Blue Clit

So, I have been told all my life that men can get Blue Balls. It sounds painful, but I know that women can get the same condition. That article states it's called "pelvic congestion" in women, but that's inadequate to me. It doesn't quite get the idea across of what happens to a woman when she's stimulated and has no release. So, I'm going for Blue Clit. Women who tease a man and give no release are called Cock Teases, right? So a man who does the same must be a Clit Tease.

If a hot guy rubs on and up on a girl, that's definitely Blue Clit time. Don't believe all those bullshit men groaning around that women never want sex. In my world, my female friends can outfuck any man if he's good enough to stimulate her. Most of my male friends could never keep up with my female friends.

So, there's your term of the day: Blue Clit. If you rub, go through with it, or you're just a Clit Tease!

This was a public service announcement.

The Simplicity of It All

Without a doubt, I have suffered from depression in my life. And when I have suffered from it, it's been bad. The worst and longest episode I ever had started when I was pregnant with Jared and my entire marriage was collapsing around me. It didn't end completely until I moved out of the house, although it started to slowly get better after I announced my full intent to divorce him (oh, and Zoloft and a good counselor also helped me too).

In a typical year, I guess something will set me off for about a month of morose feelings wherein I ponder how I can't do anything right and my life lacks X, Y, and Z. For the rest of the eleven months of the year, I find that--other than the occasional anxiety attacks that probably could be controlled with meds if I'd just tell the doctor about them--life is too good for words. I find that I'm able to hold that ideal merely by paying attention to the details, appreciating every one of them. Since I DO have occasional depression or anxiety attacks, I can say for certain that such a level of appreciation of life is not within the chemical grasp of all of humanity. I'm sorry about that. I feel very, very blessed for the capacity to enjoy life and be so damned happy nearly all of the time.

When I'm in the Up Mood, I tend to NOT concentrate on what is going on nor what I can't do due to circumstances. For instance, I can't get a PhD right now because it would require moving. I am not allowed to move anywhere with my kids without the ex's approval (he won't) or a court battle (no thank you). Angie has tried to convince me before that I could get a PhD in Education, but I really want to return to literature. That's my main love, even if I enjoy teaching a hell of a lot too. Sometimes, when I'm doing some of the grant data entry type stuff for the grant Angie is working on, I realize WHY it's actually facinating to have a degree in this area. I'm totally intrigued by watching how some of these young kids use the Internet and how their minds work on solving the problems. Each one has a different method and different approaches to some degree or another. Sometimes they even manage to show me something I just never thought of before either. But, on the whole, I don't want to end up teaching education...I want to teach literature and writing. I want to finish my literature PhD. So, how do I avoid getting depressed about that? I suppose I choose just not to think of it. Instead, I focus on how much fun I'm having as a lecturer at Clemson already. I'm doing what I want to do without that completed PhD, so it's ok.

And it's really the tiniest of things that makes my heart swell and feel amazed. The other day, I was walking to class and saw tiny little baby leaves, all fall colors imaginable, sprawled out across the walkway in front of the library at Clemson. They at first reminded me of little monkey paws, some drowning in the puddles left from the last rain, some rustling in the breeze. The air smelled clean and fresh and a little heavy and filled with energy. I loved seeing these small details. I felt lucky to have noticed them.

Every tiny experience seems to sharpen for me when I'm in this type of mood. Food tastes better. My smell heightens, and I could bury my face into Alex's chest all day long just enjoying his natural odor. Or the hair of my children, a mix of their shampoo and earth and maybe paint or glue or whatever else they did that day, plus their natural scent. I stare at my daughter's mischeivious grin and realize how much of an honor it is to be her parent, for she is smart, sweet, funny, and beautiful beyond compare. I watch my son's curious nature pull apart two perfectly built Bionicles and form something new, strange, and interesting, and seeing his mind work thrills me. My cat purrs and curls up on me, and his soft fur and low rumbly noise soothes me. There's a lot I can't afford, but hey! We're making it! We can go out to eat, buy decent wine, and do some fun things PLUS pay for rent and food. Oh, and we are all covered by health insurance. That's fantastic.

One of the parts of my relationship with Alex that is most enjoyable to me is that he's just as bad. He follows the details, laughing alongside me. I don't need to worry him that I might be annoying as I live and love life. I could dance in a warm rain with him, and he'd laugh right along with me. I can make mmm mmmm mmmm noises all the way through a meal, and even bounce, and he just laughs and thinks that's great (for the record, unless I'm misreading things, I think that doesn't bother Grant either...he fed us pretty damn well when we were there last and I was constantly bouncing and saying mmmm! that's great!...and he didn't smack me once...haha!). In all actuality, that's rather like my mom's personality in a lot of ways, so my family already puts up with it well.

