:)

i just realized that i got through a summer without pali and without jacob. and on both accounts – i’m okay.

also – i just had drinks with erica and tiwald and greg and vanessa…it was good.

How to Have Sex Like a Woman

There’s been a lot of attention in faux-feminist pop culture media outlets on how women can learn to have sex like a man. Sex and the City and Cosmopolitan are the first examples that come to mind – and, in fact, I think there was an entire episode of SATC devoted to how Sam knows how to have sex like a man. I feel like the phrase in itself, “Have sex like a man” isn’t necessarily intentionally unintelligent and re-enforcing gender roles and stereotypes, or maybe I’m naive. Either way – it does reinforce those roles… and it (perhaps inadvertently) continues to send women the message that for them to be aggressive, use their resources and get what (or who) they want in bed, they have to act like a man. I’m fairly positive that what is actually meant by the phrase is that men are socialized to be aggressive, set goals and get what they want, even in sex – especially in sex. So now it’s time for women to step up and start getting what we want, even (especially) in bed. We can be aggressive, set goals and get the one we want (even just to fuck) without being a man – in fact, even hotter, we can do it not like women – but because we are women.

The other night, I did just that – I got the guy in bed and fucked him, and I did all of it as a woman. It felt a bit warrior-like, actually. Like an epic conquest. And the high afterwards (and during) made my head (and vaj) throb with intellectual mumbo jumbo, strength, power, and, well, orgasms.

who really does fucking control the world?

so what – whocontrolstheworld.com is apparently not controlled by the people and ALL the issues they were protesting in 1999. apparently it’s controlled by lori wallach and the groups that we talk about on the page. that’s really fucking hypocritical and completely makes me not believe in this project anymore.

NOW i feel like i’m working in the industry. and it really fucking sucks. because i believed in this.

Daydreaming Dirty

I can’t stop thinking about PC. Ever since I went up to camp the weekend before last, I can’t get him out of my head. I get distracted at work when his name pops in my head. I zone out when people are talking to me because I see his face. And every time – it’s sexual. For the first second or two it brings a sweet smile to my face – one of missing him, appreciating him, hearing him make me laugh, hearing him laugh. Then it immediately turns dirty. But it’s never dirty in a fuck me fast kind of way – it’s always a progression. I suppose it’s more hot than dirty.

I had a dream about him the other night. I can’t remember all the details, but I know he was there, and I think we were at his apartment in San Diego. We were in bed, his bed, together, and I know I got off. I’ve never had a wet dream or the female equivalent, a sex dream, really. I physically – in a sem-conscious state – felt my body convulsing – felt the orgasm going through me. I half woke up then… fully a few minutes later, astounded and wondering if I really did get off in my sleep. Unfortunately I didn’t – at least to where there was wet evidence, but mentally I felt the sensations. I wish I remembered the details of the dream – I imagine they were hot – his hands on my body… his mouth on mine… his tongue on my ohsowantingit nether regions.

The daydreams are never-ending. The most current one involves me going down to see him one weekend in San Diego (after I move back to LA, I suppose). I get to his place and he’s not back yet, from work, from whatever. I’ve had an incredibly long week for whatever reason, and I crash in his bed until he gets home. He doesn’t get back until late.. .he walks in, and I wake up. I greet him groggily. He quietly puts on pajamas. I start moving to get up, give him a hug hello, apologize for still being in his bed and start making my way to the couch. He never lets me get all the way out of the bed. He stops me, says no – just stay here. You don’t have to move. I lay back down. A few minutes later he crawls into bed next to me. We hear each other breathing.. .he’s just a foot or so away from me… we both move around to get situated… I turn over on my side… we’re facing each other. Our feet accidentally but on purpose graze… and we pull back at first.. .uncertain… we accidentally but very purposefully let our feet brush again. this time we don’t stop it so soon… we tentatively start to touch one another – just our feet, saying hello, introducing themselves, testing the waters. We both feel the tension in the air, the excitement, the newness. We can hear each other breathing. I shift just a littel… getting ever so closer to him… and he shifts too… our arms… our bodies brush… and we let the occasional soft touch happen… grazing… ever so slightly… still hearing each others increased breaths. Finally, when the tension and fire has grown to its breaking point – he places a hand on my cheeks, gently pushes my hair behind my ear… he does that a time or two. I lean into it. We both have our eyes opened, adjusted to the dark now, and we see each other, looking in each others eyes. He starts to lean towards me, and I towards him, and he touches his lips to mine – so tentatively, so softly. We pull slowly away… looking at each other. He smiles at me, and more assuredly pulls me towards him and kisses me again. And again. I shift my body closer to his… pressed up against his… our mouths, tongues, playing, dancing, touching, kissing.

