I want to pay for it

I so wish sex work was legal. I mean, solicitation is illegal in Canada but sex work is not, so theoretically I could hire a sex worker; but I wish it was socially acceptable. Not so much because I'm worried about stigma, but then because it could be normalized and I could get a good recommendation of who to ask for. I remember back in high school, when I was a virgin, and my friends and I used to discuss who the best guys were to make-out with. Oddly enough, we were so much more relaxed with our sexuality then.

I miss the type of wild uninhibited sex I had with my ex. That's the thing - when you are in a relationship, and your partner is good, the sex is great and even if one of you is not in the mood, there are ample opportunities for you both to be in synch and have fun experimenting. Hell, when I'm in a relationship that's going well, even if the sex isn't technically great, I still love it. You're connecting to the person and it's wonderful.

On the other hand, I no longer date for sex. To me it's a complete waste of time. To just do the basics and get off - yeah, most people are adequate and that's fine and all, but I'd rather just pleasure myself. For those really hot sessions though, you need to have someone you've practiced with or it's hit or miss. I mean, I'm not wasting my time only to find out that the guy is not creative, doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, or can't get it up. Again, in a relationship, you have time to teach each other what you like and if the dude has a bout of erectile dysfunction or the woman's on the heaviest day of her period - fine, you wait it out. I also can't explore the full range of sex with someone I don't know.

For example, recently I've been craving anal sex and golden showers of all things. Of course I could go on the intimate section of LL and get offers to fulfill those desires within seconds. Again, not because there's anything particularly special about me, but I went on that site once before (and not asking for anything in particular) and within seconds of logging in I was inundated with IM messages asking me if I was into threesomes, black guys, young guys, 10 inch cock - - you get the idea. It was so obvious that the thinking was, "Oh. Someone female has signed on. Let me see if she's good to go." This so does not appeal to me.

I'm also not into fuck buddies. I am when I'm in a relationship, but I don't like constantly being the piece of ass on the side.

But I would love to hire a pro. It would be so great. When I was in Jackson Hole the best money I spent [even though I'm still paying it off] was for snowboarding lessons. My instructor made the days so enjoyable. He knew what he was doing and I benefited from his knowledge.

I would see a sex worker like that, and what's more, I would worry less about infections with a sex worker because I believe they would respect proper condom use, and my boundaries. With some guy off a fetish or dating site, you have no idea what quality you're getting. Ah well, a girl can dream. Besides, even if it was acceptable, my snowboarding trip set me back so much that I couldn't afford a top-rate sex worker. Next year I'll have to find a snowboarding instructor who gives happy endings.

Calling all computer geeks...

I went to use my camera and a message popped up on the screen saying that my card is write protected. The hell? I have no idea what I did. All I know is that I can't take anymore photos. And I have no idea how to get the stupid card UN-write-protected. The last set of photos I took were of my DIVA cup. Perhaps my memory card was so traumatized that it refuses to work again? Or perhaps it was so excited that it never wants other images on it?

What's everyone eating?

I'm uninspired for food. What are you all having for breakfast / lunch /dinner tomorrow? And especially, what are you snacking on?

It's time for a game!

Don't worry, I'll come back to navel gazing and describing my every sad moment, but because even I can't be all depressed, all the time, let's play a game! What bevvy is this?

















Update at 6pm on Wednesday: Thank you to all who played! It is what I affectionately call the 'cooter shooter', and the recipe can be found here

society's view of depression

I've written about my depressive episodes before. One thing that was obsessing me this past summer was how unfair it seemed to me that people living with depression are left out of the euthanasia debate. Even when I once read the book, "Final Exit" by the Hemlock Society, which is a guide to offing yourself effectively and relatively painlessly, that book stressed that the guide was for people in the terminal stages of a physical illness, and did apply to depressed people.

Yet true depression can be a biochemical illness. It doesn't just go away and pills don't always work. All I wanted was for the pain to go away last summer. It was thinking of the future of how I couldn't stand to wreck one more job, one more relationship, be incapable of normal happiness. The worst part was knowing it could get better - that's what people always say, right? And it is true - but equally knowing that it would likely get bad again at some point.

