Into The Rabbit Hole

Can you have a favorite animal but know nothing about it??

If the answer is yes, then please allow me to introduce to you my new favorite animal:

Meet my new favorite animal, a weedy sea dragon.

Here’s what I DO know. They’re from the waters near Australia, and the males carry their babies.

Sorry, wombats. You’ve been moved down on the favorite animal category. Conveniently, wombats are also from Australia.

Perhaps I was an Australian in a past life and recall being very fond of these animals from back then. Or maybe I just like animals that I’ll possibly never meet.

For the record, I was also thinking recently (last night, while watching a PBS special on them) that rhinoceros(es?) are rather adorable, too. If you’re into big pachydermy goodness.

I know… a little strange. But I’m pre-menstrual. I’m just thankful I’m not feeling this way about puppies or kitties.

Some things from tonight:

Organic Chemistry sort of makes my brain hurt.  I have to do a lot of thinking.  I need to spend a lot of time with this stuff so it makes sense to me.  I will need to spend at minimum three hours of on my own with the books/internet resources time for every hour of class time.

On relationships: I am more offended by the person presenting the gossip to me than by the person gossiping about me.   I will end relationships over this.  It is so glaringly obvious when a person is trying to start drama with me that it takes a lot for me to allow myself positive caring emotion about that person again.

Having an un-spayed female dog around is very validating.  Ever need to try to understand PMS?  Be around a dog right before she starts her menstrual cycle.  I can be more like that bitch than would be expected.  I cannot look at my education as a reason for sacrifice, because if I did, I wouldn’t do it.  There is no sacrifice in this experience.  The journey is far more important than the destination.  It’s a good thing I enjoy pushing myself hard.  It has nothing to do with giving up things now– it has everything to do with absorbing as much information as possible with one particular goal in mind.

Perhaps there is something to loving the dark sides of me.  Perhaps if I embrace the polar opposites of everything I strive to be, I can allow what I don’t want to be to exist, but not define me.  There is much to be said about self-acceptance and self-love.  It leads to an inexplicable ability to love others.  Might be on to something with that.

People believe in me.  And it’s exactly as it should be. And it was.

Being a woman is so much fucking fun I can hardly contain myself.

Of course we’re divine, and the more intelligent of the two genders, but we’re also significantly more crazy.  I know this, I am one. Seriously, to my readers of the male persuasion, I don’t think you’ll every truly understand how crazy-making being pre-menstrual is. I don’t even want to begin to think about what it would be like to be preggers.   *shakes head*That would be insanity.

  I want to paint you a picture of a girl with unending possibilities. A woman who smirks in the face of challenge, who whistles with glee at a chance to find the happy place she knows 99% of the day.   Today, I fell short.  Not all day, in fact, it was a perfect day for the most part.   But so that you know that I, too, am human, I want you to hear that I missed (skipped) school because of something I was self conscious of today.  I drove in, paid for my parking ticket, sat in the parking lot for several minutes, trying to talk myself into not being self-conscious, and then drove home, cursing myself every five minutes for being such a pussy.   Then I came home, and felt better.    And now I’m fine.  

I can do this, you know.  I am a woman, and it’s allowed.

I am so purely blessed, it’s unbelievable.My recent encounters with my past remind me that I turned out okay after all!  In spite of (fill in the blank), I am a highly functioning, growing, learning, fabulous woman.   It feels so good to remind myself that life for me isn’t bad at all– in fact, it’s amazing, it’s great, it’s PURRRFECT… And everything I experience along this lifetime only adds to me as a whole.   There is no experience that won’t completely complement me, and as I move along, right or wrong, up or down, happy or sad, I am doing it all exactly as I should… I like who I am after all, even if I cannot predict my behavior, even if I do stupid things sometimes, and even if my emotions aren’t 100% kept in check.How validating.  As it turns out, I’m okay just as I am.  I’m okay when I’m hyper-needy for four days out of every twenty-eight because it reminds me that I’m healthy and fertile.  I’m okay when I love someone, even if they don’t love me back, because I know that I have the capacity to FEEL.  I’m okay when I say things that I shouldn’t have, because I catch myself and learn about how it feels when someone is hurt by me AND because it makes me a more forgiving person when someone says something they shouldn’t have.  I’m okay when I’m cranky, because it reminds me that I have a bed to sleep in. I’m okay, because I’m human, and I learn from my experiences.   I’m utilizing my time in this life wisely, because I’m doing everything within my ability to make sure that I’m learning from my experiences and doing it right the next time the opportunity presents itself.It feels good to know these things about myself.  I feel comfortable in my own skin again.  I’m not self-conscious about my body any more.  I’m not self-conscious about my moods and hormones.  I trust my behavior, and I know I have a good heart.  I am not malicious, and I am not hurtful.  I can be human, even if it means that sometimes I feel sad or hurt or crazy.   And I don’t have to worry about whether or not people like me when I feel this way.   I KNOW that my friends love me.  I KNOW that I am surrounded by people who genuinely love me so much that nothing can change that.To be able to say this gives me a completely blessed feeling.  It’s so good to not be afraid any more.

