Thursday, November 27, 2008

A provacative dream

Last night I dreamed I was a combination of myself, and "Fergie" from the Black Eyed Peas. I was an actor in a film, and I was fired, for a small thing, but a reasonable thing considering the scale of the film. In the dream I realized that acting is what I really wanted to do, it was where I was meant to be.

Now stop fucking laughing at me! When I say "acting is where I was meant to be" it doesn't mean "I was meant to be a star" I think my dream was about the creative part of me that needs desperately to be let out, I have an artistic mind, and I am quite talented at music (pitch & a pretty voice [to my ear anyway.]) I do write pieces of songs, and come up with art "installations" (no, don't ask me about the one with the latex dildos with faces on them.) I have this in me, why hasn't it come out?

That's easy. When my mom died, and dad was drinking, it was all survival for me. Art represented my dad, the guy who couldn't keep it together, I looked at the men in suits or polo shirts & khakis, thinking "those guys seem to have it together, I need to be like them." Let's face it- accounting offers security, medical careers offer security, singing and drawing don't.

Also, when my brain is stimulated, especially when I was younger, my mind would go crazy. If I read an article about astronomy that interested me, I would think of how much there is to know about space and the universe, and I would think I should learn about all of that stuff, and I would get so overwhelmed that once I started an interesting article I ought to put it down.

Music is the perfect example of me going nutso. The chances of me being a gifted astronomer would be small. I am smart, but not as smart as the people who study that regularly. Much of it would go over my head. But I was raised with music and art all around me. My brain is structured for music and arts, so if I put in the time, I could actually be good! I am not saying I would ever perform in front of strangers, but to just create some music that I like, and to sing and play guitar with my family, perhaps keeping the tradition going, could actually happen.

I just saw the movie "Once" tonight, which is what sparked my memory of the dream. The process of the two of them collaborating made me want to stand up and pace. There is so much in life I need to do! I guess now that the depression has lifted, I am back to the old, anxious girl, overwhelmed by her potential, so remaining instead on her bed, with her computer, reading Dlisted.

And the acting dream brings up memories so far back I barely remembered them. When I was young I put on shows. I loved reciting plays from textbooks on tape recorders. I put on impromptou plays, and I remember deciding one day in my elementary school yard that I would put on a show of the Wizard of Oz. The planning lasted 2 days at least. I was into it. It was going to happen.

I think Jr. High, coincidentally when my dad started drinking, is when the wind left my sails. The teasing finally got through, self-conciousness prevailed. The girl who was a leader and a performer learned to hold her head down. They teased me in elementary, but that didn't stop me I guess. I guess what stopped me was no longer having the ultimate ally, a parent, cheering me on.

Writing this brings me back there to that apartment when he started drinking. It was such an innocent time for me. The time I was still trusting, still- "me." The time when I still believed some of my life would be the same. I had no idea what the years ahead of me would be like. I had no idea that the person I was would dizzolve. I had no idea that Jr high, & high school would be all about fear, terror really. I saw my life go from a decent one, and for things to slip away, and get progressively worse. My innocent mind could only guess that it would only get worse, and that I was doomed to a life of torture and pain. I am so glad suicide didn't enter my mind until I was 18.

I guess that is just why these feelings are popping up now. As I am on the path of getting healthier and healthier, I have to re-learn who I actually am. I am not a yuppie. The yuppie goal was not one I chose because it fit me. I chose it out of fear that there was no other path for my life that could keep me safe. Now that I know I am safe and responsible, I can use some of my time to explore art more, which can free this creativity which is probably causing me anxiety, because I won't set it free.

It's time to stop being so damn "safe."

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Explain, please.

Does somebody want to tell me why I am looking at Craigslist "missed connections" when I have been in bed with the flu the last 3 days?

Sunday, November 09, 2008

The best new weight loss plan: the flu

I was supposed to be at work today, instead I laid in bed, unable to breathe, and hardly sleeping. I went to Jane's house with her 3 year old daughter and 9 month old twins, and my Carrie's 6 month old. It was so much fun! I remember 2 years ago when they told me they were pregant at the same time. I had just broken up with Charles and the news couldn't have brought me down more, but this time it was just fun.

Well we spent the night at Jane's house, but when I woke up I didn't feel well at all. I was supposed to go to a cheesy jewelry party, but I wanted to go because it was with old friends I havent seen for ages. But I couldn't even stay awake in the car ride home! (no, I wasn't driving) And when I got home I was in bed until, well, I am still in bed.

