lolalickslife

Wow. It's been a long time.

Have thought a lot lately about writing again. My mom called to rag me about it the other day (yeah, I know, but it doesn't matter hold old you get, yer mom's still gonna rag you). There are so many artists around and so many that would like to pursue that which moves them, artistically speaking, but are unable. What the hey? Anyone up for starting an artists' commune? I'm not the money, but I'm a great cook. Eh? Eh?

The sun is out today and what a difference a sunny day makes. I don't think I ever realize how much the sun affects my disposition until it comes back out again. I love it. I want to lick it. I would sleep out in it naked were I able without being undesiredly molested or arrested. I think bamboo privacy hedge is the answer.

I have some friends now, I think, although not really close ones. I'm not sure what it is that keeps me from making friends, although I suspect it has something to do with me being an antisocial hermit who generally dislikes being around people, hehe. Also, I find that women do NOT like me for the most part, for whatever reason. What the fuck is up with that? It's so irritating. I've always had more male friends that female friends, however, I never achieve much in the way of closeness with my male friends, not like with my few female friends, I'm assuming because of the whole sexual distraction. I mean, what else could it be?

I said the other day, "we could be really good friends if we weren't fucking," and I meant it, but this did not go over well and I just don't think I can agree with the response, which was "we can be friends, too." Sigh...

But, I think, truthfully, that I prefer male friends to female friends, as I tend to find more to discuss with males, intellectually, than with females. And I know how that sounds. It sounds like I'm a big, fucking, disloyal non-feministic shithead. But I'm not. I just prefer men to talk to.

Last bell has rung. Must flee. Need to smoke.

I really love all the people on my friend's list, even though I don't know many of you well.

Peace,
~R

I HATE live journals. I feel dirty, dirty, dirty for even having one.

My attempt to be open-minded has backfired on me again. I should just hang on tight to the A-line.

Which is worse? Puking your guts up with emotion or not having any at all?

I'm leaning in the latterly direction at the moment.

Vulnerability sucks. So, um, fuck it.

If I'm going to continue with this crying trend, I must purchase some waterproof mascara.

Love to all. Hope to see you all again, as soon as I dislodge this pesky heart from my throat.

~ Lola

Hello and welcome, all who may stumble upon me in this medium. This is my experiment at being a little more open with my life, and perhaps, an attempt to get over seeing LJs as the ultimate in impersonal exhibitionistic venues. And, a place for inconsequential opining might be nice. Warning to readers: I intend to lie in this journal as often as and when I see fit.

Dulce et decorum est use the blowdryer in the bathtub. Duly cautioned?

okay, then. My lover and I have embarked upon a new adventure (at least for me) called an open relationship. Despite my rather conservative, inhibited nature when it comes to things sexual outside of the traditional monagmous coupling, I seemed to have been the catalyst for this turn of events. Now here, I find myself fearful. But of what? Usually referred to as just the "green-eyed" monster, this monster is actually a mosaic of other monsters who hide therein. My interpretation, anyway, of a very simple, very good and comforting article on the subject - Managing Jealousy in an Open Relationship - to any who are interested.

Another dilemma - how to maintain my ridiculous sense of privacy, heavily guarded, oh yeah, and open up at the same time? Something's gotta give.

Even more important, I think, is why I give a shit what anyone thinks of me.

What I have discovered over the years is that I can't go back. This alternately thrills and dismays me. I mean, the idea that once you know something, you cannot just unknow it because you've decided that the information leaves you struggling with balance somehow, is something to grapple with, yes?

I still haven't decided whether this is positive or negative. I mean, there is some information that I would, perhaps, be happier not having. I like the feeling that I have made enough connections to "wake up" and that I can recognize others who also inhabit their being, but along with this, comes an awareness of the good, the bad, and the really, really ugly. My problem is not being able to keep that balance clean and I tend to "[wake] up [each] morning with a bucket of dread sitting on my liver like a vulture on a shed" because I know too much. The horror of cruelty in every form and fashion. I truly find it hard to survive life because of it.

Perhaps I was right not to entertain having an LJ all these years. No one wants to read my conflicted bullshit. Worse than humping a washer in the laundry mat and hoping no one will notice or my dream of taking a shit in front of the checkout lines at the grocery and no one EVER notices.

Aaaaah, yes.

~ fini

One, um, er, two, uh, well, three...