I hung on and fought again because I knew my parents would feel the loss so deeply. I also knew that no matter what I wrote or said, that they would blame themselves. That's also when I started thinking though - having depression is lonely in and of itself, but when people do get to the point when they commit suicide, it becomes even lonelier. I don't ever want to be the person jumping in front of the subway or flinging myself off the Bloor Street Viaduct (or whatever bridge is now possible since the construction of the steel suicide veil). I don't ever want my family to have to identify a mangled body and hope that I at least left a note.

I wish that there was an option where you could go to hospital and be injected. Like my sick kitty was at the vet, or like prisoners are who get a lethal injection. I wish that like with cancer patients who have recurring illness and are left with no options that at some point families could find the strength to say, "It's okay sweetheart. We know how much you're tried. Stop struggling. We don't want you to live in pain anymore." Then depressed people could die surrounded by those they love, instead of committing self-violence in secret.

I know for so many reasons this will never be an option, but I do wish that society could at least start talking about it. It's terrifying to even mention when you want to die because there's always the fear that someone will call the cops on you and you'll be dragged off and drugged up until you promise to keep living.

apologies if this sounds overly dramatic and whiny. I don't claim to be a brilliant writer and this is a tough topic to describe! For me, for now, focussing on my garden, family, and upcoming bike ride are working. It's keeping me going (that and my meds), and that for now is enough.

I'm getting there (to Montreal that is)

Today I bought a bike. OMG it's so cute. Which tells you all about my cycling knowledge. It's white with pink highlights. At first that annoyed me, but now I am enamored with my litte pink bike. It is a hybrid, and has clip-in pedals. I have to go back with the bike shoes I bought so that they can make sure the pedals match. And apparently not in a colour-coordinating way. When they asked me what my bike shoes were like thought, "uh, powder blue". Then when they asked me if I bought them for a road bike and I carefully explained that I bought them because they will match the team jerseys, we all decided that I had to bring the shoes into the store as the staff needed to see the shoes for technical notes. Apparently 'cute blue shoes that match a team jersey' isn't useful information for a bike store. Go figure.

[and yes CoffeeDog, I will post pictures when I find my camera, batteries, etc.]

My elected official is not representing me

We're in the midst of a recession and the federal representative from my riding is off in California checking in on one of the 'war resisters' who was deported from Canada and is now serving time in prison. Why? Does she really not think that maybe, just *maybe*, her constituents need help at this time? And let's be clear - the person was not sent back to the front lines, was not sent to Guantanamo, is not being tortured, but is instead serving time. For leaving the military. Sounds fair to me! In fact I have a friend, and I admire this greatly, who instead of spending two years in the mandatory military service in his country, chose to spend two years in jail as a pacifist. I admire that. This person VOLUNTEERED for the army and now MY POLITICIAN [sorry, I have to express this in all caps...] has to go and check up on them?

I'm just so disgusted. It's especially sad because Olivia used to be a very strong woman in her own right. She worked hard in local politics, but now that her hubby is the leader of a national party, she looks like nothing more than a puppet. I hope she actually does something for her own riding soon. There's a lot of lower income people in this neighbourhood. I'm glad she thinks that grandstanding by going off to - well, I'm not sure what she's doing besides enjoying California sun - is worth more than actually helping us while Parliament isn't in session.

Pre bike rally exhaustion

Oh my goodness - all I did today was try to follow up with the bike store whose booth I visited during the bike show last week-end. They didn't have a bike in my size and I was so confused by all the info that I left completely exhausted. I had two invites to go out for drinks tonight, and one ongoing workshop I should have attended, but instead I am home capable of nothing more than having a nice hot bath. I'm not sure how I'm going to survive six days of biking and camping.

My challenge

I have registered to cycle from Toronto to Montreal (6 days) as part of a fundraiser for an organization that supports people living with HIV. This will be quite the challenge for me as not only am I out of shape and do not take well to camping, but I don't like bike riding. Still, I think of all my close friends who face the challenge of living with HIV and all the stigma it still has, and I figure that this is nothing as far as a challenge goes. I have a little folding bike, but I have to go and buy a big-girl bike for this escapade. [And dammit, the rules actually state that you can't use an electric bike.]

