Stopping the Whirlwind of Change for a Moment

This growing up thing sucks. I'm spending my morning on yet another aspect of my Year of Getting Shit Together. Today's fun menu includes finances.

I've been on the phone dealing with some old debts I finally need to face up to, and I'm waiting on a call about a tax deductible retirement savings I need to get done before the deadline tomorrow in order to lower my tax bracket for this last year and hopefully maximize a return. This weekend I'll gather all my tax papers and get organized -- which I need to do anyhow, as I'm redoing my filing system this weekend right before I do a 180 on my bedroom next weekend with new furniture and decor.

I've had a bit of a month of reckoning with money, realizing how bad I've been with the little I've had, and how much I have to grow up and behave better if I truly want to feel self-sustaining. Granted, I only have debt of about $3,500, but I have no savings beyond a few bucks... It's the latter that scares me.

Being single in a city like this makes for too many easy choices that eat away at income that should be saved. This constant upheaval around my apartment, too, makes me more likely to buy ready-made food rather than cheaping out and eating light foods of my own making.

But I've gotten the ball rolling this month, particularly this week, and have begun saving cash in paper and bank-account form, started a retirement fund, applied for a new credit card now that I'm confident I won't think of it as "free money" anymore, and finally faced up to an old medical bill I've been ignoring. (The trouble with almost-free medical provided by the government is, a lot of us ignore paying it... sooner or later, though, they say enough's enough and the shit hits the fan and they pull out their wage-garnishing tricks. I'm in action right before the shit-contact phase, saving my ass after a couple years of ignoring the one debt I knew I could when everything else was too tight to mention. But the reckoning is upon me and I'm dealin'.)

All of these areas of my life are ones I want tidied up a bit before I start getting involved with others. I don't want myself believing for a moment that any man I meet might be my saviour. I don't want any fuckin' saving, so it's time I stop needing it.

It's amazing how much life can go off the rails when you spend a couple years just hanging on for all its worth, while everything else starts going off-kilter a little as a result of the lack of focus on basic maintenance.

I've been thinking lately of my scooter's total choking as a metaphor on my life. I'd been keeping things running, even if just barely, for the longest time. Hangin' on for the sake of hangin' on, man, but sooner or later, "just barely" stops cuttin' it, and momentum all but dies. I figure that's about true for almost every area of my life, and it's why I've felt so desperate that NOW is the time to remedy it all. Maybe I'm biting off more than I should chew, but I'm so far making incredible headway with everything and I'd rather believe I can keep this ball of change rolling just a while longer.

It's nice to be getting everything, and I do mean every single area of my life, more together with every passing week. I'm pretty surprised at the progress I'm making, and I'm kind of excited February's all done with, because March comes with a lot of time off. Only six extra days off, but it means I have 16 of 31 days off, and don't work full-time again until April. Which is nice.

For now, though, I'm off to be a workin' gal and slog through another 16 hours this week, comforted by the knowledge that, a month from now, my world should literally look and feel completely different, from the inside of the house to the outside of my body and even in the fine print of my finances.

Weird. But cool. :)

Of Bad Muscles, and Bad Ideas

Welcome to my world of pain. In it, we say "ow". "Ow, that fucking hurts", and "Ow, when will this stop?"

Things like that. Meet the right side of my neck. Its postal code is 0w0w0w.

I don't know. It's all the exercise I've been getting, I guess, and my neck's all fucked up for the fourth day in a row. Since I don't have good enough medical to go to town on the massage, I should put out a personal ad, like, "Will trade my cooking and hot sex for your cleaning and massage skills. And your similarly hot sex."

Boo, hiss. Muscle spasms are evil. Sigh.

(Despite that, I shall climb the highrise stairs in the morning. I shall not be circumvented by a mere spasm!)

***

A Canadian medical study has "...found that the (Botox) toxin passed easily from the targeted muscle into surrounding ones, weakening all the muscles in the area. " Hence the whole new era of the non-smiling smile, brought to you by the makers of Botox, in which the smilers can't smile because all their muscles are weakened. Instead, they have that weird spawned-by-the-Joker deformed smirk that just makes you leery of them and distrustful of their sincerity.

Then there's the warning issued earlier this month about how, gasp, Botox has been found to result in some cases to cause strong side effects, sometimes even death.

Hmm. See, I never fuckin' thought it made any sense to use a toxin that can cause death as a means of making myself pretty, even if a regulatory body and highly profitable industry managed to magically extract the killer deadly stuff from within.

...Which, surprise, surprise, reports now state they didn't do so well after all. My question is, how many hundreds of millions of dollars were made in between the "Duh, looks okay to me" stamp and the inevitable realization of the obvious: Playing with toxins appears, at first glance, to be a real fuckin' moronic thing to do.

Sorry, not shocked here. Ooh, scandal of scandals... botullism toxin, even when namby-pambied by a board of experts, can still fuck you up.

I pointed the story out to my boss and she goes, "It's called BoTOX! Suddenly it lives up to its name and people are surprised?"

Unfuckin' real what we do to ourselves, all in the name of beauty.

The silly people with their Botox, me with my stairs of evil. But only one of those two things will extend a life expectancy.

(It'll be spent in agony, but it'll last longer. Now... how is this a good thing? Okay, let's not think about the pain/longtime deal and just pretend it's an adjustment period... which it is, right?)

Gettin' My Move On!

Ahhhhhhh... spring! It's a-comin', sweet-cheeks!

I think we're on the verge of one of the driest Februaries I can remember in my lifetime. Lots of sun of late, which has been much-loved for me, considering my scooter has been near death of late -- so bad I've been having to push it up the big hills on my way home from work. Oh, humiliation, why doth thou find me so readily?

Not no more, baby! My pride is back. This cutie-pie kid from one of the city's scooter clubs has proven to be my white knight, and this weeked only took $80 from me for parts and labour to spend a whole day tearing my bike apart and doing small but critical changes throughout (piston rings, bigger coil, etc).

The thing rides like I bought it last week, man! I took a long, cold early-morning ride yesterday with the biggest grin ever as I shivered and giggled my way around the whole city. Oh, sweet, sweet victory. I fly like butter uphills now, baby, and take off like a spark at the intersections.

My ride greatly affects my life. When it's riding like butter, I'll go anywhere, anytime. I love it. But this past year has been completely pointless, maintenance-wise, because the problems were things like piston rings, and the work The Kid has done is akin to a mini-build. He assures me I have a few years on this ride, and that he can rebuild the engine with parts included for pennies. Whee!

