sad. I wish I were sleeping. Why am I not sleeping? #@^@#$% Cramps. Is this worth being up at 4:00 in the morning? Not really.

Tony's having a baby! Hooray for Tony!

You know, it seems like almost everyone I know is getting married and/or having children.

At least, everyone I knew in high school.

And in college.

And at my last several jobs.

Basically, anyone I hang out with for a while, and then we lose touch - they then run off and pair up and propagate like crazy. So beware if you're hanging out with me now. Don't stop unless you're really ready. Are you ready for children?

Beginning Tango, taught by Kathryn & Claytie
No Partner Required!

Tuesdays, 8:00 PM - 9:00 PM
June 28nd - July 19th
Walt room of Freehold Theater, 1525 10th Avenue

4 weeks of classes for $25.
Drop in for $8.

My practica at the Century Ballroom (which is just down the hall)
starts at 9:30, and is just $3 admission. It's a great place to
practice what you've just learned in class!

Brian's Blog is gone! I know he hasn't posted for, like, 2 years, but still, it was sort of comforting clicking on the link every few months and looking at that last picture of snow. I feel so unsettled now.

I feel I should clear something up - I am actually a much happier person than my last few blog-posts might lead you to believe. Problem is that I have been jet lagged and overly tired, and when I am tired I am more prone to mood swings and to taking things less well than I might otherwise, and when I am in such a mood I feel like writing and venting and getting everything off my chest. Most of the time I am not in such a mood, with such a need for venting. But most of the time, when I am not in such a mood, I am also not writing, at least not currently. So if you read what I write but don't see or speak to me a whole lot, you get a very skewed picture of what is going on with my life.

Happy me! Really. I am.

Stefan and Komala and Burak and Kira are all here now. We had a lovely, lovely dinner, and then went dancing, and it was so nice! And now I'm trying to stay up a bit later so I can drive Jeremy to the airport to fly out to Europe. Alan's not on, so it's more boring than usual. But I will make it! Perhaps I will read an old fashioned, phyisical, binded book. Wouldn't that be strange.

Anyhow, don't be worring about me. Things are good.

And hey, thanks to all of you that have been checking in on me lately. I forget sometimes that people actually read this. It's nice though, to know that you do, and that you care. I love you, man.

From How to Overcome the Fear of Rejection: The Successful Rejection Experience by Jonathan Robinson, MA, MFT:

. . .Fortunately, each rejection got easier. In fact, I soon noticed that the women I spoke to seemed more nervous than I. My rejections were proceeding rapidly and smoothly until the seventh woman I approached. When I asked her for a date, she said, "Sure." I hadn't thought of the possibility of someone saying "Yes," so I said, "Sure what?" She finally convinced me she really wanted to go out with me. I wrote down her number, and in a state of happy amazement, soon asked another woman for a date. To my surprise, she also said "Yes." By this time, I was feeling totally at ease while I asked women out, and they frequently responded by giving me their phone number. In fact, after a while I had so many dates that I had to begin acting like a jerk in order to fill my quota of ten rejections (and get my $50 bucks back). . .

Cute, eh?

I am happy now. Had some water, washed my face, had some tea, curled up on the couch and IM'd with friends. Feeeliiin' good, chips are in a pile on the floor.

• I'm lonely in tango. I wish I had a lead or two, here in Seattle, that I could practice with.
• Also, I hate politics.
• Also, I hate when people are fake-nice and ask you to do things under conditions that you can't meet so that you'll have to decline but they can still feel good about having asked. Thanks a @#$@#% lot.
• It feels hypocritiical to be teaching with someone I never practice with, and rarely even social dance with. I'm tired of it. But at the same time, I love teaching, and I want to do it, and the person I mainly get to teach with isn't interested in these things right now.
• I hate when people send me emails like, "I don't want to live with you or be your boyfriend. I just like fucking you." Even if it's sardonic and not meant seriously.

So many chips on my shoulder, and they're heavier at night. I need to catch up on my sleep.

(The grand plan failed. I forgot that I was hosting people for tango stuff this weekend, and some were getting here today, and so I was somewhat obliged to take them out to the dance tonight and stay up late. And I did. And now I'm super, super, super tired. And cranky. And things that might not normally bug me are bugging me a bunch.)

