basement

hi hi hi there LJ! I bugg everyone I know into writing in theirs but am the biggest laziest hypocrite evar. STILL that is no excuse for everyone to not continue writing in theirs okay?

Last weekend went to Earth Frequency Festival - got a bit sunburned, a bit intoxicated, met some new lovely people and some old - including the girl camped next to us who works with animals! To whom I ranted for ages just a bunch of random things I know and think about all kindsa animals, until she said "I can't believe you don't work with animals!" I can't either really. But then nor can I that I am not a paleantologist or editor or astronomist or architect.

But then I became very despondent when she was telling me about how continuing insidious changes to habitat, even tiny ones, are so damaging and of one species of mole that she was tracking she couldn't find a single specimen of so it is probably extinct. I was overwhelmed with how awful we are and how little there is I can do to help though I so desperately want to, so much that it totally immobilizes me with grief and helplessness. Isn't that silly. What if the reason nothing ever changes is because every-one is immobilised by how little they as an individual can change things? Yeah, yeah, what if.

What else? I just finished my second self-published book which is a conversion of my old website to the page. I do love it. I am going to revamp my web hosting business, I think. I have been playing lots and lots of Skyrim, listening to lots and lots of contradictory music. I am gathering data to write a journal article on the provision of psychology over internet chat. I bought a car. I'm growing out my hair.

That's it. :)

your body is great at detecting invaders,
but cancer isn't an invader. you grew it.

I was just sitting outside "smoking" my e-cigarette (vanilla mmm, but with no nicotine, just flavouring) and watching my kitty Munchy luxuriously sun himself (I am so jealous that cats can make lolling about on concrete seem comfortable). Suddenly he spied something up the driveway and jumped up, on alert. I looked over and saw my other kitty, Guppy, come racing up the path as though a million soul-eating devils were after her (and maybe there were; I am sure she can perceive things that I cannot). She came to a halt in front of him and they touched noses before she went to jump up through the window to go inside.

As she leapt, Munchy took a swipe at her hindquarters with his forepaw and missed. I was reminded of something I had read that said if you have two cats that sometimes playfight, as they seem compelled to do, you should put a bell on the more aggressive cat so that the more submissive one can hear him coming and be ready. IF ONLY 'TWERE SO SIMPLE. Munchy, the more aggressive cat, is of course going to be the more active and daring; more likely to climb precarious treelimbs and wiggle into tiny nooks and thereby lose his collar and thence the bell. I just can't keep a collar on him.

Today I have off work, hooray. Oh how I shall treasure my short time of three day work weeks! My boss asked me yesterday if he could increase my hours to full time. I would prefer four days, or a nine day fortnight, to full time, I said. He is going to get back to me, but I am almost sure he will want full time from me. This just means I must finish my program for full registration as a psychologist before the increase in work commences. So today, day off, is to be spent finishing writing up my research project report on online counselling. I can surely get this done today. As soon as I finish this entry, then make some breakfast, then put some laundry on.

Last night during supervision I was writing furious notes as my supervisor outlined her treatment plan for Anorexia and Bulimia, as I have had a sudden influx of young women with eating disorders at work. I filled three pages as she spoke for a ceaseless half hour.
"Jess," she eventually said, "your poor hand. Do you type faster than you write?"
"Yes, of course, by a million miles."
"You should sit at the computer then, to take your notes." How reasonable of her!
"Um, no," I howevered, "I find that I writing by hand lodges information more firmly in my brain. I used to take my laptop to lectures at Uni until I realised I didn't retain as much when I typed my notes as when I scrawled them fervently." (I may not have actually said "scrawled them fervently" but whatevs.)
"Wow, how interesting," she said. She seemed intrigued, and we talked briefly about possible explanations and implications.

I felt mildly guilty, as I don't even know if what I'd said was true. It seemed like it would be true, but really I think I was just comfortable sitting on the couch and writing by hand. Seriously I do not know why I sometimes come out with these silly lies. It would have been so much easier to simply say, "Nah, I'm happy here."

I do it with friends, with family, and have for years. An unfortunate throwback to the entire lives I used to compulsively fabricate as an adolescent, mayhap. Usually, with people I know super well, when I catch myself doing it I'll say pretty soon afterwards, "by the way, that wasn't true at all," and we'll laugh etc. So it's not a huge problem, I just would like to know what the fuck is up with it.

In conclusion I think I will attempt to keep a log of when it happens, along with my thoughts around why then, there, with that person... and eventually uncover the deep-seated, firmly lodged personality flaw that is undoubtedly lurking in my bowels motivating this behaviour, and potentially others as well. In my quest for utter perfection as a human being.

Yep.

I'm hanging out with darkentropy and cluckfuster on my loungeroom floor with fuzzy blankets & big cushions, warm lighting, atmospheric muse sicks and super sweet white wine. Oh, and lots of chocolate. Guppy is curled up between us, and has a preference for deep touch. I agree with her that deep touch is satisfying, but there is something orgasmic about light touch as well. I go both ways.

We've talked about communal parenting, communal relationshipping. Sharing resources, time, and love :)
We've talked about journalling, and LiveJournal, and read each other's journals, and other people's journal entries about me. haha.
We're wondering if it's sex if there are no mouths, no fingers/hands, no undressing.. but grinding and orgasms. My vote is yes, that counts. I don't think that orgasming alone can be counted as sex though; there needs be another person involved. Storm disagrees.