I duly went to the bike show that was in town this past week-end and went to find a bike. I was too overwhelmed to purchase a bike at the time, but I found the booth for a bike shop that is near me and I'm going to go and visit them later this week. I won't get the lowest price that I could have gotten at the bike show, but I will still be able to get something in my range.

The upside of my trip to the bike show was that I the fundraiser I'm part of had a booth of its own. The guys there were awesome and they gave me a sneak preview of the team jerseys we'll have. The best part? They said, "and now that you know the colours - you can accessorize!" I may end up being sweaty and exhausted, but at least I'll be with people who know how to have fun and look good. Okay, but that's not even the bestest part. The bestest part is that then I found a pair of bike shoes on sale and they are powder blue and will match the team jersey! OMG!!!! I'm so happy now. And I also have the cutest biking gloves. I am dreading wearing hideous bike shorts, but I have a lovely wrap-around mini from Bali that I will wear over them. Sadly it doesn't coordinate with the rest of the outfit, but I do have a longer sarong that does.

Tomorrow I will check out the bikes. If I do indeed go with the one that I looked at at the bike show, it too will coordinate with my outfit. Yay!

And what's more my energy is back! I think I must have had a really mild flu. I had a brutal killer of a flu last year but I think this year my flu shot protected me from the worst of it.

I need a new sign

The hell? Was I so evil in a past life that I'm doomed to suffer here on earth, at least when it comes to dating?

Christ on a stick, I have been corresponding with a guy I met on PoF. He seemed nice and we decided to meet. I invited him over for Indian food for our first meeting (and in doing so probably threw out every dating advice ever written). He accepted and we planned for tonight. I had my evening mapped out - I would order the food from work, pick it up on my way home, and do a quick clean before he arrived.

Like the taking-the-cats-to-the-vet episode, everything started out well: I was able to leave work on time, I picked up all the food (tons and tons because I'm having a girls' night on Friday and picked up all the food for that at the same time), and got home and was able to clean my place enough so that it looked good. All that was ready was for me to set the table and I was good to go.

The whole time I kept checking my email to see if he'd confirmed when he was arriving. It was odd - I had received an email from him this morning and he stated that he would check his email throughout the day for my response. I had responded, but hadn't heard again from him. Not a big deal though - this guy is highly reliable. Calls when he says he will, etc.

Then I thought back a little about the email. This guy works shift work and has to pick up shifts from time to time. I had assured him last night that if he picked up a shift that he wasn't to worry - we would just reschedule. The email this morning mentioned that first thing in the morning he had picked up a shift and was heading into work. But as it ended with 'see you soon', I thought we were still on for tonight.

In retrospect, I realize that he was being nice and meaning he would reschedule with me. I realized this only at 7pm [when he had been due to arrive] as I remembered that his shifts were 12 hours each. Duh!!!!! This would be bad enough, except that I had sent him an email earlier in the day saying, "Okay, see you after your shift", letting him know that I am obtuse.

This email was followed by a text message at 7:00 correcting my error. I texted him because I'm weirdly shy about phoning people I don't know well. That would be fine except the number I had is apparently his home phone and not a cell phone. I realized this when I got a text message from my phone company mentioning that they had read the message to his machine. Oh good grief. Now I seem like a freak.

I hope he sees the humour in it all and does reschedule. If not, I'll live. In the interim, I have double orders of lamb curry and dahl in the fridge, not to mention single orders of rice, eggplant, matar paneer, butter chicken, and chicken tikka. I called my landlady and invited her round for dinner when she gets home from work. No point in wasting good take-out!

The spinster librarian

There I was, all back from my snowboarding trip, all feeling empowered, all feeling cool - blah, blah, blah. Then on the Tuesday after I had to take my kitties to the vet for their annual check-up and shots. No problem. I left work at 2 and headed home to pack up the cats and go to the vet, located in my former neighbourhood.

