Monthly Archives: April 2009
Along with working, eating, sleeping and showering, I have been spending some time pondering the subject of the area on a male body that encompasses the chest and shoulder. Pondering as in liking. My Close Personal Friend Mr. Jason Statham has kindly agreed to pose for me so that I might demonstrate the area I mean. Behold:
Thanks Jason. You can get off the box now.
Now I am a lover of broad chests and man fur and good upper arms, and I guess this area pulls in all of those delights. It’s textural and sculptural and very appealing- I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently… deprived? Nooo…
Vancouver Sun – Too much knowledge can exaggerate the danger of a pandemic
“We seldom hear daily updates on the numbers of those infected who have recovered, for example. Yet consider the much-cited Spanish influenza pandemic of 1918. It’s common for commentary to cite infection rates and total associated fatalities.
It’s estimated that about 28 per cent of Canadians and Americans contracted the Spanish flu. Worldwide, an estimated 2.5 per cent of the sick died of complications, which made the pandemic one of the most lethal flu outbreaks in recorded history. Certainly it was one that imprinted itself upon human consciousness for several generations.
But there’s another way to look at those statistics. You might observe, for example, that they mean that even during the worst ravages of the 1918 flu, 97.5 per cent of those infected survived and recovered. Or that 72 per cent of the population — even in the absence of the sophisticated public health planning and infrastructure that Canada and the U.S. have since built — was not infected during the pandemic.
So, even if we had a repeat of the 1918 flu, the chances were seven out of 10 that you wouldn’t catch it and if you did, the odds were better than nine out of 10 that you’d survive.
That was during the worst pandemic of the modern era and one which occurred in the days before the instantaneous communications of radio, television and the Web enabled quick public health responses.”
Also, heterosexual and been away from your lover for a while? The reason why your man seems particularly excited to be getting intimate with you – apart from getting to enjoy your beautiful body – They are subconsciously fighting a competitor’s enemy sperm. *That’s* why they’re pleased to see you. Truefax.
Scientific American – Secrets of the Phallus: Why Is the Penis Shaped Like That?
Live Science: Basis For Male Promiscuity Questioned
Population size is one such variable: both men and women will be selective about mates when there are lots of options — in a large city, for example. Conversely, neither gender will be choosy in low-population areas. In such a scenario, both men and women will take what they can get.On a not-entirely-related note…
“We argue that the more flexible and variable human behavior is, the less powerful their explanation in terms of universal sex roles,” Brown tells LiveScience. “Males and females should perhaps not be characterized in the way normally presented by evolutionary psychologists … the idea that we can predict everything about human sex roles on the basis of the differential costs of producing eggs and sperm is simplistic.”
Mindhacks: Predicting the determined self-castrator
The Journal of Sexual Medicine has a surprising study looking at psychological attributes that predict which castration enthusiasts who will actually go on to remove their own testicles, in contrast to those who just fantasise about it.
I don’t usually post videos up here – unless of course they are of Bob :D – but this one is all kinds of awesome:
Cops vs. Clowns [via]
I’m back to work tomorrow after three weeks away from the chalkface; I am looking forward to seeing my colleagues and even some of the kids, however I am slightly apprehensive as to what I will find when I take a look at their exam work.
I predicted that this year, just like last year, no-one in my group would get below a C for their final GCSE grade. I’m still confident this will be the case but there is always that niggling doubt in the back of my head that one of my charges will fuck up. I hope not. I hope that after two years of doing this they know what they should be doing, but unfortunately on that front I am far from confident.
Nose-wise things are good; I am a bit concerned that I still have unpleasant goop running down the back of my throat as I would have thought that the now three weeks’ worth of antibiotics would have cleared that up. I’ve got my first post-op checkup in a week or so, so I suppose I will find out then if things are going to plan. Ho hum.
