Frozen Fire

What do Casanova, James Bond, Bill Clinton, Sex and the City's Samantha, Mae West, Don Juan, and I have in common?

Answer: an insatiable sex drive

After a Puritian adolescence, I had my first kiss at the age of 18. At 19, I lost my virginity. In a few short years, I had morphed from a shy, overweight girl scared of all things masculine to a Lolita- of-sorts eagerly making up for lost time. I've done it in my childhood bed, in my dorm room, in my parents' bed, in my grandparents' bed. I've had sex in a trailer, a car, on a cruise ship, on the floor of my dorm room, in a tent, on my mother in law's living room floor, in a shower, in a tub, the back of a pickup truck, and in a hot tub. I've fucked boyfriends, exes, engaged men, married men (technically Jay was married when we got together-- it was a week before his divorce finalized), & single men. My lovers include doctors, gang members, Navy, Marines, Army. It wasn't all one-night stands or fuck buddies however. I had several long-term "relationships" and one serious relationship. Despite my overactive sex drive, I have always been faithful, even if my partner was not ( a story for another time). I was so bad that friends nicknamed me "Twinsie Immorality".

Now, on the verge of 24, I've reached a standstill. It's not for lack of opportunity-- Lord knows that I have options. It's that I no longer want to "worship the priest instead of the God", I no longer want "accept a false Messiah," to borrow words from Sharon Olds's poem "Sex without Love". I've reached the state where emotional security and "making love" is simply more desireable than "having sex" or "fucking." I miss the emotional connection; the connection of soul, heart, and mind that is consumated by a joining of the bodies. I miss laying in emotional bliss in another's arms afterwards. I miss being able to murmur "I love you" at the moment of passion. 

I've had that once in my life with Trevor, and started to have it with Jay, before I recognized his true colors. With Jay, there was a physical need associated with it. I was addicted to his pheremones. Probably why the sex was out of the park amazing. With Trevor, it was emotional. The first time we made love after we had broken up, I cried because the passion we had for each other was emotionally overwhelming. He wasn't the best love physically, but he was my best emotionally.

I'm at the point where satisfying the physical desire simply isn't worth the emotional complexity, paranoia about STDs and pregnancy, and awkwardness. I've recognized that the trysts that I've had in the past few months are becaus I was searching for lost emotions. I miss the things about making love that simple sex doesn't offer.

So, I'm done. Honestly and as a seriously as a heart attack, I am done having sex. I'm declaring my celibacy until I find or return to someone worthy of not only receiving my body and my mind. Instead of chasing relationships that are never going to work, I'm going to expend that energy fostering a relationship with myself.

I recognize that for those people that have read my blog that know me in real life, this basically means that Hell has frozen over. Some may even  be skeptical. To those people I say, "start knitting a sweater and mittens for Hades because it's going to be cold there for a long, long time."

However, as my best friend Tom so fittingly put it, "God help the man that you do find, because he has no idea what he's in for, if your sex drive has been bottling up for a long time." True.

"The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you find someone to love the you that you love, well, that's just fabulous." –Carrie from Sex and the City

The Road Less Traveled

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both...- Robert Frost "The Road Less Traveled"
 
Like all English majors, I have a few poems and books that I feel that I could have written because they echo the feelings in my heart.  I return to Frost's poem every time there is a divergence in my life, where I have to ponder which road to take, and the implications of both. I'm at fork in the road right now, looking down the paths of two lives that I could easily lead. One leads me to attend Lesley University's MFA in Creative Writing program. I found out Friday afternoon that I had been accepted. The other is an online MEd program at the University of New England in Literacy.
 
There are merits to both programs. Learning about Literacy would directly help me in my classroom experience by introducing me to strategies I could use to help struggling readers. It might open more doors for me in this district to advance to a full-time Language Arts position. However, it is not where my heart is. I am interested in it only because of its affordability, easiness, usefulness, and the fact that two of my other friends are attending the same program.
 
The MFA program offers me the opportunity to work on my own writing, which I neglect in favor of responsibilities, and the promise that I could teach college Creative Writing classes. The MFA is where my heart is, though it is going to be a lot of work, and a bit more money than the other program. All told though, both programs are going to be be less than a year at Assumption. If I have to take a loan out for that much, it is not going to be as much of a burden. The MFA is the "road less traveled" for me. I know of no one who went to Lesley's MFA program, though I have several relatives who attended there for MEds. As part of thier interdiscplinary component, I can also take Education courses to satisify my MFA requirements.

