P-p-p-p-panic

Panic again. Why is this happening now? It’s been so long since I’ve woken up in the morning feeling like this. I feel so out of control. I also don’t have someone here to tell me it’s okay. Which, yes, I can do on my own. However, it did make me think that this was always the Big Love’s job. Help Turbo chill when she’s panicking. Granted that would usually involve a massage and a hit on my pipe, but it was always pretty helpful nonetheless.

Why am I in panic mode? Okay. So yes, I have a lot to do. It isn’t unmanageable, so why am I panicking? Is it because I don’t want to do it, or because I don’t think I’ll do a good job of it? I think really what it is is that I just want to be able to take a couple of days off from everything and get away from my own mental space. As helpful as it is to see a counsellor, I don’t really need to be thinking about my incapability to ask people for what I need or ask people for help. I also don’t need to be thinking about my excessive optimism as a crutch. Because right now I need that crutch really badly and I want to be able to believe that it’s there, but it’s looking like it’s a little bent out of shape. I’m a little bent out of shape.

The chaos in my life:

I have unopened bills that have been on the table for weeks. I haven’t paid my credit cards. My apartment is a mess and I haven’t cleaned since before I went away last week. I still need to buy kitty litter. The shelf next to my bed started looking a little iffy so I have been sleeping with half of my library on my bed. I haven’t changed my sheets since before the Burlesque Beauty slept over. I’m thinking that was some time in January? I’ve been spending way too much money on food, and have none in my fridge. I haven’t done an assignment which was due on Tuesday, and have little hope of getting the one due next Thursday done. The bag I took to Toronto is still on my floor filled with socks and other random bits and pieces. I haven’t done my reading for today’s class — even if it is Heidegger and I have no real desire to read it.

I have been sick for going on a month and I need to stop smoking and start eating properly and sleeping more, but I can’t seem to get control of that. I feel as though I’ve fallen off. I’ve lost control and I’m swerving wildly and part of me is just sitting by waiting to see how bad the crash will be. The other part of me knows that I can pull it back together and that I’m just being ridiculous, and perhaps hormonal (I should check that) and that as usual, I will pull everything off and I’m forgetting that this is my nature. I have a problem with panic attacks and anxiety, and simply telling myself that I’m doing better and managing my stress properly is not exactly the same as having overcome the problem.

I felt guilty for not being fun last night. How ridiculous is that? I felt that going out in public when I wasn’t in top form was a bad reflection of me that I didn’t want to make. And that’s just stupid. I also really wanted to see the man, but then had this realization that it’s not his job to cheer me up either. Add to that the fact that he really didn’t seem to have much time for me and my radiating stress, and I got home feeling worse rather than better.

I’m in need of real support right now and I haven’t a clue where to get it from. Yes, I have people all over the place who love me and will tell me that everything’s okay. But when it comes down to it what I need is someone to give me a hug and make dinner and take control of the little details that make my neurotic  self lose my shit. I’m losing my shit.

You never can tell

Sometimes I am so erratic it surprises me. I don’t know quite how these waves come on, but I never know quite how to deal with them when they do. It’s as though I have no idea, control or capacity of how they come on. It’s as though there are two really strong personalities duking it out in my head. There’s the part of me that’s still seventeen and stressing the fuck out. And then there’s the 24-year-old who’s looking at the younger version and telling her to chill the fuck out.

The problem is that the stress case seems to have better control over my physical being. Until older me shuts her up with some smoking. The martinis didn’t even seem to work terribly well tonight. I should meditate rather. It would be more constructive.

I need to accept the fact that I’m not fun and I can’t really be much fun right now. No one wants to hang out with a stress case. And I hate unloading on people, but I just did it tonight: three times.  Unfortunately I think that I’m generally a peppy enough person that when I’m not in the mood it’s blatantly obvious to all. Not worth even bothering really. Problem is that I want to spend time with people when I’m feeling like this. Maybe I’m just thinking about it too much.

I’ve had too much talk of wanting to have sex with people who live far away.  I wish I had a teleporter or a private jet. The teleporter would be key because I wouldn’t have to waste lots of time getting there. I could pop over to Europe, the Middle East, New Zealand, Asia. Haha. Funny that I have people I could have fun with in all of those places. I guess I shouldn’t forget South Africa too then. Although, reconsidering that statement, I would be surprised if I couldn’t find someone to have fun with pretty much anywhere I could go. What’s happened to me? There’s been an odd transformation in my thinking.

