It’s been a long time since I felt challenged by anything, even in little ways.  I’m taking this Python course, and while most of it is fairly straightforward and simple, there are still challenges that I have to struggle through.  And while I hate it, I love it.

To clarify, I’m fairly certain I hate it because I might be a bit conceited when it comes to my intelligence and ability to learn.  I’m used to most things coming easily, especially if I want to learn them.  So to find that I have to try and put forth effort makes me feel insecure, makes me worry that perhaps I’m not smart enough for tech.  But at the same time, it presents a challenge to be overcome, and I love that.  I love knowing that I don’t have all the answers, that I will have to put extra time into something to understand it fully.  I get bored so easily that I need things that keep me stretching.


Putting the words “love life” in the title feels a little misleading, but since when have my titles been any good, anyway?

More specifically, I don’t have a love life. I do have a very active dating life.  (ha!)

I’ve been texting a woman this last week.  I’m meeting her tomorrow–we’re going to my favourite dive bar.  I think the atmosphere is perfect there.  It’s casual, it’s friendly, it’s divey.  We’ve been having some good texting rapport, but of course, that really means nothing in the end.  And, she’s rather new to the area, still pretty homesick, so my instant suspicion is that perhaps she is just lonely and cannot be trusted to be truly interested.  We’ll see how it goes.

Two nights ago I went out with a lady that very quickly became obvious she is too much my opposite.  Primarily, the financial decisions she makes horrifies me.  It goes beyond neutrally bad decisions (of which I make some myself) to harmfully bad (in my opinion).  For example, when you’re broke and very much in debt already, it seems a poor idea to go to Thailand on credit…  Anyway, she’s also one of those “free spirits” that sort of drive me nuts, to be honest.  PLUS, she’s a hardcore vegetarian, and I ordered a burger. hahahaha  I’m kind of a jerk.


And finally, my tattoo is healing nicely so far. It’s still a bit swollen, which I blame mostly on the heat and wearing long pants and shoes.  There may be no connection, but I think there is. :)

Well, off to the daily grind!

tattoo outline

Here is the outline of my tattoo (sorry you can’t see the outside edges with their amazing scroll work). The picture isn’t great, plus it looks messy because of the tracing stuff that’s kind of hanging out still.  This is the result of two hours.  It’ll probably be another two to finish.

My artist is, obviously, amazing.  They would have done a bit more of the detail, but I was dying.  Apparently, being on your period (or just about to start–like probably tonight or tomorrow) can make getting tattoos much more painful.  Yet another reason that periods are the worst.

But the experience was great, and I’m really looking forward to getting the shading and colour put in.  That won’t be until the end of August, but I can wait.

It’s so beautiful. :)

I love the poems that Susan writes. I’d try to say more, but I’ll just sound ridiculous, so read her stuff instead. :)

buildingapoem

Some thoughts on experimental poetry.

13100717_1031067010313350_6454586575174409223_n

Sometimes you want to dress up–top hat,

White tie and tails, a foreign medal, a cape.

The dance would be just as impressive,

A waltz, perhaps, certainly not something

With Cossacks. At least one would think

This would be the dance of formal bats,

Emotive, aristocratic and imperial.

One would be wrong. These are bats

Used to hanging upside down, letting blood

Rush to their heads when they are not

Bloodletting right side up. They are wild,

Jazz-inspired, impressionistic, and although

You expected the reverse, they are–in the best

Possible way–way out of your league.

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There’s just too much going on to handle anything.  I’d like to give zero fucks for the next several months.  Unfortunately, that is not likely to be possible.

And so, moving on…

I need to get serious about working out.  I don’t like how I feel, but it’s hard to feel motivated at 5:30am.  I also need to get serious about job hunting, but it’s hard to feel motivated at 6:30pm.  My teacher left me an audio comment on my last assignment that was next to worthless in terms of helpfulness.  Also, I had to listen to it, which was basically the worst.

Yes, that was just a big ol’ paragraph of complaining.

I wrote a three page letter to Men’s Wearhouse telling them how disappointed I am in their store.  I wonder if I’ll get a response.

Here’s a bit of good news.  My rent increase is less than I expected. I can’t help but wonder if it’s a mistake, but I’m not going to point it out because I have it on an official document.

I’m considering taking a hiatus from dating, only because I am surrounded by femmes and don’t care to date any of them.  Where are the butch ladies?  I mean, c’mon.  Or androgynous.  But here’s something to think about.  I went out last weekend with a trans boi.  We talked about labels, and he asked mine.  I said lesbian.  But then I also noted that I may be open to dating trans guys–I’m not really sure (that’s a whole other discussion).  I’d still call myself a lesbian.  Would that do them a disservice?  Does it matter what I label myself in regard to whom I might date?

These are things that are on my mind.

My tattoo is scheduled for this coming Sunday. I feel slight bits of trepidation, but only about silly things.  I’m going by myself because there’s no one I’d want to come along, plus my artist is a Harry Potter nerd like me, so I suspect we will engage in much geekery over the Harry Potter universe.  I am always struck by how permanent a tattoo is, how my leg will forever be tattooed.  But I am happy to think of it.  I have not nearly enough tattoos at present.

Yesterday, I made homemade pita bread for the first time.  I am clearly living my best life.  They are not only super easy to make, but 1000x better than store bought pita bread.  I used the recipe from The Kitchn, but I’m sure they’re all more or less the same.  Definitely include oil in the dough.  Yum, yum, yum.

