Email from the Crew Coordinator:
Breast Cancer 3-Day crew members have to be a little crazy. You work long hours and early mornings. Some of you lift hundreds of pounds of gear, some put on fairy wings and cheer on walkers until you lose your voice. Well, we think that's crazy bold, and crazy beautiful.
Are you up for another crazy challenge? Spring has sprung and we're ready to go into the summer season with a bang. We're launching the Breast Cancer 3-Day Crew $300 in 3 weeks challenge. Ready?
We're challenging all Breast Cancer 3-Day crew members to get at least $300 in your fundraising account by June 11th. We know you don't have to fundraise, but don't we all want to do more to help end breast cancer?
Well, don't we??? See the link to my 2008 BC3D donation page to your left!!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Always a Problem, Never a Solution
With all the things couples can argue about in a marriage, MSU and I seem to have just one major issue: sex. In all honesty, the only reason it's an issue for me is because it's an issue for HIM.
Sex: it's a good thing. It's a gift to us, for sure. But I just can't get into the mindset that it's the end-all be-all reason and motivator for human existence. Sex is a TOOL for human existence. The fact that it's rather enjoyable is just a fringe benefit. So I don't attach a whole lot of importance to it. I just don't. If I get some, great. If not, oh well. And I think it's been mentioned before that MSU and I are on TOTALLY different wavelengths when it comes to sex. I've never had mindblowing sex in my marriage. And that's okay.
MSU, however, attaches a boat-load of emotional well-being to sex. His worth as a man is dependent on how much sex he's getting. His only concept of "intimacy" is through sex. He places a great deal of his self-esteem on whether or not I am "satisfied." It is apparent from our very long-term relationship that MSU's very definition of marriage is "sex when I want it, on my terms, you'd better cum or I'll pout, and see ya later I gotta go to work and you really need to clean up this house and I'm out of clean t-shirts." The point is, he needs sex to feel alive. So I accomodate his needs, which far exceed mine, because I understand that about him and want him to feel like a "whole man."
So, the same discussion arises again over the weekend. The Discussion has had several makeovers (this is from MSU casting about trying to find the magic word that's going to make me be a totally different person). My side of The Discussion is always the same: if you want "intimacy," then be intimate. Intimacy is caring about the same things that I do and applying passion toward them. Intimacy by definition does NOT mean "enjoy MSU's fumbling approach to all things sexual." Intimacy does NOT mean "come home from work, sit in front of the computer and/or TV, wait for your wife to cook dinner, do homework with the kids, get kid stuff ready for the next day, put in a load of laundry, clean up the kitchen, and then fall exhausted into bed so you can traipse into the bedroom about an hour later (after you've finally gotten off the computer after 6 hours) and wake her up to 'be close to you.'"
This time, The Discussion revolved around how important it is to MSU that I cum. In fact, it's so important to him that he threatened me - again - with dissolution of the marriage if I don't fix it. Because this is, evidently, MY problem. Let it be known that I am taking Wellbutrin, which is notorious for impairing women's ability to achieve orgasm. And I must be really special, because I CAN do it, it just takes a while and some effort - and time for that is generally limited, even when I'm alone. But MSU is convinced that I am "not making love to him" if I don't have an orgasm. Doesn't matter if he ignores me all night before coming to bed to wake me up for sex. Doesn't matter if the timing is right for me. Doesn't matter if he has NEVER paid attention to the things that turn me on, even after detailed instructions. Doesn't matter that my mind has to engage before my body does. Doesn't matter if I'm on medication for FUCKING DEPRESSION that physiologically impairs my ability to do what he wants. Doesn't matter that he wants something from me that he himself is not willing to give. His sentiment is this: if I don't start enjoying sex (he means having an orgasm), then he's outta here.
I asked him if it's ever occurred to him that I might be enjoying sex even if I don't cum? He said (and I quote), "That's impossible."
Me: So we have a problem. The problem appears to be that I'm not having orgasms and you don't like that.
MSU: Right. It's really important to me.
Me: But it's NOT really important to me. I could care less if I cum. Sex is still a nice thing even if I don't.
MSU: But you're not having fun if you don't cum.
Me: Says who?
MSU: Says me.
Me: But wouldn't I be the one to know whether or not I'm having fun?
MSU: Even if you are, you're not having orgasms, so I'll never believe that you are.
Me: Okay. But you do understand that there really isn't anything I can do about that, right? I mean, it's not like I have some "orgasm on/off button," right?
MSU: You could if you wanted to.
Me: So, let me get this straight... this is MY problem, not OUR problem. Is that what you're saying?
MSU: No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that it's really important to me and I need you to figure out what I can do to help you.
Me: Well, for one thing, you can stop believing that me not having an orgasm has ANYTHING WHATSOEVER to do with YOU. You can also stop believing that my orgasms somehow dictate the quality of our sexual relations.