Anyways, I know that they're chips, and that I'd be happier if I could let them go. And why am I holding on to them? Do they make me happy? Do I like the feeling of holding on to them? $@#% no - but so far I'm not able to let them go.

Hello chips. I acknowledge you. You can go now. Go. Goodbye.

Oh.

Did that work?

I think they're gone, maybe a little tiny bit. Still there, but lighter.

Go chips, go. Go now. Goodbye, chips.

Anyhow, tomorrow will be a better day. Ultimate tomorrow night! And Stefan and Komala get here. And I don't have work the following day, so I can take naps and stuff. Good times to be had.

Phase II of the grand plan has been moving along smoothly enough. I got up (fairly) early. I'm not super tired.

Now to see if I can fill my day such that I collapse and fall into a deep sleep straight away when I get home from work this afternoon / this evening...

I made the best omlette of my life tonight. Fresh mushrooms, organic green pepper, sharp white cheddar, cooked in my precious cast iron skillet. And I've got a perfect pink lady apple cut up with more of the cheese, and amazingly good organic cottage cheese on the side. And hot sake. It's a veritable feast.

The whole night has really diverged from my normal routine. First I ended up late at work, and missed school. By the time I left it was a choice between making a measly hour of class, and skipping it entirely. I skipped. Headed over to the Century to drop off some flyers for Stefan and Komala's workhops this coming week, but instead of staying to dance, I left. Caught Tina on the phone, and she agreed to bring Buffy over to my house instead of watching it by herself. I picked up food (mushrooms, green pepper, apple, cheese, sake) at the market and met her at my place.

My place has been a mess lately. The kitchen, in particular, has been terrible. Tina was good enough to hang out patiently while I cleaned it, top to bottom. It's so much nicer to cook in a clean kitchen, you know? Then she put on Buffy and I made my feast. Finished it, came over, sat with her a bit, and watched the rest of the episode. Then she had to leave.

Now I am watching Spiderman II, alone, and eating the rest of my dinner. Well, mostly alone. Louie is here too.

This may be the first time in years that I have watched a movie alone. Sometimes you gotta do stuff like that, though, you know?

Actually, I have grand plans to catch up with my jet lag this way. Stay up late. Drag myself out of bed early tomorrow. Muster through the day as best I can, and then tomorrow night - no school, no commitments, nothing I have to attend - so I'll hit the sack really early, and hopefully wake up bright and early Friday morning, feeling refreshed and fine. Just fine.

That's the plan, yo. Gotta go. Spiderman and I have a date to keep.

I've been writing about China, but haven't finished yet. Will post more on the trip later. Let me just say now, though, that the trip was awesome, perhaps one of the high points of my life so far.

China aside, tonight is not a good night. I'm feeling pretty frustrated with nearly everyone I know. My stuff moved around while I am gone, the couch taken apart several days ago and still not put back together (the cover was left in the wash yesterday - i put it in the dryer then, where it still remains, so i am just taking care of it myself now), something stolen from Jaimes's room and Miles doesn't seem to care, rent not paid yet despite my having left my roommates a check before I left for China, and still not paid despite having called Chris to ask again today when I noticed my check sitting on the windowsill (he said he would take care of it when he got home)...

And I'm lonely, and feeling pretty distant from most people I would generally consider friends, and I'm jet lagged, and up in the middle of the night which means tomorrow will be brutal, and I am tired of being busy. And school is a mess - didn't manage to tie everything up at the end of last term, which means I have to take care of it all this week or risk being put on probation. And work may well get messy soon - it looks like I'll be picking up more work in areas that are not my strengths. And I'm sick of people always flaking out, saying they'll do things and not, saying they'll be somewhere and not showing up, putting other things or other people or the latest greatest girl that they're pursuing far ahead of me on their list of priorities.

Yeah. It's a pity party.

I'm in the Vancouver airport. There are birds everywhere. I think they are sparrows. Sitting in the trees, in the eaves. "We're not supposed to feed them," says the Starbucks girl, "or they'll reproduce everywhere."

This airport is so, so confusing. First you go through customs. Then all of a sudden you're thrust out into the bowels of the aiport, and you have to search to find gates or claims or security again. A long, arduous search. But I made it, and now here I am, with the birds and the Starbucks girl.