Add to that my first-ride-of-season bike ride yesterday, and this weekend's all about the return of freedom to my life. I took my bike on my standard first ride -- just about five clicks with a few little hills -- and I was laughing at how easy it all was.

These little hills that usually have me winded at this time of year were jokes. I breezed up them. Turns out the recent trend of heading down to my local highrise to walk the 20 floors (20 storeys of 2 flights of 12 steps each flight) to the top must be the hard work I think it is, even if it only takes 20 minutes out of my day. Wow. My cardio's much better than I'd imagined it could be...

...And in a week and a half, it's daylight savings time-changing again, so I can start cycling to and from work once or twice a week. This weekend I'll do a test ride. Riding from home to work is 25 klicks return, with 6 being uphill each way. Must be prepared!

Tee hee! I love this time of year, and these Steff le Powerhouse Leggy Chick developments mean I'm over the moon. :)

I'll have to start weighing myself sometime in the not-too-distand future, but it's not the priority right now. Feeling good, that's a priority. Having energy, that's a priority. Worrying about numbers, not so much.

Hey, it's Monday! Have a great one, minions!

A Duet about Sex in Spring and the Strangeness of Circles

It's funny. A reader's giving me shit in a comment a couple posts below because I've said I'm undersexed and he/she seems to think I'm asking for sympathy. Um, no. Anyone can get laid if they set their standards low enough, right? God knows I know this.

I said in the comment that I'm aiming for April as the get-laid goal. Before then, I want to finish my place off. Got three things to paint, then I'm golden. (More on that later.) Sex? April, I hope, totally, maybe even sooner. But I'm kicking off April with a concert I'm going to all on my lonesome, so we'll see how playing things like that help change the odds. Be my charismatic best, but I'm gonna be picky. No bar-lowering for me just yet, thanks.

That'll actually be a pretty significant step for me. That's not something I would do back in the day. Always wanted to be that chick who just got up and said "I wanna see that gig"* and went. Why I didn't, I don't know. I guess it all comes back to that stereotype inflicted on us as kids. I was taught that "those" kinds of girls put themselves in those situations.

Hey, raised Catholic, man. Lots of stupid things have taken most of my life thus far to get over. Stupid little shit that family morals or society's norms induce the weaker of us to change our behaviours. (IE: Most of us.)

*I've been to concerts by myself before, but not the small, intimate venues where you're mingled and mixed and sweaty with your neighbours. That's where it's going to get more fun.

So, anyhow. Trust me, I have plans in the workings for how I'm going to "get back in the saddle" again. I'm just really vain and want a fabulous house where I can really cocoon for some great weekends when I get there. I'm dressing the stage, as it were.

Fucked up, I know, but that's just me. I always get like this after a period of abstinence. Make the house perfect so that chance encounters can be taken home on a whim. I'm very Martha Stewart that way. It's my Type A personality. "Is the bathroom clean enough so we can fuck on the floor? Just in case? And are there extra towels?"

***

Today was departed Mom's birthday, so I decided to take a moment out of work to catch the sunset at the water's edge, since she was a sailor and we scattered her at sea.

Walking there, I was hit with a whomp! as I suddenly remembered that two years ago today was when I quit my job that I just returned to in September. I had taken some beautiful sunset shots that day, too, thinking it was a metaphor about my life and how I was returning to things I needed, that my job was getting in the way of me "accomplishing" more.

Oh, how wrong I was. What ensued was the worst 18 months of my life, filled with unemployment, and when I was employed, bosses I really grew to dislike, debt, and other crazy shit. And, the thing was, it was all because I quit a job I never should have left.

But if I hadn't left, I never would have realized it wasn't the job that was the problem. Now I know the job's cool.

Plus, I got tested, man. Tested good. Tested long. It, however, taught me for a lifetime two things: 1) I'm that tough, and 2) I control, and can conquer, far more than I once suspected.

And no matter how much grief and frustration and drama my bad job last year brought, I'm really thrilled that I gave it a try. Naturally, I now have absolutely zero regreats leaving there.

A third thing I know is this: I work only to live, and this job I thought was the cause of my unhappiness with its endless easy pace was merely something I was scapegoating when the truth was, it was everything else in my life that was making me unhappy.

And the irony now is, it's two years later, to the day, that I left, and I have now returned to the job because I knew that same endlessly easy pace I once lamented is exactly what I need to have in order to repair the rest of my life. And exactly what I need to continue to have in order to "live" the way I want to on the outside.

Funny how, reaching back to where you started from, things sometimes never look the same as they once did.

Clarity's a crazy, crazy trip, but I'm still digging it madly.

And in 13 minutes, it's Friday. Enjoy your weekend!

This Week's Status Report on the Steffs We Know

The West Coast is starting to show the beginnings of spring. Crocus leaves have shot up with the flowers days away from following, buds have appeared on cherry blossom trees, and the perfume of early flowers can be caught on some chilly winds.

It's great. It's light before seven, and almost until six. Soon it'll be time to start cycling to work again.

I'm managing to juggle all these different things I'm trying to improve this year: budgetting my money better, eating very well, continuing the recreating of my home, solving problems.

It's been hard work and it's frustrating because the results aren't entirely evident to anyone who's not, well, me.

But... that's coming up. Results will start showing in all areas of my life very soon. I'm beginning to take things off the wall, scheming about what to paint first, what order of completion will benefit me the most, since I want to paint my whole apartment in the next couple months. Hall, a deep blood red, bathroom a Mediterranean blue, bedroom a spring/sage green... clearly we're not shying on choices here. Big, bold, and brazen!

Luckily, I found out that I was misreading my paystubs and I wasn't getting my vacation pay paid out weekly, it's been accruing. So, I've put in a request for long weekends throughout the month of March. Fingies crossed I get a yes!

And during it all, I know it's important to keep up with the exercising. I've not been doing a lot of yoga of late because it's been exacerbating an old shoulder injury of mine, but I'm trying to increase it again. I guess that's the great thing about My Yoga Online is, I get to choose what I need and what I can handle at any given point in time. I'm confident my shoulder's starting to settle down, and plan to begin acupuncture in March for it, and will continue a light yoga regimen to complement the other activities I'll be doing, too, like climbing the evil highrise stairs down the street, which I'm beginning to master. Woot!

So this is the unsexy, unglamourous part of my changing my life this year. I'm making myself the home I've always wanted. The process is really tweaking some things internally and I'm not sure I understand all the ramifications just yet. But I will.

Soon, I'll be able to start sharing photographic evidence of the cool things I'll be getting done.