It’s weird that I’ve always been a really sexual being, but at the same time extremely selective and careful. And now? Well, definitely still selective, but not quite to the same level. It’s more that I don’t feel quite as freaked out about being with people. I guess the reality is that I haven’t been single for a long time, and before that I never really knew how to hook up with people. I guess I just didn’t have the whole flirting thing down. Well, I did. But I was clueless. I also just don’t feel like I was exposed to as many cool people who I would want to fuck. Tonight, I was out for all of maybe two hours. There were at least five people I interacted with in that time who I would absolutely sleep with.  People who I’ve considered in the past and thought hmm… I could deal with that.

Of course, still one guy in particular. It’s funny how wary I am of sleeping with numerous guys. Somehow there’s lot more loaded into it. I mean, I can fool around with a girl and not feel that it reflects anything, but there’s some weird thing about the scene with guys and the closeness and talking. I guess the issue is that it’s really tight and they’re all friends and that’s just not something I think I’d do. No kissing and telling, but still. You never know.

And right now I’m enjoying something and someone who makes me laugh.  And I really like fucking him.

***

But then, I guess you never can tell.

I am extraordinarily tired today. This whole burning out thing is really started to get on my nerves. I don’t want to be tired. I want to be able to go out and have fun and still manage to do everything that I’m supposed to do.

Is this one of those moments when I have to acknowledge that I am getting older and can no longer burn the candle quite as consistently as I could, say, when I was twenty? Problem is, when I was twenty I was far better behaved than I am now, was obsessed with my grades and hardly partied at all. Then I had a much older boyfriend with whom I was content to watch movies and be a bit of a home body. I wasn’t going out and getting drunk on a Wednesday night, acting in a play, going to grad school and still going to yoga at the crack of dawn every morning.

I told the man that I can’t see him until the weekend. Evidently, I was having a little bit of a panic attack at the time, thinking that it would be impossible for me to get all of my work done and be social at the same time. But then again, I can’t really get a lot of work done if I’m really tired, now can I? (Except that perhaps seeing him tonight would add to the tiredness and consequently be counterproductive).

More thinking about him. About having fun. About how great things are at the moment, and how once the play is over and I have a little more time to myself, we can go out and get loaded and take girls home together. Or just end up going home together. Both are pretty good options. I like how good I feel about this, about not feeling pressure, about the fact that every time I get all weird and overly-analytical and me-like, if I ask him about something or tell him something he’s cool with it. Pretty generally cool with things. I love not having issues. I enjoy no-drama. Drama is a waste of time and energy and I’ll be having none of that.

Yesterday I went for a smootie after yoga with one of the other regulars and we got to talking about relationships. This seems to be a consistent theme with him. He appears to really enjoy talking about sex. He was telling me that he’s seeing someone. They’ve been seeing one another for over a month but she is unwilling to call him her boyfriend even though they’re exclusive, spend most nights together and apparently feel pretty strongly about one another. Her issue, as far as he can tell, is that she has too much baggage. This happens as we get older.

My question to him is why does this bother him? Why does he need the title to define what he is seeing as they seem to have a pretty great time together and are effectively together any how. His response is that he’s never been in a long-term relationship, so it feels like this is one, and he wants to call her his girlfriend. Or more so, I think it’s that he wants her to call him her boyfriend. Smug little me is thinking that I’m just ever so pleased not to be using these definitions or letting these titles clutter up my life. I guess that I can say that there’s someone I’m seeing a lot of, who I enjoy spending time with, etc, etc. He may be my lover and friend but he ain’t my boyfriend and there’s something really freeing about that. I don’t have any idea why, but there is. Maybe it’s that I can check out whoever I like without feeling the tiniest bit of guilt.

