I'm strictly a female female

I love silky underwear.

And silky robes.

Especially in either pink or black.

Is there anything more fem? As a color pink is associated with happiness and satiation in the brain. Meaning, you look at the color pink and your brain tells you you're happy and satisfied. By wearing pink, enveloping your body in pink, you are wrapping yourself up in good vibes. The imprint of yourself in your pink undies is there, still tucked away in a coy little corner of your mind that just radiates out. Translation=one cheery confident gal.

Now black, well come on it's s-e-x-y. And I drew that word out for a reason. Nothing makes me feel more of a vixen than wearing black. It's not the undies of your childhood. Fuck feelings of happiness, black makes you feel in charge. I wear black and I am slyly in the know, and I just might want someone to discover my secret.

And silk, satin, anything smooth is just the ultimate. Besides it simply feeling divinely cool against my skin, I'm not sure why I love it. Maybe that it's slippery, slinky, something that can be grasped but just as easily dance out of your fingertips. And I will admit, that is what I aspire to some nights.

As I sit here in my black satin undies and pink silk robe, waiting for my hair to set, I feel that I am getting the benefit of both hues. My unmentionables are getting me ready for the night. Although the fact that a woman's underwear can affect her confidence is no big news, I felt compelled to write this little love note to my undies anyway.

My god, you are so hot. Making me, through association, so hot as well.

I heart Ewan.

He said, softly, "I will mangle your mind."

It's what dreams are made of. Mine anyways. Just re-watched Velvet Goldmine and am confident that I will dream things sweet tonight.

Having finished watching a deliciously nude Ewan jump around with a mic in his hand can't hurt.

Silly boys, dicks are for chicks

So me and the Mike were IMing the other night when the conversation turned to homoeroticism. Kinda.

Namely, how the guys (college age and up) we know are very quick and generous with the gay references between themselves. And the small dick references. And the lack of sexual prowess/impotence/faster than a speeding bullet references. And the near kisses and dry humping. To the point of having a stand-off as to who can out-gay each other. Invitations to have mansex with their itty-bitty members lasting about, ooh, a minute abound.

I'm all for some man on man action. But they, of course, mean none of it. It is the new little boy game. Where they were once quick to declare to be the most hetero, to have the largest dick in the room, to yell fag as the ultimate insult of death--the opposite now seems to hold the most weight. The comments build as they fly back and forth. Until one triumphant male "presents them," to quote Mr. Garrison, and he is crowned the winner. The most hilarious. The most secure and therefore the holder of the largest dick, the most satisfied list of women, and basically the manliest of all the men he just out-gayed.

When did this transition take place? I think I missed it. Is it a generational thing? As in, our generation? The gay movement did seem to grow during our lives. When we were kids, I'd dare say that it was still associated with negativity. And we saw it evolve to where most people our age are okay with it. We are aware. And we don't really care. As the lifestyle has been deemed familiar (tv shows, films, books all have incorporated it) has it become an acceptable form of humor?

I think I give the boys too much credit with that analysis, however. I doubt they have examined their jokes within the societal context as I have here. I wonder if they can even pinpoint it, this shift. It would be interesting to know.

Fuck it, I just like hearing about my friends partaking in the man-sex. Mmmmmm....beefy.

Dumb jock

People who don't wipe off the machines when they are done piss me off. People who look at you like "What?" when you glare at them for not wiping off the machine you are about to take over really piss me off.

Look dumbass, if I wanted to swim in your sweat I'd fuck you. But I don't fuck people who piss me off. So I 'm just stuck here hating you while I wipe off your sweat on my towel.

If I get sick I am going to spill my bottle of water on your ipod. While you are running. Maybe you will be so startled that you stumble on the treadmill and then fall face-first on the puddle of water and backwash.

And don't expect me to wipe off the machine.

Loud

So the ex is gone for the evening, leaving me and Catcher to protect the house. Which is no big deal. Usually. About an hour ago I heard a loud noise from down the hall. I was about to yell at Catcher when I saw that she was lying next me, fast asleep. Overimaginitive girl that I am, the first thought I had was "oh god, are the doors locked?" Being too much of a wuss to go check, I instead close and lock my bedroom door, grab my cell phone and listen.

Nothing.

I soon forget about this as I am writing in my spiffy new blog. (Which is giving me problems but that is another topic.) Then I hear it again. What the hell, we are both in my room, the ex isn't home...then I hear it. The faint sound of water running.

My god, I am such a drama queen. The sound isn't a burly thief stealing our tv and possibly my vitue if the bedroom door was unlocked. It is the icemaker. Before he left the ex bitched that I had used all the ice and now the tray was empty. And he turned it back on.

Ice dropped into an empty tray is quite loud.

Limbo

So I'm on a path to discover my life. Aren't we all? But as college graduation fast approaches, I am getting scared. I currently have a couple applications out, but am awaiting word back from them. Which leaves me in limbo.

Well, I shouldn't say "leaves," I have been here quite awhile. But that doesn't make it any more comfy. I would love to just know. Know where my life is going, have a concrete plan. But I don't. I recently broke up with the boy who had promised to take care of me and love me forever, the boy who had a plan for his life and had found a way to make his plan my plan. Except it wasn't my plan. Granted, I don't know what my plan is, but I knew enough to know I had to end it. So yay me. As a reward for knowing myself oh-so-much I now have a million unanswered questions, graduation in May, no job, and most likely my parent's house to run to after grad. Where I will most likely get a lame job to pay my loans, sleep at the beach, and hang out with the same folks I hung with before I left three years ago. Da Capo.

Why are we asked to choose our future at such a young age? I have had three different majors and am just now getting an idea of what I'd like to do "when I grow up." Too bad this revelation has come just before I don my cap and gown. Honestly, we are still teenagers when we are faced with this choice; in high school we are told to join the clubs, take the AP classes, take extra college classes in the summer, log in volunteer hours to get the scholarships. When I think back at some of the decisions I made during my high school years I laugh to think that adults found me ready to map out my life.

Perhaps it's just me. I was put in those gifted classes since 3rd grade. I'm supposed to have some decent IQ. But I have never been able to focus; I will become entranced with one subject whole-heartedly just to tire of it and move on without a second glance. The only things I have stayed in love with are the things I feel I can't do well. Art, Poetry, Music, Film, Writing. Which I am happy to say is what my degree is focused on. But now what? I still don't think I'm that good. And in these fields you HAVE to be good.

Aah well. I guess I can always go to law school like everyone else.


Now that I've bummed you out, let me redeem with these boys.
Hey pretty girl, did you go to college? Did you get your BA with all that knowledge?

Awesome.

Hello blogger!

This blog is not a journal. All references to my personal life is in the abstract, in so much as it relates to the post subject. I hate when blogs turn into journals...I have a journal and would not dream of burdening anyone else with my bullshit drama.


This blog is not about any one subject in particular. As seen in my description, it is a clearing house for all that distracts me from my "quarter-life crisis." This can be rants and raves, interesting tidbits, anything that may serve others in an effort to be distracted.


This blog is to keep me writing while I sort through the transition to this 'real world' I keep hearing of.


Here goes.