MSU: I can't live like this.
Me: Okay. Do you have any ideas how this can be solved?
MSU: No. I just want you to know it's an issue.
As ludicrous as this conversation was, he's serious. And honest to God, I have NO IDEA what to do.
Sex: it's a good thing. It's a gift to us, for sure. But I just can't get into the mindset that it's the end-all be-all reason and motivator for human existence. Sex is a TOOL for human existence. The fact that it's rather enjoyable is just a fringe benefit. So I don't attach a whole lot of importance to it. I just don't. If I get some, great. If not, oh well. And I think it's been mentioned before that MSU and I are on TOTALLY different wavelengths when it comes to sex. I've never had mindblowing sex in my marriage. And that's okay.
MSU, however, attaches a boat-load of emotional well-being to sex. His worth as a man is dependent on how much sex he's getting. His only concept of "intimacy" is through sex. He places a great deal of his self-esteem on whether or not I am "satisfied." It is apparent from our very long-term relationship that MSU's very definition of marriage is "sex when I want it, on my terms, you'd better cum or I'll pout, and see ya later I gotta go to work and you really need to clean up this house and I'm out of clean t-shirts." The point is, he needs sex to feel alive. So I accomodate his needs, which far exceed mine, because I understand that about him and want him to feel like a "whole man."
So, the same discussion arises again over the weekend. The Discussion has had several makeovers (this is from MSU casting about trying to find the magic word that's going to make me be a totally different person). My side of The Discussion is always the same: if you want "intimacy," then be intimate. Intimacy is caring about the same things that I do and applying passion toward them. Intimacy by definition does NOT mean "enjoy MSU's fumbling approach to all things sexual." Intimacy does NOT mean "come home from work, sit in front of the computer and/or TV, wait for your wife to cook dinner, do homework with the kids, get kid stuff ready for the next day, put in a load of laundry, clean up the kitchen, and then fall exhausted into bed so you can traipse into the bedroom about an hour later (after you've finally gotten off the computer after 6 hours) and wake her up to 'be close to you.'"
This time, The Discussion revolved around how important it is to MSU that I cum. In fact, it's so important to him that he threatened me - again - with dissolution of the marriage if I don't fix it. Because this is, evidently, MY problem. Let it be known that I am taking Wellbutrin, which is notorious for impairing women's ability to achieve orgasm. And I must be really special, because I CAN do it, it just takes a while and some effort - and time for that is generally limited, even when I'm alone. But MSU is convinced that I am "not making love to him" if I don't have an orgasm. Doesn't matter if he ignores me all night before coming to bed to wake me up for sex. Doesn't matter if the timing is right for me. Doesn't matter if he has NEVER paid attention to the things that turn me on, even after detailed instructions. Doesn't matter that my mind has to engage before my body does. Doesn't matter if I'm on medication for FUCKING DEPRESSION that physiologically impairs my ability to do what he wants. Doesn't matter that he wants something from me that he himself is not willing to give. His sentiment is this: if I don't start enjoying sex (he means having an orgasm), then he's outta here.
I asked him if it's ever occurred to him that I might be enjoying sex even if I don't cum? He said (and I quote), "That's impossible."
Me: So we have a problem. The problem appears to be that I'm not having orgasms and you don't like that.
MSU: Right. It's really important to me.
Me: But it's NOT really important to me. I could care less if I cum. Sex is still a nice thing even if I don't.
MSU: But you're not having fun if you don't cum.
Me: Says who?
MSU: Says me.
Me: But wouldn't I be the one to know whether or not I'm having fun?
MSU: Even if you are, you're not having orgasms, so I'll never believe that you are.
Me: Okay. But you do understand that there really isn't anything I can do about that, right? I mean, it's not like I have some "orgasm on/off button," right?
MSU: You could if you wanted to.
Me: So, let me get this straight... this is MY problem, not OUR problem. Is that what you're saying?
MSU: No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that it's really important to me and I need you to figure out what I can do to help you.
Me: Well, for one thing, you can stop believing that me not having an orgasm has ANYTHING WHATSOEVER to do with YOU. You can also stop believing that my orgasms somehow dictate the quality of our sexual relations.
MSU: I can't live like this.
Me: Okay. Do you have any ideas how this can be solved?
MSU: No. I just want you to know it's an issue.
As ludicrous as this conversation was, he's serious. And honest to God, I have NO IDEA what to do.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Queen Sadim
Yesterday:
If I could screw it up, I did. I had a 1.000 average in SNAFU.
When I tried to un-fuck the things I thought I could un-fuck, I just fucked them up worse and made my ineptitude even more public.
Everything I touched turned to shit.
If I could screw it up, I did. I had a 1.000 average in SNAFU.
When I tried to un-fuck the things I thought I could un-fuck, I just fucked them up worse and made my ineptitude even more public.