We both have our eye on a hottie from Vancouver who’s been all over the scene for the past month or so. She’s totally switched on and we’ve both had fun with her on the nights that we’ve hung out. They’re going to see a movie so I’ll probably meet up with them later on tonight. I wonder…

On another note, the Hot Smart Lady and I were chatting this morning on gtalk and I discovered that I hadn’t actually told her about Thursday’s entertainment. She was totally jealous. Very excited by it. Then proceeded to tell me that she misses fooling around with me. Damn, I miss her. Too bad it’s going to be months before we get to see one another again. That last night together was ridiculously hot. So hot. Mmm…gotta love connected sex.

I just hit a massive stress wall. So very counterproductive.

The Brit just suggested sex. I told him that I’m cutting myself off from contact until the weekend because I don’t have any time. He suggested self-service. I may have to go do that before class.

Why is it that I can feel like everything is totally under control one minute, and then realise the next that not only do I not have everything under control but I’m actually drowing in everything that I’ve got myself into. I keep on discovering new things that I have to do for class. Assignments and deadlines that I forgot about. Why am I such a slacker this semester? I really need to get a hold on all of the deadlines I have.

Bleh.

I shouldn’t write on here when I’m all riled up. It isn’t interesting.

Coming

I just realised that this one didn’t actually get published. It’s from yesterday morning.  

Last night was awesome. While my resolve to dedicate myself to my school work and the play may have faltered somewhat, I did have what turned out to be a really rather spectacular night. Oh, and I don’t think I could ever really be a lesbian.

I really did intend to be good and just work hard all evening and then go to bed. Emo had agreed to help me with my lines for the play, and I had turned down AnarchoFem’s suggestion that we go for drinks and listen to her roommate play the sax at a jazz band. I started getting stressed because I needed to write a query for today’s class, but had no idea who to write about or how to make it interesting. Emo suggested that I interview my Partner in Crime. He’s kind of crazy, has a great job, and I’m sure people would want to read about him. Good idea.

So I emailed him:

“I want to interview you”

“Done. When? Over dinner…Tonight.”

Thus, my night of rehearsing my lines and working hard and not drinking or smoking was irrevocably altered… for the best. My suspicion was right. He’s an amazing interviewee. I already knew that’s he’s a good talker and good story teller, so when I put the mic in front of him he just went along his own path, weaving together amusing and coherent stories for me to use. It’s a really interesting way to learn about someone’s life. Especially when you’re sort of intimately involved with them.

Emo’s friend came over to deliver the drawing he did for my zine and we all headed down to Barfly for a drink. Every time I went out for a smoke with the man, there was a little complicity, a little intimacy.

“We’re really attracted to each other, aren’t we?”

I’d say so. There was talk about us. The fact that we are in a relationship of sorts. It’s great not defining it. As he said, it’s amazing that you can have a loving friendship without the constraints of regular relationship nonsense. Fun and openness. It’s pretty awesome.

We left the bar. I didn’t know what to do. I knew that I needed to get my work done, needed to write my query and get up for yoga early in the morning. But I also wanted to spend the night with him. Sleeping over the night before had been fantastic. There’s nothing like being woken up in the middle of the night for a moment by a kiss on your shoulder, before you both fall asleep again, together. Mmm.

So I went home, grabbed my laptop and bag and headed down to the panty-dropper pad that’s he’s making use of while his friend is away.

Electric.

It was worth the wait.

This morning just before he left he thanked me for coming to see him.

“Thanks for making me come.”

Poly potential

I had a sort of odd passing conversation with the really nice guy who works at the computer lab this morning. I think he’s great. From time to time we chat, although usually it’s just the requisite acknowledgment of existence. A nod, a smile, a  “hey, how’s it going.” I also think he’s cute. I know that he’s in a relationship because one of the first real conversations we had was about our Christmas breaks and time spent with our respective partners, but I still think there’s something pretty much there.

This morning it was just the two of us in the lab, and I was printing a lot, so we got to chatting. He asked me about my week off, and I told him how busy I’ve been, etc, etc. Whatever. He mentioned something about his partner and then asked me about why my life’s so hectic — he remembered that I was also doing a long distance thing. I told him that was done and made some sort of comment that this year is about figuring out non-traditional relationship structures and such.

“You mean polyamory?”

Yeah. He then told me that he’s also been heading down that same road, although he did make it sound like it’s more his partner’s idea than his. Curious.

I wonder if it would be inappropriate for me to ask him if he wants to grab a coffee some time?