Anyhoo, I lost 2 pounds from not eating anything! yay

Friday, November 07, 2008

Di Crabtree, back in the gutter in record time

When depression reared its ugly head a week or so ago, I felt a renewed spirit to write, and wondered if "Diana Crabtree" would return to it's mental health oriented roots, but overnight, I have gone from a post about love, and loneliness, back to the theme that dominated "Diana Crabtree" for so many years- ACTION!

I got bangs, and I think I look damn cute. Its time for change America! I am happy to say I am verified "Lice Free" from my infestation from the children's home in India (did I ever write that story on here?) and that is quite a relief. After my haircut I went to some airline friends' house, and had drinks and played board games. Two male pilots were there, a man from New Zealand (you know how I am a sucker for accents) and a sort of douchebaggy, but nice pilot I have flown with before.

I ended up drinking an entire bottle of wine. How did I do that? Wine is weird. I drink it, but don't notice I am getting drunk until I am already drunk. Even then I can't tell as much. Well I came on to this kiwi pilot like gangbusters. He was Buddhist and left wing, but kind of condecending about it. I was excited to meet a Buddhist in my city, because I want to find a sangha, but he proceeded to explain Buddhism and the world to me, which was annoying and boring, but I didn't care, because I would have made out with him even if he was a gun enthusiast, the way I saw it, if he passes, I will go for the douchebag, who I assumed was a sure thing, and, he was.

We were supposed to just make out, but he took all his clothes off in like, zero to sixty in 4.2 seconds, and eventually I obliged his silly hopes. There was no sex, but things were fully inappropriate, and I feel just fine about it. I am hurting. I feel lonely in my life right now, and having my childhood crush be so flirtatious and unavailable was really hard for me to deal with. I just felt like I deserved a good makeout session. Maybe I do deserve sex (yes I do) but not in my friends' living room.

The douchebag was the perfect victim for my mojo-recharging lust. He is not an actual douchebag, he is a dork, really. He is a nice guy, and yet not very crushable. My only regret is he is Italian, yet has removed all the hair from his chest and privates. What the hell is up with that? My lust for the Mediteranian, Middle Eastern & South Asian men is not for their abnoxious patriarchy, it is for their lucious dark chest and arm hair. The room was dark anyway, but I made sure to mock him for it anyway.

So now I am home. I left the apartment at 6AM. It started snowing and visibility was so bad I pulled into a community college parking lot and took a nap. I am glad I left, I was not sleeping well, and it just feels right to leave the scene of the crime. I feel confident that he will be a gentleman about it and not tell anyone. Again, he is only douchebaggy by appearance, inside he is a nice, but goofy guy. I am quite grateful for the favor of letting me take out my sexual frustration on him, I am sure it was quite the sacrifice.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Its called a crush because it hurts

I couldn't write this yesterday, yesterday wasn't about me, it was about Obama. What a wonderful day. My heart wasn't heavy yesterday, but it is now.

When I was a child, there was a boy named Daniel Schneider. He was a nice boy, friend of a friend, younger brother of my friend's big brother. Sort of in the periphery of my childhood life. I had a childish sort of crush on him, not like I wrote "Diana Schneider" on my notebooks, I just noticed him, and he became sort of a template in my mind, a nice, smart, good boy.

I went to a different Jr. High than him, then we went to the same high school. He symbolized, a bit to me, the old world I lived in before my mom died, while I was still innocent, and relatively happy. When I went to Jr. High my grades slipped, I became a "bad" girl, and boys like Dan seemed so distant to me. They would never like me. Different social classes. He was a "smart" boy, I was "stupid" (too anxious to focus on a schoolbook) and that was that. I remember once talking to him, and asking about Bosnia. Weird. He didn't remember me from high school apparently, but I did not bring that memory up, because I am embarrassed to have been so casual in talking about Bosnia, where people suffered so much.

So I had added him as a friend on facebook months ago, and of course I facebook stalked him a bit, looking at his pics, seeing how he looks now, and left it at that. He would regularly update his status, but thats all the "communication" that took place. Well one day he left a comment on a status update saying "I know why this rep is so scary looking, her face doesn't move" He mentioned he would be doing door knocking for her competitor, and I mentioned he should call me when a group does that, because the Dem. office never called me, and I have offered to volunteer TONS.

He did contact me, and he suggested we carpool. I was nervous, but the second I got in the car it was just warm and friendly. It was just me and him, and everything was calm and relaxed immediately. It started with a touch on the arm, which is a nice way for people to connect, but it didn't take long for me to sense that the attraction I felt was mutual, which I took as quite a compliment. We went to the office and got our instructions, and went out into the field to start knocking on doors.

