One For Sorrow...

I almost cried the other morning. Almost. My eyes welled up but nothing fell. I stopped it before it could happen. I suppose your definition of what crying is will determine whether or not I actually did, but this is not the point. The point is I'm beginning to think I may be a robot.

For the last few days though, I've been fighting a bout of loneliness which kind of detracts from the whole robot theory. Perhaps I'm more of an artificial intelligence, programmed to think I'm feeling emotions. If I wake up with Cylon scrawled across my mirror I won't be surprised.

It's a difficult thing sometimes for me to determine where my emotions are coming from. Rather, if they are real or due to the hormonal imbalance I must suffer monthly. When I turned on GMA the other day and saw pictures of the tragedy at Virginia Tech I felt a sorrow rise up in my chest that eventually reached my eyes. Granted television has become a competition between networks to see who can deliver (read: sensationalize) the news the fastest, the truthiest and the fairest, the images of college kids fading in and out over hauntingly sparse piano music were still images of another sad truth in our nation's history. And I almost cried. Despite it feeling very real I shut the sorrow off and finished getting ready for work.

Is that a sign of strength? Or a mechanical heart?

But in the moment I let the emotion wash over me I thought wow, I can still feel.

Then I got my period and the realness of my sadness dissipated somewhat. Am I diminishing my feelings in order to deal with them? Or am I really just so numb that only my menstrual cycle can knock me off balance enough to create a tear?

I don't know. I'm confused. I always thought I didn't want any drama in my life, but maybe I need a little to feel alive. Or maybe I'm just PMSing. Professionally I'm still frustrated as my promotion still has not gone into full effect, and I don't know how much longer I can tell myself I'm over feeling used and won't take it anymore. Guess three years isn't quite enough. Trying to find comfort in my own arms isn't quite cutting it anymore. About the job, about the tragedy...about the good stuff too. Consciously I feel like I've progressed with how to go about changing my personal life. Subconsciously I'm afraid I'm still afraid.

Dad Weighs In

Dad: So you met your cousin's fiance?
QV: Yes! He's 1000 times better than the meat heads she usually goes for.
Dad: Oh?
QV: He plays music, he's smart, soft-spoken...
Dad: Does he have any friends?

The Academics Of Sex

First, I just wanted to send a little thank you out to everyone who has commented or sent me an email. Bearing witness, even anonymously, can lighten the load (despite it being all in my mind) and those who can and do identify make it even lighter. So thanks!

Second, I'm doing some thought process rearranging. You know, trying to change the negatives into positives. In the meantime, here are some quotes from people who have had sex. Always the eternal student...I seem to have already mastered the contradictory nature of it.

"Sex.  In America an obsession.  In other parts of the world a fact." 
~Marlene Dietrich

“Nobody dies from lack of sex. It's lack of love we die from.”
~Anonymous

“Sex is a momentary itch, love never lets you go.”
~Anonymous

“Sex is like air; it's not important unless you aren't getting any.”
~Anonymous

“Among men, sex sometimes results in intimacy; among women, intimacy sometimes results in sex.”
~Barbara Cartland

"I blame my mother for my poor sex life. All she told me was, 'the man goes on top and the woman underneath'. For three years my husband and I slept on bunk beds."
~Joan Rivers

"I haven't had sex in eight months. To be honest, I now prefer to go bowling."
~Lil' Kim

"Love is a matter of Chemistry, but sex is a matter of Physics."
~Unknown

Crazy Has Left The Building

Dear everyone who now thinks I'm crazy,

Update: I'm not. We all have our moments, do we not? And anyway I have to keep things interesting. Constantly whining about being a virgin doesn't make for that great a read...or does it? Last week's observations were intensified by a mixture of hormones and the gigantic magnifying glass I hold over myself when I write these things. It's a joy being a woman. I'm not diminishing the legitimate weirdness of these strange paranoid dreams, but I have to take everything with a grain of salt. Especially things that come out of my own mouth...and mind. In retrospect I think I can officially attribute this paranoid dream nonsense to stress, and I can do this because the ol' acid reflux has returned as well. I live too much in my head and these physical/subconcious symptoms are just the real, though odd results.

I marvel at what life would be like if I could live by my heart instead of my head. I can only imagine it would be more painful, but also more joyful...broken-healed hearts are what make life worth living or so I've heard, and yet, still can't let myself get there. I want to believe it's not just me, that there are other contributing factors to my somewhat self-imposed singularity, such as location, profession, er...mentality of the demographic of which I seem to be a part, but I know it all starts at home.