So despite my desire to stay in the grey area of relationship definitions, I am starting to think more and more than if I did need to say that I’m something, make it clearer to someone who can’t handle that limbo, that yeah, I am poly. I hung out with my guy again last night. I just went over to chill. We hung out, had a little fun, chatted, listened to music, discussed other girls we’d be into getting with…. The possibilities seem to be unlimited. There are a lot more girls who are open to playing around with girls than I had imagined. I just haven’t met a lot of them. Or I may come off as too sweet or too hetero or too something for that to have happened in the past? Yeah — I was asked for my number by a girl a couple of weeks ago, but she was a friend of a friend, and clearly out for more than a little random play. And as I’ve said, I’m definitely not looking for a relationship at this moment in time.

Sex is fun. Pleasure is good. Contact skin on skin feels wonderful. And as long as you’re being open and honest about what you’re doing — with yourself and with the people you’re spending your time with — then why feel that you’re doing anything wrong? I do feel a little bit of a little niggling in my head. There’s still that little Anglican schoolgirl in me somewhere — the one who doesn’t like being with people unless there are fireworks, unless it’s true love, unless it’s BOOM! But hey, hanging out with the new Partner in Crime — sleeping with him in his bed (mmm…cuddling) and just being totally honest about where I’m at and feeling like we’re on the same page — also feels really good. It feels great. And it makes me happy because I’m doing something that I want to do, even if other people out there might think that I’m weird or crazy or just well… 3 girls? And a guy? SERIOUSLY?

Haha.

Brain chatter

I’m on break between the morning and afternoon sessions of my yoga course. As much as I want to focus, today is one of those days that makes me think that perhaps I’m just not quite there at the moment with the yoga thing. The last session I was right there. I felt all of the energy despite my fatigue, and was simply rejuvenated by the whole weekend. It blew my mind that I could go on 3 hours sleep a night and still feel intense amounts of energy as a result of the practice and meditation.

But today is kicking my ass.  My mind keeps on wandering and all I wanted was to go to sleep when we were in shivasana. I can’t help thinking about what happened on Thursday, about last night at work, and I can see myself slowly sliding into stress. I have an extraordinary amount of work to do, I need to learn the rest of my lines because the play is in 3 weeks and I’m so tired that I just want to curl up into a ball and sleep. (I also really needed to get all of that off my chest.) My mind just won’t rest.

Okay, so here goes.

I’m trying to be honest with myself. That means that I need to step away from my usual patterns of ignoring things that bother me. That also means just talking to the people concerned about the way I feel about things regarding them. Problem is that I’m not totally clear on this myself. However, I’m going to try to make sense of it.

Thursday night was awesome. I still can’t quite believe that it happened. It was just mind blowing. I didn’t feel weird about anything that went down involving me. (There was one thing that I wasn’t sure of, but I’ll go into that in a second. It was more of an afterthought than a concern at the time). I guess the main thing is, I don’t actually know what or how I feel about the man in question now that this happened. I don’t know that emotionally and mentally things are aligned on this point. There’s a part of me that does feel like what happened has and will change our whole relationship, but then there’s another part of me that thinks that it could be a great thing and I’m just hesitant because it really goes pretty deep into unexplored territory.

The thing that has started to worry me a bit since Thursday night is bodily fluids. I hadn’t thought about it at all until yesterday, but one of the reasons life is just that little bit easier when you are only with one partner is that you know what you’re getting (well…hopefully not getting). Any time you’re with more people you’re taking a little risk, especially if you throw caution to the wind and make that terribly bad call that the person you’re with is too nice to have anything. (I already made that mistake once — not going down that road again.) So that’s a little concern, but I think that I’m possibly focusing on it rather than what’s really going on.

Fuck. Okay. So the weird thing? We had this crazy build up to what was going to be the first time anything would actually happen between us. And then it wasn’t just us. So rather than feeling like there’s the possibility of an us (with other girls on the side — I don’t think either of us really want to give up that option), I feel like the us could potentially based on the other girls. The fact that I’m rather emotionally e-tarded might mean that I’m totally blowing this out of proportion, and that the two of us will hang out some time this week and watch a movie and all of the tension and desire and excitement will be back again, and we’ll fool around and it’ll be awesome. And then? Well, after this week’s girlfest, I am pretty keen. Very keen. More girls. Girls are fun. Mmm…

So yeah. I know I sound like a huge contradiction because I don’t want to get into a relationship (trans: I think I need to be single for a while), but then on the flip side, I think it could be really interesting and fun to try out something incredibly unconventional, somewhat hedonistic, and very definitely polyamorous. I don’t need any sort of labels: a) I think it will be fun to confuse people and b) why the fuck is my personal life any of their business anyhow? I guess what it comes down to is just talking to the Partner in Crime and seeing what he thinks.