God, how I long for weekends of being able to go out and conquer the world, then come home and slack off in a sexy, organized, dynamic apartment with vibrant colours and great decorating. And a bedroom (and a bed) I'll actually WANT to have sex in. That'll do wonders for being single, don't you think?

For now, though, it's little workerbee Steff grinding it out day after day. Hope your days are swimming along nicely, Minions, and happy "it's almost the end of February, bring on the spring fever!" days to ya.

God Says Thou Shalt Screw Daily!

People probably think I'm anti-religion. I'm not. I don't think it's right for me. I have faith, I have beliefs, and I have a very strong moral code. They're not exclusive to religious types. Problem with religion is, it's run by men, and I usually take issue with the stupid rules of man intervening where mortals shouldn't tread.

My problem is when we go mixing politics with religion. Like the sticker on my scooter says, "The last time we mixed politics and religion, people were burned at the stake."

Religion can, and has, accomplish both wonderful and horrible things. It's like Uncle Pete says in Spider-Man, "With great power comes great responsibility."

One church in Florida, "Relevant Church", which dubs itself a casual and contemporary Christian church, has put out a 30-day sex challenge to its parishioners. In an attempt to stop the always-rising tide of divorce, the reverend is asking his married parishioners to have sex every day for a month.

They've even created a guide with an "exercise" each day. I haven't examined it too much, but I suspect people will need other sources for how to go beyond just committing to having sex each day to instead having great, mindblowing sex and stoking the romance, but, hey... sex every day is something I think is awesome.

You can check out the church's website here, but beware of its bandwidth doing the herky-jerky with so many surfers coming from all the different media covering this "revolutionary" story. If it's giving you a message about server problems, just try again.

Personally, speaking as one of the undersexed, I think it's a crime that anyone who has the option of frequent sex is not capitalizing on it. Sex, it's better than valium, it's free, and it's heart-healthy. Frequent sex inspires conversations and does wonders for both people's self-esteem, and poor self-esteem and lack of trust are two of the biggest catalysts for relationships failing, aside from no one getting laid.

Sex every day makes sense. Nice to see some churches getting in on the action.

Thoughts on Moons and Moms and Moods

Ah, the moon.

Some would say the moon is what keeps lovers together, two can look upon it miles and miles apart, and yet it's the same for both.

Peoples of all kinds have used the moon to mark the passage of time throughout the world, just look at the Chinese lunar calendar, or any of the many others.

But, for some of us, who go by the name of "women", the moon often marks other things. Native American women would call their periods their "moon time".

In fact, most women even today, will receive their periods on or around either the monthly full or new moon. Me, I'm a full moon gal. With the waxing of the moon comes PMS and all the other fun things wimminfolk get to enjoy with this monthly "gift".

I think it's cruelly ironic my period comes with the full moon. Like I'm not feeling nuts enough already with the red tide, but Mother Nature wants to hurl the weirdness of the full moon at me as well? Yeah, thanks for that.

With PMS usually comes moodiness, and sometimes it catches me off-guard. Sometimes I completely forget I'm on the verge of the red tide and don't understand why my emotions are so awry.

This weekend sort of got away from me, emotionally. Saturday was a big day, the day I've sort of been putting off for nine years. The day I went out to collect an 1880s oak hall stand of my mother's from a casual friend of hers I'd never met, who'd been hanging on to the piece for the last 13 years.

The whole day was about nine hours of frustrating work for myself and beloved GayBoy, who came along to help, and I thought I was really too tired to feel a thing Saturday night... I kind of was trying to ignore the fact that I'd finally picked this thing up the weekend smack-dab between the anniversary of mom's cancer find and her birthday, but maybe my timing could've been better.

After all, I guess I underestimated the power of the past and the pull of unresolved emotions.

The plan was, I'd pick up this piece and then I'd sell it to make serious cash for doing a few things I want/need, like pimping up my computer and my place, which is a small apartment and really doesn't have the room for all these awesome antiques I have, let alone another one... and a thousand or two goes a long way for a lowly writer chick in North America's second most expensive city. Mm, money.

...So I was stunned when emotion washed over me like I couldn't have imagined. The piece was sitting there, literally in the centre of my living/dining area, and I couldn't avoid staring at it as I recuped energy on the sofa. I got up, wandered over to it, wrapped my hands around the scarves bar on it while I closed my eyes. Suddenly, this electric wave felt like it pulsed through me and I had this whirlwind of recollections swirling around me, all centring around me as a young Steff of 10-12 years old.

Back then, I had a pretty ambitious hat collection for a kid. We had this awesome sunroom, probably 20x20', and the centrepiece was this hallstand. Two walls and the hallstand were inundated by MY hats. Everything from sombreros and military hats to feathered showgirl hats from the 1920-40s.

And it just never meant anything to me then. Of course my mom indulged my hat collection. That's what moms did, right?

But now... now I'm 34 and I realize how much I took for granted, and how special I felt knowing my most important hats belonged on this fantastic piece of furniture, and that Mom took the time to even dust them sometimes.

I felt valued then, but something about that just came rushing at me 200 miles an hour Saturday night and I felt truly, truly loved by my mother, even though she's been gone nearly nine years now.

And I cannot tell you what changed in me Saturday night and I suspect that, like all great epiphanies, it'll muddy up and slip away from me with each passing day, but for a brief time, a couple short hours, I felt like my mother never left at all... and even though the fact that I had the biggest, deepest cry I've had in recent years would seem to suggest it was a bad and morose evening, it was anything but.

I slept the sleep of someone who truly has peace, a sleep I've seldom ever had, and woke up way too early for a Sunday, but more refreshed than I've felt in months, maybe years.

Something weird happened to me Saturday night, something I can't explain, something that makes me still believe in some kind of life after death and the continued presence of those who are supposed to be long gone. Something I can't do justice to now, probably never will.

And I don't understand why, now that I've just gotten my period, now that I see the full moon waning, it somehow lessens what I experienced Saturday night, but... somehow it seems to do just that. So I'm fighting that and sharing my strange, poorly conveyed experience in an attempt to further memorialize it, even though I blogged about it on The Ditch on the weekend.

I feel like something ended for me Saturday, something inexplicable I've been wanting to have end for a long time. I don't know what I lost or what I resolved, maybe I'll never really know. All I do know is I'm grateful I feel this, whatever "this" is.

Man. Life's weird sometimes. Fitting, what with full moons and all. And, sometimes, some of these inexplicable things maybe shouldn't be analyzed, but instead should be appreciated for the simple fact that it's occurred... kind of like loving the moon for no reason other than, well, it's the moon.

Enjoy your full moons, minions.

