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Depressed

Got to sleep in today, woke up feeling depressed ass hell.  Wanted to do nothing more than stare at the computer and do nothing.  I had to study, but i couldn’t concentrate.  On anything, really.  I had to resist the urge to switch on the TV (I haven’t watched TV in over a year) because I knew I would stare at it for hours and hate myself when six o’clock rolled around and I got nothing done.

“Shora.  You need to leave the house.  Right Now.”

“But it’s hot and there’s nothing to do.”

“I don’t care.  You have to leave the house.  Bring stuff to study if you feel like it.  Make some coffee, leave the house.”

“But i don’t want to.”

“Leave.  Now.”

 

So I left the house.  It felt like a massive achievement, but I did.  I didn’t really do much besides wander around campus, but eventually I found a bench and did some studying.  I still don’t feel awesome, but I do feel better for doing SOMETHING, and rewarding myself for it.

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Valentines Day

This past weekend my Belly Dance troupe put on an event for valentines day, so I’ve spent the last two weeks dancing nonstop.  Those were some stressful and exhausting weeks, but my abs look awesome, and my body feels better than it has been in months.

I kind of like Valentines Day, although I can’t really explain why.  It’s horribly commercial and it makes being single suck ass but… sometimes it really does draw people to little acts of kindness and love.  Last year during work I was manning the takeout section and a girl walked in.  She didn’t actually want anything, but she handed a little valentine to each of us working behind the counter.  It was just a little folded piece of paper with a heart in blue highlighter on the front with a little blurb like “Remember you are loved!” inside, but that tiny little gesture made me so happy.  I kept it in my wallet, and when my wallet got stolen I think I was saddest to lose that little folded up piece of paper.

The Valentines Day after the first time I broke up with my first boyfriend (hereafter known on this blog as The Ginger Nightmare) we were still on good terms with each other and I had been having a terrible day.  It was my first time being alone for Valentines Day in two years and I had just started working at a fancy restaurant.  If you’ve ever worked at a restaurant, especially one that’s rather upscale, you know what hell it is to work on valentines day.  To top it off, I couldn’t even manage to make plans with any of my friends, so I was stressed, tired, and lonely.  When I walked in to my dorm room that night he was sitting on my bed with a box of chocolates and a little stuffed horse.  He’s called The Ginger Nightmare for a reason, but this will always be a really good memory of us, untainted in a way that most of my memories of that relationship are now.

Lately I’ve been feeling incredibly loved, centered, and lucky.  I feel great, and I feel like this year I’m really celebrating this new-found love I have for myself as well as my relationship with Seth, in part because they are very connected but mostly because I feel like they are both things worth celebrating in and of themselves.  Tonight Seth is coming over.  We’re going to go out and buy each other chocolates together (so we make sure we get what we like), have fantastic sex, watch Dr. Who and Supernatural, and enjoy each others company.  It’s going to be a lovely night.

Happy Valentine’s Day! ❤

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In Which Shora has No Free Time, Misses Blogging

I have been a slacker my entire life, so now I’m trying to be an adult and do the opposite of that.  Until now I had absolutely no concept of how few hours there are in the day.  I can’t even find time to write blog posts, let alone comment on the blogs I love!  I miss it, but it feels good to not be a slacker.

 

Some quick things:

Monogamy is fucking hard yo.  All of my anxieties that formed during the clusterfuck that was the ending of my relationship with Sam is colliding with all of the stress that is dealing with Seth’s ex and dear god in heaven it has been hard to keep it together.

I’m taking a class called Dynamics of Race, Sex, and Class.  It’s pretty much everything I do on the internet in my free time, including the idiotic pontifications of a lily white male psych major who refuses to check his privilege.  I LOVE it

I miss naps

I went to my first ever training session for parkour on Sunday.  It was totally awesome but literally every muscle in my body hurts right now, which is a problem because I have to work on my belly dance solo for this HUGE event my troupe is doing.

I really, really want to play Mass Effect.

 

That is all

o/

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Seth

From "From Dusk till Dawn", the first movie we watched together, and thus the source of my pseudonym for him. Fun Fact! My Seth is exactly this sexy.

Some of you expressed interest after my previous post in hearing about what happened with me and Seth. For that I must apologize profusely for the delay! I still had silly real-life problems that were carry-overs from last semester, and they completely stressed me out. The stress totally sapped my creative energy to the point were it was all I could do sometimes to just make one phone call more, or do one my item on my list before trying to cuddle the anxiety away. “Cuddling the Anxiety Away” seems to be a decent problem solving tactic for me, because now my life is fixed and now I can tell you all about my wonderful new relationship!