Is it ridiculous that I still kind of believe that now that I've finally gotten my professional life in order my personal life will eventually follow? It feels naïve. But then again, most of the things I believe are based in a naïveté of some sort. And of course there's still the overwhelming fear that I should just accept is the brick wall 8 feet thick that prevents me from moving forward. It's just so hard to pinpoint a fear comprised of so many different elements that seem to be unfounded. Or perhaps it really is just simply the fear of sex. Why can't I just grown up? How did I become so gadam stunted?

Next Stop, Crazyville!

I think I may actually be on the road to um...the bin. I want so badly to get a handle on this whole paranoid half-conscious dreaming thing I do, so the past couple times it has happened I have tried to force myself into some kind of rationality.

What I've come up with is this: still feels like people are able to read my mind, and also this other thing that I haven't mentioned before. There are these strange, non-tangible things/ideas that I am supposed to do/expected to do for work but feel really awkward doing. I can't even put my finger on what it is but it makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong. A weird shameful feeling lingers...maybe more due to having my mind read than what weird things I'm supposed to be doing. I don't know. But...I have figured out that this paranoid dream nonsense only happens when I lay on my right side facing the right hand corner of the ceiling of my bedroom. It's where I originally starting seeing the listening device in the air when I was apparently dream hallucinating. Thank God that has stopped.

I seriously think I am going crazy. I know they say if you know you're going crazy you really aren't, but there's a first time for everything.

I mean, after reading this don't you wonder just a little bit about my sanity?

I could attribute it to stress because God knows what other things it has done to my body, but I'm just not totally convinced.

Maybe there are just one too many radio waves screaming through my walls and somehow messing with my brain. All I know is, if I start to make sense of the noise and it turns into voices telling me to do stuff, don't say I didn't warn you.

One Day Can Determine The Rest...I guess

It is not my birthday today but I was reading through The Birthday Book and found this:

"Perhaps the greatest problem for [these] people is coming to understand themselves, being able to straighten out their complex, difficult personalities. Usually it is seething emotions which keep them from viewing themselves in a more objective light. Many born on this day use their work as an escape from what seems an excessive self-involvement."

(Though I suppose posting this contradicts trying to escape self-involvement...)

"...Because of their desire for independence, and because they tend to limit themselves to a few choice friends, [these people] risk condeming themselves to a lonely life. Yet being alone is not necessarily a lonely experience for those born in this period."

(Not all the time, but every one in a while I am a lonely loner...)

S.W.A. ...?

You know that feeling you get when you realize you've forgotten something but can't remember what it is...and then you do but are hit with another realization that you haven't forgotten what you thought you did but for whatever reason still feel like you have?

This has been happening to me almost every day, and what it is I feel like I've forgotten is to kiss someone goodbye. How weird is that? Even knowing that I haven't forgotten this doesn't make the feeling go away. I'm starting to wonder about my sanity. Well actually, I started that a long time ago, but you get the gist. It's a renewed wonder.

The half-conscious paranoid dreams have been in and out lately too. It is disconcerting in a waking state to think about what someone would think of you if they knew your thoughts. When the line between reality and dreams is blurred it becomes terrifying. At least, for me. Which is weird because it's not like I'm thinking horrible things (all the time anyway) it's more the invasion of privacy that gets me. As much as I hate to admit it, I actually like the fact that you can't ever know what goes on in someone else's head. Or perhaps it's more that no one can ever know what goes on in mine that I like.

One of the first things that Jean said that ever angered me was, "I know you like the back of my hand." First of all, if that was true she would not have said it. Why make me angry when I was happy to be her doormat? Second of all, she couldn't possibly know I would learn to self-preserve and cut her off a few years later because the back of her hand would never change.

I suppose this speaks to my um, ability to let people in. Which, by the by, I have done many times, just on my terms, slowly and to a certain degree. It's not that I'm hiding things about myself, with the exception of the whole sex thing, because most of my close friends know a great deal about me...I think it's more about how far into my heart I let people. In Queen Vee terms, how much I miss them when they're gone?

Maybe I've been letting more in without knowing it which is why I feel like I've been forgetting to kiss them goodbye. No that's not it. What could possibly be the cause for this odd, odd feeling?

Welcome To My Second Dollhouse

At some point this year I will turn 30. This fact doesn't upset me at all. In fact, I'm kind of looking forward to it. Since I was a teenager I've always thought I'd look, feel and be at my best in my thirties. I suppose there is something to be said for mind over matter, but I can also attest that I didn't make my twenties painful by purposely being over-stimulated, under-sexed, wet-noodillish and perpetually exhausted. I used to think it was a second coming of age until I realized mixing pop culture and psychology was just a trendy way to justify my behavior. Well, that and I now know I haven't quite finished growing up yet, nor will I in the foreseeable future.

