It's often a case where my own doubts eat away at the foundation underneath of me. It's a frustrating, often messy situation where I'm growling at my own psyche for tossing these negative thoughts my way. I fucking hate it. I don't think I'm the only one that suffers from this. As a matter of fact, I KNOW I'm not. I once had a guy ask me if I was Manic Depressive, which to be honest, shocked the hell out of me. I don't think there's anything wrong with me persay. I just think more than the average Joe Shmoe.
I'm going through a lot of change right now, psychologically. My brain is reshuffling those thought patterns around, redistributing ideas and notions into more efficient processes, prioritizing things, and shunting those unimportant thoughts down the garburator that is in that stainless steel trap of the drain of my mind. Or at least shoving them underneath the bed and in the closet to go over at a later date. I'm preparing my dome for another intensive term of design oriented shenanigans, and I'm half dreading it. I got my marks back btw, and all but one of them were higher than a B. (Pretty snazzy, eh?)
This isn't the first series of changes my brain has been attacking me with.
A while back, I was contemplating religion. I even attended church with my Grandmother (A devout Roman Catholic) I attended the Ash Wednesday ceremony at Saint Michael's feeling like a Catholic imposter the whole time, murmuring along with whatever the hell else the crowd was saying. I attempted to the best of my ability to follow along with Lent, giving up meat on Wednesdays and Fridays, and being celibate. It wasn't easy, and to be honest, I made a few mistakes on the meat eating end of the bargain. The celibacy, surprisingly enough, was easier to stick to. I went 40 days, and 40 nights, without so much as a hand/tongue/naughty bit below the waist. Of course, if you tallied up the time I didn't fool around BEFORE lent, including lent, and after lent, I went about 150 days and 150 nights celibate. For me, that's a remarkable effort. After this entire ordeal, I left a stronger individual, more in control of my body and my mentality, which ultimately was the goal. I admit, it wasn't quite the goal that the Roman Catholic Church had in mind for me, but I learned a lot about myself, which was MY goal.
Why, do you ask, did I refrain from carnal carousery for such an extended period of time? It's hard to pinpoint why. Perhaps it was because I was tired of being the cumbucket for assholes that didn't give a shit about my feelings, or about the thoughts and emotions of the person that owned the pussy they were blithely using. Perhaps it was because I was starting to feel that sexual relations with people that I didn't care about was as exciting/pleasant as playing cribbage with my grandmother when I was on the losing end, or watching grass grow, or paint dry, or chewing glass. You get the gist.
I was wondering how many people I had hurt intentionally with one night stands, where they seemed to have an interest in me, and I was just looking for that brief release that they could provide. (Hey, I'm no angel. Sometimes my sexual appetite is frightening even for me. I regret hurting people that way, more than I care to admit.) I was feeling overwhelmed with my own sexual desires, being that I'm a very emotional, passionate, demanding individual. So I forced myself to choose celibacy. It was a mixture of punishment, and a test, to see if I had the strength of character to deny my urges. I turned down offers from men that if I was in my normal state of mind, I would NEVER have turned down. Gorgeous men, intelligent men, but on the whole, shallow men. Men that regardless of experience or intelligence, wouldn't appreciate me as a person. Men that took my feelings, and thoughts, and made a mockery of them. That patronized me in order to get into my panties. Not cool. If you wanted to con me into fucking you, I'm intelligent/observant/aware enough to read through your bullshit a majority of the time, and honesty gets you a LOT further than trying to worm your way around the subject. I might turn you down, but at least you get an answer without fucking with my head.
Sexual frustration certainly held it's own temper tantrum in my brain during that 150 day/night long period, but the last person I had sex with before my "Chastastical** Celebration against Carnality" used it as a weapon against me. (As well as several other things) I think that is an unforgivable sin in the land of relationships. He rarely had time to TALK to me on the phone, let alone drop trou and give poor Linds a ride on the Sausage Express. (Thats the S. Ex. for short.) HIS needs were imminently more important than mine ever were, and he never failed to make it as complicated as possible when I asked for some nookie. I would bend over backwards, sexually or otherwise to try to make him happy. Not that it mattered. I don't care. The fucker called me two days before my trip, and I was shocked as hell to get a phone call from him. I guess his pecker wanted some kitty action, and I was very VERY happy to be able to deny him that pleasure. I'm not a booty call. At least not anymore.
The purpose of this written diarrhea? There is none really. I just wanted to write. This isn't a bitter attack against ex-lovers, because I've had enough that I've hurt myself to know it's probably karma biting me in the ass. I'm just lost inside my noggin right now, and this is as good a place to rant as any.
** Yes, I did make up the word Chastastical. It has a nice ring to it. Kinda like fantabulous and gigantism. Okay, maybe not gigantism. Hey, if "Baby Mama" can be a legitimate dictionary word, Chastastical can be, damnit.
As an aside, I just took an IQ test. Interesting results.
Congratulations, Linds!
Your IQ score is 129
Your IQ score is 129
Your Intellectual Type is Insightful Linguist. This means you are highly intelligent and have the natural fluency of a writer and the visual and spatial strengths of an artist. Those skills contribute to your creative and expressive mind.
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