We spent 5 hours together, talking, laughing, it was great! Basically it was like an awesome date. But you see, this was no date. He is married. He has a young son, and a baby on the way. I'm not a bad person, I know it means he is off limits, but the crush was deep. To make it worse, he touched me...a lot. He touched my arm, he let his arm rest against mine. He touched my knee, he put his hand on mine, he even put his arm around me! I was fully aware that this was inappropriate, but my dream boy- no, not just my dream boy, the boy who became the template of what sort of image I would like a boy to be like, was touching me! I loved it! I did try to subtly move away, like by talking with my hands so he wasnt touching me anymore, but I am sure I sent non-verbal cues back to him. I couldn't get myself to say out loud "um, you are touching me an awful lot."

The lamest time was at a gas station, where there was some sort of "get the gasoline smell off your hands goo" that he put on his hands. It smelled like wintergreen, and I said it smelled good, like wint-o-green lifesavers. He got out of the car, got some of the goo, and rubbed it on my hands. Quite transparent. I told him how when you bite a wintergreen lifesaver in the dark it sparks, and he said something like "we can check it out..." and I am like ", I have seen that before, you should show your son that." *eyes rolling*

At the end we got some lunch, and we chatted. I learned that Mr. perfect's dad was an alcoholic too. It goes to show you cant judge a book by its cover. He drove me back to my car, and fortunately, he did not seem to want to linger for long after. I am glad. I had thought about it in my head, and actually thought "if he kisses me I will let him, THEN I will tell him it's not right, and then stop. How much worse is the actual kiss than the attempt? Not much." I feel guilty for the thought, though I realize it did NOT happen, and so I don't know what I would actually do if it did.

I drove straight home, and made my decision between, and the toy. I grabbed my credit card, and went out and got myself a new boyfriend. I named him Daniel. Daniel is not that great in bed, unfortunately. But, I already committed, I can't return him after I used him!

Fortunately he hasn't written the normal follow up "yeah Obama won! Thanks to us, go team!" he is ignoring me and I am ignoring him. Maybe he also realized how inappropriate things were. But the problem is, just because my brain knows it's good we aren't speaking, my heart doesn't get it. All my heart can understand is I spent the day with a boy I like, and he liked me. My heart feels pain to know I can't talk to him, see him again. It feels like another breakup.

I am also sick and fucking tired of this pattern of "clicking" or whatever with married and attached guys. Just a week or two ago I had this captain who looked like Tobie Maguire. I thought something was there, then "zing" I learn he is engaged. Then there is my beloved Dutch pilot. He is 47 and I totally have the hots for him. We sat and chatted, and the chemistry is unmistakeable. One of the things we chatted about is the daughter he is soon to adopt, as soon as the paperwork is finished. Then howabout the men I knew before they were married? Marathon Man and I cant remember the name I invented for him, but the bicycle man (who keeps inviting me to ride on his motorcycle- um, awkward!)

I don't want someone elses man! I can't even have a fantasy about them, because there is always a hurt woman, sometimes with a child, in the way of my turn-on. I chatted with a friend (another attached crush) who pointed out it could be fear of commitment. But you know what? It's not! I really want to find a partner, and its not working! My heart can only take so much! Mike and Jimmy were such a one, two punch, that I can't fathom putting myself out there again, and then we have these 2 guys, the captain & Dan, sending me the signals, making me feel brave enough to come forward, but I cant answer those signals! They are off limits. Well I am sick of off limits men!!!

Hmm, maybe it is not ME thats attracting them, its me thats attracted TO them, because they arent trying to get me, so I like them. Isn't that why women like gay guys so much? I don't know. If I am sitting and thinking about this so much, maybe it is time to go looking for someone. I dont know. Until then, I have my new friend who is mine and mine alone.

...oh, and to add to the list of attached men...Jackass Toronto Musician who put my name in a song. We arent talking now because he is a Jackass, and I think he is probably single now, (because he is a jackass) but for ages he has flirted with me, even though he had a girlfriend, and they had an "arrangement" good for them, still nothing worthwhile for me

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

The boy I have a crush on...

...IS PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No tears yet, I am tired from door knocking. Pray for him, every day. Poor guy! Lost his grandma. She never got to see it. :(

...BARACK OBAMA IS PRESIDENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, November 03, 2008

Better buy? or sex toy?

I took the test on to see what kind of matches it would generate for me. So far it has been a failure in the ones they created for me, because a large percentage of them have been conservative. I thought that my profile was de-activated, but that must have changed when I updated my profile, because suddenly I am getting all of these e-mails "so and so is interested in you."