Every couple of days I find myself wondering about my place with an almost overwhelming awe. What am I doing? Do I really have this job? These friends? This life? Am I supposed to be doing something else? How did I get here?

I received an Alumni magazine from my high school the other day and read about this kid I once knew. For the past couple of years he's been working in Africa, helping people with HIV. For the past couple of years I've been working in the entertainment industry bitching about a boss who's been holding me down. Um...inadequate is the only word that comes to mind when comparing my place with his in the larger scheme of things. I know it's futile to do such a thing, because no matter how good you are there's always someone better as well as someone worse, but in the space around my life that's what happens. I compare, feel bad for a while, and then it passes. It passes because I've accepted the fact that I could never handle going to Africa and helping people with HIV. That's not to say that something profound couldn't happen to me and change that, but at the moment it's one of my truths.

I think my career choice (and therefore my place?) is one of the very few things I've been able to reconcile with the direction of my life, or at least my desire to be a contributing member of society. I spent a lot of time worrying about who I was helping and if my existence was worth anything if I wasn't. I even went so far as to quit the industry cold to figure out if I was doing the right thing. Or at least, the right thing for me which eventually I realized was the point I was missing. Right for me is an entirely different ball game than the right thing. Because honestly, what's the right thing? Too many (mostly religious) people confuse the right thing with a good/kind thing. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, (sorry) it's just not everyone can be a doctor. At least, I can't. And I'm ok with that.

I'll always wonder about my actual, grain of sand place in the world, because I still often feel like the proverbial (is that the right word?) square peg, but that's what makes it worth living isn't it? Everyone (sans the big bores) loves a mystery. What could be coming next?

For me it's the big three oh. Does it bother me that I'm still a virgin? Well...yes, but only because it means I haven't connected with anyone on a level where I can give myself over completely. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will, because even in my friendships there are things I hold back, but I still hope. Maybe this year is the year. I've been so lucky to explore all that I have in my life so far, it's time to face the boys...um, the men. A man.

Update On Jane Mag's Legal Pimping Debacle

Sarah is still publicly dating.

I am not.

We are both still virgins.

Do you see?

The Progressive Downfall of Professional Socialization

Or What Happens When Co-workes Go Out For Drinks Armed With A Corporate Card

1st round
Bitch session about how much everyone hates their lazy bosses

2nd round
Gossip about said bosses and how pathetic their lives must be to be so miserable at work

Half way through 2nd round
Gossip about said bosses and how pathetic their sex lives must be to be so miserable at work

3rd round
Gossip about who (non-present co-workers) is sleeping and who has slept with who

4rth round
Revelations about their own sex lives

5th round and beyond
No one really remembers but it was probably about sex

I don't go out for drinks that often so my co-workers seem to love it when I do. The whole being allergic to alcohol amazes them and they love to see me test my limits. Only when after I've had a little and I let them feel my heartbeat do they believe me I think. At least, that's when the 'omg are you ok?' sets in. One of the reasons I don't often go out is because it kind of sucks to watch everyone else get drunk while I only get to have one, immediately followed by a pounding headache and nausea if I don't chase it with two glasses of water.

Another reason, if not obvious already, is the inevitable conversation consumer. Sex, sex, sex. Is that all anyone ever thinks about? Oh right...even I do. I just can't contribute without feeling like a total ass because I totally don't know what I'm talking about. It's weird though, I've come to realize that while my not dishing about my sex life gives me a bit of mystery, the assumptions made are never that I'm a virgin. It's usually that I either just don't like to talk about my straight encounters or I'm a closeted lesbian. Never that I just don't have any experience to talk about, which is a good thing I think. I can only imagine their reactions: first the amazement (once I've convinced them I actually am a virgin) and then the set ups with the perfect guy(s). Or worse, the 'I don't know anyone who you could go out with because everyone I know is a whore'.

I was totally tempted to lie last night, and was preparing myself to spew it if the floor was given to me with the expectation of an answer, but my pauses and subject changes were subtle enough to avoid the spotlight. Plus it will probably keep them guessing should they actually remember it later. I was only up to one and a half by the time they hit five...The more I hang out with them though the more I know they're going to try to 'out' me or at least get me to spill about something sexual.