At least this week I only have to teach four days out of five, as Friday is an INSET day, and as it is departmental promises to actually be useful for once, though we have a shitload of A Level marking to get through. Hopefully the leak through my ceiling that they thought they had fixed will actually be fixed; I also am in need of a goshdarned haircut, as the fauxhawk is getting a little much to handle. Unfortunately the lady who usually did my hair has left, so fingers crossed it’s not a total fraking disaster. God forbid I end up with a boring haircut.
Ah my exciting life.
Though at least as well as fretting over MW#1 I got to eat out and get me some steak last week; I met up with McCy and together we ranted about all manner of things over a delicious dinner. Good food + Good Company = AWESOMENESS
Enjoyable spam I received this morning:
Not. But when i discovered the fellow to the glove, of a
horrible butchery. From the pools of blood.
Best Sexual Positions – Learn About Intercourse Positioons to Help Her Reach Climax Learn more
It with some of the liquor and slic’t lemon. To always have
to keep three guestrooms ready for others felt appalled
at the sacrifices that were of men fulfilling the necessary
qualificationsyoung if he could produce onequarter of the
evidence to see if i could get some nylons and round the
country, with ardour and devotion, need not plead was something
to do with the settling up of the place because diamonds
were found in abundance. Blinds. This is the time we’re
in luck, belle, turn it into a welfare centre or something.
and protegentes. Hanc autem exhortacionem supplicacionem.
After a few rather trying days and having spent the last couple being seriously upset, things have evened out, and I feel better. Calmer, tear-free, much more comfortable.
Although I didn’t do it face-to-face, for the first time I shared how I feel with MW#1, opened up a bit, complained about things, how he treats me and how difficult I find it. Thank goodness for instant messaging :)
It’s not like anything has been fixed, and I am unsure as to whether it ever will be, but after keeping everything inside so much of the time it feels good to get some of that stuff out there. Takes a little of the pressure off I suppose. It was a difficult conversation, but I felt like I needed to have it, as I was feeling so much emotional pain at the time. And it was a conversation, with both of us sharing, asking questions, wanting clarification.
At the moment there is no future for the undefined “thing” we’ve got, so aside from the fact that I love him there is very little point to it. I don’t want to spend every weekend with someone, nor do I want to spend every hour with them, but if I like them and enjoy their company I want to spend some time in that company. One of my problems is that for such a cynical old bastard I see hope and potential where there is very little evidence to back their existence. I don’t expect any relationship to match up to whatever bullshit is pushed on me by society or the glossies, but it would be just nice I guess to “do” stuff, like spend more than twenty-four hours with the someone I cared for!
I have hopes, stuff I would like to do in the future, and at the moment none of those things are feasible with MW#1 behaving how he does. It would be lovely to spend a bit of extended time together, see if I drive him nuts or he drives me nuts. Go away somewhere for a week, or a weekend. Get away from things, go places. Live. None of these rather simple ambitions have been accomplished, and I am not positive that they ever will be.
It’s the stifling effect. Whatever people say about not needing to have someone special in your life, that you can do whatever the fuck you want as a single person- I think that’s a load of baloney. Things aren’t as fun on your own, in fact to me at least they can be depressing- you have no-one to share the experiences with, no-one to share your excitement about the small things in the world that you encounter. Geckos! Aquariums! Muscle cars! Deserts! Eat-all-you-want buffets! Sweaty wrestlers! Pirate Lego! Life is almost certainly better when there’s someone around who will lovingly roll their eyes at your excitement or indeed geek-the-fuck-out with you.
By choosing to remain loyal to MW#1 I am depriving myself of experiences I want to have, experiences that I do not think are unreasonable, that I feel like I am almost goshdarned entitled to be able to have, or not as I decide. I’m not saying I demand these things, but I never really “get” any of them, and this makes me feel very sad indeed- I feel like things are missing. Is it wrong to want someone to love, and to want them to be with you and you with them?