First, I had to stop at the pet store near my subway stop in order to pick up an extra cat carrier. That was easy to find, and with a cool knapsack cat carrier in hand, I made my way home. The cats were happy to see me and one by one I lured them into the front entrance and stuffed them into their respective bags. They weren't happy, and Tasha in particular was vocal and miserable, but compared to other times when I've had to wrestle with them to get them in their bags, I had gotten off easily. Off I went to the end of my street to hail a cab. One came quickly, and me and the kitties were soon deposited at my vets. So far, so good.

I went into the waiting room, got settled, and then went up to the receptionist. She immediately noted that my appointment was in fact for Wednesday. Furthermore, they were booked solid and there was no way that the vet would be able to see me that day. Suddenly my miraculously easy vet trip was becoming hell. There was *no way* I could take another afternoon off work, and what's more, there was no way I was going to have an easy time tricking the cats into letting me get them anywhere near their cat carriers the next day. I fought back the tears and shuffled away, cats and carriers in hand. I ended up rebooking for a few Saturdays from now [I'll face that ordeal when I come to it].

However, not one to have a wasted trip, I decided that I would first go to the pet store right next door and pick up some cat litter. I knew that I couldn't carry two cats and a 40 pound bag of cat litter, so for some bizarre idea of logic, I opted to buy TWO fourteen pound bags of litter instead. The to compound the matter, I was going to pay for the litter with my credit card, but instead decided to pay cash - which used up the last of my cash.

What this meant was that I now had two cats, two bags of litter, and absolutely no money to get home. Moreover, I realized belatedly that I also did not have my bank card meaning no chance of going to an ATM. Apparently most cabs now take credit cards, but I didn't realize that. As such, I trudged toward the subway. Normally it would be an easy 5 minute walk from that pet store, but with all my baggage, it took more like fifteen.

Fur's cat carrier was actually a backpack, so in order to free up arms for carrying the litter, I had it on my back (on the way to the vet I had carried it like a normal bag). Tasha, in her bag, I had slung over one shoulder, and in each arm I carried a bag of litter. I looked completely insane. Not to mention that Tasha was howling non-stop so it was the equivalent of having a neon sign above me directing everyone to "look at the crazy person".

I made it onto the subway and had a brief reprieve before arriving at my stop and facing a fifteen minute walk home. By this time my arms had given out. I realized that with my current configuration I was never going to make it home. Fur's backpack carrier had a strap that went around my waist for support and security. In desperation, I attached Tasha's carrier to the strap. Now I had Fur securely on my back, Tasha in her bag swinging against my thigh, and both arms free for carrying the bags of litter. Alas, it was not enough. My weak noodle arms could not hold both bags.

My next configuration consisted of me placing one bag of litter on top of Tasha's carrier, and hugging the remaining bag to my chest. Tasha's carrier is soft-sided, but it has enough strength that the bag was not crushing her. Let's recap: I now had one cat in a backpack, one cat in a bag hanging from my waist, a bag of litter on top of that bag, and a bag of litter clutched in front of me - and Tasha howling incessantly, drawing all attention to me. I looked like such a loser and felt so utterly defeated. By miracle I did not run into any ex-boyfriends at this point. I staggered home and dropped everything at the door, including the cats. I let them out of their carriers outside, but they wanted nothing more than to get back inside.

This past week-end I once again took the kitties to the vet. This time I made sure that I was going on the correct day and that I had enough cash for a cab. It was remarkably painless and both kitties are in good form. I do learn.

Hoping for a diagnosis

I'm a hypochondriac, but I had the symptoms before looking up 'anemia' on the Internet. I had blood taken last week, but need to wait to see the doctor on Monday for results. In the interim, I am beyond fatigued and am having mucho trouble breathing properly [apparently 'shortness of breath' is a sign. Who knew? Okay, probably everyone except me...]

I'm eating chicken again but if on Monday they tell me that I have low iron and write me a nice prescription for heavy-duty iron pills, I will be most grateful. Low iron is pretty easy to fix!

As such, I have been doing very little beyond work and events I already committed to, and am behind on blog reading and writing.

Much love to everyone!