I did something new yesterday. It was nothing huge, but my Torie and I went to a yoga class. I was reminded of the weakness of my wrists, but all in all it was very peaceful and I feel healthy and a little more limber the next day. Put my tails back in, hair-wise. The little blonde stripes I used to have last time my hair was this long. Freshman year of college, I think. Cut it and dyed it bright orange sophomore year, then there were the RS years etcetera. In fact, I think my hair life is documented per this blog. I have had this blog for a long time.

By the way, I know that attraction is built on a lot of factors. The possibility exists that the change in ways guys react to me has nothing to do with my hair, but I suspect that it at least has something to do with the length of my hair. When it was boyshort, I only got laid by people who had already had sex with me before I cut it. Or were J, and liked androgyny and short hair (I suspect.) Except one or two who didn't stick around. And B, who was a lovely man, but I got the feeling that he was not shallow enough to be concerned about appearances. Gave you the feeling he really saw you, you dig? Like that person who you want around during a strong trip, who understands and only wants to show you the way. I digress. Not that I've broken the hiatus or anything, but the number of interested male counterparts is far more than before. Location probably also has something to do with it. Babble babble.

Coffee.

It's always enlightening when one of your close friends tells you frankly the way they view you while drunk. Because they're perceptive, they know me. And they didn't tell me anything I don't already know anyway. She made sure to preface it with an assurance that I shouldn't be offended.

She told me that I am the squishiest, non confrontational pushover she's ever met. And she's met a lot of people. This is a totally fair statement, and I wasn't offended. But it is very much in conflict with how I present and think of myself. I just don't like yelling. It makes me very anxious.

I can remember this being the case ever since I was a child. When my parents argued, they did so loudly and often. Nothing shakes your world like your parents going at each other. They tried to do it in their room and stay quiet, but I'd always sneak down into my sister's room to listen, cry and whisper the D-word fearfully.

There are some things that you can only really say aloud, as when entered without context or inflection online they can sound a lot different. While this is pretty 'duh,' I bring it up to reference something specific.

Whenever anyone loses something, almost without thinking I'll ask: "Did you check in your butt?" Which is naturally hilarious the way I say it, and I'm sure no one is sick of me responding in this manner. (Wink wink)

Someone on facebook posted that they lost their debit card. I had "Did you check in your butt?" entered into the comment box and was about to hit enter when I realized that by itself, might seem like a dick thing to say. Add that to the fact that I don't hang out with the girl who posted it, and she's never heard me say that. Not that she would jump straight to offended, but it would have registered on the 'inappropriate' scale.

Man my job leaves me with massive amounts of free time in front of a computer. This could be bad.

So the avatar of this semesters' lust is, naturally, dating a ghost from my old program. Just another reminder of how I should have not quit out of school when I did. Should have not taken a year off, running from both the pressures of producing art in an academic setting and the social shunning I'd become subject to. For a year, I'd take the long way around when going places, so I didn't have to confront-by-proximity my shame. That is not to say that this is a regret of mine. I learned a lot the year I took off, but I left a lot of baggage in my old major. Even the friendliest ghosts from that era still leave me with a chill, and the one who is dating the pretty one is far from Casper.

Of course, confronting the fact that I won't be able to pin my affections on this one made me realize that my feelings had very little to do with the man himself. He was the most pleasing to the senses that I encounter on a regular basis, but I've never spoken to him. He could be anyone, but baser impulses like these are more easily worked out when they have a focus.

That being said, I endeavor not to pin it all on proximity men any longer. Or anyone.

I need to stop doing that thing where I fall desperately in lust with people so easily.

Especially with blonde men. I don't do it on purpose, but the last several have been blonde. This one combs his hair back with hairgel or whathaveyou and smiles a bit like a wolf. I like him very much immediately. Internetvestigation has taught me that we have friends in common, and the people that we have in common suggests to me we might get along rather well.

Mprrrrrrph. Okay. I'm done. If I can vent my barely-restrained lusts then I don't have to act on them. Right?

This move has been physically and emotionally exhausting. The house is in really shitty condition. The landlord is doing everything I believe he has the ability to do to fix things, with repairmen visiting often. I get along well with my roommates and I feel the place has charm. We're still not done cleaning, and I need access to a ladder.

My grandfather died of liver cancer a week ago. I haven't heard more on the arrangements, but the funeral is bound to be soon if there's to be one.

School starts on Monday. My last day of work at Dial America was yesterday. I didn't stay the whole time.

Haven't let my feelings catch up with me yet. There will be a crippling day soon where it all hits at once, but not today.