Freedom of Speech,but No Freedom from Consequence

Like any blogging keener, I was thrilled when I had the chance to be interviewed for a shitty little online thingie, whoring my blogsa couple years back, maybe even three. Somehow, like the ignorant little blogger I was, I blurted my full name out, and the fucking twit who interviewed me somehow failed to grasp my meaning when I said "Don't use my name" and I was outted as the authoress of a blog that had sexual content with my full name attached, yielding some 20,000 hits or something dumb-ass like that.

The last couple years have been fraught with unemployment (mostly my own fault, I realize now, in retrospect) and I have spent much time on the job-hunting prowl.

I know for a fact that my outting with this blog has affected me professionally. I have lost one job for this blog, failed to get a few I should have been a lock for (inexplicably, too), and was threatened with the loss of another. My last employer found out about my blog four months into my working there, and instructed me that I could never, ever write about my job. I was asked to delete postings, and kept under an uncertain job-security shadow for the last two months before I forfeited my position.

The internet can, and will, affect your life if you cross the perceived bounds of what is "normalized" behaviour.

I am fortunate I am in good with this great family I work for now. They know of my writing in all its forms, encourage me to continue it, accommodate my life in every way, but come with the small drawback that I could be laid off for up to 6 weeks a year... or not at all. But the rest of the time, I work when I want, for anything between 35-45 hours a week, on my whim, or as workload may dictate (to which I'm always allowed to say no). But... what great people.

And I know firsthand that they are very much the exception to the average employment rule. The people I've worked for in the last three years really don't hold a fucking candle.

The internet is not your friend, so don't kid yourself. There are daunting tales emerging about people who are having disastrous effect from their inability to censor more reckless thoughts on the web. You may think your innocuous little Facebook status alerts are cutesy and amusing, but they're snapshots that make up a very, very complete picture for potential employers... and even potential dates.

Your internet behaviour, including that on internet dating sites, can, and will, affect you both professionally and personally. Vigilance is warranted, even demanded.

I have known for a very, very long time that I have been outted in the blogosphere. I decided a long time ago that any one of a number of postings had pretty much shattered any conservative credibility I had, so I figured why start censoring myself now?

But you probably haven't paid such a price now, and if there's any way to limit the permeability of your Facebook, MySpace, or any other social networking page, then you'd better ensure you start conforming a bit.

Me, I think we're at a premie stage of all this. I think a few years are going to pass and all of a sudden a huge awakening will dawn upon us all and a realization will collectively form that: Everyone has skeletons in their closets.

The thing about microscopes is, they're built to find imperfections. The internet, it's the biggest microscope of them all.

Two, three, five years ago, or even 13 years ago, who knew the permanence of these five-second comments we'd leave on the web? Now, anything from '96 or so on is found in the cache of that uber-engine, Google.

I left my last job because they found out about my blog and "didn't know" what to make of it. I could smell my blood on a spit and knew my days were numbered, so when I found out my old employers wished I would return, I leapt at the chance. I was tired of feeling I had to censure my postings so that I wouldn't offend my mealticket.

But fuck that now.

And fuck censoring it for anyone. Who's kidding who? Blew that years ago. Now it's all about finding employers and people who fit my definition of "right" and it's a price I'll continue to pay, all because some fuckwit published my name when I'd done everything in my power not to have my name known, and because I refuse to try and pretend I'm something I'm not, but most of all because I refuse to apologize when I know I've done nothing wrong. After all, I've been told this is a free country and we had freedom of practice, so I thought I'd be crazy and take 'em all on their word. Free. That's us, right? Free to say what we think, whenever we wish to speak it?

Or, maybe not so much. Wouldn't that suck, though?

Que sera sera, man. Read this International Herald Tribune article and it'll smack some reality check into ya. Whew. Heady times, baby. Give it five years. Things'll start being digested with a grain of salt. Until then, though, and maybe a little after too, watch yer ass, minions. Watch yer ass.

Now You, Too, Can Publish Your Relationship Obit

For some reason, there's a dozen stories I'm interested on commenting on, but I just can't do it. February 15th is pretty much my least favourite day of the year and I just don't want to go into it, though it has nothing to do with Valentine's. The timing's coincidental.

But finding this website, relationshipobit.com, was an amusing find last night and I thought I'd share it with you.

There are a lot of mundane postings on there, but now and then you find something amusing. People log in and write obits for relationships that have met their demise. Ah, people in their miserable, bitter glory.

And then there's just weird shit. Like this. Somebody should purchase a therapy value-pack methinks.

I don't think I'll flatter any of my exes by writing one. Who's kidding who?

Happy weekend, kids.

Heart Patient Loses Heart

Timecarrots and Spaceheater

16Nov2006 thru 14Feb2008

Degenerative <3>

Tips for Men to Keep in Mind for Valentine's Day Sex

As anyone who reads me regularly knows, there once was a time when I wrote occasionally about sex. It's always been occasional, folks. But there's been a drought for more than a year, in more ways than one, and no such writing has come your way...

Until now. But... I'm rusty. Please lower your expectations, and if something resonates with you, please tell me so. I could use a little positive reinforcement. (Can't we all?)

With Valentine's Day being here, and knowing most guys wanna be a rockstar for their femmes of choice, I'm hoping to put a couple nuggets out there for them to digest. See below.

I wanted to write something along the lines of my "vixen" series for guys trying to be better lovers, but I just didn't get that happening in time, and instead you get this -- more of a collection of things to keep in mind for being a better lover.

And in the next couple months I'll deliver more on how to get your head better in the durty s-e-x game, and how to produce results from it. Y'all deserve it.

Like Tom Waits sings, you gotta pin your ear to the wisdom post. When you're doing your damnedest to rile your woman up something awful, you need to listen to every little thing she says or just plain emits. Her moans and groans and pleas and cries are your guide to where your attentions are best spent.

Once upon a world, my wimminfolk readers, I once was a quiet lover during sex. Involved as hell, oh yeah, but very hush-hush about my reactions. Then I noticed that when I started expressing what I felt through groans and gasps and moans -- even when I was masturbating with no company around -- I had a better, deeper orgasm. It seemed to me that some kind of psychic lock opened and I was able to get more into the moment.

Stop worrying about sounding silly, and start being more free with yourself. Your orgasms will be a thank-you card you'll love, love, love. You don't have to be "let's tell the neighbours!" loud, but you need to be audible. Give your man some of your "aural pleasure", and it's likely his performance will improve, too, because he'll be more confident about what's working and what's not. Personally, I keep the volume low since I'm an apartment dweller, but I'm effective, very. You should be too. You can thank me later.

