Exams are blessedly over. Fuck yeah! I feel light-headed – as if a weight had just recently been lifted from my head, and I have yet to readjust.
I am curious as to how I did, and therefore my mind spares a few stray brain cells to wishing that February – the month the results would be released – would arrive. Of course, every other brain cell is mercilessly pummeling those strays to death, as they wish only to relax until courses resume in January (a month away!), and enjoy each moment as it passes.
Strangely enough, I feel flustered. As soon as I arrived home, I realised that there were so many pastimes I wanted to engage myself in:
• Writing in diaryland
• Making more diaryland templates (I’ve made 2 more since this one, but I don’t plan to change this one for a couple of months – sorry odb)
• Gaming! (I called Vic – I shall be getting San Andreas tomorrow)
• Painting (I have to paint The Mona Lisa for my father)
• Reading (a backlog of books)
• Taking more pictures (just bought some extra memory and some NimH rechargeable batteries)
• Watching TV
• Going out
The last one shall be especially difficult. Leading up to exams, so many people have been inviting me to go out, and I had to turn them down because I was “studying”. Now that exams are over, I don’t know how to organise my time to accommodate all of them, paint for my father, and play San Andreas, all before my courses start kicking up by the end of January.
Already, I’ve planned a weekend in Tobago (Trinidad’s sister isle), and James wants to take me out next weekend, and then I’m supposed to go to a strip club and generally lime with Nar and Rum, and then there’s Raj and K, and all of their friends… and then there are my friends from school! And I’m going to need some E or speed or something if I’m supposed to get through this Christmas. But I will survive. I will survive. (Hey, hey.)
My mother borrowed $100 from me last week. I cannot remember why. “Why” does not matter as long as she pays me back.
A couple days after that, she tells me that my little bro, the 3 year old, was given a donation sheet from school, which is to be filled by donors. Unbeknownst to me, I was a donor who was to donate $20.
So there went $20 of the $100 Mom owed me. I scowled, but I figured, it’s just twenty dollars, and it’s a donation for a Kindergarten, so it must be for a “good cause”. Sure, I don’t know what the fuck that cause is, but I’m guessing it’s not like they’re using the money to buy Nicole Ricci’s new book, so it can’t be too bad.
Yesterday, the following occurs.
Mom: “How much do I owe you now? Eighty dollars?”
Me: “Yeah.”
Then, she asked me a statement. Yes, you read that right. She asked me a statement. She constructed her words into a question-like form, but when vocalising it, completely omitted that little inclination in her voice at the end of it. You know – that little inclination that says “this is a request”. She says:
Mom: “You’re going to donate that $80 to the Church, right.”
And then I was confused.
Did she forget to increase the pitch of her voice when she said “right”?
Maybe she is going to correct herself, so I can just say:
“Of course not.”
And get this over with.
But she never corrected herself, principally because she never made a mistake to start with. Apparently the church is having some sort of Christmas dinner / thanksgiving / service thing, and she wants me to give them $80 for it.
Fuck no.
When she continuously refused to give me the $80 back, I told her I would go take it from her purse. She shrugged her shoulders.
I disappeared into her bedroom, and filed through her jeans pockets, her purses, her bags. After about 5 minutes, I returned to the kitchen.
Me: “Okay. Twenty years of not stealing from you has backfired on me. Can I have my money, now?”
She never gave me my money.
I’m agnostic for God’s sake! My donating $80 to the church is like a Jew donating white bed sheets to the Ku Klux Klan. It makes no sense!
I’ll find money from that woman eventually, and $80 of it is mine!
While listening to my mother’s recount of a Judge Judy court case about two lesbians (one very butch, and the other very gorgeous), I interrupted my mother to ask:
“If I were a lesbian, would I be the butch one or the girly one?”
My mother, in the midst of the “gripping” details of the case, paused.
She stared at me for a few seconds. And then:
“The girly one.”
Can you believe that? I’m girly! I would have never thought. But when, after she told me that, my immediate response was…
“What? I am so not girly.”
…I realised how true it was.
I asked my father if I was girly.
I did *not* ask him if I would be a girly lesbian, only if I was girly, because my father has this amazing ability to ignore me when he so chooses. He would have so chosen with a question like.
He said I was girly.
So far, my Aunt is the only one who says I would be the butch one.
Me: “Butch? Why would you say that? Because I’m hairy?”
She did not answer me after that.
But what do you guys think? (I certainly do pose the most thought provoking questions.)
“I pose naked, too.” – Dwight, a friend
Six months. It has been six months since I have last had sex. I don’t know if I should pat myself on the back, or buy a dildo.
Six months without sex, without even so much as kissing a guy. I must say, that I am a lot worse for the wear – my right hand is experiencing the beginning of carpal tunnel syndrome, and it ain’t got nothing to do with keyboards. Thank the gods for ambidexterity.
This celibacy thing is killing me.
I’m starting to weaken, but thankfully the weakness is purely mental for now. I’m starting to wonder:
1. How old must I be to say that I fucked more than 3 guys, without sounding like a whore?
2. Does it count if you’re in a foreign country? (I should be going on a cruise in June, 2006)
3. Can I convince a guy to suck my pussy without having to give him anything in return?
4. If I manage to achieve No. 3, does that count?
Age-old question. Well, 6 months old, actually.
Although this is the longest I’ve been without sex in the 3 years since I first engaged in that wondrous activity, it is not like I have not gone through dry spells before. Five months was the longest up until now. Usually, after the first 2 months, I would stop missing sex. It has not been that way so far.
Oh well…
“I masturbate a lot. I masturbate as if I keep masturbating, I’m going to win something.” – Dave Attel, Comedian.