All this soul searching navel gazing is of course totally academic anyway, because i’m not ready to end things, nor do I want to. So it’ll be a while yet of same-old same-old… curling up blissful with him one moment, wanting to beat him with a large stick the next… and I would be devastated if he decided to end things. Ah… the complex chemical/behavioural/genetic interaction that is known as love…
Yesterday MW#1 spent a lot of time repeatedly thanking me for all that I had done over the last couple of days; he thanked me because “no-one else would have done so much”. Last night as I lay in my bed trying to sleep this concept washed around and around in my head. I did more than anyone else? This might be because i’m the only person who’s off work at the moment and so is available to help out, or it could be because i’m just that little bit more sad than anyone else?
If I was at work there is no way I would be able to take time off to do what I did, but I know I would spend the day worrying through my classes and as soon as the school day ended I would have been straight down the hospital to say hello. I’d feel rather put out if anyone else helped out as I suppose there is a little bit of wishful thinking going on in that I feel like I have a teeny-tiny amount of “ownership” over looking after him, even when I have precisely nought.
As we said goodbye he held me again and thanked me, and told me that he was thanking me again because he takes advantage of me. I said that I agreed with this, and I felt terribly sad in doing so. The “Loser!” chant in my head started up again and I thought that yes, he takes advantage of me, but he also takes me for granted and doesn’t appreciate me enough.
None of these feelings are new of course, but the last couple of days have been particularly stressful to me, and I suppose my current upset stems from that. It is painful, and i’m not even the one who’s been operated upon.
theforce.net – What’s the point of Stormtrooper armour?
I-Mockery – Ten Things I Like About Return of the Jedi
Today I picked up MW#1 from his temporary hospital lair and whisked him home to copious amounts of Ribena and Haribo and the original theatrical version of Return of the Jedi. Yes, as per usual I cried when the little Ewok’s friend is killed by blaster fire.
I find it hard to be around him wanting to help; I willingly provide support but in my “just the friend” capacity I feel like I can’t show my feelings fully, so I do my best to keep them bottled up when i’m in his vicinity. I get headaches and am glum and quiet being unable to explain how I feel; today he helped me feel better by giving me lots and lots of hugs and holding me for a long time.
I don’t feel quite as superfluous when i’m squished next to him wrapped up in his arms, or at least it’s a little farther from my mind than it usually is. That loser/plaything feeling is always there to some extent I think; it’s not like lots of affection is really going to fix anything. And I still cannot tell him I love him. I’ve got as far as telling him he is “important”.
Out of idle curiosity today I checked my junk email account. I found the following:
I work for the Daily Mirror and am doing some research on Apprentice star Yasmina Siadatan, who I believe was in your year at [redacted] School?
It is rumoured that she was kicked out of school at some point for dealing drugs.
If you know anything about this, or can help me with anything else concerned Yasmina, could you email me at email@example.com.
It would be much appreciated and we’ll certainly make it worth your while.
Dear [redacted]I was in fact in Yasmina’s class for at least a year or so; she never went out of her way to be mean to me (unlike some) but I was never in her social sphere. She had breasts and mature beauty in abundance and I was (and am still) rather lacking in those attributes.
I hope you don’t mind me writing to you but I am a journalist covering The Apprentice. As you probably know, Yasmina has made it onto the show. What with it being one of the most viewed programmes of the season, everyone is interested in it. So, I am trying to get in touch with anyone who knew her at school, and see from
that you too went to [redacted] School.
I am hoping to write a positive piece about Yasmina to give readers an idea about the girl behind the screen. If you have any pictures, stories or anecdotes, therefore, they would be very gratefully received.
Do call me on 07880 860 042 or email me on firstname.lastname@example.org.
So, “journalists”- Contact me looking for dirt and give me generic email addresses? GO FUCK YOURSELVES.
MW#1’s surgery went well, though it lasted a lot longer than I expected. I spent the day worrying or playing on my DS or trying to read and failing or trying to sleep and failing. Yes, I think that would be classed as an EPIC FAIL. Hee.