It's not that I don't want to place the smackdown on folks who annoy me. It's not that I can't cry when I hear bad news. It's more of...I recover fast. And then feel happy. You know what? Happy feels fantastic. I guess my biggest fear really IS that the parts of my life I value the most might go away because life right now is pretty damned good. There's a lot I don't have, sure. There's a lot I have to deal with, sure. But I guess I don't concentrate on the nots. I don't concentrate on the can'ts. I don't concentrate on the bad. I, instead, focus on the cool night air and the scent of my children's hair. Life can be hard, but it's also good. I'm glad I can see that. It's a gift onto itself.

Death of a Student

So, on Sunday morning, Alex fetched the paper for me. It's the only day of the week I really want a newspaper (read: coupons). I catch up on some news, look at the things I can't afford to buy, clip coupons, and read the funnies. This time, however, I found more than I wanted.

I saw the headline, "Clemson freshman killed in collision," and I mused, I wonder if he's one of mine? The chances were very unlikely considering the sheer number of freshman at Clemson. But no, I look and there he is...and I make a strangled cry. It is the sheer shock of seeing the death of somebody I know in print. It is the agony of realizing this boy was 18. It is the dread of how the class will take it. It is, in the end, after I read the entire article...a realization that even though I talked to him about something he needed to watch for, he didn't.

See, Doug kept falling asleep in class. It's hard to fall asleep in my class. I'm very loud. I'm very energetic. Usually if somebody falls asleep in my class, it's due to a one shot deal wherein he or she is too tired for words, and it's never done again. But Doug had problems looking groggy all the time. I talked to him about it. He told me that his ROTC stuff that he did had him up before dawn, and out doing exercises at 6a. He told me, you think I look dead by your 930a class? You should see how I look at 8a in chemistry! We laughed, but I told him that he really needed to find a way to get more sleep because he wouldn't really absorb anything in class if he kept falling asleep in it.

The article said that Doug crossed over the line at 1a on Saturday morning as he drove his car. Nobody else was in his car, and the other fellow was alone too. The other fellow is in serious condition in the hospital; Doug pretty much died right away. I bet anything he fell asleep at the wheel. Sigh.

It's just so young! 18 yrs old. I can't imagine what it's like to be his parents in India, getting a call about the death of his son. Doug's father is Air Force, and he has been stationed in India. Doug, in fact, flew over from India at the beginning of the school year. And now his parents get to fly over and fetch his body. I guess as a parent myself, that really affects me...to visualize that.

To lighten the mood, I told my classes today that the rule is now that if I know you, you can't die unless I choose to kill you myself. They laughed.

******

Ariana's officially in the gifted and talented program here in South Carolina, called Quest. There are seven kids from her grade level in the program, and my daughter is the only girl. The others are boys. Interesting side note: four of those six boys have hit on her at one point or another (one is her current boyfriend, Andrew). I think that proves that smart boys prefer smart girls.

She's incredibly excited about being in the program. She goes every Wednesday with the others, and they learn different things the others don't learn...in a much more exciting way. I am very excited for my daughter, but I am worried as well. Not for her of course. I am worried for the OTHERS. See, my daughter will thrive no matter what. That's what being gifted usually means. But the kids who really need the extra push, the one on one attention, the more interesting assignments? Well, they won't get this class. I feel it's all about the smart getting smarter and leaving the others behind, and that part makes me sad.

But I'm not voicing that complaint to Ariana. She's excited, having fun, and thriving in the program. It DOES make me quite happy and grin for her to see her this bouncy about Wednesday at school now. Her mind is absorbing this extra knowledge like a dry sponge. I know she needed more stimulation at school, and at least now she's getting it!

Happy Election Day!

So, if your last name is "Bass" and you want to have a photo op for elections, this is how to NOT stage it!

Fall Break

So, we finally have our fall break coming up! I can't believe they put it in November. We have Monday and Tuesday off. I think they did it that way so they don't have to give us TU off to vote. Clemson doesn't like to give days off. That's why we were supposed to labor on labor day.

I'm ready for this break. It's easier from now on out as far as the vacation time goes. We have Thanksgiving coming up, and then by Dec. 8th I should be done with all classes. Ahhhhh. That will feel great.

The visit with Grant went great. I think he is saving throwing us in the basement for the next visit as he didn't have time to prepare to capture us this last time (he's been working so many overtime hours, you see, that he just wasn't able to gather up the materials). He told me we had to come down again before Christmas, so that's how I know he's not yet given up on that plan! We were supposed to see Angie from Atlanta (Can of Worms Angie), but she had problems with her car the day we were supposed to meet up, and that didn't work out. So I ate her part of the food in order to honor her.

