Shedding My Skin Anew.

Ahhhhhh there are certain traditions and customs that make me happy to be Korean. One big one would be the bathhouses. Korean women are generally known for aging gracefully and for having beautiful skin and hair. The secret? Bathhouses.

In Korea, it’s a place for friends or to make friends. Yeah, it sounds odd, being nude and scrubbing others’ bodies, but cleanliness is a huge deal back home and personal space is not.

My mother and I are usually at each other’s throats, but it seems we are capable of bonding when we go to the “sauna” (as we asians call it). I chatted up some uncomfortable topics (i.e. anything sex-related) and other stuff too. We mostly talked about Bert and my feelings for him. We also discussed my bipolarity, my future plans, family issues. It was nice. And all the while, we’re in and out of various steam rooms, clay rooms, salt rooms, dry saunas, soot rooms, hot tubs, warm tubs, cold tubs. I exfoliated, sweated out bad toxins, and gave my muscles some well-deserved tlc.

Malicious Avocado Attack?

Your body is your temple. You should treat it well. So you should keep yourself clean, exercise, and put good foods into it.

I’m not sure what I did differently today, but I’m feeling down. I know, I know. I’m bipolar and yes, I’ll cycle through my moods, but I guess I’ve been riding a decent high for an out of the ordinary amount of time and it’s hitting me pretty hard.

I made some homemade guacamole today and ate some lime flavored tortilla chips. I ate two meals today. I kept the exercise light, just barely making it to Body Combat in time. I half-heartedly completed the class, skipped out on the abs work out, and came home in a shitty mood. My dog greeted me when I got in, my mom offered me dinner, I declined, my dad and I ignored each other, and then I signed off on my taxes ($600 return), grabbed some ginger ale for my upset stomach, and ran upstairs to strip off my sweaty, smelly clothes and call my Bertram.

I haven’t even showered yet. I shouldn’t say yet. I’m not even going to bother. I’m just going to stay dirty, feel foul, and talk to Bertram until I fall asleep and stop thinking and feeling. I did take doxepin and a 2 mg ativan. Come and get me Sandman. Please, oh please.

Run With The Wolves

By The Prodigy.

“Wolf in sheep’s clothing”, “incarnate”, “whore”, and much more. Starbucks and about half an hour later, I’m faced with drama galore. My life is so utterly backwards it’s ridiculous. I made the drunken mistake of three drunken mistakes, one of which (thank friggin’ god) was 18 years of age, and he knew about all this. None of it mattered to him. But of course, family ties can tie you up and drag you around. Eventually, Immature Brat and I made up, as “dad” seemed the bigger enemy to her, so I guess I lucked out. I’m not sure. Whatever makes Bert happy though. I’m glad it’s done with. Now I just have to deal with Cunt-Faced, Soul-sucking Demon as it comes, but I’m fine with that.

I miss him and it’s official. Just 10 more days and I’m off to Anywhere Land with him again until we feel like coming down. Let’s hope the 13th brings good news and we can get things started on the right foot. I’m feeling overly-indulged at the moment as I’ve just finished stuffing myself full of homemade guac and chips, some ginger ale, and meal #2 before that… I guess I’ll be throwing in that extra cardio today. Uggggghhhhhh!!!!!

Eye Fucking.

It’s amazing how easy it is to get a man’s attention. I’d say today was a pretty good day and definitely a booster for my self esteem. I opted out of indoor climbing and took an hour nap instead, then I hit the gym for some kickboxing, ab work, and an hour on the stairclimber (or is it officially called the stairmaster?). It first started with Devon, an employee at the gym, who inquired about my accent and where I was from. He shamelessly flirted with me for a solid minute, holding up the line behind me, before finally giving me my requested towel and dropping a casual, “When you go back to Australia, you should take me with you.” Rolls eyes.

The Hydroxycut Hardcore really makes me sweat overtime, so I took off my pants before starting the Abs class. I had a pair of gray Under Armour shorts on underneath. Zing! Instantly I’m someone noticeable. Anyway, I literally got hollered at by two young boys whose combined age would still be lower than my own. I got eye fucked by almost every black, brown, and yellow males, about 3/4 of the whites. Hmm… Yeah, right. And much to my surprise, as I’m headed downstairs and passing the juice bar, Forest Griffin let his eyes flicker over my semi-naked bod a few times. Soooooooo, I guess it wasn’t too bad a night if someone famous took a gander at my goodies, right?

I’m a little annoyed as my cell phone died on me and now I must purchase another. $500 this thing was worth when it first came out and now it’s like, worthless. Seriously, I’m just going to buy the cheapest phone available because this year, everything has been breaking on me! My iPod, every pair of headphones I purchased, my computer, my cell phone, my keyboard, my stereo… sigh. I’m electronically cursed. I give up. Hopefully the new juicer Dad bought doesn’t decide to join the rest of its buddies in gadget heaven. I’ve jumped on the bandwagon of pro-juice (proDUCE, ha ha, get it? Laaaaame??) people.