Soon we'll start some editing.. after we go to the bottleshop for moar wines, which we're about to do right now. It's just really cold out there, although.. I can smoke. k I'll deal.

A three day week doesn't mean I HAVE to drink every other night, you know.

Also, I'm moving out. I looked at a place last night and it was pretty swish, although the room was small. It did have a private balcony though. And the apartment had a huge rooftop area in which I could have some pretty awesome parties. I'm just not sure I could live with two professional late-twenties women who go to the gym twice a week. I'll keep looking.

I'd really rather live by myself, but would have to live too far out of town to afford it. I think I would much prefer to live central and deal with housemates. Perhaps. I guess I'm lucky in that I don't have to rush.. although I kind of want to...

"Okay I'm done. How can I end this journal entry on a high note?"
"Um, Marie is here?"
"Okay say something funny Marie."
"Bitches be crazy."

I just read through some of my notes from health psychology to try and find a word synonymous with 'pathogen' that I'd been trying to recall the past day spent wracked with the worst allergic reaction of all my lives. "It's like invader," I'd say. An antagonistic, er, aggressive, perhaps metaphorical description of a foreign body. Antigen. Alien. Illegal immigrant... I just couldn't recall. Well, I found it; it was foreign invader. How disappointing. I had remembered the term without knowing it. I thought it was better though.

Anyway I continued reading my lecture notes after finding the reference, for fun, and am smiling at some of my descriptions.. how I interpreted things so I could make sense of and remember them. "Macrophages (big chompers making up 5% of phagocytes) are totally the best; while phagocytes eat up pathogens, macrophages take a taste of the pathogen's shape, then race through the entire body screeching for the lymphocytes that match that shape so it can tell them we need more, morrrrre of these specialised chompers! Tcells and Bcells galore!"

I remember imagining little chomping phagocytes and big chomping macrophages, like different species of pacmen, racing through my body with little detectors that go BING when they identify delicious non-self foreign invaders. CHOMP

There is also a drawing of a spinal cord with a picket fence style literal pain gate. & got an HD, betch.

I wrote a lot of quite enormous papers that are really rather good. I'm tempted to use one for a current project I am overdue on and haven't started yet... but can't. It would be so easy! but I can't do it. haha. idiot.

I am so afraid of doing so wrong that I falter and start, mumble and fart
about, do nothing and nothing more, until I have no choice anymore,
and am saved! no more decisions for me, hurray.
I'll live to while away
a few more hapless, harried days.

so much life spent being
sad and uncertain and sorry and scared. how silly, how silly, how silly.
but, well, as long as everyone hurts but me
(sighing, staring longingly
while I spit my prettie words like coins,
hugely blinking shining, guileless eyeshadows
at all the girls &boys),
yes, maybe. maybe, perhaps, we'll see..
as long as, till then, you keep feeding me.
I need, I need, I need.

eh, dishonesty.
look, here I go,
I snarl and tear my only flesh,
already purple and red and grey,
eaten away.
eating for the rotten part
but there's so much in the way.

I start to think there never was
any quite so rotten
as that I've chewed to bleeding death.
but, well...
even my own miserable flaws are more enthralling by far than anyone elses's enchantingly shining traits
any day. :)

"Whenever she felt lost in the endless deserts of insomnia she would take up the labyrinthian thread of her life again from the beginning to see if she could find at what moment the paths had become confused."

oh, oh. I'm in love.
love love love love love you dark and long

fall in love with people
all all all the time
and love it, love it so! I love love so; I do.

I feel so tingly, alive and squirmy
I feel my insides like they try to leap ouT!
I feel, oh gosh, I shiver.
oh my. what do I do?

I'll tell you. I dream and smile
and wish and why
and just love it and that is all.

yeah.. it's all I need.

I just watched Brene Browne's TED talk on vulnerability. It was okay; she was very engaging and amusing, but it could have been half the length with the same weighted message. Anyway, she was talking about "whole-hearted" people: people who have a sense of worthiness, of love and belonging (compared to people who struggle for it and wonder if they're good enough). As I was listening I was thinking, well, I would most certainly be hearted wholly. I do believe I am worthy of love and belonging (and thus am loved and do have a sense of belonging).

As she began to list those qualities that the whole-hearted have which may contribute to this, I was ready to hear a list of my own admirable traits:

Courage: the courage to be imperfect
Compassion: to be kind to themselves and others
Connection: the ability to let go of who they think they should be, and just be who they are.. and thus enable connection with others

Yes, yes, yes, I thought. Absolutely she is describing me. I knew it.

Vulnerability: having the willingness to risk uncomfortable thoughts and feelings when there are no guarantees.

Oh. Well, sure, I do believe that what makes us vulnerable makes us beautiful, that vulnerability is absolutely necessary... sure, yes.

For others, I mean. Maybe it would be true for me, too, maybe maybe. But maybe it would just hurt. Maybe it would be catastrophically awful.

I will not say "I love you" first. I will not ask for help when I can muddle through by my own insufficient ability in thrice the time. I will not put my hand up in case I am not chosen.

I will not risk shame.

Gosh, I was so sure I was whole-hearted.