This is much better for my ego than the other dating sites I have been at, but I cant see who these guys are, because I have to pay first! It costs $50 for one month $90 for three months, and who the hell knows what it is for 6 months. Too much. In a way I can appreciate the idea of it costing alot, it weeds out the unemployed weed smokers, but I don't want to pay that much and find out they are all conservatives, or even if they aren't, I'm just not sure I want to date anyone right now, but I do want nooky.

So what's a girl to do? Well, I have spent the last few hours looking at sex toys. I have a lovely realistic dildo and a fantastic vibrator, a $12.50 conair massager that has lasted me 5 years. I love it, but I miss the easiness of the rabbit vibrator I once had, and broke. You just "get comfortable" turn it on, and it does all the work. It's more like a man, you just lay back and get lost in the moment.

I am searching and searching for the perfect one (toy, not man.) It has to be made of silicone (healthier for your body & less likely to break) and I want it to be sort of skinny, since I havent had sex for almost a year, and I want it to feel good, not hurt. I have found a few that seem good (hard to find a skinny rotating one, which is interesting) and the price? Around $80, almost the same price as

I am serious when I say I don't know which to pick. A real man could possibly be better than a sex toy. Oh, I am damn serious when I say could possibly, not for sure. A real man has the possibility attached to him that one of us can get sappy and fall for the other, which is great when it happens to both people, but in my experience it seems to only happen to one or the other. A real man requires socializing and hair and makeup doing and shit like that. A real man can last too long, or not long enough, OH! and a vibrator will give me orgasms.

I am leaning towards vibrators. I really have lost interest in men. Fuck them. I have dated so much the last 2 years, and when I think about it, there are a few of those relationships I never got over, namely Alan, Mike, and Jimmy. Did I tell you Jimmy wanted me after him and his Office Max girl broke up? What a flattering offer, to be the second choice & backup plan. So romantic. Mike dumping me really ended it for me. I really let myself fall for him, and that was a big mistake. I should have been more cautious, but I WAS very cautious. He sent me every cue that he liked me too. He looked at my myspace daily (for months after it was over too) and seemed really attracted to me. He had sex issues obviously.

And Alan, who seemed to be falling for me until the evening I told him I like sex alot. It was in a moment when he had confessed to me that he used to do lots of drugs, and I felt this desire to help him feel less vulnerable by being vulnerable myself. That threw me for a loop, from that moment on I could see the wheels turning in him, searching desperately for something wrong with me. It would have been great if he had told me he didnt want to be serious when I brought it up, pretty much giving him an out, but I suppose standing someone up on valentine's day is another way to do it.

There is also a man in India. He is the brother of the pastor who runs the children's home, and to date someone else prevents that from ever working out. I fell so in love with the kids in the children's home, and with his family. I don't know how I could make it work, but dating someone new would kill that opportunity.

I think I am leaning towards sex toy. It will be hard for me to feel comfortable spending that much money, though I deserve it, and I think its a good investment in my health. Orgasms are great for stress and I think if I had enough pleasure sexually, I would be less likely to go out looking for it, or appearing too "eager."

So now I just have to pick the perfect model...

Sunday, November 02, 2008

Hey! Where's my parade?

I feel proud of myself, I went to workout tonight. I don't think I mentioned it here, but I am in a study about breast cancer, where I am supposed to exercise 5 days a week and let them take my blood and stuff. I was doing very, very well until this week, where I drank 3 out of 7 nights. Not only did I drink 3 out of 7 nights I got my work schedule wrong and had to go to work on a day I thought I had off. I only had 2 workouts in for the week, and I had given up, deciding I would just start a new week fresh tomorrow.

But then I saw it. I was finding TV online and I learned that "The Pickup Artist" had a second season. I absolutely loved the first season, so I was excited, but when I turned it on, there were beautiful young girls in a swimming pool. On Halloween I didn't feel I met an acceptable quota of men flirting with me, or glances, and I am at a very high weight, and feeling a bit old. Seeing those girls reminded me of what needs to be done. I started gathering my stuff and left for the gym.

I only had time to get 1 & 1/2 workouts in, so I settled for one. I felt tired, and it was late, I didn't know if half a workout would count, so I am just calling it a loss and came home to rest, to have a good week, perhaps with 7 workouts instead, to make up for this week.

I got home, expecting a parade, including guys wearing fezs, driving tiny little cars, but no such luck. The only reward I get is knowing I gave up, but changed my mind, and decided I deserve better, and worked out. I suppose thats good enough. Though I like those little cars.

