Random Acts of Awesome

Why am I nervous. Waiting for a date I haven't met before, and I've done this a thousand times. Just not in the past couple of months. I've been dating people I know for the past couple of months, and I've forgotten what this feels like. So, what does it feel like? Like the first day of school. Nerve wracking, exciting, full of possibilities, not all of them pleasant. The chance of this being the one time you're incapable of carrying on a pleasant conversation with a stranger. This being the (admittedly not first) time you're not attracted to this person, or worse, they're not attracted to you. The chance that they're actually the serial killer taxi driver you dreamt about last night... I've never really not enjoyed a date. I can enjoy a date that most people are desperate to escape from, because I don't go into it with the expectation that it will be amazing, that I will find THE ONE (There can be only one, McCloud). I go into it with the ex

I had an interesting epiphany the other night, thanks to a 2am conversation over coffee and a cigar with a lover. We were talking about words, and the power they have to turn him on. How they're said (or whispered), what they mean... the whole shebang. He likes words. I, however, like actions. Words tend to make me giggle, uncomfortable, and squirmy. I haven't had many lovers who can turn me on with nothing but words. Especially since I'm not the most patient sort. If what you're saying sounds good, it's going to feel even better. So lets get down to feelin, k? But he has an intensely personal, inventive, awesome fantasy life. He can live in his head for long periods of time, emerging to gulp social interactions down, then submerging again. And he's been slowly (very slowly) teaching me to enjoy that realm of fantasy. It's funny. I actually have an extremely vivid imagination. I can sit on a bus or in a coffee shop and entertain myself for HOURS, n

I love this time of year, so much. It makes me sparky, creative, horny, and happy. Basically, it turns me back into me. Summer does weird things to me. Makes me feel guilty and rushed, like I'm always not doing what I'm supposed to be doing. Since I'm pretty sure what I'm supposed to be doing during Summer is having fun, this is a really odd thing. But autumn. Autumn feels like coming home after a long day, kicking off your shoes, pouring yourself a glass of scotch, and staring at the fire that magically created itself in your awesome stone fireplace. There's a sense of relaxation earned. Which is hilarious, because I'm sitting on my couch typing in my blog, with a warm cup of coffee and surrounded by fuzzy cats, after having gotten NOTHING accomplished. It's early yet. I comfort myself with the knowledge that I still have hours left to get started on laundry, clean my kitchen, empty the litter boxes, decorate my bedroom, put up my new prints, make sushi r

I start small. I go from completely withdrawn to a conversation. Nothing too deep. Just a conversation. A reconnection. A reminder of what it's like to be a part of the human race. And then I move my way up, just a tiny bit. A conversation again, but this time one about your family, their life, his pain. A deeper connection, one that makes it harder to pretend that I'm alone. I can scurry back into my hole at this point if I chose. I don't have to let that conversation be anything other than a wave, a singularity. But at this point, if I'm making the effort, I'm generally committed. I WANT to touch again, to feel connected again. And with that wanting comes the drawing. People start seeing me again. I notice laughter at my jokes, commiserating with my stories, interest in my life. This was lacking before, for that period of time where I'd cut the rope connecting me to you. With the thread of open need I throw across the chasm, I draw you, all of you, to me. Bit

I love clicking on the "Next Blog" button in blogger. Just going through and randomly reading random shit (I kept wanting to type that out as ramdom...), you see some seriously interesting things. In the course of 3 clicks, I read a mommy blog about a woman with 2 kids and a husband. A woman I would not get along with, judgmental and traditional, but who loves her kids and her life. She wrote nothing about her husband, which makes me wonder. But it was awesome to be able to peak through the windows into her living room, to watch her interact with her kids without having to sit there and squirm uncomfortably as you bite your tongue on the things you'd tell her if she was your friend, like giving a child who hates soccer a break. Next up was a storm chasers blog. BEAUTIFUL pictures. Just... so amazingly awesome in the truest sense of the word. And this random blog helped remind me that it's ok to want what I want. It's ok to need to travel, to thrive on not knowing

This is from an old piece I wrote for GeekaCheekas a goodly while ago. But I still love it. I've always loved the idea of nerds. I've been attracted to them since I was a young teenager. Especially onscreen. They were the only fictitious characters I can remember being attracted to as a young'un. Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, Jeff Goldblum in the Fly, Sam Neil in Jurassic Park, Matthew Broderick in War Games. MmmMmmMmmmmm. Yummy. As a consequence, when I got to be a teenager, the people I developed crushes on were all nerds. Brian, the web footed D&D nerd who introduced me to LARPs; Chris, the drugged out librarian boy I stalked amongst the shelves for two years; David, the HOT AS FUCK 6ft tall Taiwanese man who was the network engineer at my first computer job and who courted me with Badtz-Maru dolls; Mark, the beautiful red headed AutoCAD engineer who made my 17 year old heart dream of marriage and babies; Michael, the interior designer who was secre

I have a lot of little fears. Ridiculous little fears that you can tell yourself don't make any sense, comfort yourself with the knowledge that the likelihood of them ever coming true is minute. Of course, minute isn't 0%, and THAT knowledge still makes it hard to walk through a yard at night, the moon shining and the monsters waiting in the deep shadows. I mean, I most likely won't get dragged into the darkness by a werewolf. But I MIGHT get dragged into the darkness by a serial killer. But still. Those fears are tenable. If I'm gonna get killed by a serial killer or werewolf, there's not much I can do about it. That's comforting into and of itself. Yeah, it would suck, but what are you gonna do? Run? Pfft. Yeah, not with these bags of sand attached to the front of me. Fight? Oh, most definitely. I'll be fighting like a rabid dog. But it's not gonna do me much good. No, most of the fears I have are about things that are out of my control, and I don'