You didn’t?

There is one other thing.  Not a concern, but a curiosity rather. We didn’t fuck. By that, I mean that my Partner in Crime and I didn’t actually fuck. While there were hands and tongues and fingers and body parts all in contact all over the place, I just wasn’t about to fuck him.

Why?

Well, it didn’t really seem like the time.

Will we ever? I have no idea. Eventually, probably.
This is the only part of the whole thing that makes me wonder a little. I mean, this is obviously an interesting direction for things to have moved in. And most certainly not one that either of us would have imagined.

The sexual tension was building in an unbelievable way. I had decided before I went to see him that I wasn’t going to have sex with him. Some hot making out, absolutely. But I wasn’t about to sleep with him just yet.

I clearly couldn’t have known exactly what was going to go down last night. Part of the reason I didn’t want to sleep with him is because I actually really like him a lot. We get along so unbelievably well, and just have so much fun together. But I don’t want a relationship. So in the back of my mind, fucking him had the potential to change things: destroy some of the excitement, the tension, and alter the whole awesome dynamic we have.

I don’t think this is really the case at all, but what I do want to know is what the hell is going to happen now? I mean, how can you top an orgy? Obviously the two of us together, not totally fucked up and hanging out would be a different dynamic altogether. I’m just curious to know what’s going to happen, I guess.

I think if I was out to find an unconventional relationship with a totally open person, I was successful. So funny.  I still can’t help giggling a little.

Four is a really wonderful number.

Sometimes fact is stranger that fiction.

Orgy.

Dionysian frenzy.

How do you plan for things like that?

If you had asked me yesterday what I was going to do when I got back to Montreal, I would have said that I was going to hang out with the Tattoo Guy. We’d been texting, messaging, talking all week since I’d been away and there was definitely something culminating. Funny how a few days away can do that. A few days apart, really…

Nonetheless, meeting him at a strip club, where he was hanging out with two e-d up twenty-year-olds he had just met, was not something I could have guessed at. Nor would I have imagined that I’d end up taking about a quarter of a pill and evenually ending up back at his old place with said girls getting naked and partying all night, playing around with everyone. I have certain images of limbs everywhere. I can’t even remember who did what with who, except for knowing that it was really fantastic.

Holy fuck was it ever hot. Unimaginably so. Goddamn.

I think I have a new partner in crime. As he said, things just seem to happen when the two of us are involved. Neither of us is likely to say no. And both of us are likely to see how far we can push the envelope. The first thing he said to me last night when I got to Kamasutra was that I needed to be his wingman. I’d say it was a success. It also amuses me how well it works with the two of us together. He’s all charisma and shit talking, and I’d guess that I’m somewhat of a cherry on top. The girls couldn’t get enough of either of us. They were so into it.

Shit. I wasn’t like that when I was twenty!

I sent the Oldest and Best friend a text message this morning:

TP: Last night. Orgy. Craziness

OBF: I fucked the guy upstairs.

TP: Awesome

I find it hilarious that after our lunch on Thursday, and our discussions of how cute her new neighbour is, plus the fact that her response to my question of whether or not she’s attracted to guys led to her tapping that. I love how similar we are. It makes me giggle way too much.

Seems like a fairly successful week. Considering my levels of sexual frustration before I went back to Toronto, the fact that I’ve been with four people since then probably means that I’m not allowed to complain for a good long time. I also get to check off the box next to orgy on the list. Although there was a discussion as to whether it was a foursome or an orgy. I’d say the latter, purely based on the logistics of the situation. Three girls, all very much into each other, plus a guy. All unattached — to each other at least. All out for a good time and fucking retardedly high. I guess my wish to do ecstasy not with my brother came true. In a way I never could have imagined. I’m still laughing about it.