I need to get in the habit of eating cucumbers and lime juice post-work outs, and cutting out starch from my last meal if I want to get ripped abs. My tits have gotten smaller from the weight loss, but I think I’m still in the large A-small B-cup range and as long as I don’t get any smaller, I’ve come to the decision that I don’t need breast augmentation. With all the new hobbies that will continue to be a huge part of my life, and all the other stuff I look forward to getting immersed in, I think that I’d be more comfortable with a natural and athletic body. And I think that most guys can get past the breast size issue if you have a nice, tight body, right?? The supplements really help amp me up, I feel a lot less aggressive now that my body has built up a tolerance to the Yohimbe, and though my right knee is suffering a little, I’m still pushing myself 3-4 hours every day. I know the body needs rest to recuperate, but… I’m sort of in a time crunch!! It can rest when it’s dead. My doxepin is kicking in, I think it’s bedtime.

Wrapping Things Up

For the evening.

I feel good tonight. I slept in, I got to talk to Bert on the phone twice today, text him a little bit… I ate a really good Korean meal for breakfast, finished off the awesome guacamole I made, and spent 4 hours at the gym doing back to back classes after downing 2 Hydroxycut Hardcore capsules. I came home, ate a piece of pumpkin, some brown sugar cream of wheat, chatted with my mom about Bert and his family and some worthless dribble about Al (insert rolling of eyes here), gave my pupster Ninja Dachi a bath, and scribbled some bullshit in my journal about my productive day. Oh yeah, I also called the “juicer” people to bitch about customer service but man, oh man, they’re a pain, sending me back and forth… I eventually gave up, but I do believe I won some points with my dad for trying. I can’t wait for that damn juicer to get here… Clear skin, manageable weight loss, healthy system, and more energy… Who could ask for more?

I feel good that I’m active again, I’m sleeping better, and despite the few problems I feel like are looming ahead, I’m not panicking for once. I’ll deal with it when I deal with it, right? I’m trying my best to revert to Zen Donna and hell if someone/thing is going to try and interrupt my happiness. I chatted with Phil online for a bit and that made me feel okay. I really miss him but I’m so happy things are looking up for him despite his hatred for academy-related work. I’m going to go climbing with Gary tomorrow despite being blown off this weekend by him, and hopefully I’ll be able to talk things out with him. If not, I’m back where I started and it’s okay, it won’t hurt as much the second time. Jo obviously needs me Wednesday for her courtroom ordeal, but we’ll see how that goes. I’ve made up my mind about my friends, so I guess I’ll see where all of my decision-making leads me. For now, I guess I’ll take my doxepin and play some DS, watch some Adult Swim, and crash. Sweet dreams to me and to Bert and all my loved ones. ^^*

“Doin’ The Mess Around…”

…Push me down into the ground, taste the hands that drink my body. Fight me in the dark, wrestle your bones over mine…”  -Bat For Lashes

I’ve lost track of the past week. It’s all an incoherent blur of broken necklaces, vodka, nails, skin, sweat. His second to the last night was spent in a hurricane of drunken neediness. Post police-run-in, post uncontrollable sobbing, post stripping down and crawling into bed. His last full day home was 3 sessions of lovemaking. He helps me feel what I cannot bring myself to feel. I urge him onto new territory and set off his curiousity. Then after our nap, we’re fighting the passing night together, fighting that sun that threatens to break a new day. Sun claims victory, and we waste the minutes ticking by, holding our breaths, inching closer together until we’re coupled once more in a final embrace. Like a junkie’s last hit, we desperately grasp at each other, eyes closed and savoring the last ecstasy we’ll feel until the next time we reunite.

I ache and long for him. No one knows me better than he does and the past week of writhing around like snakes has done nothing but fired up my long lost passion. My hunger for more can be sated by him and him only, maybe Bear Classic included. This is what it feels to truly want… I suppose, as a masochist, this pain I feel in this longing is not really pain. Foreplay, a tease, a build up. Still, I miss him and cannot stop thinking about him every waking and sleeping moment.

Goddamn Right, It’s A Beautiful Day (Eels)…

You make me feel like history: like ancient skies, crumbling fortresses, open fields, the wrath of nature; nymphs and powerful goddesses, like a warrior, like a wise and skilled hunter. You make me feel like a renegade. You bring me closer to nature and the strings of life. You make me strong and braver than I ever thought I could be after you picked up all my pieces and waited for me to puzzle them out. You didn’t put them together for me, but I like that. You waited for me and I liked it.

