Update

I apologize for my lack of blog last night—I've been having some issues in my personal life that came to a bit of a head and I simply did not have the energy to either share or pretend last night.

Hopefully you're not too devastated, Mystery Person Who Reads Each Post Right Away.
(I know you're from the US, though nothing else. Very curious, feel free to share!)

As for what happened last night, things will be getting better, I hope. I do want them to, and it rarely gets as bad as it did.

Perhaps, when there's more distance, I'll feel comfortable detailing more explicitly. Right now, though, I'm on my way to bed—so tired lately, that can't be helping!

Asexy Times

I was reading something on AVEN, which lead to Apositive, which lead to this awesome quote:

"Something I love about being a sex positive asexual are the responses from sexual people I receive. People never expect you to have seen a porno or know what bukkake is, let alone where the G-spot is located or that the real person in control in a dominant-submissive scene is the submissive partner. There is a special kind of joy in being able to talk unflappably about things that turn even your most liberal friends a lovely puce. They want to know why I’m such a pervo and I say that sex is like a restaurant—sexual people find the things they like and stay with that part of the menu, but asexuals (of the sex positive variety) wander by the buffet and check everything out because it’s all odd to us. Sure, some things are at the farther end of the wowwee spectrum, but for the most part it’s all baffling to us. We’re not thinking of ourselves in those situations so it’s more academic and less personal. Sex positive asexuals can be a sex positive sexual’s best ally.

And, of course, we don’t mind listening to you bitch about how annoying sex is, either."

(Read the full post here.)

This, in a few ways, is a great description of me. I confess, I'm completely grossed out by the thought of me in any of the aforementioned menu items (eww, eww, ewwwwww!) but it's fascinating nonetheless.  Once I get into the headspace, it's all interesting—why is that appealing, how does that work, where does that go…?!

I suppose that I take an odd position in regards to sex and 'all that,' but what it comes down to is that I am intellectually intrigued by the existence of sex, and its variations. Yes, I have to be presented the information in a way I can compute it, no, I don't want to try it, but yes, I do want to understand it. 

I've always been interested in sex, from a scientific/'wow, really?!' perspective. Ever since I can remember, it's been something that intrigues me, yet never something that I enjoyed the idea of partaking in. (Some of my hesitance to come out to myself probably stems from that slight confusion!)

Now, though, I'm able to confidently state that yes, I am a homoromantic asexual. I find sex enthralling, the way I would a good novel—I want to learn it, but not live it.

I'm Mahara. This is my brand of crazy. And it's perfectly sane.

I Can't

Okay. I can't do it anymore—after some personal searching, conversations, documentaries, readings…I'm going to do this.

I'm going vegan.

I have no idea how this will work. I have no idea what the reaction will be. I have no idea as to who I'll build a support from (aside from one).

But I'm going to do this.

To Do For France

It is literally a week until I leave for France. I leave at 0540, Friday the twenty-ninth of June. Holy freaking cats, that's soon. Here's what I have to do before:

• Contact my exchange family
• Clean my room
• Find space for my partner
• Gut my closets and wardrobe(s)
• Be ruthless
• Take undesirables to Thrift Store
• Purchase and load MP3 player with Zumba songs to choreograph
• Scholarship/Awards/Transcript/Residence forms filled out and mailed.
• WRITE MATH DIPLOMA
• 'Bonding Time' with my mother
• Grocery shop for the needed snacks 
• Rehearse my (trite) French phrases
• Make bed ready for return
• FINISH SCHOOL PROJECTS
• Two FAS (Fashion) modules
• One Art piece
• SLEEP
• Transition to Parision time
• Apron for my 'Mommy'

Well? Any strategies…?!

Frantic

It's been a while. Let's see, what have I been up to. I went for a hike Sunday, mucked up my knee somewhere between there and Monday, it's still killing me. I need it to be okay for Friday—that's my Grad! Eek! I had a grad test-run for my hair, and it should only take half an hour to forty-five minutes. I'm very pleased with that! 

What else…hmm. My psychology class ended today, but I have to do huge amounts of work to get the final project done by Friday. I'm worried, there's some things I don't understand within the reading of the surveys.

Also, I have to get stuff (how technical!) ready for Grad: cap and gown deposit, hemmed dress, giving up on Sears' late delivery of the shoes I won't be wearing, finalized decals. Plus get my house ready for my family to arrive on Thursday. 

Gah, this is a busy week, it seems like everything has been piled on all at once!

Sick

I'm slightly—okay, completely—upset with something that happened tonight. I won't go into details, but there are certain things that seem horridly wrong to me. I freely admit I have made simliar mistakes in the not-so-distant past, yet the guilt always gets to me, and I do what I can to make amends. I feel…slimy when I allow myself to make those mistakes, and feel the repercussions for days, weeks—sometimes years afterwards. Yet looking in on something, where I feel I cannot step in to help, for fear of actions against me, I feel the knowledge that this is wrong, yet the horror that I sit there, watching.

It makes me want to vomit—and I did punch my bed as soon as I could. I wanted a wall, but that would most likely hurt me, and draw too much attention. The one making the aforementioned mistake is not allowed to know how I feel.