touching

People often misunderstand me especially when it involves affectionate touching. Typically, I am mostly affectionate with people I think are safe. I can be physically friendly with gay men as I KNOW that nothing is ever going to cross a line sexually. I can let my guard down. People also misunderstand sexiness and sexual attraction. I can observe that someone is very sexually attractive without wanting to touch him/her. Maybe I do not think like other people do.

sleeping habits

In college, I learned that keeping everything inside was not the best way to deal with things because they always find their way out.

My first semester at college, I was stuck with a roommate, a junior nuclear science major, who was very serious. She spoke German fluently and would converse on the phone so I never knew what she was saying. I often thought I had gone crazy. We did not bond at all. At some point, I woke up in the middle of the night to hear her giggling. After a couple of weeks, I told her that I thought someone was in bed with her because she was giggling loudly in the middle of the night. She responded that she thought someone was in bed with me because she heard me screaming in my sleep. I knew that I talked in my sleep, but was shocked by this news. Then she informed me that it was not only screaming, but also the foulest language she had ever heard. She repeated many of the expletives I used during the night. It was not pretty. I moved across campus, but was told repeatedly by my other roommates that my night-time rages continued. One of my roommates actually thought someone was being raped outside of our dorm until she discovered it was me screaming at the top of my lungs whilst sound asleep. I do not know how long this continued, but I started writing to express my negative feelings more appropriately. Then I started telling people how I really feel. I guess it worked because my neighbors have not complained.

dreadfully shy

I barely spoke in school when I was younger. In seventh grade, my whole gifted English class was given detention (or got in some sort of trouble) for talking in the halls except me. I remember Mrs. Farrell saying something along the the lines of "...except Shana, because we ALL know that she does not talk!" No one in the class was mad at me because they knew it was true. I would answer in whispers if I was called upon in class. In college, I was more comfortable and voiced my opinion if I felt the need. I started smoking so I would not be expected to talk as much.

Now, it is almost impossible for me to bite my tongue. I am a social worker and have to speak constantly. My clients and their families cannot believe that I was ever shy or quiet because I have such a 'happy' and 'upbeat' personality. (That's strange to hear.) I just tell them that once I started, I could not stop.

I am still shy, but mostly in social situations. I prefer small groups where I can personalize conversations. I love to watch people interact with each other. I find it fascinating.

laundry

is something I hate doing so I'm practicing walking in my new heels because I have to wear some nice girly clothes. It is entirely too hot to lug my dirty clothes down to the washer. Besides, Freddy's luncheon is tomorrow so it won't hurt to look nice. Maybe he will even clamp my paper holder on his nipples like he promised.

fag hag

I hate that term & will vehemently deny that label when applied to me. Yet, somehow I keep ending up surrounded by gay men. It started in elementary school with a neighborhood friend which progressed through high school until he hurt me by telling me we were not friends anymore. I surrounded myself with hetero men in college which just lead to a lot of inappropriate groping (by them) and anger (in me). I swore off men for several years then repeated the college situations only with coworkers. Then I swore off them again. (I have really good self-control in select areas.) I recently returned to my love of men only to find myself surrounded by the men who love men.

decemberunderground

Majestic. Seductive. Intimate. It is everything I have ever wanted in an album and more than I ever imagined.

from Adair...for me

For My Mom Who in the Aughts

Never gave up,
like a butterfly in a rainstorm,
survived everything thrown at her,
be it breast cancer,
or the demotion,
she never gave up.

For my mom,
who in the aughts,
tried her best at everything,
Who when I was sad,
hugged me,
and said it would be okay.

For my mom,
who in the aughts,
was happy when I learned,
to ride a two-wheeler bike
at the BMX track.

For my mom,
who in the aughts,
will never stop loving me.

For my mom,
who in the aughts,
will never give up.

areolas

I showed mine to a coworker last week. It is not what you think. She is also a breast cancer survivor. However, she had both of her breasts removed and is getting ready to complete the reconstructive process. The final stage is the tattooing of areolas on her new breasts. She gets to choose what color she wants. Personally, I told her to get stars, suns, or flowers in place of regular areolas, but our health insurance will not cover that.

I was fortunate in that my surgery was less extensive than hers, but my cancer treatments were much worse. My doctor talked about prophylactic removal of my breasts, but I was not ready for that. I think that I would not get reconstructive surgery if I had to get mine removed. Instead, I would opt for a large tattoo piece to cover the area in the shape of a halter. I saw a woman who had done something similar and really liked it.

I am just grateful that I am still in remission and do not have to worry about that currently.

horn-dog

is what he called me because he called to talk with no other intentions. That what he gets for calling me when I am wide awake and have been listening to PJ Harvey & dancing in my kitchen. Talking is dangerous. There is nothing as seductive to me as good conversation especially with a man who uses SAT words in everyday conversation. Weird, I know. If a man cannot carry a conversation with me, I lose interest. I like someone who engages my mind especially with new information. For me, that is the biggest turn-on. The connection to my heart starts with my mind.

Now try being celibate for eight years and only being touched in intimate places by medical professionals. He has a place in my heart. What he needs to do is put down the damn phone and buy a plane ticket. PA to CA. Tick-tock... I cannot wait forever.

my other new rule

is that I have to accept any offers/invitations out by males who are of legal age, but under the age of forty-five. There are other stipulations such as:

1. no military men
2. no married men
3. no men who live w/their baby's mothers
4. no men who are affiliated w/my employment and/or vendors

Good personal hygiene is a must. Tattoos are a plus. I guess I would also go on a date with a woman if I was asked.

It is time.

Not talking

to males/men I do not know has not been working for me. I cannot flirt to my full potential without using words. I am one of the many who has to rely on her wit and personality rather than looks alone (especially with the type of males/men I prefer). My new rule is to primarily talk with males/men I do not know who are not somehow tied to my employment in any way. Maybe this will rid me of my anxiety around hetero men. (I tried this on Friday and succeeded in eliciting a blush from the cute store clerk at the Finish Line.)

After eight years of not dating, something needs to change. Shyness and seclusion has not brought on many memorable moments except the ones I conjured to paper.

vulnerable

is how I have been feeling lately. I do not like feeling this way, but I guess it is better than being numb.