Thursday, October 25, 2012

Survival of the young.

I have strong memories of our life before we were adopted.
Most of these memories are not pleasant to remember. But time has eroded these memories into little snapshots. Brief moments in time blurred by age.

Thankfully, I no longer dream about these memories. I think my mind protects me even in my sleep and for this I am grateful.

Six months before we were finally adopted, we were placed with a family who were considering adopting us.

I try to remember that during the early to mid 1970s adopting two children who were certainly far from infancy was not common. As a matter of fact, it was pretty damn rare. Our poor social worker had her hands full I'm sure. It's remembering this that I'm able to forgive Children's Home Society of their ignorance.

As a seasoned ward of the state I knew this "trial adoption" was a farce. I wondered though why they were considering us. Only now do I imagine it could have been out of some sense of guilt perhaps. Maybe not.

We lived with them and their 9 year old son for three excruciatingly long months.

There are pictures of us celebrating Christmas and my brother's birthday. Presents piled high on top of a hideously orange shag carpet.

In those pictures we look like children of war. Dazed and confused. Completely lacking of any emotion.
Looking at them, I often wonder what I was thinking at that exact moment. Did I know how bleak our future was even at such a young age of 5 and 6?

I think I did. I knew adults were not to be trusted. Which now thinking back makes me sad.

Many memories have been long forgotten. Stored away in some deep corner of my brain. I'm thankful my brain protects me from these memories.
I don't need to remember them to know they are true...that they really did happen to two little children.

It was my childhood, such as it was.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Highway 4

During our college years, H and I lived in a medium sized rural town, at least in the 1980s.  Now it's home to nearly a half million residents that commute to the Bay Area.

Back then, once you hit the end of town, it was farm land as far as the eye could see.

Often H and I would take long lazy drives out into the country.  Usually looking for some peace and quiet away from the dorms, loud neighbours and frat parties.

We'd often park in wide open fields of farm land, climb thru the sunroof and lay on the roof of the car. The air smelled cleaner out there. Funny but even now I love the smell of dirt mixed with long dry grass.
We'd lay on the car roof and let the sun warm the car and us.

Sometimes during the summer months we'd watch lightening storms off in the distance. Watching the sheets of rain move slowly across the landscape. Marvel as the tall fields of corns would sway back and forth all in unison.

We needed those times to get away and reconnect...feel and watch something real and authentic.  I needed it.  Moving from the foothills where houses were spread apart by acres to dorm rooms with no privacy was taking its toll on me.  It didn't help that my first 3 dorm roommates were all certifiable.

My first roommate was a foreign exchange student from Korea.  Within the first month of school she managed to miss nearly 80% of her classes. As I'd take off for my first class of the day, she was usually just coming home from her late night partying.   Before I knew it, her parents had yanked her back home to Korea.

She was replaced with another roommate, who 2 months into my second semester stopped talking to me.  One day we were all giggles, the next she wouldn't even acknowledge my presence in the room. It's wasn't till years later she told me she had suffered a mental break. I guess not talking for a few months helped her. It made me realize I needed to move across campus into another dorm.

My third and final roommate(then I moved in w/H) was sweet, fun, kind and the biggest coke dealer on our little campus.  I really did like her. I didn't however like waking up at 3am in the morning to three people sitting on the end of my bed doing lines.  I'm a fairly laid back person but I still like to choose my own bedmates and get a full night of sleep now and then.

I cherished those days H and I would drive out to the country, take a picnic lunch and sleep on the roof in the sun.  That little Volvo saw more sex than any other car we've owned since.
Those days helped me keep my sanity. Helped me get through some difficult times during those school years.

Even after we graduated, H and I would take long drives out towards the Sierra mountains.  It's one of the few things I miss about that small rural town.

That and the smell of the rain.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

A week of assignments...

If I didn't know any better I'd think I was back in high school.

I believe, in this week alone, I've had 5 writing assignments. Not that I'm complaining, oh no, not me. *eyes rolling*

However these assignments don't just include writing. Generally, I must perform a duty and then write about it.

It has been noted that I have tremendous difficulty orgasming while giving blow jobs. I hadn't given it a lot of thought actually, i wasn't aware this was a problem. When I'm giving H a blow job I'm more in-tune to his wants and needs than my own.

I've never been a big fan of 69-ing. I'm rather short and H is 6'4" tall. But our torsos are almost the same length so height doesn't play into it(yes I have short legs).
It has more to do with staying focused on one job at a time. When it comes to 69, I start to develop ADD.

I can't stay focused on my job if H is doing something to me and vice versa really. I kinda feel it just leads to two people getting sexually frustrated...and usually a cramp or charley horse or two.

So my assignment this week has been to orgasm while giving head, ie me on my knees with my lelo placed nicely inside me while I get into a steady rhythm and head space where I can give pleasure and receive pleasure at the same time. Sounds easy, right?

Let me tell you people...this is NO easy task. It takes a lot of concentration and a bit of just letting go really.

My lack of success this week has been a bit disappointing.

So this afternoon waiting in my email box was a confirmation to attend a blow job class. I've been signed up for...blow job lessons!! Yikes!

Yes, you read that correctly. I've been signed up to attend a fellatio class next month.

I'm already beet red from embarrassment.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

She's gone to the other side...

I've spoken about my friend before, you can read about her here and here if you want to catch up.

Since my blow up on the phone, I hadn't heard from her. I didn't really expect too, we've been in this dysfunctional cycle for years now and I've got it down pat. When I tell her something she doesn't want to hear and smacks too much of truth, I won't hear from her for months. Not until the next time she needs to vent to me.

So when I saw a message on my facebook account, I was a tad surprised to hear from her. Her message was full of anger. Misquoting our last phone conversation to the hilt. Telling me what I had said was unforgivable.
It's amazing to hear her version of the talk...because what I said and what she heard were two very different things. This has been the case for years, of course.

I knew there was no point correcting her. It would just keep the argument going and really that's what she wants/needs. She needs the drama to continue. This is how she remains the perpetual victim in her mind, I think.

I told her that I wished her well with her newly found freedom(her husband had moved out) and that she found the peace she so greatly deserved and left it at that. And I really mean that. I think after 10+ years of this, I'm done and can only wish her well as I quietly close the door on this chapter of my life.

Trust me, I knew that wouldn't be that last I heard from her but I won't bore you with the details.

After her third or fourth message(becoming increasingly more hateful) I blocked her from my account.

What surprised me was my sense of relief I felt almost immediately. I guess I hadn't realised I'd been holding in so much stress related to her situation.

I can only hope she finally gets the help she needs. Maybe one day our paths will cross and I'll see her happier.

I can hope.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Missing my blogger friend...

It's been about six months since I decided to restart my blog.

The poor thing just sat for two years. But blogging no longer held my interest and I slowly drifted off into the ether.

Recently, a favourite blogger of mine decided to close up shop after years of blogging. She's been gone a week and I already miss her.

When I stumbled upon her blog/journal I was enthralled. So honest. So raw. It floored me. It took me over a week to read the entire journal. I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning in a 7 hour reading stretch to finish it...I couldn't put it down.

I wrote her and her spouse a heart felt thank you that morning at 6am and the very next day I decided to re-start my blog/journal. This time I wasn't going to edit out parts of my life I was too scared to share. I was inspired.

I'm not sure I've made as much progress as I'd hoped, but it's a start to be sure.