I've decided to do the MFA program. As I told a friend last evening, its time I start riding with my seat, allowing my true feelings and forces of nature to navigate the direction of my life, and accepting that change, rather than jerking on the reins all the time to force my life back onto a path it would rather not go. Had I done that in March, when Trevor came back to me, I would still be with him. Instead, I was scared, unsure, and selfish...I wanted both worlds. Instead, I lost them both. The MFA program is what I want to do, and I'm disregarding everyone else's opinion in order to stride convidently down the path that is "grassy and wanted wear." Like Frost, I know that I can keep "the first for another day!/Yet, knowing how way leads onto way/I doubt I should ever come back."

I'd give anything...

Before I begin the meat of my post, I want to let everyone know that I lost 3 lbs! I celebrated by sharing a piece of baklava with my mom. 

I eat lunch every day with a collection of teacher assistants. I do this for two reasons. 1) the 8th grade team, with which I am close with, eats lunch after me. 2) I cannot stand the seventh grade team, that has lunch the same time as me.  One of the teacher assistants, Jo, spent lunch complaining about how insensitive and annoying her long term boyfriend is. As in, "he gets home at 3:30 and I get home at 7, and he asks what's for dinner! Couldn't he have made dinner while I was away?" and other things of that nature. Don't get me wrong, I can understand how totally frustrating it is. The other TAs bemoaned their husbands' collective ineptness.

I kept quiet through most of it. Only two of the TAs I consider "friends" and am wary of the rumor mill small school I teach in. My lunch group knows that Trevor and I had broken up, knew about Jay, and that we were no longer together. I never mentioned exactly how much I miss him-- other than my parents and his family, few people know that I want him home.  Part of the reason we broke up is that everyone in town it seemed had to put their input in about our relationship, whether we were friends with them or not. I do not want to listen to lectures about how much they disliked Trevor.

It wasn't all of Trevor's fault that they didn't like him. My town, like most small mill villages in Connecticut, consists of people, who like their fathers and fathers' fathers, are born, live, and die in the same town. With only one elementary, middle, and high school in town, you literally grow up together. The same friends you have as a child are usually your friends in adulthood. It makes people wary of outsiders. Trevor wasn't from the town, CT, or even from a small town. That made him an outsider, which almost ostracizes you from the "good ol' boys club" down at the fire house. Another thing that didn't help was that several of the firefighters had their eyes on me, and I had been talking to a few of them when Trevor and I met. Trevor also talked a lot and had tall tales to tell, I think, in part, to impress his new friends.

As these women bemoaned their husbands' mild cases of forgetfullness, messiness, and lack of consideration, I couldn't help but wish how I could be right there with them, affectionately complaining about my pet peeves with Trevor. At a lull in the conversation, I interjected, "It's funny, I would willingly accept his faults if it meant that Trevor would come back. You ladies don't know how lucky you are." The table grew quiet after that. It wasn't my intention to chastize them, just to let them know how lucky they are they have husbands that love them. I would give anything to have my "husband" home.

I'd give anything to have the collection of Mt. Dew cans on his nightable, to be able to wash his dishes, and take out the trash when he forgets. I'd give anything to drive by the fire house on my way home from work, see his car in the FD driveway, and catch him smoking a cigarette out back because he doesn't want to upset me. I'd give anything to work two jobs if it living in our own home. I'd give anything to be woken up at 3 am by kisses on the neck because he wanted lovin' even though he rejected my earlier advances because the game was on. I'd give anything to constantly be paying off a Frederick's bill so I could surprise him after a hard week at work. I'd give anything to be able to have to buy clothes, boxers, and tank tops for him. I'd give anything to wake up to pizza crumbs in the bed because he ordered out while watching hockey on the humongous plasma tv screen that he insisted hang in our bedroom. I'd give anything to lay on his chest at night and smell his distinctive aroma of sweat, cigarettes, and dirt. I'd give anything to playfully fight with him and make up after. I'd give anything to have to pick up his dirty clothes that he dropped next to the hamper.

I'd give anything to have him back, even if that means putting up with the little things that annoy me. For all the things that he does wrong, he put up with my moods, supported me in good times and in bad, loved my animals because they were ours, loved me beyond compare, let me know that I was his world, and was my best friend through it all. Without him, I feel like a ship that has lost its anchor and is slowly drifting from port to port, hoping to find the same easy comfort, support, and affection as before.

I'd give anything to have him home.

The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings- Eric Hoffer

I am not pregnant

Thank God I'm not pregnant. That's all  I have to say.

I learned about teaching in the aisles of Staples

There is great article published by the National Writing Project entitled Everything I Know About Teaching Language Arts I Learned at the Office Supply Store. The author, Kathleen O'Shaughnassy, is both funny and practical as she gives tips on helping students to learn using the most common office supplies. I love the article and have even used some of her tips.