My computer is being worrysome. When I first booted her up, she claimed she could not connect to the wireless because she had no Airport hardware installed. Not so! I turned her off, flipped her over, lovingly pulled her hardware out, and then slipped it ever so gently back in, and that seemed to do the trick - for now. We're going to stop and check in with Dr. Apple-Store when I get back to Seattle.

Not many other people hanging out here at 8:00 am on a Thursday morning. Seattle was packed - Memorial Day rush, maybe? - but not so here. 'least not in the International departure gates.

4 hours and I get to board for Beijing...

All your jibes falling flat? Forbes, in an article today, states that researchers have pinpointed a specific brain region responsible for comprehending sarcasm. Maybe your audience is just brain-damaged.

Why must I act the wolf?

There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street,
and being the noise.

Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.

Close both eyes
to see with the other eye.

Open your hands,
if you want to be held.

Sit down in this circle.

Quit acting like a wolf, and feel
the shepherd's love filling you.

At night, your beloved wanders.
Don't accept consolations.

Close your mouth against food.
Taste the lover's mouth in yours.

You moan, "She left me." "He left me."
Twenty more will come.

Be empty of worrying.
Think of who created thougt!

Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?

Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.

Flow down and down in always
widening rings of being.

- Rumi

A long time ago, I wrote some newsgroup posts about sexual issues - I was molested both by peers and by a teacher in my teenage years - and in part, as result of this, I had serious intimacy issues for years following. These issues, at that time, were manifested through acting out sexually. I wrote the posts as a heartfelt cry for help when I hit bottom, and was tired of hurting myself and other people I loved. I didn't like my patterns of behavior, but felt powerless to do anything and didn't know where to go.

I got an email the other day from some guy who found the posts while looking for material to masturbate to, and thought they were "hot". He was hoping maybe I still had the same problems and would hook up with him.

I don't know how to describe my feelings, reading his mail. Shocked. Felt a bit dirty. Felt a bit thrown out of time. Surreal. It doesn't help that, on the same day, I had met up with an ex-boyfriend for the first time in years, and he dates back to the time of the posting.

On top of that, I was amazed and a little shocked that this guy found me at all. I wrote the posts year ago with an address that is long since defunct. How then was he able to mail me at a current address? Well, it turns out that the post I made at the start of my blogging career listing personal details and such so old friends could find me also allows news group surfers who come across posts from back in the day to find me, as well. The joy of the internet - nothing ever really goes away.

In brighter news, Sam is going to move in with us! So awesome. I love Sam. Good times to come.

Of Kitchens and Potatos

I love, love, love my new kitchen. Sure, the stove is old and the refridgerator is not in his prime, but the room is huge, there are three amazing windows, a large sink, and counter space like you wouldn't believe. I could live in here. I used to covet Jaimes's kitchen - I'd dream about it at night - but now I'm happy with the one I have. I need no man's kitchen to be happy

Walked to the market tonight with Louie and Chris, picked up meat and potatos and fresh fruit. Buffalo! Some of the best looking cuts at the counter tonight, and on sale, at that. And potatos and garlic. Tonight we are feasting like kings. The potatos are rosting in the stove, and I'm about to toss the buffalo into the cast iron skillet. And then there's the asparagus I already had! I wish I had time to cook like this every night. Someday, when I am done with school and my time is more my own, life will be so, so beautiful. And yummy.

As I was driving today, some guy zipped ahead of me, cut me off, and then, for good measure, HE flicked ME off.

Then, the Seattle branch of the US Passport Agency called, and the Agent I spoke with tried to guilt me for not wanting him to throw my Passport back in the mail, when he only has it because the US Postal Service returned it the first time around. I haven't definitively sorted out with the Postal Service yet why it is that sometimes they return my mail. I don't want the Passport Agency to mail my Passport again, only to have the US Postal Service return it again. This would do me no good. So the agent is allowing me to pick it up tomorrow, but grudgingly. And he tried so hard to make me feel bad about it. What? Does this significantly impact his day?

Work has been crazy today. But fun. I'm liking it at the moment.

The barista (is it barista if it's a male? or baristor? baristino? barist?) at my coffee shop flirted with me. It was nice to be noticed in a postive way.

Then I found out that iffy plans with Tina I'd been hoping would come together are not going to work out. It's silly, they were so iffy anyway, but my mood just plummeted.

Up down up down up down.

Soon to take a test. I'm still not really ready. Boney landmarks suck.