I told them I 'dated' Dennis though, which may tide them over for a while. Though I'm sure it'll come back to haunt me...again only if they remember I said it. I guess that's the good thing about the involvement of alcohol. What happens in lala land, stays in lala land. So what if it's only because they've lost too many memory brain cells?

What If You Have No History?

Years ago I left home for college with the intention of trying many new things, most of which I would never think of doing while living home. Of course my status as a goody two shoes kind of prevented me from actually following through with them, the exception being the non-law breaking, health-risking ones. Like giving blood.

Being questioned by a nurse wasn't something I expected, as living the life of a sheltered little girl it didn't occur to me to think that people's blood might not be all that healthy to give. I mean, if someone wanted to give blood they must be clean right? It's not like there were drug addicts around trying to earn a cookie by offering their already paltry blood reserve.

Once the questions started though I knew what would be coming. At 17 I didn't think much of my virginal state so I smiled and answered no to every expected question...except one: "Are you pregnant?" I kind of snort laughed and said, "not unless I'm the next Virgin Mary." She didn't crack a smile. I thought it was funny. I've come to discover it's a line used by many of us virgins when we'd like to end the endless sexual history questions with a bit of self-deprecating humor. However it would seem that only the ones saying it actually think it's funny. When did we become the only ones with a sense of humor?

Two years ago I forced myself to finally make an appointment to go to the Gynecologist for the first time. Ever. I blame that irresponsibility on my parents' need to believe I was a good girl and never making me go in my teens. That being the truth aside, I still yell at my mother for it because since I've always been sexually inactive I couldn't scare myself enough into going. She scared me out of sex but not into preventative medicine. No lectures on how I'm putting my health in jeopardy necessary. It's hard enough for me to make an appointment to get my hair cut let alone make one to see the doctor. I hate the phone, I despise making appointments and I loathe having strangers touch me, even if it is in my best interest.
Vaginal Speculum, 1e/2e AD
I chose an older male doctor because I figured he had years of experience and would be desensitized to the sight of a naked woman. I never said I was logical thinker. At any rate, it made me a tad more comfortable. Just a tad. His office was small and lived in, his desk was littered with papers and plastic models of a uterus and drug paraphernalia. I did not tell him it was my first GYN exam ever, but when we got to the sexual history questions I could not lie. When I told him I was not sexually active and had never been, he paused. You may not think that's much, but when you get an OBGYN doctor to pause it's because he's surprised. In that moment I could have sworn his eyebrows raised just slightly. He closed the folder and asked me to tell the nurses up front that they should prepare the white speculum for me.

Now, because I was nervous as hell and not thinking straight, I missed the fact that it was totally inappropriate for him to ask me to do that (as well as the connection between sexual non-history and speculum request). I find it ha-larious in retrospect that I was just dumb enough to do it. And when I did, I wasn't even discreet because I didn't know what the hell the white speculum was. I marched right into the nurses station and said, "the doc said I need the white speculum!" All three of them looked up. I might as well have shouted, "hey girls, prep the virgin prod, this one's gonna be tight!"

Thank God I didn't find out that the white speculum was any different from the regular ones until he was actually examining me and explaining that it was smaller so it wouldn't hurt. I would have been mortified if I hadn't been so nervous. I think the nurse who was in the room with me felt bad because she could tell I was going through this whole, "omg I'm still a virgin and now the whole office knows it" episode. Either that or she was wondering if I was a closeted lesbian.

And so on a completely different note, the upside to this virgin business, as I know my fellow virgins will agree, is that worries about pregnancy, stds and other health risking factors due to sexual activity is not something that plagues us. In fact, sometimes it even saves us time when the doctors are trying to rule out reasons for the illnesses we do get.

Because you know as soon as I start having sex I'm going to be doing online searches for herpes and chlamydia.

Ready Point

Well...it finally happened. After all this time, waiting and wondering when the day would come, torturing myself with alternating thoughts of confidence and doubt...I finally got what I've been waiting for...a promotion!

What...did you think I meant sex? No, I didn't think so. You're too smart for that.

But for once the optomist in me gets to tell the cynic to take a flying leap. It's wonderful. Ok yes I can still complain about the fact that this company/these people has(ve) treated me with disrespect (for 3 out of the 4 years I've been employed by the greedy corporate regime), but the fact of the matter is I still earned this position based on my creative talent and my talent alone. I didn't kiss anyone's ass or constantly bother the higher ups with chatter about how great I am or with small talk for which I have no tolerance. I let my work speak for me and it feels fabulous to finally be recognized.