Everything I touched turned to shit.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Chemical Dependency and a Small Victory
My hair started going gray when I was 15. It was cool back then, but once I hit 30 (and was about 40% gray), I decided to start coloring.
Since then, I've gone throught the gamut... ultra-blonde, close-to-my-natural-blonde, auburn, nothing-in-Nature-is-this-color-red, and most recently several futile attempts to regain my natural color. This task was difficult, because it entailed 1) remembering what my natural color IS, and 2) stripping my hair of all the old color.
Stripping took a long time and left me with hair that was devoid of all pigment, including natural pigment. Each time I attempted to dye it to a color close to my own, it came out very brassy because of the lack of natural pigment.
Two color cycles ago, I let the hair grow out much longer than I usually do, just to get a really good look at the roots in order to verify what the natural color is at this point. Guess what? The natural color is 100% GRAY. Well, not quite 100%... some of the hair is white.
It occurred to me to just shave it off and start over. Thinking that I really liked my Sinead O'Connor hair when I had it, I still wasn't quite ready to go to that extreme. Instead, I chose to try to dye my hair gray.
Yes, gray.
The first attempt, two weeks ago, resulted in daily-swimmer-green. I walked around like that for two weeks, playing it off like I did it on purpose (which, in a manner of speaking, I did).
Today, I went big. I bought 8.12 "Moonlit blonde," the darkest blue-violet drabber I could find, and a bottle of 12% peroxide developer. I mixed them up with 2 parts color to 1 part drabber and applied.
Voila! 100% gray hair!
Since then, I've gone throught the gamut... ultra-blonde, close-to-my-natural-blonde, auburn, nothing-in-Nature-is-this-color-red, and most recently several futile attempts to regain my natural color. This task was difficult, because it entailed 1) remembering what my natural color IS, and 2) stripping my hair of all the old color.
Stripping took a long time and left me with hair that was devoid of all pigment, including natural pigment. Each time I attempted to dye it to a color close to my own, it came out very brassy because of the lack of natural pigment.
Two color cycles ago, I let the hair grow out much longer than I usually do, just to get a really good look at the roots in order to verify what the natural color is at this point. Guess what? The natural color is 100% GRAY. Well, not quite 100%... some of the hair is white.
It occurred to me to just shave it off and start over. Thinking that I really liked my Sinead O'Connor hair when I had it, I still wasn't quite ready to go to that extreme. Instead, I chose to try to dye my hair gray.
Yes, gray.
The first attempt, two weeks ago, resulted in daily-swimmer-green. I walked around like that for two weeks, playing it off like I did it on purpose (which, in a manner of speaking, I did).
Today, I went big. I bought 8.12 "Moonlit blonde," the darkest blue-violet drabber I could find, and a bottle of 12% peroxide developer. I mixed them up with 2 parts color to 1 part drabber and applied.
Voila! 100% gray hair!
Friday, May 09, 2008
More Truth (from the mouths of babes)
Yesterday, while sitting in my office typing madly away, two of the student workers that this building is infested with were sitting about 30 feet away in the "bullpen." They were talking loudly and rather irreverently and obviously were unaware of my proximity and presence. I was getting sort of tired of their sophomoric banter (trying to remember that they are, after all, 20 years old or some such ridiculous age), and was taking a break from my typing to think of a project for them that would keep them both seperate and quiet, when one of them asked, "there are no POs here, are there?"
Thinking she needed help, I shouted out, "I'm here!"
At that point, the first girl lowered her voice and said to the other girl, much like the 5-year-old who doesn't realize that sound travels, "Who is that????"
The other girl said, also sotto voce and in a tone one would reserve for referring to someone with grandiose delusions, "Oh, she's not a PO. She's a SENIOR Officer. She's old."
Thinking she needed help, I shouted out, "I'm here!"
At that point, the first girl lowered her voice and said to the other girl, much like the 5-year-old who doesn't realize that sound travels, "Who is that????"
The other girl said, also sotto voce and in a tone one would reserve for referring to someone with grandiose delusions, "Oh, she's not a PO. She's a SENIOR Officer. She's old."
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Simple Truth
Just before the choir I direct went on stage for yesterday's Law Enforcement Memorial, I snuck out back and had a cigarette.
When I came back, I learned I wasn't as sneaky as I thought, because one of the Commanders from our Sheriff's Department (who sings in the choir) gave me an uber-disapproving look and mournfully asked, "Why do you smoke? Why?"
Rushed, stressed, and sweaty, I retorted, "Because they won't let me drink at work."
When I came back, I learned I wasn't as sneaky as I thought, because one of the Commanders from our Sheriff's Department (who sings in the choir) gave me an uber-disapproving look and mournfully asked, "Why do you smoke? Why?"
Rushed, stressed, and sweaty, I retorted, "Because they won't let me drink at work."
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