*back in the game*

*
The dating game, that is. Not that I ever was really all that out. But the boy "broke up" with me over facebook yesterday. Second time in a row someone breaks up with my while I'm shooting something. Well, in this case he didn't even bother breaking up. He just changed his facebook status to single. Luckily, I was looking at the screen when it happened, so I kind of was the first to know.

Well, as the Scissor Sisters well put it, "let's have a Kiki".

It was over. Mostly because I don't have the energy or even actually want to invest in a relationship right now.

It's time to take care of myself. Period. And maybe go on a couple interesting dates in the process.
*

A matter of trust

One of the most frustrating things ever, to me at least, is feeling a group of people I work with does not trust my work.

And I mean frustrating to the brink of tears. Seriously. Constant questioning, undermining, handing over things I'd love to do to other people have me screaming on the inside. I need trust.

So I started thinking about trust issues. Before I start screaming outloud, or posting snarky comments online, and so that I can stop deleting half of the things I wish I was responding... time to look on the inside.

I'm having major trust issues. In a way I've never had before. Inner and outer trust issues. I'm upset by a bunch of bureaucrats who don't trust me, true. I don't trust my heart or friendship into their hands either. I started handing it over, and making myself at ease with them but some of our recent arguments screwed that up. And now I'm having issues because I do feel they do not trust my skills. Which is really the most upsetting thing for a workaholic.

All I got is work.

Double whammy. Ops, double insight.

- I'm not all that.  I have moments of genius, but the rest of the time, I'm quite average. I'm cute, I'm funny and I'm hyperactive. I'm also vain, annoying and superficial. And lazy. Time to be humble and really study,    to really pick people's brains. Kintaro Oe put it well: Study, study, study!

- I don't trust myself. Because I know I'm a poser, and I know how lazy I can be, I don't trust myself. Therefore, I'm paranoid others will find out how much I don't know and feel angry they won't trust me. Let those who know, do, dammit. And start trusting yourself to be hardworking and earnest. There's more worth in that. Let the random anonymous dudes online suck up to you and pamper your ego.

I hope this is one of those internal snaps, when one really changes. It would be nice growing up just a bit more. And being less lazy. Admitting I don't know won't make me less special or delightful to be around. Now I get it.

Still, a little bit of praise for small things, when it comes to working with me, goes a looooooooong way in making me want to try harder. Criticizing me is making me shut myself in my own little shell of pain. And that is something decades of therapy may never cure. But I can try.

fucking trust issues

yesterday I started taking into account how fucked up my trust issues really are. I've been finding it really hard to connect and relate to people, but I hadn't considered that as a factor. Then, bam! Yeah, it's a real thing.

I'll blame the former bestie, she who shall not be named, for this one. After saving my ass last year when my ex threw me out, she snapped and went berserk on me, revealing her own nature. As ugly as that nature is, the shock of seeing her true self was a lot bigger than the fact we are no longer friends. As I've seen around online, I miss the person she used to be.

So I've been having issues with some of the people I'm working with in my burlesque group. Big issues. Trust issues. Issues as in they're painfully rude and say the most hurtful things. And I do take those to heart. I've even been pushing the boy away, half bored, half afraid to commit at all.

And here I was wondering why it seemed I have no friends. Well, hon, you're not letting anyone near you! I'm still feeling a bit awkward around my friends/producers, but I do see them as friends now. I mean, they've been watching over me (and half spoiling me, both of them) since wednesday, and it's not because anyone expects it of them or because they don't have anything better to do. But because they want to.

Well, it takes getting really sick to see who are the people who care for your well being. I should have known. I'll try to be nicer to others from now on as well. Lesson learned.

I just need the taquicardia to go away.

and an UTI almost killed me

No, seriously. Ok, maybe it didn't kill me. But if it hadn't been for my good friends/producers I'd still be curled at home in a flaming ball of pain.

See, thing is I'm used to being feverish. Or having a bit of a fever. And I shouldn't. Because one night of fever became two, and then three. And when abdominal pain and god awful migraines joined the party on the third night, I thought they would go away on the next day. But they didn't.

And on the fourth day (I was transported back to my missionary childhood this morning reading Robert Crumb's Genesis, don't mind me) me and the producers had a meeting with a big cable network. I felt ok. For a little bit. As long as I wasn't standing.

Yeah, right. Me being ok turned into me passing out in the mall and sweating out my soul later that night. So, lucky me, my friends, the producers, insisted on taking me to the hospital. And even luckier we found a public hospital that wasn't crowded and that could produce my exam results on the same day. And even even luckier I have the worst differential diagnostic skills. No, it was not appendicitis, nor dengue fever. It was "just" an UTI that went unnoticed for about a couple weeks and had spread, hi and lo. Yup, an UTI could have been the end of me.