I know that in itself sounds pompous but I don't care. I'm proud for not giving up on myself as I have been prone to do in the past. And it's just the cherry on top that I overcame actually being held down by a boss. (Granted I use the term 'overcame' loosely as my boss became my ex-boss before I got promoted but whatever. I'm still taking credit. Side note: it's even more delicious because the VP is now aware that I was being held down.) God it's like a bad 80s movie about rising to the top...which is funny because I'm no where near the top. I've reached the place I want to be and for now...I feel a giant sense of relief. My whole life has been about what was next, what I needed to be working toward, who was keeping me from it. After I make the transition I'm actually wondering what I'll have to worry about. It's almost frightening.

My ambition is not great, I have no desire to be president or have people working for me. I just want to do what I do best and maybe get a pat on the back once in a while. This isn't to say I won't be moving on to bigger things eventually, but I've actually reached a career goal and if you couldn't tell I'm just a little awed by it.

As it turns out, the ex-boss has allegedly changed her tune about me as well. While never directly or outwardly negative towards me, her behind the scenes is coming to light. I have no contact with her anymore, but she came back to write up our reviews for the year and according to another co-worker on her level, she wrote me a rave review. My co-worker insisted that my ex-boss has turned a new leaf. I'm not so quick to imagine that's the case, my bruised ambition tends to believe she can't exactly not give me a rave review and come out looking like she doesn't have something against me.

But anyway after I let the news settle in, as well as controlled my urge to tell everyone I've ever met because it's not totally official yet, a thought passed through my mind:

Now I can start looking for a man.

Seriously. I heard it echo through my brain and then I actually laughed out loud. What an absurd thing to think. And yet I thought it. And if I'm actually honest with myself, I'd admit I meant it. Seriously.

So despite my amusement at my own roller coaster of emotions, could it be that maybe I have possibly, actually reached a potential ready point? Finally? Would it be so obvious as all that? Should I take it as a kind of sign that a few weeks ago I even wrote a song about reaching that ready point?

Do I dare dream?

Tatay's Broken Mold

When I was about four years old my mother told me I cried and cried when I found out I couldn't marry my father. Little did either of us know what a foreshadowing it would turn out to be.

I'm sure there are thousands of studies about who people tend to marry and why, but I think it's logical to say that if one grows up in a relatively happy household, they will seek partnership with someone who resembles one or both of their parents in some way. As I'm sure I've blogged (read: whined) before, it's probably obvious that I am looking for many of my father's qualities in a man. The problem with this is I don't think they make them like my father in this country. That is probably the weirdest thing I've ever said but it's true. That's not to say they don't exist, but they are awfully hard to come by. Most American men aren't taught to be sensitive or gentle. We can all accept that generalization as true, no?

But it's more than that. There is an innocence about my father that at 68 he still possesses, and it amazes me. I have yet to meet a man who even comes close to having this vulnerability about them. Of course he has his shortcomings and traditional beliefs that can be narrow minded at times, but we all do. It's what makes us who we are. I do think the human mind is capable of opening up to just about anything, especially the acceptance of our fellow human beings, but only if the burden of self-importance is overcome. For now, everything in moderation, right?

Before your educated yet perverted minds get to it (no doubt there already) I do not suffer an Elektra complex. I respect and love my father, but I don't want my mother dead nor do I actually want my father. Incest isn't really my scene. But I do wonder if in this day and age men like him exist in my generation.

This war has darkened everything. Fear is a major factor in our every day lives, at least that's what the media/war lords want us to accept for ratings/votes, and it doesn't lend a hand in allowing people their innocence. How can you believe the good in other people or in the purity of life when you feel threatened by strangers as well as those who are supposed to be your protectors? Maybe I'm fooling myself in thinking other people feel the same way, but show me a man my age who doesn't hide his fear with machismo and I'll show you our wedding picture.

But I can't really have that little faith. I'm probably just looking in the wrong places. After all, I am in NYC, the self proclaimed capitol of the world, which leads me to my next theory. Maybe I should move abroad for a while (something that has been in the back of my mind since I graduated college) both to experience a different way of life and a different...shall we say, breed? of men. (Not that I have ANY experience, proof or validation to make this gigantic sweeping judgment, I am well aware. But what do you expect from an almost 30 year old virgin with bright eyes and a suitcase of unfounded fears of men/sex/relationships?) Of course, unless I move to an African desert or a jungle in Thailand I fear the working for a living will cage me in the same type of life I live now. Which is not to say is bad, it's just...not different.

And let's not forget the spark, shall we?

Have I mentioned one of the things I have in common with my father, oddly enough, is my occasional naiveté?