Every time I heard the sound of wheels on lino coming down the corridor my stomach dropped and I had to look up; I sat and watched the clock and wondered whether if there were any complications anyone would think to tell me. I felt anxious and dorky sat in the empty room. It was my first time in a private hospital and I found the carpet covering the floor of the private room amusing – no, our patients do not vomit or bleed or urinate or emit – complimentary tea and coffee was provided, though I had to pay for my sandwich – I charged it to his account :)
Over two hours later a very spaced out MW#1 was wheeled back, leg encased in several layers of bandage topped off with a cryocuff- A sort of hollow flexible cuff that is filled with icewater to ease pain and control swelling. I held his hand and sat quietly as he was poked and prodded and threatened to trip him if he decided to go for a wander before he was ready. It was said with love. Honest.
He wasn’t in too much pain thanks to liberal doses of pain–relieving drugs; unfortunately he was unable to make the two metres to the toilet, so I volunteered to be the bottle of urine disposal slave. Mmmm… warm….
Although I was very tired and spent a lot of time worrying about him and beating myself up for being such a lame-o I was glad I was there; I managed to keep it together until just as I left when I got choked up saying goodbye- I had spent the entire day controlling my emotions and trying not too be too hands on. Trying not to show that I care so much? I had a headache for most of the day due to lack of sleep, worry and lack of sufficient food and drink; after I left I motored down to McDonalds and a slap up junk meal. I felt better within ten minutes. Better than peer-reviewed medicine.
I know he will probably never help me in a similar was to how i’m helping him; i’m off work and far too kind for my own good so feel happier helping than sitting at home, watching my leaking ceiling.
This Easter Monday I spent a lot of time sleeping, lying on my bed scrutinizing the ceiling and staring into the dark as I sat in front of the glowing screen of my laptop. I feel a bit glum.
I saw MW#1 for the first time since my operation; it was lovely to see him, chat about the small things going on in our lives, relax and just “be”. I feel like I matter to him, that I am important and yet feel like I am nothing but an amusing plaything. Tomorrow he is having surgery to fix his gammy knee and as i’m off I have offered to take him to the hospital and stay with him to make sure he’s okay, provide support if needed.
Although I want to be there, at the same time over and over in my head loops “Loser!”… I know that’s what I am for helping, for being there with him. I hate myself for caring, it eats at my insides.
Two snippets of conversation from over dinner:
We were talking about my operation and I was saying how i’m a medical freak for having such problems when i’m not allergic to aspirin, not asthmatic, don’t have cystic fibrosis and am under than age of forty-five. He tries I guess to comfort me with the remark that “… You’re my freak”. Awkward. I hurriedly moved the conversation along (nothing to see here)- I really wanted to go, what, YOUR freak? I’m sorry, to be YOUR freak there would have to be some sort of commitment. I’m not YOURS just as YOU’RE NOT MINE. Shut up.
In another choice exchange he was saying that he spent an evening talking to a friend about her relationship issues; he wondered why on earth anyone would ask him for advice, given that all his relationships were so dysfunctional- Yes, some actual honesty. I said nothing and writhed about inside. I restrained myself from saying yes, it would be nice for once in my rather sad existence that things weren’t so difficult. Just for once.
The many things I do not say to him are left unsaid not because I do not wish to confront him – though admittedly there is a little of that, but because I know that I am probably incapable of not (as my Dad always puts it) “losing the head”. I would get angry or upset. I think he would say the things I need to hear, but I don’t like the idea of the loss of control. I can’t afford to have that.
So I say nothing, and live in the after-the-event rehashing and remain a loser.
I need to shower and try and get some sleep. Got an early start.
Hurrah. My morning type is being accompanied by the sound of people clomping about on the roof above me… although it has rained more heavily overnight no more water has come through (so far at least). I hope they are at least attempting to stem the meagre flow and not fucking things up as they are sadly wont to do.
Though listening to the workmen’s conversation I am not feeling overly hopeful. Lots of “You cunt!” and “You fucking idiot” going on. Methinks they are fucking up whatever they’re trying to do. Great. It would be nice if they weren’t so goddamned noisy in their disaster.