You make me feel crazy/beautiful. You make me feel dangerous and you make me feel safe in every way. These cuts you place on my body, I wear them with pride. They make me feel sexy and somehow I think I know you think they’re beautiful too. Even my old scars try to shine for you and so far, that’s okay by me. I don’t worry about the possibility that you could be glancing at another girl, because I know she’ll never hold your heart the way that I do. Every time you cut me, bruise me, and kiss me, I know strand by strand, our souls are fusing together and the more time passes by, we’ll become inseparable, just a big, beautiful, breathing mass of love. I love the way that you love me, despite my complaints. I ache for you whenever you’re away and I remember the way that you knew my body and showed me how. I’ve never dropped down my guard around someone, reverted back to the basics and felt so comfortable in my life. I don’t have to wear make up or shower every day or have perfect nails to feel pretty. I don’t care if we look like an amazing couple or not. I know we can do the most mundane of activities but we make it worthwhile. You push me to strive for a better version of myself without judgment or desire for me to change into something you want. You make me feel like it’s okay to venture out into new territory and attack it with vigour and ferocity. You make me not care about what anyone else thinks. I close my eyes and I see blossoms of red and white. We’re a fury of passion and we always will be and I’m okay with a whirlwind life as long as you’re always hanging onto my hand as we spin headfirst into anywhere-land. When we’re bare and lie together, our skin finds its way and we’re meant to fit together. I can close my eyes and breathe you in, no matter where I’m at. And when you touch me and kiss me, I feel like my favorite flowers: fragile and strong at the same time, poisonous, and pure. And when you open me up, there’s no pain at all, just this rush I’ve never felt until now. And I want to glow and bleed just for you and feel you deep inside me and I want you to feel me heal, wrap my legs tighter around you. When I run I know you’re in my heart. When I look up at the moon and the stars, I know you were on the other side of the world and that you did it too. I know we feel each other when we’re in each other’s thoughts. And whatever it was right I did in another universe or previous lifetime, I’m thankful because I’m being rewarded for it now. And I can’t wait to immerse myself in nature with you, back to those days when we needed to hunt for our village people and we were strong for each other. I feel alive when I’m with you, sometimes, so alive that we fight. But I accept that. We’re too passionate and I like it just like that. I never want it to change. I want to be crazy/beautiful with you and spiral out of control and cry and make love and yell and climb mountains and bring in our kill and shower the blood off and hold hands and stare into your eyes and breathe you in and take each step forward with you. Because after all is said and done, and for everything I know that looms ahead, I know we were meant for each other and life is good now.

A New Chapter, An Old Book…

I like turning the pages; anticipation for something brand new, or something familiar and great. Whatever it is, I’m turning the pages and finding some of both and all too much more, and leaving the rest behind. And as my eyes flicker over the new text, I suddenly find myself thinking that there exists too much for a world so small… Too many people, too many feelings, too much light, too much to learn, too much to forget, too much to die for, too much to live for…

I woke up this morning with a heavy heart. The skies knew and drew the clouds nearer to them, trying so hard to block out the sun. The sun tried to fight the dismal atmosphere and shone as bright as it could, UV rays penetrating through with a vengeance like I’ve never experienced. It looked like rain today and yet I squinted in pain as my body battled the hypersensitivity; eyes moving too fast while my brain sludged back and forth, squishing into the sides of my skull. The light trying it’s damnedest to kill me.

Curled up uncomfortably in the crowded backseat, I took deep breaths of the cool air and tried my best not to meet his gaze in the rear view mirror. Once was quite enough and I had to look away and focus on numbing the creeping sadness in my heart. As his dad waited in the vehicle, he got out to help me with my things. A month’s worth of living packed into two shopping bags, a shotgun named Molly, and those damn Coach boots I love so much, and I didn’t give a care except to pop the trunk to my car and toss the shit inside. It was probably the briefest of goodbyes we’ve ever experienced between us, and I have to take the blame and say I felt a little uncomfortable in the presence of his father. A stolen kiss, so momentary, a quick peck on his cheek, and paradoxically the most awkward of embraces and the most right. I walked to the door without looking back and managed to close it behind me before hearing the Jeep roar off.

So the day wears on, and it begins to wear on me, and the loneliness really sinks in. No more distractions and everything suddenly becomes reality. I start to think about Al and the bullshit drama he is causing me. So here’s what I have to say to you, Al, even though I’m 100% sure you have removed me from your life and you will never read this:

I don’t appreciate being slandered. I am not a slut. I did not cheat on you. But silly me, I let your insecurities drag me down to your level. I felt the need to defend myself whenever I’d run into mutual acquaintances, I felt angry with you for lying about what really happened between us, and I was upset towards the people who treated me differently after crossing your path. I’ve also been depleted of my medications for nearly two weeks, I’m running on very little sleep, my body is recuperating from days of physical abuse, and I had to watch someone I’ve been in love with leave me for the billionth time. I came home and I felt dirty and sick and tired. I was covered in dust and dirt from the mountains, alcohol and stale cigarette smoke, sweat from dancing, climbing, making love, fucking. So yeah, I felt like shit. I needed to cut my dirty nails, disinfect my wounds, wash the sweat off my body, and get some decent rest. You won for a little while. It’s been a long time since I’ve let myself feel so bad, but I’m also a completely different person now and I have you to thank for it.