Today I am feeling blue.  And cranky.  Blue, cranky, and insecure. There is a fly banging himself against my window.  Today I feel like the fly.  I know he will die eventually, and I am the root cause of his death because I refuse to go through the effort to move my candlesticks and my framed picture and my candle/mirror hangy-thing that I would need to move in order to open the window.  I refuse, because I feel blue.  But I feel like the fly, too.  I can almost taste the fresh air, taunting me from the other side of the glass.  I can feel the sunshine lapping against my wings.  I can feel the cool glass, the promise of the air I need to survive… the food, the nourishment, the wind under my wings.  But as this fly, I will die here because some bitch is feeling blue

*spits*

*hiss*

*hair flying*

God I love hormones.  They’re out of control.  My skin has broken out, my emotions are all over the chart, and I want to kick and scream until I get my way, regardless of what my way might be.

In fact, I don’t know what my way could be, even!

Everything already goes my way.

Doesn’t matter.  I want everything to worship my way.  I want everything to acknowledge my supreme way-making skills.

And when that happens, I’ll feel uncomfortable because I really don’t need it to go my way any more than it already is.

I feel like I need to acknowledge my irrationality for what it is, rather than being all defensive about it. I constantly fear that people, especially my beloveds, will dislike me for being human/irrational/imperfect.  Of course, it’s not something I would expect them to embrace, but it’s reasonable to expect them to not turn away from me or to not have to fear abandonment because I don’t feel good sometimes.  (or we can replace “don’t feel good” with “am a complete irrational psychopath, “yunno, whatever).

Probably the most dramatic part of me being irrational is the feelings that come with the fear of being abandoned… it’s the insecurity of thinking “I’m behaving or thinking irrationally, and therefore people will quit liking me,” which makes me feel bad.  Or worse.  Or act like I’m needy and unloved.  And those feelings of being needy or unloved are the ones that most dramatically affect my relationships.  So it’s not so much that I *shouldn’t* be irrational sometimes as much as how I feel about me being “irrational” and which leads me to feel fearful of not being loved because of it.

Read the rest of this entry »

Please don’t think I’m crazy.I’m just telling you these things from the depth of my heart.They’re just emotions. They aren’t necessarily reality, and just because I feel them right this minute doesn’t mean that’s who and how I am.Why do I instantly fear you’ll think I’m crazy?Why do I instantly associate emotions with instability?My brain is only reacting to chemicals… to hormones.  My body naturally produces them. No, I’m not trying to be dramatic. Just trying to express them.  If I don’t put them out there somehow, I’ll bottle them up. Half of what I’m saying isn’t really even true. Not lying, just expressing. I’m scared that I’m going to scare you off. You’ll see that I”m not perfect. *gasp*What?  I’m not PERFECT?And I’m human?What?That’s impossible.  And humans feel these wacked out, fucked up things?You humans are fucking crazy.  

For you gentleman with queasy stomaches, you may not want to read any further… but that would just further serve my point here. There is something absolutely amazing about women.  If you haven’t already figured it out, I am going to tell you exactly why we are perhaps the most amazing and divine creatures on this planet.  And not just human women, though I’m going to use us as the primary context because we have yet to understand the depth of other animal’s emotions and their comprehension of their menstrual cycle. Read the rest of this entry »

I suffer from my PMS. Sadly, you suffer from my PMS, too!There are twenty-eight days in my cycle.  Of those, I bleed five.  Before that beautiful release (and return to sanity), I have seven to ten full days of Pre-Menstrual experience.  Seven to ten days… that’s more than one fourth of my cycle.  Every fourth week.  Yesh.  You love me. And during the pre-menstrual experience, I am fucking crazy.  I mean, not always, and not all the time, but I CAN be.  Often.  Throughout these pre-menstrual days.  My patience is totally thin, and I can become exacerbated over the most minute delays!  And I’m needy.  Needy.  Neeeeeeedy.  PAY! ATTENTION! TO! ME!!!!!!!  And my skin breaks out.  So I’m less confident that I don’t have some raging blemish that you’ll be forced to stare at.  So pay attention to me, but don’t look at me.  And goddess forbid I get cramps.  These usually don’t bother me until the first day I start menstruating, but some months are better than others.  It’s fun.  Really.  No, don’t walk away, I’m not done. Okay, maybe I’m done.  I’m just more sensitive during these days.  Some cycles are better than others.  Some cycles make me want to present myself to the nearest mental health facility, begging them to diagnose me with Pre-Menstrual Dysphoria Disorder (PMDD– the baaaaaad version of PMS), have them stick me with some morphine and make me just sleep it off.  Other times, I’m perfectly normal.  Like, functional.  You’d never know it until I actual bleed that I had been pre-menstrual. It’s fun being a woman.  Really.  I don’t mind all this cycling business.  I don’t even mind that I get pimples because of it.  I don’t dislike tampons, and I sure as hell don’t hate bleeding once a month.  I wouldn’t trade my womanhood for being a man for all the money in the world.     …maybe for all the chocolate in the world…