days since I have posted. I haven't been to therapy in ages either. I would venture to say its because of Dereks. Having a boyfriend does not solve all of your problems. In fact, it creates many of them, like the "where did my leftovers go" problem, the "how did my laundry pile double" problem, and the "why is there suddenly no room in my bed" ( Read more... )

Desdemona slept with Othello last night. And this morning. By this I mean that I have taken method acting to a new level and had sex with my scene partner. The most strange thing (not strange bad, either) is that I am realizing this is the first time that I have ever slept with anyone who was really my friend and my friend first until now. And the ( Read more... )

I don't think that I am normal. Like we are normal. Like other couples. other creatures, in other, other rooms. And then i remember that I am an historian. And the window of view is a long one indeed. And the pleasure to speak is beyond a silly thing to believe. and one touch on the mouth is not just a brush on the sleeve.

my right shoulder socket hurts like a bitch. this is what your whole body must feel like when you are old and arthritic.

I am so sad and lonely just right now, tonight. Localized in tonight.Let me place it in tonight ( Read more... )

that I am going to go to bed before dawn tonight so that my body can wake up before noon tomorrow b/c it has to wake up at 8:15 on Friday and Saturday. Poor self! I have things to worry about but I can't seem to make them stick well when there are beers in the house and blooming daffodils.

I have this habit of looking at old live journal entries. Like really old ones. What I do is bring up the calendar view of the past SIX YEARS and click on the date that is closest to whatever day it is and read it to see if I can discern patterns in my mood based on the time of year. This is kind of weird, I know, but I think that LJ is a useful ( Read more... )

this many years of therapy you would think that the whiskey wouldn't make me so silly, but there is no accounting for chemicals, hormones, and the persistant need for unwise bootycalls and ill-timed text messages. And all of the hungry, guilty aftermath ( Read more... )

and wait for him to call. And he does. He says "do you know how wonderful you are?" I laugh. I think that he is helping me find out that wonderful is possible. I told him that if he is trying to get me not to fall in love with him, he is doing all of the wrong things. He laughed and kissed me. We danced in the kitchen. We sing in the dark. And ( Read more... )

was not a good time this time. I was eight kind of stressed out and now I am back and stressed out about money and my dissertation (ie: not having ideas about how to make either one.) So if you have any ideas about 13th century nuns in Marseille- or elsewhere in Southern France- please throw them my way. I am currently feeling quite accomplished, ( Read more... )