It’s snowing. We are supposed to get 4-7 inches. It’s the best kind of snow, too. Large, fulffy flakes gently wafting to the ground. I got Thai carryout yesterday so I’m set for the next few days. I am so lucky that I don’t HAVE to drive anywhere and have a guy to plow. Therefore, I can enjoy the snow from the safety of inside my house.
It’s white and cheery outside my window. Well, white is a fact and cheery is how I feel. I love snow. I will say that in the RKG Discord, there is a channel for grot called #slug-love. It’s also the channel in which we support each other, and it’s my favorite channel. It’s the last channel (they’re alpha within the category), which is fitting.
I have a running gag of reporting how much snow we are supposed to get, but with no context so it sounds like I’m talking about sex. I did this yesterday, and someone gave a treatise on the average size of the male penis and how me looking for half of what is expected is unrealistic. At the end, he said, “Unless you’re talking about rain or snow. I can’t tell.”
I could have kept going, but I took pity on him and said that I was actually takling about snow. But it’s fun to be able to riff on that with like-minded people. And it’s contained in one channel so you don’t have to dip in it if you don’t want. There are a half-dozen of us who are regulars, and then there are probably a dozen people who drop in semi-regularly. Then another half-dozen or so who say hey infrequently. It’s always fun to see new faces, though! One person came in to tell us that we were all really inventive, which was a nice boost.
It’s funny. I used to be very dirty when I was in my twenties. It was in reaction to being raised in a very fundie, restrictive, Evangelical Christian household. I’ve written about how I was taught that having premarital sex would send me to hell, which was such bullshit. Once I went to college, I let my imagination run wild, and it was so much fucking fun. I talked about sex all the time (way too much), and I felt so free.
Then, it waned in time.I have no problem with that. There is no need to bang on about it all the time. I don’t have a problem talking about it when it comes up, but I don’t feel the need to jam it into every converastion (that’s what she said!). Still. It feels good to let my freak flag fly. There are a few people in the channel who are on the same wavelength. There is one woman with whom I am simpatico, and I would love to meet her in real life. She lives in the UK, though, so that probably isn’t going to happen.
I do want to have sex this year. I don’t want a partner of the romantic variety, but I DO want to get laid on the regular if possible. I don’t care the gender, the religion, the ethnicity, nor age (within reason), but NO Republicans. Period. This has been a hard no from me since my thirties. Anyone who is at all sympathetic to the Republicans is not welcome in my bed. I don’t care if they call themselves moderates–there are none in this day and age.
That’s something that has frustrated me for some time. The Republiacns have successfully pushed the Overton Window to the right so ‘centrist’ really means to the right. What the media calls leftist is slightly more than moderately left. At any rate, nope. No Republicans and no Libertarians. This is annoying because i’m really very much ‘live and let live’ in my own life. I honestly don’t care what people do as long as it doesn’t hurt others. But, Libertarians with a capital L suck. They are usually selfish and jerks, and I want nothing to do with them.
What I would really like is a sex buddy with whom I can hook up once a week or so. I’d see them for three or four hours, and then we would be done. We’d message and talk throughout the week, but it wouldn’t be a big deal if we didn’t talk. At least, that’s what I envision in my head. I know myself, however, and that’s not how I roll. i would become too invested and start obsessing about the person. I’m keeping it real, here. That’s what I was taught to do and to be when I was a child. My mother started using me as a confidante when I was eleven, and that’s when I learned that my worth was what I could do for other people–especially her.
I was taught that I had no intrinsic value in and of myself. I had to provide for others or I was worth nothing. It didn’t help that I had the innate ability to read people and to comfort them. Innate? Or well-honed? I would say it’s both.
Hm. I’m not sure, though. I am also neurodivergent and can’t read social clues that easily all the times. When I’m not looking for them, I mean. My brother has a very dry sense of humor, and I can’t always tell if he’s serious or joking. Same with written jokes that are very dry. I’m not always sure it’s a joke.
I know I’ve been sharpening that skill all my life and now I roll a nat 20 in it on the daily. It’s not even something I need to think about because I can do it in my sleep. I don’t necessarily like it, bu it is what it is, as the kids say.
I don’t mind being empathetic. I think it’s a good thing in general. But, and this is the difference, I don’t think it’s healthy to be empathetic to the point of not thinking about yourself. I had had a low self-esteem for so long. I thought I deserved to die and did not deserve to live. It wasn’t until I started walking the circle (Bagua) in Taiji classes that I had a flash of “If it’s them or me, then it’s going to be me (who lives!”, and that was when I realized that my life was worth something.
Now, having died twice, I know that my life is precious and can be cut short at any time. That’s why it took a year to get me back to equilibrium. Now that we are a year and three months past my medical crisis, it’s time for me to fully embrace being alive.