I’ve been talking about Seth here and there since September when I first met him and became immediately infatuated. I made my interests obvious from the beginning, but it eventually became clear that he was in a relationship. Naturally the discovery dumped a cold bucket of water all over my intentions, but that was okay. In fact, it was more than okay because we ended up really hitting it off with each other and started becoming really close friends. We bonded over Supernatural and heartbreak, and our conversations often lasted into the wee hours of the morning. He was perhaps the biggest support for me in the aftermath of my breakup with Sam, so it should come as no surprise that I came to value his friendship highly. What was surprising (at least for me) was the fact that I also felt very valued for my friendship, which is something I’ve often felt a lack of in my relationships with friends.

When things started getting rocky with his girlfriend we continued to spend lots of time together. Sometimes he would talk about things with her and I would do my best to keep my (extremely) biased opinions to myself, with varying degrees of success. Sometimes he’d clearly be upset but wouldn’t want to talk about it, so I’d send him Tim Minchin videos and do my best to cheer him up. We had a nice, long phone conversation on Christmas day and spent New Years Eve together at a party. We even shared the first dance of the New Year together (this is something that I, silly and sentimental, care much about but he’d probably roll his eyes if I mentioned this to him :P).

The next day, he broke up with her.

I invited him up to visit soon after and part of me was like “show time”, but part of me didn’t really know what to expect. The sexual tension between us had been rising rapidly since my little emotional breakdown some weeks before, but when it comes to sex I don’t like to assume, especially since this was right after the breakup and although he didn’t seem very upset about it I did not want to be insensitive.  I guess what I was really hoping for a series of hookups with a really good friend until he moves away in the summer, but I wasn’t quite sure what was in his head and I wanted to wait and see. He came over and started fixing my computer and we were just kind of chilling. I’d decided to wait for him to initiate here because honestly at that point I had already made it glaringly obvious that I wanted to rip all of his cloths off and fuck him senseless, and had wanted to for some time, and it seemed like it would be almost pushy to make a move at that point.

For a while there was a giant white elephant in the room as both of us were unwilling to be the first to bring up the topic of our attraction to each other.  He started talking about silly things like how Beauty and the Beast is racist, but every once in a while he’d lapse into these pensive moments.  Asking him what he was thinking about was no help, because he’d just say something ridiculous that was clearly <i>not</i> what was on his mind.  It was as hilarious as it was frustrating.

At some point he started unbraiding my hair and telling me to let it down more (“You’ve got so much hair, it’s so beautiful.  Why do you hide it away?”).  After I let my second braid out (“Here, you do this, this is taking too long”)  he looked at me for a moment, grabbed the back of my head, and kissed me.

It was like something straight out of a romance novel, or a fanfic.  Months of tension and anticipation released into fireworks and sparks and rainbows and unicorns of awesome.  In my head I was like “Yes!” and “<i>Finally</i>” and “Dear god, this is <i>amazing</i>” because this was pretty much the best, most intense round of kissing I had ever experienced.  I’d never been so attracted to someone for so long and then have it pan out into anything at all, so this was a kind of new, wonderful experience for me.  I was just getting into enjoying myself (and him) when he just slows us down, looks at me, and tells me that he’s scared.

“Of what, hon?”

“Of just being a number.”

No one is just a number to me, but even if they were, this is a guy who is <i>incredibly</i> important to me and could never be “just” anything.  I told him as much and we had a discussion that pretty much boiled down to the fact that he felt really emotionally connected to me and so he could not separate sex from emotion.  He knew that he was prone to jealousy and couldn’t emotionally handle non-exclusivity.  I, on the other hand, had the opposite problem; due to recent events monogamy freaked me out and I didn’t know if I was emotionally ready for that, ESPECIALLY if it would mean entering yet another relationship with a predetermined end date (in the summer when he moves about an hour and a half away for his new job).

We found ourselves at an impasse, and pretty much spent the whole night dithering because neither of us wanted to pressure the other into a situation they were uncomfortable with, but we were also having a whole hell of a lot of trouble keeping our hands off each other.  We had a lot of conversation interrupted with extended periods of kissing (I’d never had so much fun kissing before!).  Once I reached over for a bag of cherios and he grabbed me and kissed me instead.  Several times he’d start escalating and I’d tell him to be careful what he pushed us to, because I was all out of “no”  (“You never had any ‘no'” he said, and I laughed because I knew it was true).