From there the games end and it’s all business. It’s passionate and firey and it’s 2 years of every bit of liking him and wanting him and thinking about him… and in my daydreams it’s 2 years of him feeling the same way without knowing what to do with it, never admitting it to me. It’s all of our friendship combined with the haet of the moment, the heat of our feelings.

It’s just hot.

I’m so turned on even writing this.

Why do I still have such intense feelings for this guy? They had subsided so much – in fact, by the time I went up to camp, I thought they didn’t exist at all anymore. It hasn’t been a negative experience at all – we’re such good friends… we’ve stayed in touch – I just didn’t even htink of it as something to think about anymore.

But then – the second I saw him… it’s like I never left, I never stopped feeling like I was a 12 year old, crush-ridden schoolgirl. He’s nerdy and dorky and sometimes to an extent that I think I’d get annoyed at, but I can’t stop thinking about him.

And I can’t get him out of my damn daydreams.

But god… it’s so hot.

Hot DAMN. WHAT?!

I am a lesbian. That is it. It’s done. Men are over. Oh dear God. This woman is so ridiuclously hot. Like hot in a way that SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED! I am actually turned on, hot and bothered, absolutely am joining the ranks of all the teenage guys who have jerked off to her this week… kind of horny for her.

Jenny Finch (?) – I may not have caught her name… I was too busy drooling over her freaking body. I want her body – not like even in an “I want it to be MY BODY” kind of way… nore like in an… oh my god I want to touch your body kind of way.

Randall sent it to me and goes, “I would go down on that for hours. Don’t you just wanna motor boat those tits?”

So crude. And normally I would be like RANDALL! in a slightly scolding way, but no no no. I had to look at those two statement sand go… yes, yes I am a fraternity brother right now. Hello, gorgeous, sexy woman. yes and yes to the going down for hours and the motor boating.

That’s it. I’m a lesbian.

why blog it?

Matt often asks me how I can put stuff out on the internet for anyone to see… how I can blog, even on this one that no one really reads, about stuff that is intimate and personal… knowing that at any time someone COULD see it. I suppose it’s a general question these days, what with everyone blogging about everything – personal lives thrown out into the open with no real thoughts of the consequences – but I feel somewhere inside like there really is a real reason I do it. Something about it is cathartic, a release, a validation of some sort. And somehow to throw out your feelings and angst and pent up insecurities and worries for everyone else to see – it’s somehow like letting life know that, hey! shit happens to me, too. In a way it is looking for validation, fishing for response, desperately seeking for someone to reach out – to provide you with that emotional closeness that you seem to be looking for but somehow can’t admit that you need. That’s it for me, anyway.

Zoe on www.girlwithaonetrackmind.blogspot.com wrote about this similar issue tonight. My favorite lines – she said:

“So on days like today, where, for no justifiable reason at all, I’m filled with silly doubts; where I’m questioning things that are obvious; where I’m creating complexities out of the most simple situations, I long to be able to voice my thoughts so I can get some distance from them, and accept just how illogical they are. And I know that they are: as a glass-half-full optimist I always see the positive side of life.”

It’s true and open and honest and real. It’s needy but optimistic, hopeful and truthful… but insecure and fucked up, too.

Maybe that’s what personal blogging is about – it’s about accepting the fact that we’re all fucked up, admitting that and putting ourselves out there for the judgment, for the critique. At the end of the day, judgment aside – we’re all prideful being, but when we can put that aside and put our lives out to dry… maybe we really do get something cathartic out of it. Or maybe it’s just human nature to rant and want everyone to know about it every once in a while.

Looking for it is Too Much Work

I’ve come to the conclusion that looking for sex – actively trying to find it or make it happen in any way – it’s just not worth it. All the shaving, the grooming, trying to look good, wearing something cute (and flattering), acting coy, being assertive, then – of course – the self-consciousness… first time seeing being naked with someone new – not worth it. Or you’re drunk and dealing with it just being messy, completely not memorable – none of it is really worth it. At the end of the day, I don’t get off during sex, the likelihood of a random hookup being with a guy who’s going to go down on me and be good enough at it to make me forget about all the other shit – it’s just not very high.

So how do you (and by ‘you,’ I mean I) get sex?

Well… that’s a good question.

Getting sex is easy. Getting good sex is ridiculously challenging.

When I figure it out, I’ll probably blog all my secrets away.