All right, guys. You want me to make this easy for ya, don't you, and tell ya a secret magic button to push to get your woman past Go every time? Good luck with that.

Women aren't one-size-fits-all like a t-shirt, so there's no sure-fire list of things to listen to. You need to use your judgment. You need to discern between the good variations on reactions as well as the bad ones. Take your standard-issue sharp-intake gasp: This can be both good and bad, bad, bad. When the sharp-intake gasp happens, does the body tense, becoming stiff, even rigid? Does she (or he) pull away? Then it's probably a bad thing and you should throw things in reverse mighty quick. Or do they start to quiver a bit, shuddering? Does she (or he) reach out to touch you? Do their legs fall open a little more or start to brush against you or their back arch? You're probably heading in a pretty sweet direction, so don't stop now.

Back in the early '90s, I taught a few friends how to drive on my rustbucket standard, and to start the lessons off, I'd say: "Driving stick is like having sex. Every little thing you do, your car's gonna react to. You should be able to shift gears just by knowing the engine's ready to shift, not because you're reading some tachometer that tells you so... listen to it, feel it, and go with your instinct." Not having a tachometer for my car was probably the best thing to ever happen to me. I rocked the stick because I learned to feel the car and know what it needed. That's all it takes.

Sex involves a hell of a lot of trust, and not just between you and your partner. You have to trust that you're reading her signals right. If you're wrong, then get it right next time. But if you don't trust yourself, you won't be confident enough to be a lover worth lovin'.

Probably the worst thing you can do as a lover is to ignore the physical and aural clues being given off by your partner. There's a difference between changing up approaches -- ie: nibbling on the clitoris and then sucking and nibbling your way over to her thigh -- for heightened arousal and teasing, say, and the really awkward sudden switch between, oh, fingering her then proceeding with oral without having any tease and play between the stages. Never, ever just jump back and forth between approaches without using that vast landscape of skin and all your body parts to help keep the arousal constant. Women need gradual, constant stimulation to get to orgasm, so don't fuck it up by playing like Chunky Loverman who doesn't get the notion of flow.

You need to be fluid. Channel your inner Zen master and be confident and have flow. Every movement has a purpose: To leave your lover utterly satiated.

Always use a hand to caress and fondle her (listen up girls, ditto for you). Your hands should never go unused when you're trying to satisfy your lover. But when she's getting into what you're doing, don't just suddenly change to something else. Women can be difficult to get onto the orgasm path, so don't go pushing her off of it with a lack of finesse. If she's groaning and really hot, then you want to change between things that are equally arousing. You could be nibbling her clit while kneading and caressing her inner thighs, and then change positions, using your fingers on her clit as you nibble back and forth on her thigh and mons, paying attention to creased areas since they're often more sensitive.

Same thing with, say, changing sex positions. Flipping her over and thrusting back in works, sure, but it's not as effective as taking a moment to rub her vagina a bit and stimulate all the good parts, use one hand to keep yourself hard while you're getting her primed again. When she starts to get into your rubbing, then you enter. Flow, remember? Transition between every movement, or every change. Try to end the sudden switch-ups.

Now, guys, this should go without saying, but if you are fortunate enough to have a woman who has the guts to talk about what she wants out of sex, then be man enough to listen without getting your feelings hurt. This isn't about you, right? You want HER to orgasm, then let her teach you how her body works, if she knows, because you will not always be so lucky. There are a lot of ignorant women out there who don't know what their body likes. It's NOT ABOUT YOU, and you need to get that out of your head. This about her body, how she reacts, and I really don't give a fuck if you think it's your moneyshot that works with "all" women -- because there is no moneyshot. You need to figure your woman out and you need to know she's not just a cookie cut-out of every woman you've ever been with.

Every woman is different. This is why you love them, but you need to get it through your head that each woman being different is a GOOD thing. Variety's the spice of life, yeah? You need to understand that women's organs are much more complicated than the trusty penis, and, as a result, men need to use the opportunity to learn all they can about each woman they're with. If she's not being vocal and you're getting no aural clues, then you need to casually try to find out more by asking what she's liking and not. Never, ever be shocked or react to what her desires are, or you might shame her into believing she can't trust you with that information, and that could be deadly to your sex life.

Since it's Valentine's day and all, let's just mention a couple things men need to remember more often:

• Hard sex with pounding-thrusting can be great now and then, but if you think every woman loves it, or even that most women get a lot out of it, you're kidding yourselves. The end of the vaginal canal, for most women, has little feeling. It doesn't push any of our buttons, most of the time. Deep thrusting does more for you men than it does for most women. Why? Because while you have nerve endings at the tip AND base of your penis, most of our nerve endings are towards the surface of our vagina and within the first couple inches of the canal, and continual just deep thrusting results in pretty routine thumping of all our most sensitive parts. Usually most chicks will like hard thrusting for one very good reason: the rhythmic slapping effect on the clitoris. Any attention the clit gets is a fun time, most times. An instant way to give her greater pleasure is to start using more shallow and to be sure you're using fingers on the clitoris at the same time. (Please, don't misunderstand this to think no female likes deep thrusting -- I mean nothing of the kind. I just mean it's not what you think it is, and needs to be something you do occasionally, not constantly.)
• The missionary position gets pretty boring pretty fast for some of us. Change positions! Trying other positions means the penis enters at different angles, allowing different areas of the vagina to receive sensation, and can mean for a really wild variation in feeling. When it comes to positions, there is no greater online resource than EVERYTHING SEX, where you'll find photographic examples of positions of all kinds, with short writeups explaining the move. These pages are VERY graphic and are WAY not safe for work. Here is their page of "erotic positions", and these are your more standard positions you won't need to be a yoga master to handle, and the "standard" positions are broken into handy categories like "man on top", "woman on top", "rear-entry", "kneeling" and more.
• When it comes to positioning, something you might've loved with another partner won't necessarily be anything great with a new partner. Why? Every body's different, and you need to try position after position to see what's going to work the best for you. Don't be scared to try new positions. It might just blow your mind.
• Remember: About a half of all women have trouble orgasming, if they can orgasm at all. Some 40% of women don't masturbate (dumb!) and that's probably huge in why they can't orgasm. You pressuring her to orgasm? Not going to help. Again: her inability to orgasm is NOT ABOUT YOU. It's about her, her body, her mental issues, her comfort factor, her trust in you. If she can't orgasm and you make it about you, she's going to feel like shit, and, guess what? She still won't be able to orgasm. Instead, tell her you'd rather just bring her pleasure until she can't handle it any more, and when she wants you to stop, you will, and you'll be all right with that. Then, you be Energizer Bunny man, and you keep going and going and going when she's enjoying it, but if it means you finally need to blow your load, then do that, but continue by giving her oral very, very soon. Until she wants you to stop, then stop. Really, stop. (And if she wants you to stop way sooner than you want to? Tough. It's called "consent" for a reason.)
  