I would like to add one of my own, Magnetic Tape strips. I use these babies for everything. I blew up a list of my students vocabulary list, printed it out, and cut them individually. I then affixed them to the white board at the back of my room, that I never use for obvious reasons to form a vocabulary wall that can be added to as my students learn new words. Most teachers know that tape and other such things do not work well on white boards. I also used printed out our schedule in the same manner, which can be easily rotated to accomodate the changing dates. There are a million other uses too. Best of all, it was 0.99 for 18 adhesive strips (.5 in x 4 in) at Walmart. Score!

By way of a disclaimer, I am not recieving any compensation for this tip. I simply wanted to share it with fellow teachers who read this blog in the hopes that they too can be awed by the sheer awesomness that is magnets. No, seriously.

I have weigh in today (cue Jaws theme song) though I am making a pit stop at the store to pick up a pregnancy test. My period was really light month, and kinda brown. My period is usually pretty light (so light I don't even need a tampon), so I'm probably overreacting, and I'll kick myself later for wasting the money, but I need to stop the worry warts bouncing around in my brain. I'll letcha know.

The Ghostly Equestrienne

I was shopping in Stop  Shop last night for healthy lunch options after discovering that 2 slices of bologna was 5 pts (!!!), when I discovered the Martha Stewart Halloween Magazine. Despite all her legal troubles, I am in love with her sense of chic style that I aim to imitate. I had always known that Martha's style edges towards country chic, but I had no idea that she was a fellow horsewoman!

The cover (which is Martha herself with her Friesan) caught my eye because the horse looks like Magic.

The Halloween edition consists of several easily made costumes, including one of a "Ghostly Equestrienne" straight out of Edwardian England. My costume usually consists of girly/sexy costumes, but this season I might make this costume and take Magic trick or treating with me! At the very least, I can get some cool Myspace pictures out of the deal, and enter in a local costume contest!

Enjoy the pictures below!

Briefly Back On (the) Chase

"Men are not against you, they are merely for themselves"- Gene Fowler

I met Chase* in 2004. He was the one that enticed me with his tall, dark, and handsome complexion to leave the land of virginity, and cast aside my Puritanical beliefs. He was the first one, after I lost weight to pay attention to me, and make me believe that I was sexy. As his name denotes, being with Chase was a constant battle. Our on-again, off-again relationship was legendary, as was our passion. There were nights that I would wake up to him calling as he got out of work (he worked 2nd shift) asking me to come down. Even though I was at school a half hour away, I'd quickly shower and shave, and drive to his house. The next morning, I'd stumble into class, exhausted with the goofy smile of someone who had spent the night being ravaged. My friends, especially Twinsie, would shake their heads, knowing that I yet again hadn't learned my lesson.

When I met Trevor, however, I finally cast aside my obsession with Chase for the quiet comfort of love, even though Trevor wasn't as great in the sack as Chase.

Three years went by. I randomly bumped into Chase at the gym one night earlier this year. We started talking again. We always were best friends, even if Chase's inability to commit kept us apart. We've remained friends and supported each other through the various relationship problems we've encountered. Through this all, it's been platonic, even though I drunkenly texted him for sex one night. Don't get me wrong, even though Chase is now 28 (a fact which boggles my mind), he still is insanely sexy. However, now that I know what it means to "make love," and not just "fuck," I don't crave that anymore. I don't even hold Chase as the "best ever," though he is second only to Jay.

Chase texted me last weekend, and I could sense things were different, yet familiar. Conversations started to spiral into what could only lead to an invitation to come over. Last night, I got exactly that. Out of the clear blue, he started talking about how much he missed my mouth..... Even though I am pretty much done with dating because I'm tired of being hurt, and I've decided to not sleep with anyone else lest I find myself with the "slut" label, I decided that sleeping Chase might not be a bad thing. After all, I was over the emotions for him; he's a guaranteed good fuck; and since he's already on my list, he wouldn't add to my number.

So I invited him over to my apartment. I gave him head, like he wanted, and then he wanted to fuck me. I was punch drunk with desire for him at that point. Chase has an inmistakable allure. Thirty seconds later, it was over. As I lay there, wondering what the hell just happened, he sat up and said that the night was just for him, and not for me, and he wasn't even going to pretend like it was.

All I could do was laugh. It was so like Chase-- so unabashadly selfish that i couldn't even be upset with him. I should have learned from my three years with him that he was capable of it. The thought even crossed my mind as I waited for him. But I pushed it aside, too excited for the thought of reliving the past nights of passion.

So, dear Readers, what lessons have you thought you learned, only to go back to your old ways in a moment of weakness?