We had a full weekend of gorging. I tried for the first time ever this quail egg sushi that had some type of roe with it (likely salmon), egg yolk and fish eggs all wrapped up together in seaweed. The yolk would burst across the eggs, giving them additional richness and flavor. Very intriguing. I had to have oysters at Pappadeux (they have the best oysters! oh, and fantastic crawfish bisque)...yum! We ate Japanese for dinner Fri and Sat, Cajun for lunch on Sat, and then Mexican for lunch on Sun. By the time Sun dinner rolled around, we all discussed that we were too bloated to eat out for dinner, so Alex and I just hit the road home.

It was really on Sunday at lunch I realized fully what a freaking pig I am when it comes to food. I always have teased people that I can outeat them, but you'd think that both Grant and Alex--males who are bigger than me--would not let that happen. Nope, they both had take home boxes with a full meal in it for later, and I finished my plate (well, I finished the tamale, the taco, the two cheese enchiladas, and then ate a pile of chips and salsa and queso...I DID leave the rice and beans behind). On Saturday, we all split mussels for an appetizer. Then Alex and I split a bowl of soup. Then I had a salad, and that was all before our main plates came out. Alex pointed out to me that Grant had one appetizer; he had two; and I had three. Um. Well. But um...ok. Never mind. I can't fight that one. I wonder why I don't weigh 300 lbs with what I eat? I've definitely picked up weight in the last year or two. I've never been heavier. But I'm still not what one would call "fat." I think that means I still have a great metabolism, but it's slowing due to age. Damn you, age!

The movie selection wasn't so brutal this time, but that might also be because I passed out cold on Saturday night before we managed to pop in Entrails of a Virgin. Grant has been telling me I can't hold my liquor and I need to train more. Hmmm. I think I'll always be a wimp with alcohol because even though my tolerance has most certainly improved the last couple of years, I still can't do heavy drinking two nights in a row. In fact, if we're talking more than a glass of wine with dinner, I have a limited number of times per week when I can drink more without me feeling just blah. I would make a piss poor alcoholic. So, drinking heavily on Sat night meant no alcohol on Sun or Mon at all (even my customary glass with dinner that I often do at home was out Mon night). I think I had a glass Tue night. Nothing last night. I'll never be able to train hard enough to get there. Grant'll just have to tease me more.

It was funny, though...we were watching a movie called Audition (of course it was Japanese...both Grant and Alex like Japanese movies a LOT). It gets really graphic at the end, and the guys both know I handle violence not so well (hence why I drink heavily at Grant's: it makes the movie choice more tolerable to me!). I went to the bathroom, came out, and it was at the end of the movie, so they directed me to close my eyes and stay away from the TV at that moment. Therefore, I turned around and sprawled out on the airbed Grant has in his dining room nook. And promptly passed out. Now when I say, "passed out," I mean TOTALLY OUT. They had problems waking me afterwards. This apparently amused them both greatly. Grant, because he is a true friend, took two pictures of me drooling on his bed. Note: since that's where Grant was sleeping that night, I hope I drooled REALLY COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF SALIVA on his bed for taking those pictures! Then, of course, to complete the photos--like bookends--he took a picture of me the second I rolled out of bed the next morning.

A trip to the liquor store was really fun for me, but I feel badly that I got caught up in a conversation with the wine dude while Grant waited. Wine is not Grant's interest at all. However, I enjoyed talking to this guy because he really knows his stuff! I get frustrated now because although my level of knowledge on wine is, at best, intermediate...many of the people bigger wine places hire have beginning level knowledge of wine, so I try to ask questions and realize they know less than I do. Useless. Bah. This guy, however, had TONS of knowledge right on the tip of his tongue, so I found out a lot of stuff about the wines they had there and wines in general I wouldn't have discovered without talking to him.

So, after all that driving, my back is pissing me off still this week. Oh well. It was worth it. We had a great time.

****

Trick or treating had two pirates in our household. Both Ariana and Jared dressed up as pirates for the holiday, and my ex and I took them out trick or treating together. Ariana had requested it. They got a good haul of candy, so life was good.

Ariana's scrapbook--long story, but it was not done at first correctly due to her father's lack of help and lack of willingness to purchase materials for it--originally had a bad mark on it, but I have always taught Ari to fix mistakes when they are done, even if the only satisfaction we get is to know we tried to fix it. So, we sat down and in two hours, my daughter redid the scrapbook pages for her school project. They were magnificent, and the teacher so kindly understood Ariana's situation and regraded it anyway! So, she is very, very proud with how gorgeous it looks now. She wanted to show her father how much better it is now that she fixed it, so she walked up to him with the scrapbook in hand, holding it out to him like a sacred text, solemnly intoning, "Do you think you are STRONG ENOUGH to handle the magnificence of my scrapbook? Do you think you can HANDLE the beauty that lies within?" I swear I started laughing so hard that I beat the table with my hand. She was so serious-faced when she did this! Where does she come up with this shit?

Ok, off to school I go.