In more serious news, things going on in this nation make me heart-sad. Why is it so hard to believe that #BlackLivesMatter?

The open door experiment has reached its natural end.  I’m not going to say that I’d never try to open a door again, in different circumstances, but I’m still not sold on the idea.

This weekend, I have two dates set up.  One is a friend date (providing all goes well) and the other is a real one.  I’m actually trying to set up a third with someone I met months ago “in the wild,” as I like to refer to in real life, not online.

I would love to be able to simply reference the event where I met said woman, but I have a bad habit of being incredibly vague on here, so while I found a blog that I could tell was about this event, it holds absolutely zero details.

Somewhere around the end of March, I met a different woman online, one who was in a relationship, so this was just a friend thing.  Anyway, she invited me to a house party full of queers, which, oddly, I went to.  I didn’t know anyone there, but actually had a super time.  Incidentally, there was this one woman there that just captured my attention.  I’ve never really done anything about it, other than adding her on facebook.  But recently, I figured I may as well give it a go.  I’m not sure it has any chance of working out–I’m not even sure that I’ll actually see her again.  But… might as well give it a shot?

And for the record, 2-3 dates this weekend isn’t that much. I haven’t been on a date in weeks, so if you spread it out, then it’s really hardly any at all.

I want to be with someone who is excited to be with me.

I want to be with someone who will take care of me, just as much as I take care of them.  I don’t know how to let someone do that, but I want to learn.*

I want to be with someone who will cook food for me when I have nothing in me to cook for myself.

I want to be with someone who thinks my ridiculousness is endearing.

I want to be with someone who is all about the sex, because I am all about the sex.

I want to be with someone who is willing to throw caution to the wind and let the cards fall where they may.  (This might loop back to being excited to be with me.)

I want to figure it out as we go, without fear or worry.  I want to live and love and laugh together.

I believe this is possible. I just don’t exactly know how to find it.

*Side story: remember that work party I referenced going to with B back in January, I think?  I never said much about that weekend, only that I learned not to mix alcohol.  But here’s what happened.  I went to B’s work party, met her co-workers and bosses, bowled, had a great time.  Unfortunately, while I did not drink much, I did make the mistake (rookie move!) of having liquor, then beer, then liquor.  I had no idea what was coming.  Thankfully, B realized I was going to be sick and we made a quick getaway back to her place.  Let me remind you that at that time, I had only know her a few weeks, so this is extra embarrassing for me.  We barely made it to her place (in a taxi she paid for), well, we didn’t make it, since we stopped about a block early so I could begin my night of puking.  I spent that night crawling between her bed (she slept on an air mattress) and the toilet.  Then, the next day, I was still so sick that I sat still at her place until around 10 or 11am when I could actually walk upright and drive home.  She spent the night covering me with blankets, making sure I had water, even made me ginger tea and an egg (that I couldn’t eat) the next morning.  I think this event is how our friendship was sealed.  Anyway, the point of that whole story is that I cannot remember a time when I was so dependent on someone else.  It was hard and kind of horrible, to be honest.

I’m doing something I haven’t done in awhile: listening to a cd and singing along in my living room.  I’ve gotten into a bad habit of only listening to “trash” music on the radio.  But I have a spectacular selection of music (in my opinion) on my computer.  So here I am, remembering how much I love it.

Today I went on a hike with a friend where everything went wrong. She wants me to blog about it (she reads my blog, too), but it’s so awful that I don’t really want to.  And, I tried, but it didn’t turn out.  So you’ll just have to imagine.

I meant to write out some great blog post, but I just finished skyping with my best friend and we ended up talking about politics, so now I’m super angsty and need to do something to work out the anxiety I’m feeling.

Maybe I’ll go to the grocery store.  Any recipes to share?  Vegetarian and light on grains, if you please. :)  I’m trying to think of delicious things for summer that are also easy to take to work.

The words I want to write are everywhere and nowhere. I am on my phone, in bed, and I should be asleep because I’m going hiking tomorrow.

But my mind is racing, and I can’t turn it off. I am not going to be ridiculous. I am not going to request affirmation when there is nothing to affirm. (Or maybe there is, but I can’t tell.)

This is all part of it, right?

I’m used to closing doors and never opening them again.  Not from hard or bad feelings, but just because when a door is closed, it’s closed.   I don’t do well with ambiguity, so I don’t like to have nebulous options.  I like everything as defined as possible.  And once something has a definition, it’s hard to change it.

That said, I’m opening a door that I thought was closed.  More accurately, I didn’t open the door, but I did let it be opened, and I am seeing what’s on the other side.  It’s a weird feeling.  What convinced me to let it open again was a friend reminding me that this year has been full of new things, and why not let this be one of them?  [Side Note: Did I mention that I’ve been out for a little more than a year?  And what a year it’s been…]

I don’t like the unsurety I feel, but I never like unsurety, and life is full of it.  How does one become sure of another person?  Better put, how does one know when it’s the appropriate time to be sure of another person?  Timing is everything.  Until you are sure, you should be cautious.  I am not good at being cautious, as I’ve learned.  I’m good at jumping in feet first, at least emotionally.  But if I learned anything from my experience with LM, I learned it’s a bad idea to jump alone. [Insert rueful smile here.]

Somehow, maybe, I will learn to be cool as a cucumber.

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