In fact, I haven’t felt so good in a long time, and I realize now that if you hadn’t spent your time putting me down and trying to drag me around, I wouldn’t appreciate just how good it feels to get away from a patronizing asshole such as yourself. I feel sorry for you that you’re  hurting and yet the only outlet you possess to handle  your emotions is such a negative one. Name-calling and friend-wars, I never thought you’d stoop so low, but you must have known that everything gets around. Thank you for it all because now I know who my real friends are, I know what kind of a man I truly need in my life, I know that I’m strong enough to make it on my own. The past year of tears, hurt, betrayals, laughs, kisses, hugs, lotion, showers, and photography… it was all genuine. There could have been no way for me to have endured a year of masked put-downs. But now it’s reached its end and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I hope you come around sometime, because I’d really like my Super Nintendo and games back, as it does have sentimental value to me. I’d like my share of costumes I put money into in case I ever need to attend a themed party. Oh yeah, you have my DVD of Labyrinth and for sure that’s not something you’re allowed to keep because it’s one of my favorite movies and a friend purchased it for me.

I took some time out in between blogging. I got all the dirt out from under my nails and while I did that, I appreciated and congratulated myself that I earned it from climbing up mountains. I peeled the clothes off me and with each layer gone, I laughed a little to myself, reminded of the drunken debauchery of the night before. I stepped into my shower, letting the steam come up and bring the smell of him from my hair. I closed my eyes, hugged myself to protect and keep all that mattered close to me, and smiled as I thought about my last few nights with him. And then I let the hot water rain down on me and wash away every trace of you and everything bad that you left behind.

Now I’m finishing up the blog, sitting naked on my chair. My soul is naked and clean and I feel like a weight has been lifted from me. And all the words I have left to say from now on are for everyone else but you. You don’t exist.

Much Like Ketosis.

Just a recap of my first day on Cymbalta: The symptoms I felt today (and still feel) are drowsiness, dizziness, yawning (of which all three were within the first hour), loss of appetite, nausea, momentary stomach pains (those three snuck up on me and gradually worsened), excessive sweating, hot flashes (very annoying, and I can see it becoming a problem while out in public), and muscle fatigue. This last one is the worst. I tried a low carb diet once in my life. The Atkins Diet, I believe it was. During the first two weeks when my body was going through ketosis, I had to deal with terrible muscle fatigue. It’s this slow, burning sensation, much like working out too hard. Take away the soreness you’d feel from the lactic acid and you’ve pretty much grasped an idea of what it feels like. I could barely tolerate having my arms rest on the desk so that I could access my keyboard. I’m still feeling it all over, amazed that I haven’t been irritable at all today!! Surely it couldn’t already be working, could it? Or am I supposed to be so lethargic and pathetic that I have no energy or will to feel? Haha… honestly, it sounds a bit dramatic, but I spent the entire day in bed, nodding off at random moments, battling the urge to vomit from the smell of food, and quite literally drooling on myself!! Poor Al of mine… I’m so exhausted I can’t even prevent my face from going slack and keeping my cooties to myself.

It’s just past 9 p.m. now and I managed to eat a little bit of dinner. I had a few bites and ended with a handful of grapes. I think I’m going to take the Restoril at 10 tonight. I can’t wait to sleep. LOL. I don’t know. Living here in Vegas, people often jokingly say, “sleep is overrated” but those people… well. Those people are overrated. How’s that?! Eeeyeeaah.

Side Effects?

It’s 11 a.m. now. I took the Cymbalta precisely one hour ago. I’m feeling very drowsy. In fact, I’ve made up my mind to go back to bed and sleep some more. I don’t particularly like the decision I’ve made, as I’ve just finished up further research on circadian rhythms, but I’m barely hanging on to consciousness. I’m not sure if it’s possible to already feel side effects of the duloxetine since I know it to have a cumulative effect. I suppose it could be a combination of the Restoril and months of sleep deprivation. I changed my mind. I’m going to attempt to stay awake. If I can’t, I’ll set the alarm and attempt a 1-2 hour nap. Let’s hope this doesn’t mess up tonight’s sleep. And it’s now 11:11 and i’m feeling very lightheaded and dizzy. I’m drowsy, and I feel numbness and muscle fatigue in my arms.