Conversations With Mom

QV: can you believe im almost 30?
Mom: not really. youre still a kid to me
QV: i'm still a kid to ME. you got yourself a peter pan in me
Mom: right hahahahaha
QV: every single astrology both western and chinese say independent, loner, etc etc
Mom: cant have kids that way
QV: your fault. shoulda had me in 76 in april or something
Mom: oh well, no grandkids for me
QV: oh stop it. maybe if you said nice things about boys everyone once in a while....
Mom: i like D how about that
QV: ha! little late for that. why didnt you encourage me in highschool?
Mom: i did. you said one of your friends liked him and you would not get in the way blah blah blah. always a goody two shoes

Apparently I was born a goody two shoes. My mother had 12 marriage proposals and had broken 12 hearts by the time she met and married my father (at 20).

8 Seconds

I went out with some family friends yesterday who I haven't seen in a long while. As I was late, they had all gone around filling each other in on their lives by the time I arrived. I was expected to spill the moment I sat down. My favorite question was first.

"So are you seeing anyone?"

"Ummm, no."

Long, pregnant pause during which all eyes were on me. Can we say AWKWARD? I couldn't figure out what to say next and apparently no one else could either. Granted it was probably only about 8 seconds, but 8 seconds of complete silence during any conversation let alone that one is kind of weird.

I know I'm making too much of it, but it was just odd that it happened when it did (ie, after the first question asked) rather than ten minutes into the conversation when a lull would be normal. Like that was the only thing they were really interested in knowing about me.

HAhhahaha! So ridiculous.

I need to come up with a follow up response...keep the conversation moving. Perhaps, "and I've never had sex," would work?

"To Do Or Not To Do"

"Or Online Dating And Why I'm Still Not Sure How I Feel About It. Aside From Scared. Because It Still Involves Human Interaction At Some Point."

Tap tap tap tap...I don't know. I'm not even sure how to begin. Ultimately I know whatever I say will make me look foolish, but pretty much every entry in this blog does that so I guess I shouldn't be worried about this one.

Here's the thing...if I'm outrageously picky in the real world, imagine what I'd be like in cyber space? A couple of my friends are proponents of online dating and have encouraged me in the past to sign up. One said at the very least it'll help my ego. I've scanned a few of them but the whole thing just makes me nervous. You know the whole distrust issue I harbor? It flares up a little when dealing with anonymous online spaces where the potential for people to lie outweighs their self-control, or at the very least misrepresent themselves based on what they'd like to be rather than what they are. (I know I know, everyone does this sometimes. I realize not everyone is out to take advantage of other people...but some of them are. Sometimes I think maybe I'm just nervous I'm one of the ones who, despite all my suspicions, is still naive enough in some ways to be taken.)

But theoretically speaking, let's say I'm able to get past that and find someone's entry that I believe is honest and straightforward. We start emailing, I get to like him (as he presents himself in writing- because I know that if say, someone like Fred :) met me in person he'd be surprised at how different I am...or rather, how much easier it is to read me, than listen to me stutter through my nervousness), we decide to meet, I feel zero chemistry and have to either give him the 'let's just be friends' or stop communication altogether. (Putting the horse before the cart much? Obviously the reverse is possible too, but I'd rather just assume not so I can hide behind it. How's that for honest?) It would just make me feel worse than if I had met him through a friend and didn't do the emailing because we would have already gotten to know each other. God writing that out loud makes me realize how utterly ridiculous it is...and yet, can't rid myself of it.

Or perhaps I'm making excuses because I want things to happen naturally. And yet, can't make myself do anything to get that ball rolling either.

How can you stand someone who won't help herself out?

Why are you still reading this?

Maybe one of these days I'll grow a set and at least sign up, see what happens. At the very least it'll give me something else to talk about (along with a potential ego boost?) Why is it that I can take risks with my life, but I can't take any in it?

Jump off a cliff? Done it. Swim in dangerous waters? Done it. Step in front of a speeding bus? Done it. Quit my career track? Done it. Go out on a date? eeeeeeeeee! Scary!

I'm Done

Ok that is it. That is IT. I've had it. I'm done with my subconscious. I'm done with my consciousness. I am so over myself it's not even funny. When do I get to look back and laugh already?

Here's the latest offering from the depths of my horribly unfunny mind:

First of all, I'm in this strange house where every room is dedicated to some kind of sex play. Um...I don't even know how that's possible considering the breadth of my exposure.

Second of all, I'm half naked in one of these rooms with a guy (who I of course don't know and of course can't remember his face) who is also half naked.