So, if you're having a special night this week to commemorate Valentine's, then I hope it's a wonderful one. Remember to get prepared in advance if "special" is what you want. Be organized -- have your oils, rubs, props, lube, condoms, a wiping cloth*, bottled water, and more at your ready -- in advance so that when the sex does happen, it's a world you can stay in for a very, very long time. This goes double for the women out there. When a guy sees that you're consciously PLANNING to have great sex with him, they'll usually be very, very happy to see you deviously scheming a night with them and it ups the excitement ante.

Guys, however, might not want to be so obvious about their planning. Women will appreciate the planning during and after the act, but before the act will likely offend a lot of women. Which is stupid, but it is what it is. It implies something, the planning. Some women will think it means you see them as easy, I guess. Shrug. But plan and organize anyhow. Most women will be thrilled to be wiped clean, dried off, and given a bottle of water. Contradicting? Of course. But that's the fabulous female mind for you. We're complicated.

(Actually, some very good, longstanding societal norms have caused these "mysterious" reactions from us... undoing all that will take a generation or two. But that's another posting for another time.)

Happy Valentine's Day, folks. And, if you're single, rent your favourite erotic flick, make a nice meal, and don't forget to masturbate. Or go to the gym and watch other obviously single folks get hot and sweaty with ya, and make sure you look good. Who knows, you could get lucky. Eye contact, it's free! :)

The pic is from sexyfx.com, aka Everything Sex.

********
*Wiping cloth: I thought of this a while back and still think it's a great idea: Put two or three (or more!) damp washcloths in a rice cooker with just a little water, and keep it on the "keep warm" setting, so you can clean each other up a little when messy syrups or other fluids make things a little too "durty" for your tastes. Put an extra bowl by the cooker so you can put the used cloths in it rather than back in the cooker. Make sure you have a couple dry cloths, too, so no one needs be moist and chilled.

Oh, Lord, What Have I Done? Groan, Groan, and Double-Groan

Welcome to my continuing madhouse. Instead of wrapping everything up this weekend, I've pretty much undone everything with one weird decision. I'd planned to sell an antique sideboard of mine but my ad only got one response, a woman who's restoring a 100-year-old hotel wants to trade for it, and offered me several items.

Hey, I'm a romantic, all right? I love me some antiques, and while I've never had a chance to restore much, I know I have it in my bones. I mean, oiling wood? Yeah, I've got that covered, thanks. But the think about antiques is, new, you're looking at $1000 or more for anything decent. Trading for stuff that needs work? It's the price someone like me has to pay, 'cos I'd otherwise be visiting Ikea, right?

And what better way to change your domestic life than changing your furniture, huh? And, the non-packrat metholodogy is, pick something that can replace something you already own. I chose a desk from about 1900, which once had a leather top, and needs at least a weekend of restoration. My current desk is two filing cabinets (pieces of crap disappearing to the alley, where someone will adopt 'em) topped by an awesome 7' long maple top I made with my dad and will be storing.

It means working non-stop another two weekends, basically, not including the restore of the desk, or the painting I'd like to do around my place. I don't even want to think about how much it's going to suck walking all this new and old furniture up and down the four flights of stairs in my walk-up. No. I'm just going to sit here and quietly dread the hell of labour that awaits me.

Know what's awesome, though? My bedroom has always been a bedroom / office, and this will mean the end of that. This will mean I can have a relaxing, beautiful, sensual bedroom that truly is a world away from it all for little old me. I can't even begin to imagine what it'll feel like.

All this work combined -- restoring 4 pieces of furniture, painting my place, the final organizing -- will be the most massive recreating of my apartment since I moved in eight years ago. It's awesome and daunting and uncertain, but when I'm all done, it'll represent just exactly the kind of massive restructuring I'm attempting life-wide. Why not completely redo my home? Sure. And... I guarantee you, for probably less than $500 for everything I do.

I'll be documenting everything before and after the fact and will show you the mad decorating skillz I have, 'course you may interpret "mad" as insane, but hey.

So bear with your troubled scribe here. :) I'm just a wee daunted these days, but I'll be all right in a few weeks. Trying to implement change in my life in the absolute doldrums of February feels something like salmon trying to spawn in spring-rain rivers -- just ain't never gonna happen. But I'm obstinate and tough and I'm muddying through while trying to cut myself slack.

Acupuncture Meets Baby-Making Science

Some studies are finding that using acupuncture will help increase a woman's chances of conceiving when combined with in vitro fertilization methods. Acupuncture's awesome. Here's the BBC article about this.

My Annual Anti-Valentine's Day Posting

Valentine's Day. A cruel joke, it would seem.

A day for lovers set smack-dab in the middle of February... the month where everyone's just hangin' on by a thread, awaiting the reprieve to come with spring. The month where most of us are slightly looser cannons than we'd normally be. A month filled with terse exchanges, groaning, television reruns, bills (and usually 3 less days to earn your money for some of us), and shitty weather. The month you're probably the most likely to catch a flu or cold, other than November.

Yeah, gets me romantic every time. Pfft. Boo, hiss.

Hell, everyone's still out of shape and low-energy after all the mad bingeing at Christmas and the doldrums of winter.

And what about the single people, eh? They're in the same shitty February mode and they're getting blitzed with all this pro-mating / relationship advertising and programming. It gets a bit much, you know. At my local coffee shop (a coffee shop!) they're selling candy hearts and heart-shaped saucer and mug sets. It's everywhere.

Back to Valentine's, though. If you're going to have a stupid-ass "lover's" day, which I clearly have issues with anyhow, then do so, say, at the end of May, when everyone's had a little sun and they're feeling fitter and sexier, the days are longer, there's a statutory holiday, and money's good before the crazy party-spending of summer. Now that's a good time to implement a mandatory-shag-and-dinner weekend. Not fuckin' February!

Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick. Everybody knows I'm right. I don't care if it's actually in honour of St. Valentine, whose significance escapes me right now, yada, yada. It's lousy friggin' timing. And, besides that, it's flat-out bullshit.

If you need a DAY to prompt you to demonstrate romance with your lover, then you don't deserve a lover. If you need a DAY to remind you to be generous, you need to work on the fine art of giving.