Family Dynamics

It was my dad’s birthday yesterday. He decided that now that he’s over sixty, he’s just old and doesn’t need to celebrate them any more. I disagree. It’s always a great reason for me to come home and spend time with him.

I asked him what it’s like to have grown up children, and he smiled and said that it’s strange, but it also makes him feel good about a lot of choices he made when we were growing up. We’re real people, you know? And now that he has no real influence over our lives, it’s nice to see how well we’re doing. I mean — both of his kids are actually happy. My brother has a kickass job and is in Antarctica at the moment running an expedition ship. Not too bad for a 26-year-old. And I’m floating around being creative and enjoying life, and have decided that I am actually going to pursue a creative career and it’s going to work. And he’s really happy for me.

My mother had a class until 9pm, so dad and I went to a pub and drank vodka sodas and talked about life and family and choices. His parents were pretty fucked up, and he decided to turn his back on that. He was aware of how manipulative they were and decided to simply walk away. Plus he married a Christian girl, so it was easy to get out of the family events. The immediate family might not have minded, but the extended ones didn’t really know what to do with this blonde-haired blue-eyed shiksa. Ha ha. All the better for us.

He told me how strange it was for him when he met my mum and started spending time with her family. His dad was all about wearing his privilege on his sleeve: the big house, the fancy cars, the servants, the good schools, the accomplished musical-instrument-playing children. Dinner was an event. The kids were to be seen and not heard, and then when they were adults, they had no real relationship with their parents. My dad stopped talking to his parents when he was a teenager. He had nothing to talk to them about.

So when he went to my mum’s house, Sunday lunch was a step into a new world. All laughter and joking and silliness. Stealing of food, and shouting and real family dynamics. My grandfather would go and sit in his chair after lunch and fall asleep while the girls would gab away in the kitchen, my father being ordered around to empty this and move that.

That was something about the Big Love that always felt strange. I don’t think that I’d ever really get his family. Or really belong there. I mean, I got along with his parents. Hell, his father seemed to want to talk to me more than his son whenever we were visiting together. Shining compliments would come my way from various family members. I think that part of it was the fact that I was a lot younger and clearly not just out to get myself a good husband. And I can think for myself and would, from time to time, argue with him about literature and the like. Not that the other girlfriends hadn’t been intelligent too.

But the dynamic between family members just blew my mind.

“Your father would like to speak to you upstairs.” His mum would come downstairs to tell him to go upstairs. In my house we would have yelled. Actually, one of the funnier moments early on in the relationship was when he came home with me for Thanksgiving. I have a really noisy family. We yell a lot. At each other. But it’s not angry yelling — it’s just silliness. My brother and I tend to ignore my mum when she makes a lot of noise, or we yell back. The Big Love went into the kitchen, and having seen my brother take a piece of bacon, was absolutely flabbergasted when my mother shouted at him. What he didn’t get was that the whole deal with eating food before a meal in our house is stealing it surreptitiously. You can’t just walk into the kitchen and eat a piece of bacon while it’s being cooked. You have to watch for when my mum isn’t looking, and steal it then, preferably getting her attention as you run out of the room victorious, with her shouting that there isn’t going to be enough.

So all of the “if it’s not too much of a bother, could I possibly ask you to perhaps…” Just spit it out for God’s sake! That said, it was kind of fun. Yes, it pissed me off when occasionally I would be told that I needed to work on my etiquette. But for the most part, I think I behaved reasonably well. I never messed up horribly, I don’t think. I even learned how to speak their language: “It was ever so kind of you to have so graciously allowed me to stay here…” I even wrote thank you letters with a fountain pen on thick creamy paper.

I just don’t think I could have done it forever. I want to have a family where yelling is normal. Where dinner conversations become so ridiculous that someone has to be excused for snorting wine through their nose (usually me). Family holidays usually involve my brother and myself rolling joints on the coffee table in the living room, while my mother makes noise about us always smoking, but from time to time comes outside for a puff. We then eat so much food that we all want to die. Conversations range from political, topical, and intellectual, to downright ridiculous. Moments when we’re all laughing so hard that we’re crying, and someone has to go into the kitchen to spit out the food in their mouth because they can’t swallow it. That’s what I want in life.