Eventually though, something had to give, and it did.  We ended the night in the wee hours of the morning with a blowjob and orgasms for the both of us, and went to sleep curled up together.  (I didn’t feel the need to mention that oral and manual stimulation counted as sex, because things were complicated enough as it is without me going on a rant about how PIV isn’t the only thing that is “real” sex and blah).  The next morning we had breakfast and decided to take a few days away from each other to screw our heads on straight and do some thinking outside of the haze of intense sexual energy.

Over the next two days I called all of my friends and all of them told me not to do it, especially the ones who had been there in the aftermath of the terrible heartbreak with Sam.  I’d thought I’d agree with them, but when I spent each of the conversations arguing how I <i>should</i> go ahead with it, I knew what I was going to do.  I’d never been one to shy away from the risk of heartbreak if I thought there was the possibility of something amazing happening, and I didn’t like my mind’s sudden inclination to do just that.  Most of all, however, I knew Seth cared about me deeply, and that I felt the same way, and that I’d never trusted anyone as much as I trusted him.

So I jumped off the cliff.

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Cliff Jumping

Unrequited Sexual Tension with Seth is now Requited. The crush I thought wouldn’t go anywhere, did. We are now in a Relationship.

With Monogamy

I kind of feel like these guys;

 

More details later but holy shit guys. I’m equal parts terrified and Over. The Fucking. Moon

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On Self-Respect

I’m always leery when someone (anywhere, any time) tells us Ladies that we need to Respect Ourselves. The phrase itself is almost always completely steeped in slut-shaming attitudes and reinforces the idea that women are the gatekeepers of sex and should clamp our legs shut until a man has “earned” the right to access the wonderful vagina. Anyone who has ever read this blog ever knows that my reaction to that ranges from “please don’t undermine my hard-won personal struggle to be able to conduct my sex life how I see fit” to “fuck that shit.”

I love Sofi of Sexy Typewriter. She’s sharp and witty and has a lot of really good things to say, but anyone who tells me that men have to pay me “dues” in order to have sex with me, or that I should stop having sex on my terms because I’m “rewarding men for piss-poor behavior” gets a little side-eye from me.

When I have casual sex without someone paying for my dinner (or my drinks, even! EGADS) I’m not some naive little schoolgirl blinded by the sexual revolution who is getting taken advantage of for some free poontang. I am a woman who wants sex, and has sex with someone I want sex with. Clear and simple. When someone looks at my sex life, disapproves, and tells me that I am not respecting myself, they are disrespecting me, because dismissing my agency in my casual sex hookups is incredibly, INCREDIBLY disrespectful. Telling me what I should or should not be okay with is also disrespectful of my own choices. “But you could be hurt/taken advantage of/disrespected/have bad feelings if you do that!” is, to me, concern trolling.

For that matter, who does it hurt if I have sex with a dude without making him buy me an appletini and whispering sweet nothings in my ear just because I think he’s super hot and has smouldering eyes and he makes my knees week? It certainly doesn’t hurt me any; I just had hot sex with a super hot guy with smouldering eyes who makes my knees weak. I’m not going to fold like a deck of cards under the pressure of no free drinks and last-minute requests for sex at random. Conventional wisdom and Sofi tell me that it’s because I’m rewarding men for bad behavior, so I’m just going to stop them right there and make an announcement.

I am NOT a certified Man-Trainer because I have a Vagina. I am under no obligation to no one to train men like a dog; rewards for “good” behavior and the spray bottle with “bad”. It’s not my responsibility to teach men how to treat all women everywhere. Men are adults and they can learn to treat people right on their own time. I can only engage with people who treat me in acceptable ways and disengage with people who do not. If I decide that a guy can call me up to squeeze a booty call in after going for groceries that is surely my business and no one else’s.

Which is not, of course, to say that in my never-ending Quest for Hot Sex and Instant Gratification I never come across men who treat me with disrespect. In a cultural climate where women who have sex without making men jump through hoops are seen as not respecting themselves (ahem) this is completely unavoidable. In fact, this happened to me quite recently, and that experience had me nodding along with a lot of what Sofi had to say.

Some Highlights:

Impromptu booty calls are a privilege a person earns. You are working at a deficit.

I absolutely agree with this statement, and that may seem at odds with what I wrote above, but it’s not. “I don’t make people ‘pay dues’ to have sex with me” is not the same thing AT ALL as “People can treat me however they want and they can still have sex with me.” YOU get to decide what is acceptable behavior for someone you are sleeping with and YOU get to tell people to fuck off if they tell you that you’re not respecting yourself. “I get to decide for myself” is not “Okay, anything goes.” If you are happy with your sex/romantic life and with how people treat you, then get down with your bad self and do how you do, haters gonna hate. If you’re not happy you obviously need to change something, but you get to do that without people yelling at you to respect yourself and “helpfully” telling you what that means.