You should be romantic and caring and expressive all the time. It makes for a wonderful relationship. It's why we love the beginnings of relationships -- we're more present, more expressive. Why not make that last? You feel great when you're having those blissed-out intimate experiences, so why not strive to make them happen more regularly? And giving, well, giving just all-out rocks. I love to give. I've never been really flush with cash, but I'm generous in my nature, and giving in my uniquely me way.* Whether it's just making a small treat for someone, anyone, or something more grand, you shouldn't need an occasion to compel you. Giving's the new getting. Ain't you heard?

I love cooking an all-out meal, blitzing the place with candles, throwing a blanket and pillows on the floor in an obvious sign of later intentions, and pretty much going to town with setting a good mood... any time of the year, and given the opportunity in a relationship, it happens often.

And I'm too pragmatic to be into going out for a fancy meal on the night you're supposed to do it just so restaurants can gouge me senseless. It's not fair, not right, and makes me think it's better to have the dinner out a week or two before or after. And you should, too. You should stay in, do up a sensual feast, dine naked, and boycott the gouging bastards.

Nonetheless.

I'm gonna work on a special little Valentine-ish posting to give y'all a few ideas of your own, and I'll have that up for you by the 13th.

As much as it galls me to commemorate the day. It's time I deliver something tastier to my faithful minions, as patiently as you've put up with my shit and all.

So, I'll tell you no details, but just let it be known I've gotten a lot of requests about it in the last couple years, and I'm finally delivering. Enjoy your wait. And you wanna read it before yer "big" night. I'll try to get it posted a little earlier than Wednesday, so you can share with others in time for their "big" night, too.

*When it comes to giving of actual gifts, back when I had a car, I'd ride out to the valley and hit up the antique malls. On Christmas I gave a mint-condition set of tall Empire Strikes Back glasses (Hans, Leia, Luke, Vader, from Burger King, 1982) to one friend, cost me a paltry $25, and the expression on his face just made my week, man. Same Christmas, gave another friend a red 1952 rotary-dial telephone that he still uses. (I have one too, black, grandma's. Visitors love the ring.) I gave others gifts that Christmas, but those are the only two I remember. Thing about retro and antique gifts is, people know you were thinking outside the box. Part of the whole point. Keep that in mind when you're considering gifts. Do something different. Different makes money a little less relevant, 'cos, hey, it's different.

The State of the Steff:Methods for the Madness of Change

My getting my shit together continues. Each day, something else is getting dealth with this week, and it feels pretty good to be making things happen rather than having things happen.

[Shrug] We all go off our paths sometimes and I don't know how I got so far off mine, but it's nice to be ending that era. And I'm thankful I know how to do it.

In case anyone else out there's been kind of languishing in the same rut I was in, and is hoping to still use the "sort of a new year" momentum to change that, maybe I'll try explaining some of the method behind my madness.

As I've said elsewhere, I know my entire life needs reworking. Or, at least, I feel it does, ergo it does.

Sitting around during Christmas, I was a little overwhelmed in thinking of just how much change I wanted to bring to my life. How could I possibly do it, I wondered? And where, pray tell, should I possibly begin it all?

I decided to get my head in the game, first. Really understand the kinds of changes I wanted to make, then try to understand exactly what I'd need to make that happen. This was change from "the top down", I decided. Change the mind, the life will follow. Something like that.

The trouble is, change doesn't happen in the mind all at once. Like any skill, powerthinking comes from practice and force of habit, and that, I knew, was going to take me a hell of a long time... especially if it takes me a month to get my new PIN number right for my debit card, man.

But I could start there. It could be an ongoing project. Hell, it'd hafta be an ongoing project. The next thing I knew I had to change was that my home had begun to feel like my hell, and I was tired of feeling like it was controlling my life. I had to strip some of it away, and reorganize whatever remained. This has been a month-long project but I'll be completely finished in a few days and I can't convey the change that it's created inside me... yet.

I figured the next step would be my diet. Not "I'll eat a grapefruit and nothing more!" diet, but what I eat and how I eat. I figured that, in the cleaning and reorganizing phase, I'd drastically reinvent my kitchen by way of creating a walk-in pantry in my now much-less-full ensuite storage unit. There, I've moved all my appliances, big pots and pans, and canned goods. I mean, hey, I'm a great cook, but seldom have been enjoying the fruits of my labours and all because I've despised my kitchen for a long time with its clutter and crampedness.

But getting the home organized makes the kitchen more useable and friendly, but it also means less of my time will be spent "cleaning" when the truth was, I was just too unorganized to have a clean home. Now cleaning will be easy and quick. With the more time I'll have and little clutter, I'm now excited to cook after I finish my reorganizing this weekend. And when I cook more, two things will happen. One, I'll be eating healthier, better portions, and will have more energy, but I'll also feel happier and more fulfilled on several levels, because that's what enjoying healthy good food made at home does for people. Two, I'll save money because I'll be eating more veggies and fresh foods that are cheaper, but I'll also be bringing my lunches to work.

That, in turn, will improve my finances. And if I'm able to cook enough food all at once that I have leftovers for a few days, working the occasional overtime won't be such a burden on the rest of my life, and the money will be the reward.

Money, then, will continue the positive cycle. Even having just another hundred or two of spending money will give me the opportunity to do some of the things I've been needing for my self-esteem for a long time: clothes and taking better care of this fabulous woman called ME. It will also make it possible to take little adventures and have a little life this year. I'll be able to be social, to meet new people, to enjoy this town of mine a little. And I can do day excursions this summer to try things that scare the shit out of me but some part of me wants to do, like paragliding, skydiving, and things like that. Hell, doing only one of them will make my year worth it. Doing more, though... Whew. Who knows.

And in the midst of all that, are two other goals. Slowly, but surely, I'll be tapping myself into as many social networks as I can this year. I don't want to rush into it, though, because that's how you meet the wrong people -- the people you can't learn from, the leeches, the assholes. By "rushing" I mean forcing oneself to be social and taking what comes down the pipes rather than calculating to meet the sort of people you know are a good fit for the life you're aiming for. I won't be making the rushing mistake again like I did a couple years back. Slow and steady. I'm great at making new friends, I'm just out of practice. Show me a room, I'll show ya how to work it, baby. Sex is a part of this, too. I'm a bit loathe to throw myself into anything right this minute, despite the awakening of my libido of late, because I don't think my headspace is strong enough to handle the mind-fucks that can come with having a sex life, even a casual one, so... I'm waiting for a "natural" situation to present itself rather than me trying to orchestrate something. It'll happen. I'm so not worried about that.