Good start to a dream if one is to be had, no?

So we're making out, great, great, great...suddenly he rolls over and turns on the TV. Are you ready for this? It's wrestling. Incredibly this doesn't deter me. I throw myself across him and say, "You know, this isn't really turning me on."

He says, "Yeah, me either," and continues to watch.

Again, incredibly, I still try apparently thinking the direct approach has a chance in hell of working.

"I really want to have sex with you."

He sighs. He actually sighs and says, "Oh ok" like I'm putting him out.

He gets up to turn out the light and I wake up. Unfulfilled. Again.

Seriously? Someone just put me out of my misery.

Queen Vee Fugue (Reprise)

"Won't you help me rise up,
Touch my face and watch me try to breathe again
Would you let me do this,
Burn down the final wall
Overcome me, baby...
All I'm asking is to be alive
For once"
-Vienna Teng

This song almost brings tears to my eyes every time I hear it. I wonder if she felt the same self-inflicted loneliness I feel sometimes...the way I interpret it to be from these lyrics anyway. Granted no two people can feel the exact same kind of pain, or any emotion really, but I guess it's that exact relativity that keeps us connected. We just need to know there are others out there experiencing something similar. At least I do. Perhaps in some odd, irrational way it makes me feel less alone.

I kept a journal of sorts in college which I occasionally still wrote in until I started this blog. I was not very disciplined and wrote in it only when I was feeling overwhelmed, usually with negative emotions. In re-reading some if it, I can't believe how poorly I thought of myself and also how quickly I forgot those moments that seem to have helped shaped my psyche. Remembering how I acted then you would never have thought I was such an anguished young adult...anyone who has known me since then remembers me as happy go lucky, with the exception of the handful of close friends I opened up to at one point or another. I suppose I showed more of my dark side the older I got, but even then most people would still remember me as having a smile on my face. At any rate I have definitely grown since filling those pages with self-hatred and pity, but one theme seems to have remained to this day...my insecurities about relationships, sex and men. Surprise.

If you'll permit me the pretension of actually quoting my 21 year old self:

"...I know that I am aching to love someone and scared to death I won't let myself. I know what others tell me. I'm inclined to ignore or at least disbelieve. I waver too much. I have no loyalty to myself..."

(That first thought could have been said by me yesterday. [With the addendum of not letting anyone love me either.] In fact, I've probably written it in this blog 30 times.) Before everything went down with Jean, that last statement summed up my existence perfectly. Little did I know when I wrote those words how long I had and would let that dormant loyalty lie. I learned the concept of self-preservation after I finally forgave myself for letting her destroy me.

I was always so hard on myself both in terms of school work, which later turned into finding a way to start a career and personally, in terms of how I related to my friends, my family, the opposite sex and lastly my own expectations of myself. I'm starting to think that because I couldn't seem to live up to what I expected I should be, I was just constantly disappointed in the failure I thought I was becoming. (I loathe to admit this also may still be a weakness, it's just that my expections of myself have changed into something less concrete and so harder to potentially achieve.) And what I expected I should be was no doubt informed by my peers, my elders and the bloodiest last but not least mainstream. It seems like such a cop out to say that, but honestly, where else would I have gotten the idea that above all else I should be on my way to being happily married or at least experiencing a sexually satisfying relationship by the time I graduated college? (Aside from my mother who oddly enough expected it [the marriage that is] of me despite feeding me the exact opposite ideas throughout my formative years...) Every pop culture outlet hinted at it at the very least.

What's a girl to do when every magazine aimed at her demographic is filled with sex quizes and tips on how to please your man?

She turns to other more fulfilling magazines when she's finally informed enough to seek them out. Wish I had met some of the strong, independent female friends I have now sooner. The experience of joining the real world would have been so much more pleasant than the one I had: trying to find nourishment in a poisonous female friendship and then figuring out how to extinguish it while maintaining my sense of self. God it's all so dramatic I should have won an Oscar.

What was my point?

Oh right, that after all the growing and changing I've done in my life, this one issue remains stuck to the roof of my mouth, and no amount of brushing, flossing, or gargling can shake it loose. Why is that? (Aside from the obvious, Queen Vee you have issues, this is now public, albeit anonymous, information.)

Is it that people in general aren't willing to try to get to know people who have walls built around them? I can understand that. It takes a lot of energy and why should you bother if that person never lets them down?

Or is it really simply that I just haven't met anyone I'm willing to let them down for?