I'd rather clean my room then sleep

I can't decide if it is a blessing or a curse that I have neighbors with a child downstairs. I feel this strong desire NOT to go to sleep, and I am in that awesome, motivated mood that can produce miracles of productivity, too bad it's 1:32 in the morning, and productivity like that can earn me an enemy in my sleeping downstairs neighbors.

My sleeping schedule is all out of whack, because of a fun, but very drinky week. I flew with a very cute Tobey Maguire-lookalike captain, and a beautiful, and surprisingly awesome 24 year old first officer. Nights 1 & 2 of the trip both had long layovers, where we went to a smoky dive bar BOTH NIGHTS, then on night 3 we had very short layover, and yesterday was day 4, and halloween, which involved beer, and another late night.

I don't even know how late I slept today to be honest, but it must have been late, because I didn't have too much of a hangover. I had to finish the vital task of filling out a background check for Linda, and I delivered it to the post office to try to assuage my guilt for taking so long to fill it out. I stopped at a few stores and came home a few hours later. It wasn't until Saturday Night Live came on that I finally started to get some cleaning done. What I did between those times is anybody's guess. What DID I do????

I am fortunate that I can sleep in as long as I want tomorrow, and it wont interfere with my schedule, but I need to get myself back to a normal-person wake up time (or at least closer to 10 than to 1PM!!!!) The depression that popped up last week seems to have gone away with my period, but I can see the consequences of not keeping my body healthy, and I really, REALLY don't want to let myself slide back into a depression! It has been "gone" a long time, but not long enough for me to be confident that I won't end up glued to by bed, with unbrushed teeth and unwashed hair, feeling no motivation to live, or feel any hope that tomorrow might be better. To try to put into words what depression feels like is difficult for me. It has been so long that I can't remember the torture, and honestly, I have no desire to think about the memories enough to do a good job. If I want to remember how it feels, I guess I can just read from the first few years of my blog. This week long, minor depression, is a good reminder that I have to take care of my health, so I dont have to remember it personally.

Writing this post (or maybe the time passing to write this post) has helped me feel sleepy. I feel proud of what I have gotten done today, even if it wasn't much. The background check is sent, the rent is paid, the sunblocking window shades have been sewn to be used on the outside of my car. I rearranged some of the plants in my fishtank & poured out some old water. I bought some fancy co-op shampoo & chatted with a friend, and got some of my room cleaned. When I write it all down I have gotten more done than some days off I have, so I should recognize that point instead of wishing I had done more. Tomorrow I can hope to match todays productivity, and hope for a little more.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

The depression is back

Hey folks? Miss Diana? I missed her too. Not sure why I couldn't write. Not that it matters, but it is my diary, so I haven't made any promises. Still, I owe myself to have this record of my life. Oh well.

Last night I dressed up at a witch and went to a bar that I used to go to when I was younger. It was a amazing. The creativity of the costumes was amazing, and I felt so strongly that I was with "my people." The best part, was I was standing on the balcony in the corner with my friends blocking the view of me, so I danced my ass off. I am sincere when I say I would be a go-go dancer if I was offered the job. I dont really think of it as degrading, the goal of it is to create an atmosphere that gets you in the mood to dance. I have only seen a few go-go dancers in my life, so maybe my perception of what it is is skewed, but when I was in germany, I jumped on a speaker and started dancing, and my friend told me the energy of the people dancing went up when I did. I had a great time dancing like crazy up there, with no one to see me, thinking I am showing off, or trying to rub their penis on my butt.

You know, worrying about having penises rubbed on my butt didn't seem to be a problem. All these awesome, creative boys around me, no one tried to talk to me. Maybe it was because I was in a corner, surrounded by my friends most of the time, maybe it was because there were an equal amount of creative & cute girls there. One thing I wonder, is if I looked old to the people there. To me they looked my age, but I don't know if I am accepting myself as 31 yet. I cant help but think few people there were my age, because they were home with their damn spouses and children.

Anyway, being there I noticed, yes, I am indeed depressed. I have been for a week. Its mild, but real. Also, this week, I have been taking terrible care of my health. I have drank 4 out of 7 days, eating crap (or nearly nothing) and not getting enough water. When I drank about 16 oz of water I immediately noticed I had more energy. I also have had PMS and the time of the month, so I look forward to taking better care of myself and getting my less crazy hormones back.

With my depression in remission, the only secrets left in my life have been my love/sex life, so my blog has probably not been very constructive for the readers. But I need the rest/transition from having my identity be all about my disease. I am a person who has depression, not a "depressive." It has been an awesome feeling to become Diana again, not the woman struggling to claw her way out of the depression, to desire to live again. Too bad I had to discover that the real Diana is so damn narcissistic ;)