Other exam results showed what everyone already knows. I have a shitton of piercings. I'm still anemic. And hypoglycemic. And had a raging fever of 102F (39C) when I hit the hospital. Almost enough to melt out my precious... brains.

So I'm spending the day at my friend's place, feeling like the sick kid at the aunt's house. A couple of doses into the antibiotics have me feeling a bit better, but not well enough to do much of anything. The taquicardia and the mental confusion are side effects, and are really unpleasant. The fever is gone, but some of the pain isn't, and my stomach is a wreck.

Meh, I'm forcing myself to rest. I even switched with another dancer for tomorrow night's gig. I'll be back mooning into the adult world soon enough. And I promise (to try) to never overlook a fever again.

I owe my friends, big time... wonder how I'll make it up to them. I don't like being a burden on anyone, but sometimes other people can take better care of you than yourself. Better rest well, so I can quickly be back on my feet!

A letter from the past

I've been going thru my bedroom in an effort to organize my life from the inside out. Also, I need the space to sew a modern hanbok style dress for my photoshoot on Monday. Seriously, I've been at this since... Wednesday?

I've got a lot of crap stuff, and one of the things I like keeping are old diarys and notepads. But those things take up space. It hurts throwing them out.

Going through one on my notepads from 6 (?!) years ago, I found this letter I wrote to the Mister. I have no idea of when... maybe in 2010? 2009? 2008? Our crisis go way back, almost as long as our relationship goes. And whilst it's kind of odd to post this today, since it's the (new) boy's birthday, I want to throw the original out. So I'll just leave this here.

Yes, it's very personal. So don't read it if you don't care. And if you do, please do contextualize. Back then was a time when I thought it was more comfortable to be owned than to be responsible, and I did not capitalize my "i"'s.

-x-

I'm sorry. But I hurt.


I need to be made love to. It's been so very long, long over two years anyone has made love to me.


Sex is good. The Fucking is great. But at times... At times like these, when i hurt, when every sore is open, i need to be made love to. Fucking, just for the sake of it, only makes the pain more vivid, more intense.


Sometimes i hurt. i am aching now, my memory revived by those who surround me... those who love each other in a way that has me sobbing in the ladies room, in envy and self pity, for i miss being touched.


Touch me. Kiss me til i moan and beg You to work Your way down. Do You even know my body, how i look down there? Kiss me, lick me, bite me, finger me, hold me... till i can take no more and beg You once again... make love to me, pretty pretty please.


And just then... just then You will firmly but gently, pin me down with Your manhood. for a moment, You pause and kiss me again, waiting. Finally, i pull You further in, and You know that it won't hurt even if You push harder and harder, thrusting until we are both exhausted.


Maybe this is a part of me You would rather ignore. Is it too vanilla for You, to love me this way? Can't You see it is to love i have submitted, not to You? True, both are the same, intertwined as Siamese in a freak show, conjoined by the head (or was it the pelvis?). i am Your slave, as You are my Master, and that is why, oh just why it is from You i long the love to come from... not from just anyone. Not from anyone else. Not anymore.


i repeat myself. i hurt on the inside. And I'm not very good at concealing it. Why should i? Shouldn't i give my whole to You, pain, love and all? But i am drifting away from the true objective of all this... Please, no longer ignore my longing for You. It can't be healthy to live this way.


i am afraid. i fear that if i am not loved, You may lose me. i am, honest. After all, no matter how much i love You, i still cannot love myself enough for both of Us.


This hurts. Cure me. Please, come closer now? Love me, gentle and sweet. Please, don't just shut off when i turn over and cry, for it is Your arms i long for. Kiss me. Embrace me. Console me. After all, these days, You are the one i hurt for.


And please, please, pretty pretty please...
Won't You make love to me?


...
But suddenly You come home and bring in a cold chill along? Do you even care to see me hurt? I hate my heart for whispering to me that You make it be so, and find it amusing. i just don't want to believe You're like all those other guys who hurt me before. Are You?
-x-

It was the one year anniversary of our very ugly breakup this week. I guess I needed the clean up around here, for my mental health. Sure, my sinuses suffer. But my room is as pink as it's ever been (and will get even pinker once I make my curtains), and my heart feels lighter with things in place.

He tweeted this, this week. I wonder if he meant me...

I keep on living. Living, learning, fighting. And pinning stuff. It's kind of my thing, you know?