The other goal is, to constantly try to make activity a bigger part of my life. With spring on the horizon, that's not going to be a problem. I've been carefully trying to set a stage for that by taking up yoga through My Yoga Online (which has been so effective I've been in agony the last couple of weeks from crazy-ass toning happening all over that's resulted in two fun-filled weeks of hellish spasms in my neck and shoulders. My bad, I need to stretch more. Now that the spasms have taken leave, I can return to the yoga. Yay!) and just choosing to walk more, that sort of thing.

Next week's payday, the first one in two months that I can afford to spend on anything other than necessary things. So, I'll be back to the gym and also joining a second gym.

Simply said, these days, I'm laying some very, very important groundwork for the weeks and months ahead. An organized home will be the basis of a very full and metamorphic year ahead, is exactly what I'm telling myself. There's still a long road ahead of me, but at least I'll have a nice sanctuary to retreat to in between the madness of it all. There's that.

So, if you're needing a change like I've been needing, my advice is: Figure out what you want and how to get there. Do the unsexy, unexciting groundwork-laying like I've been doing, and then you'll be able to run with the momentum you create down the road. That's my thinking. I'm expecting life to get big and fast and fun and crazy, and, when it does, I'll be ready to run with it because every bit of the little shit in my life will have been dealth with last month and this month.

Think of it like having a big-ass boulder you want to roll down a huge hill and see how far and fast it'll roll. You want a smoother, faster, further trip, then go clear out all the debris and rocks and stuff, and then you'll be set to go with the roll, baby.

Speakin' of rollin'... better get me on the go. Something about a job I have or somethin'. Have a wicked hump day, folks.

A Little Politics on the Eve of the Much-Hyped Super Tuesday

I get American politics, but I don't get American politics. I mean, it just seems like it's so much work to be democratic in the USA. (I mean small-D democratic, not big D.)

You people have to vote all the goddamned time. Tomorrow, here we go again, another big American vote. Jesus Christ. How about voting on election day and only election day? I'm a big fan.

I just wanted to say this to my American friends: Enjoy this while it lasts. This is about to be the most interesting presidential race in three, maybe four decades. Everyone around the world is watching you.

We're inspired by the choice available to you. (Except the creationist, Huckabee. Not again.)

The thing we, the rest of the world, sort of think about America is that a) it wants to be the biggest country in the world, and be needed by everybody but b) hates it when we pick on 'em.

So, here's the deal. Americans wanted to be the biggest, most important country in the world... well, now they are. So now when it appears the USA is coming apart at its seams --the Fed is slashin' rates like it's a Boxing Day sale, new jobless rate hikes last month are a "surprise" even to the fearmongering economists out there, and a war that just keeps droning on and on while more people die and more money's spent...

...Now is when we, the rest of the world, want to remind Americans: You are the most important. The health of your country isn't just relevant to you, it's relevant to me, and possibly billions and billions of others. You are the most important country in the world. Your democracy is a precious asset that people around the world would weep to receive. Your economy profoundly affects much of the world. You cannot let Bush's legacy be longstanding. His work, almost all of it, needs to be undone by people with bigger visions and greater accountability.

I'm not going to say who I want to win, because I like both Clinton and Obama, and, hell, liked Edwards too. I know this is just a primary, the whole Super Tuesday deal, but it's the start of when Americans get to push their agendas and demand politicians discuss issues with the levity and insight required to run The Most Powerful Country on Earth.

I'm not saying Canada's voting record is anything to be proud of, it's not. It's disgusting. But what's more disgusting is the voting record for the country that stands as the poster child for freedom. What would happen if 90% of Americans showed up on voting day? What would happen if 90% of Americans were truly invested in changing, growing, and improving the country? Wow. That'd be an America I'd love to see.* I mean, nothing like having the affluent and white deciding all the issues for the country. How about all classes, all income brackets stand up and get votes counted in the Most Powerful Country on Earth? Let's stop empowering the already powerful, and start spreading it around. All starts with a simple little vote.

*It'd be a Canada I'd love to see, too, if we all got a little more involved in issues that shape who we are.

At The End of It All

I'm almost truly at a loss for words. I'm on the verge of great emotion, and I don't really know what to make of it.

I'm also on the verge of a fresh new hell, a work week, so I don't know if I'll properly get to resolve these feelings any time soon.

But let's at least set a scene for you. The scene is here, my apartment. My trusty digs, my long beloved pad. I love my apartment. Say whatever you want about the decor, it's an original. I'll share pictures this weekend when I'm all done, but trust me. Lots of bookshelves, antiques, cool knickknacks, great art.

And somehow I've let it all go over the last couple years. I stopped caring about my place and maintaining it became the unruliest of chores.

This past weekend, all three days of it, were spent in conquering the clutter and the excessive packrattish attributes, and rediscovering that long fabled quality of "order".

And now my home looks better, more organized, less cluttered, and more ready to entertain than it has looked in years. In fact, it has never, ever been this organized, and I'm not even entirely done yet. I understand how to finish it now, and if what I see already is any indication, by the end of this week, I will have dramatically changed my life.

I had this thought right before this posting began that I want to explore more but now's not the time. It occurred to me that I now have nothing left to hide behind. This place is straight up, simple, and open. Just like I'm trying to become again.

I've managed to purge about 15% of what I own over the weekend. A lot of shit. I've probably hiked up and down the four flights of stairs about 20 times this weekend, carrying as much as I could on every single load. I've taked at least five trips of scooter-laden stuff to donate. All of that 15%'s been recycled or donated, and I've only created one bag of trash. (An accomplishment in itself there.) But what I've been getting rid of, and there's more ridding to do, isn't really important. It was just stuff. (Still, I'm about 90% done in my apartment, and the stuff that's left is easier to do.)

Now what I have is a home with space and openness. A place where I can finally find the peace I need.

And I cannot convey to you this incredibly mixed cloud of feeling and this emotional exhaustion I feel as I look around with pride and think "this is my home".

I think this is what has been missing, what has prevented me from enjoying being single -- whether single alone or single in the company of men.

After all, my home's always been a great card to play in the friendship game, or even the dating game. Anyone walks in here, they instantly see there's a lot going on behind me. Men absolutely love my apartment. I don't know what specifically does it for them, but that's the one thing I do know. They love my apartment and love to hang out here. And men or women, there's nothing that amuses me more than watching people react to all the little things they find when they start looking my place over.

There's nothing that makes one realize how little pride they've had until the pride returns en masse after its long absence. That's just one of the curious new emotions I'm feeling this morning.

But most of all... it's exhaustion. I could sleep all day. Instead, I'm off to work. And way to go, Giants. One hell of a last-minute play! Damn that was a great finish. Believe, man. Believe.