Up until this point, you have only gotten my stupid music challenge shit and the occasional hypochondriac freak-out
How about a real post…about real life?
So very boring, I know
My roommate from college has borrowed out to me a book. It is called Bonk. It is written by a lady named Mary Roach, whose other books include one called Stiff and is about the life (or lack thereof) of a cadaver. Bonk, as you probably have already guessed, is about the curious coupling of science and sex. I have only finished the first chapter, but this is going to prove to be quite an informational ride.
There is a psychological disease that I first heard of in my Paranoid’s Pocket Guide. It’s called Vaginismus and, in short, it is when the act of penetration (or using tampons) is virtually impossible because the muscles of the vagina will clamp shut. It’s a psychological affliction that stems from a fear of (surprise surprise) penetration and/or the subconscious belief that sex equates to “wrong.” Of course, most women wish that their subconscious would stop making those kind of decisions for them without informing them first, but what the subconscious does not want, it will not have.
The cure for this used to be the standard: psychological therapy and physical therapy to stretch the muscles. But now, you can go in and, with your OBGyn’s blessing, get Botox. This will paralyze the muscles and allow for a little bit of play
I wonder if that will become an option open for ladies who have a hard time with sex in general, in the event that it always hurts. Granted, if sex continues to hurt after months of doing it regularly, I think you shouldn’t turn to Botox as the first solution. Because, you know…your problem might be your tango partner who isn’t letting you warm up before the big number. In the event of unforeseen circumstances, though, this could potentially be a useful thing
This last weekend, I finally ransacked a few of my friends’ iTunes libraries. This is both an exciting thing and a very devastatingly bad thing. And I’ll tell you why
Here comes your daily dose of neurosis. Ready?
I have all these new artists to explore and some old ones that I haven’t spent any time with, excluding our occasional radio affairs. In fact, this time, I have a lot more to plow through than usual (the usual being between two and four gigs – fucking 14 gigs this time). And with me, I don’t want to miss out on a single song that might just be my new Obsession Song of the Month.
Up to this point, I’m sure you’re nodding your head. You get it. You understand
Yeah, but would you attempt to get through all that music in the span of a few days? Probably not. And if you do, get in contact with me and we can organize our stacks of classmates’ senior pictures by color, size, pose, glasses/contacts/neither, and hair color together.
I go music crazy and that’s not entirely a good thing. From dawn until dusk, music is playing and I’m making lists, lists of what I like, love, and adore. I plow and plow through every artists, letting them rape my music-exhausted brain until I’m screaming that I FUCKING HATE THIS BAND I CAN’T STAND THIS ANYMORE WHY ARE THEY PLAYING THE GUITAR SO OFTEN MORE PICCOLO NEEDS TO HAPPEN. And it could be my favorite band. I’ll still hate it. Because I’m tired and I don’t want to listen to music anymore and I want there to be glorious silence. But I don’t stop. I just keeping going
Because there must be order. There are playlists that need to be made and songs that need to be added to existing playlists. The good must be separated from the bad. On-the-fense songs need to be considered more closely. Lyrics need to be learned.
And there is no time to waste.
The day I’m going to have at work tomorrow is going to be exhausting. My iTouch will be drained of battery. My hand will cramp from the lists. I will hate the Goo Goo Dolls and that should never happen.
Pray for me. Pray that I will come to my senses and take it slow – enjoy the whole getting-to-know-you process.
I rush into and through everything