Crusifer will be home soon. Things have been going pretty smoothly again. I am pleased in general with him these past few days, though he’s been waking me up earlier than I like, which has been putting some added strain on me. I woke up with a sore and itchy throat and decided it was best I spend the day in bed. I only got up to paint for a little while and to eat some cereal. Other than that I read for the largest portion of the day, and slept for the second largest portion of the day. My throat feels fine now, and I’m wide awake of course. Unfortunately Crusifer has had a long day and he is exhausted. When he gets home he probably won’t want to do much of anything.
I’ll probably just read a bit more after he’s asleep tonight.
So I bought this five-disc audio program by Mort Fertel for $70. It promises to fix any marriage (or any relationship). The basic concept is that instead of working on your communication skills and problem solving skills, you should instead work on your love. I listened to disc one yesterday, and I was impressed by the variety of concepts brought up that I had not thought about before.
How come your partner has flaws that didn’t notice when you first met? How come everyone else noticed those faults, but not you? Mort says that this is because your love was fresh and it was perfect. You didn’t change, your partner didn’t change, but your love did. That is one of many points that he makes and explains. I could re-explain them in my own words here, but that would be a lot of typing, and if you really want to know, buy it for yourself. Or, if you’re cheap, keep reading my journal and I’m sure over the next few months I’ll quote him enough that you’ll get a good idea of everything he has to say.
I’m a little ways into listening to the second CD when he tells me to pause the CD and make a list of everything I know about myself. What is my financial situation? What do I look like? If I were in a movie, who would I be? What are good characteristics to describe myself? Am I warm and gracious or am I cold and aloof? Well, I could never turn down a fun exercise like writing about myself, could I?
I’m slender, though I didn’t used to be. I lost thirty pounds since I changed my diet. I care a lot about my health and about what I eat. Because of this I’m hard to have over for dinner because no one knows what to make for me. I’m hard to take out to dinner because I question the waitress about what is in everything and think twice as long as everyone else about what to order.
My body is nothing special, it only seems like it among the masses of people who are fat, unhealthy, old, or who have attitudes so bad you can’t get past what they say long enough to find them attractive. My hair is long, my lips are full, my eyes are blue, my body is proportionate and “normal” with one breast slightly larger than the other. My feet are small, my skin is very pale, my neck is fairly long. If I were a man I’d love my collar bones. Hell, if I was anyone other than me I’d love my collar bones.
My taste is rather confused. For the most part, I like “white culture” which consists of neat orderly houses, mowed lawns, educated families and friends, book clubs, and nice little family vacations organized by mom. I take a good heap of the culture I prefer from my mom, which would be considered “old fashioned” in which I prefer to set-up of the stay-at-home wife and mom who cooks, cleans, takes care of the children and attends to her hobbies and her children’s hobbies and even her husband’s hobbies. I consider raising children more worth while than having a job, and taking care of the house more important than making money. What to do with the money if your house is a wreck or if you have no time to spend it on hobbies you enjoy? My highest cultural value would probably be art, but I have to put “white culture” or perhaps better put as “suburb culture” before art because I like want to my art to be done while sober, and not done on the side of a building. I also have to put “stay-at-home-mom” ethic first because I want to be artistic with my family not at some job.
What do I mean by artistic culture? I mean that I like artistic furniture, and artistic Christmas full of fancy wrapping papers and creative styles of wrapping them. I like spending my spare time creating, creating, creating and creating! I find no pleasure in destroying things.
Contrary to my first three “cultures” I like certain aspects of “black culture.” It’s hard to put my finger on why sometimes, because it’s certainly not the “bad boy” syndrome. I like the flow. I don’t like the speech. I don’t like the rap. I don’t like the clothing. I don’t like the “walk.” And the appearance isn’t any better or worse than white guys really. Well, yes it is. White boys have no lips, have pink dicks, and too hairy, and in general don’t smell sexy. White boys don’t have a chance without spiked hair and a punk clothes. Black guys don’t have a chance unless they “act white” more or less.
I don’t like how uptight white guys are. Black guys are more laid back. I like that. They tend to look more confident. They tend to be more passionate in bed, and don’t say things that make you feel awkward. Black guys tend to smell a way that turns me on. (As an aside, I once walked into a Tops on the east side of Buffalo – where everyone is black – and I swear the smell made me wet. I had never experienced that before, and was astounded. Pheromones are a bitch.)
So if you count “goth” as part of my artistic culture, which I do, then those make up my four cultures that rather sum me up.
If I was a character in a movie... The first character I thought of was Misa from Death Note. She’s devoted, goth-looking but rather normal-acting, she’s sexy, she’s fun to hang out with, she’s determined, she’s a commitment junkie and so forth. If you consider the way anime exaggerate certain aspects of the body and of human behavior and other such things, then you could see her as an anime version of myself which exaggerates my love-sick, sexual and punk-looking features. They give her a rather flimsy character besides these attributes, but that’s also classic for an anime chick.
If I would sum myself up to someone else from an outsiders point of view, I might say that I was an organic-eating, punk-looking, nigga-dating/loving/fucking, intelligent-speaking, adaptable artistic writer. Or rather, if I was an outsider, I’d say I was a hermit who needed to get a life. I’d say the rest of those things if I knew me, which I rather tend to think that I do.
I care about knowing myself. That’s very important to me. When I was thirteen I realized over and over again that I didn’t like or understand my own actions. I didn’t want to hurt Jeremy, but I kept flirting with other guys anyway. I liked to be hit during sex, to my face. I wanted to party, but I didn’t want to be around people who partied. It took a lot of sorting out, and years of studying myself to even say with some surety in my voice what I really want out of life. And being that I’m still only nineteen, I’m sure it will change a lot. But at least now I know who I am at this moment so I can watch and study the changes in myself.
Sadomasochism was very enthralling for me because I didn’t like myself. I wanted punishment. It made me feel like I was paying for everything I did wrong. I liked feeling relieved of my guilt. I liked not having control. As a control-freak, letting go of control can be very intoxicating. I don’t feel guilty about my actions anymore. I don’t think I’m a freak of nature anymore. Therefore, that sort of thing hasn’t really appealed to me the way it did for at least a year. Not that my fantasies have changed, but they don’t work like they used to. Nothing sexual is like it was two years ago. Not a damn thing.
I kiss differently, and I actually enjoy kissing like never used to. Sex is an affection outlet for me, and it never used to be. I can control my orgasms to an almost satisfying degree during sex. Positions I used to love now hurt, and positions I didn’t use to prefer now seem better. Having sex on my period for some inexplicable reason now hurts. (Speak of the devil who showed her bloody face only about an hour ago.)
I love writing. Writing is very important to me, especially when I’m upset.
Art is something I enjoy a great deal, but it’s not as important to me as my writing. Art always, always, always requires inspiration for me. I need a muse. I need to want to draw badly to be able to draw something I really like. Whereas writing is smooth, and carefree. Sure, when I feel inspired my writing is more beautiful, and more interesting, but when it’s not I still find it to be a exercise I enjoy and benefit from.
Two pages filled already? Half-an-hour of writing; not bad. I could probably fill another ten. I’m bi-sexual. I’m into playing board games and computer games. I enjoy dancing. I like music I can dance to and not much else. I think I’ve covered the important stuff anyway.
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