Every ounce of sexual frustration and irritation and full-on rage that I felt regarding this completely unfair and effed situation surged through my body, and poured out through my fingertips.

Me: 1. My apartment is not an afternoon drop-in centre for wayward boys running errands.

Me: 2. Flaking out and pulling disappearing acts makes me lose interest fast.

Me: 3. If you don’t have time or interest in meeting me for drinks one evening with actual advance notice and getting to know me a bit, I don’t have time for you.

Admittedly, I went off the rails on a crazy train. And it felt fucking rad!

Putting this here because hell yea I’ve been there and it’s always fun to see someone lay the smackdown on someone who deserves it.

I would have really liked Sofi’s post if she had kept it “Here are some stories about how Men were douchbags and I smacked them down and stood up for my needs like the awesome person I am, and you should assert yourself and stand up for your needs too!” without the “And you ladies need to do things exactly like I do, and make the same demands or your are not respecting yourselves!” Because Sofi’s needs are not my needs, and if I got all in her face like “Demanding Men pay for your drinks or dinner is feeding into the patriarchal notion that men need to be financial providers that always take care of women because women can’t take care of themselves. If you do that you have no self-respect as an independent woman” You’d think I was a complete asshole, right? Right.

Moral of the Story: Decide how you want to be treated (however that is) and engage with people who treat you that way. Stand up for yourself against people who don’t treat you right, and don’t let people dictate to you your needs or how to go about fulfilling them.

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Let the Universe Take Care of You.

All religions pretty much point to the same thing: There is a force in the universe called love. And if you open yourself to it, it will take care of you

That’s paraphrased, but Seth said that to me last night. Maybe I’m a sap, but I found that so achingly beautiful and comforting. If I open myself up and go with the flow and just… relax and do what I need to do, everything will be okay.

I don’t know if I have Depression with a capital D, but I know I’ve been depressed. I don’t even want to count how many days this semester that I just didn’t have the motivation to do ANYTHING, and by the time I even went outside it was dark. It’s not as though I was never happy; I often was. I just can’t — couldn’t? — find any motivation, and then I hate — hated? — myself for being lazy and irresponsible.

So things built up. I didn’t take care of things like I should have when I should have, and then I felt like it was too late and people would think I was a lazy waste of space for waiting so long to do what I was supposed to do. So now I’m in a big rut. A big one. And it’s not fun, and it’s going to be hard to get out of it. It’s all so big and intimidating that I spent all day yesterday curled up and trying to hide from the whole world.

Then Seth came over and we watched Christopher Titus’s comedy special Love is Evol (highly problematic and equally hilarious, with some QFT sprinkled on top. Don’t look it up if raging abelism and gratuitous sexist stereotyping are big deal breakers for you) and then we just talked like we usually do. At some point he asked if anything was bothering me, and I said I didn’t want to talk about it. And I didn’t! It was so big and way over my head and I was drowning and it was really all my fault for being stupid and lazy and irresponsible. But it came out anyway, and I just had this huge emotional breakdown and let out all of the Big Adult Problems that have been choking me for a long, long time.

Have you ever done that with someone and they just aren’t helpful at all? They try, but it’s clear they don’t know what to say and they’re spitting out platitudes to fill the air? And then have you ever done that with someone and they just get it? Because Seth, he just gets it. He held me while I cried and told me that I will be okay, and he knows that because I’ve always been okay, and he knows that because I’m right here, now, so obviously I made it okay.

When I calmed down, he gave me some practical advice: Make a list of everything I need to do and then just do one thing every day. Just one, and then cross it off. Suddenly Big Scary Adult Problems are in manageable bite-sized pieces, and I I get visual reassurance that I am getting things done.

This morning, the first thing I did when I woke up was write that list, with the heading “Shora’s Sanity List”. I’ve already crossed something off, and I can’t even describe to you how good it felt to do that. I really can’t.

I also have another list called “Letting the Universe Take Care of Me.” We had that conversation a little later on, during some healing cuddles when the subject of religion came up. On that list is some things to do every day that make me feel good. Running, dancing, writing; things that make me feel active and energized and creative. There’s not set amount of things on the list that I HAVE to do, but I should do at least one. And every time I do, I’ll put a little colored star next to that thing.

I hope this sticks. Usually when I start feeling motivated an energetic, it only lasts a few weeks before I’m right down in the same old pattern. But I figure, if this just lasts during winter break, and if I just get out of this rut I’ve found myself in, then that is a big success.

I think I’m gonna be okay.

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December 29, 2011 · 1:41 pm