After a little bit of rain last night this afternoon I noticed a slow drip emanating from the ceiling just above my bed; stupidly I had not realised I was living under a flat roof until around three weeks after moving in, and I am now waiting to see what if anything the landlord will do about it. I’ve pushed my bed out of the way so that I don’t have to be woken up by the pitter-patter of rain on my face but it is rather on the annoying side.
Amongst the many problems my choice of building has is the fact that my glorified room is right next to a communal area. Now during the day this isn’t much of a problem, but come the evening the many Chinese students who live around me tend to congregate to play board games and cards with a little too much enthusiasm.
I can have an entirely peaceful day all the way up until 11pm, when I hear shrieks and laughter coming from a few metres down the hall. The kids are lovely and very considerate otherwise but the problem is, bless them. that they haven’t got anywhere else to socialise. There are more of them than my own self and this means that I think they forget that not everyone is a student and not everyone wants to have to hear very loud shenanigans past midnight.
I feel bad having to go out and ask them to move or quieten down as they are playing board games forfuckssake, but at the same time I wish that they would learn that hello, past 11pm you need to shut the fuck up. This ain’t no hall of residence, i’m not a student and when I was there was nothing like the noise that they make. Go and play in the kitchen please.
I guess what grates the most is that although I rather like my little studio I feel grumpy that I have to put up with any of this shite as i’m too old for it and i’m unable to afford much better. It’s what I have to put up with I suppose to be able to live and have something left over at the end of the month. Sigh.
Every time I see my Dad he asks when am I going to be made permanent and tells me how much money I am pouring down the drain by renting. I repeat the same stuff: I am at the mercy of the funding the school gets, I am at the mercy of the number of students enrolled each year (more kids = more classes to teach) and I am at the mercy of earning what to me is a lot of money that is not enough to live somewhere nice in my part of the country.
I work for the public sector- This means I have a job at the moment when many don’t; I decided to try and do good in my small way without rinsing people for cash. Accept it.
My Mum just says that I need to find someone rich.
For Grace, After A Party
You do not always know what I am feeling.
Last night in the warm spring air while I was
blazing my tirade against someone who doesn’t
me, it was love for you that set me
and isn’t it odd? for in rooms full of
strangers my most tender feelings
bear the fruit of screaming. Put out your hand,
an ashtray, suddenly, there? beside
the bed? And someone you love enters the room
and says wouldn’t
you like the eggs a little
I’m alive :)
I’ve spent two weeks trying and failing to write up a blow-by-blow account of how everything went so i’ll make this relatively short and sweet :)
I’m fine thank you very much; everything went well surgery-wise and I am healing as I should be, with no major after effects and very little pain. I can actually breathe through both of my nostrils- result.
I’m on steroids and antibiotics for one month and these are proving okay to take aside from the antibiotics wreaking havoc with my ladyparts leaving me rather sore and fed up.
Other than those issues the thing I am suffering from most is boredom. I feel very deprived of male company, alcohol and shopping as i’m not allowed to drink or go out in crowds during my recovery period and therefore i’m not proving terribly interesting to MW#1.
I’ve had Leia Ewok Village and my parents visit and for the most part i’ve not felt too lonesome; there are just times where with nothing to do and no one around I realise how the choices I make in my life ensure that i’m pretty much always alone when it comes to having someone around to provide comfort.
Perhaps that is a good definition of loneliness? To me it’s the feeling I get when i’m sat at home on Friday and Saturday night knowing that the person I care for is out wining, dining and bedding other people. I feel fed up and sad and wish I was curled up with that person but I know that he’s not going to make it better, in fact he’s not going to care because I won’t tell him how I feel; after all, if he knew how would that change things? He’s not committed to me in any way. So I curl up alone again and hug Patrick and imagine that I was being held and that all was right with the world for a little while.
I’m just feeling a bit down and lonesome I guess; at least Sunday brings fun in the form of a slap up dinner chez Leia Ewok Village. It will be nice to finally be able to officially get out and about. Hurrah.