Perhaps I need someone to overcome me so I don't have the chance to even think about it. There's got to be a way in...I can't be guarded all the time.

Can I?

P.S. That said, I totally need to have sex with someone before I literally drive myself crazy. For whatever reason I cannot stop thinking about it lately. Maybe I've been watching too much tv...gadam pop culture.

A New Year Of Old Assumptions

A lot of people think I'm a lesbian...sooner or later. I can only guess why, maybe the way I dress or the music I listen to, but I think it more or less ends up being the fact that I never talk about men. Or more precisely, about men I date/see/sleep with. The only time this bothers me is when I get all feminist and think why does the absence of men have to determine my sexuality? Why isn't my sexuality determined by the fact that I don't talk about women?

I was working with someone yesterday I only see occasionally, and I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm a lesbian. Either that or he's just one of those guys that says things without thinking them through and then realizes too late...oh yeah, that would be all of them. Anyway, so I told him that I was excited because I may have the chance to meet this actress I like, who happens to have a large lesbian following. First he asked if she was a lesbian. I said I didn't know and then he made a comment about maybe my company was sending me to meet her to set us up. It was such a weird, off-handed thing to say and I was completely taken off guard. So as per usual I just didn't say anything. Heh. Not that I should have anyway being as a) none of his business and b) um...it's a place of business and we're at work...

At the beginning of every year I think to myself, ok this is the year you're going to stop being an ass and you're going to meet someone. This year is no different. I forced myself to attend a New Years party where I'd only know a few people, so that I could meet new people...and possibly scan for guys I might like. I was proud of myself for talking to strangers (for longer than a 2 second hello) but didn't meet anyone I took a liking to, except of course the one tall guy with dark hair and a accent (see #36) who was married. Damn.

I'm just not quite sure to do with myself anymore. Actually, I probably never was.

The Holiday List

Pros
I didn't feel like crying once the entire time.

Cons
...
Yeah, the pros pretty much make the cons moot.

This fact did not, however, exempt the holiday from family drama. And not that I cry every holiday because I don't...'cept for the last like 3 in a row. I'm just one of the many who get that blue kind of feeling during the supposed most wonderful time of the year. Mostly because seeing the family makes me really miss them, which leads to that wonderful walk down 'why am I still alone?' lane, which brings me to 'let's cry about it since it's such a great way to solve the problem'.

Back to the drama. There is an unspoken tension between my mother and brother, though both try to deny it with a pretend resignation that this is just how things are. It has gotten worse over the last couple years, but this is the first year I actually found myself in the middle of it. I guess because both sides could talk to me I was looked to as a kind of mediator.

Needless to say it is not a job I wanted nor actually did very well. In fact, I sucked at it. I didn't make anything worse, I just kind of refused to participate. (Some might say that may have made it worse...who knows?) I suppose the fact that it's all unspoken made it pretty easy, but still. I can barely handle the drama in my own damn head, let alone take on theirs.

At first I sided with my mother as some of the inconsiderate things he's done to her, he's also done to me. But he's my brother and I've accepted his sometimes poor etiquette as part of his character. I know he loves me despite his lack of communication. After a short but telling heart to heart with him though, I realize mom's not all in the right. They both have points and reasons for acting the way they do, but they're both so stubborn they won't ever actually speak about it to try to reach a compromise. Instead they both fill my ears with how they've accepted the fact that they lead extremely different, busy lives without time to offer one another.

It makes me incredibly sad. Of all people I know that separate lives feeling and how you sometimes have to put up that wall to protect yourself, but between family? Odd now that I told you I didn't feel like crying this season huh? Maybe it's because I never had time to concentrate on my own stupid drama for once...

Anyway, I started thinking more and more about my mother's influence over me, and how I thought I had some sort of a handle on it. Turns out I'm not as aware as I thought I was. Regarding family, and when/if I have my own, now I have to think about how every move I make will be interpreted. She has expectations that after watching my brother I'm afraid I won't meet. They are higher for me because I'm her daughter. Perhaps I've always known this and it's just another reason why I've avoided the whole issue of getting involved with someone. Christmas at his parent's house? She might never speak to me again.

Could I really be that much of a wet rag?

On a seemingly irrelevant note, I like to read Chinese astrology. It is something my mom introduced to me. The day to day stuff is usually ridiculous, but the long term forecasts and character traits seem to be on the mark more often than not. I found a book that had combination Chinese/Western sign readings and everything I read about my particulars was accurate. Down to the last line:

"This mixture of charming and freedom loving signs often marries late in life, if ever."

I read it outloud for my mother to hear. Loudly.