Spring cleaning

Sometimes you just have too many things lying around.

Things you don’t need anymore.

Things you should really just get rid of.

So, even though it is clearly not quite spring, I am ridding myself (and this blog) of the excess. This is not meant to be a petty or dramatic move. It is not meant to symbolize anything. In fact, it is incredibly boring and probably doesn’t serve much of a purpose at all. My time would, in all honesty, be much better spent going through my piles of clothes and deciding which of them to get rid of! But, such is life. And also I am very tired. So… goodnight!

Amazing

Ha! Someone found this blog by typing in “Slutty Confessions”… just had to share that!

Update

Took a bath and cleared my head. Feel much better now. Thank God.

Here Comes Your Man

I have had this song stuck in my head for about 7 days now. I don’t mind really, because it just happens to be one of my favorites. But it can be a bit depressing.  Released by the Pixies in 1989 (And later covered by Meaghan Smith, which coincidentally is the version that’s stuck in my head), the song sounds like a feel-good love song about the return of a lover. However, as a rather unfortunate viewing of a comment made on songmeanings.net has taught me to believe, the song is actually about devastation. Or, more specifically, about the 1945 atomic bombing of Nagasaki.

Combine this knowledge with the fact that my nervous/digestive system has been off since last week, the weather outside is dismal and gray,  I am not completely satisfied with the state of my life, and I have just been watching Skins – and you get my current internal psyche. Sad, confused, with a propensity for staying in bed much longer than is strictly necessary. Oh, and I’m trying to convince myself that I don’t like someone whom I so clearly do. But you knew that already.

Honestly, I feel like there are about ten dementors at my door. And I keep opening it. Why?

Next week, there will be school. Which means something new to focus on. It also means hanging out with people who are not quite so moody as I am. Which is good. Because at the moment, nothing makes sense. Clearly, I need to stop thinking about things that are beyond my control. Clearly, I need to stop thinking about this song.

But I can’t help it, it’s stuck. And I honestly don’t mind it.

Tell me… what would you like me to do?

OK, So… after long and careful consideration (who am I kidding?) I have decided to ask you all for a little favor. Which you absolutely do not have to grant. But if you don’t that means no more sluttiness.

I think I may have gotten ahead of myself.

The favor is simply this, if you are among the somewhat ambiguous group who actually enjoy Slutty Sundays, you must at this time get just a little bit involved. I am not asking for pictures (please god, no pictures!) or guest posts (although…), what I want is for you to contribute options.

In the comment box, you must give me one of three things:

1. A celebrity to put into the scenario

2. An interesting location (Or any location really. On second thought- No! I demand that you be interesting! Or not.)

3. A scenario (Pour example: I have just woken up after a night of drunken debauchery to find that I am in the same bed as Adrien Brody. Only you can’t use that one. Because I have already done it.)

Or, you can simply tell me to, for God’s sake, stop the madness! And I will discontinue Slutty Sundays for good. Possibly.

Go ahead… tell me. I promise not to laugh.

Tumblr.

MerlinsEars.tumblr.com

Do it.

Something to Stare At

You know how certain things can mean something to you, even if you don’t know why? Certain images, sounds, smells can take you somewhere you never meant to go. Somewhere familiar… and old. Somewhere that is, for some reason, important. One of these things can, it turns out, be a word.

I was reading over past blogs (who knows why, really) and I came upon a sentence bearing the word “Cairo.” For some reason or another, I couldn’t get past it. I just kept staring. Why was Cairo so important? What was it that I was trying to remember? A specific memory? An impression? What?

What is it about Cairo that I am forgetting? And why can’t I stop staring?

Slutty Sundays: The Red Room

She hadn’t meant to end up in her room. But somehow she was here. The dizzying music and cheap beer and laughter had drawn her in, as they tugged suggestively at each other’s clothes, daring the other to take a step forward, being teased into submission with piercing looks and warm whispers. She had never done this before. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t now.

The room was small and barely lit, a single lamp with a red shade cast a strange glow over the room and over their bare skin, as if everything was bathed the shade of lust.

“Hey” she breathed. Morgan smiled in response. She leant forward, and pressed her lips to Amber’s mouth. Their breathing quickened, she felt warm and excited. It wasn’t even a question anymore. It was happening.

As Amber leaned in and away, and found her arms entwine and hands searching, she forgot about her insecurities, her reservations, her questions. She stripped away her reluctance as if it were the clothes now falling from their bodies to the floor.

They wrapped their arms around each other, felt the desire pulsating from within, as blood rushing though their veins, causing their hearts to beat faster and their heads to become foggy. They fell upon the bed, smoothing and caressing and kissing each other’s skin. There were no other sounds in the world. No people. No thoughts. At that moment, at that time, it was only them. And all they could do was feel.

Uppers

Ladies and gentlemen, transgenders and hermaphrodites, I’m afraid I have something rather shocking to tell you: I am a terribly moody person. I know, I know, you are all horrified beyond belief! But it is the truth and you may as well know it.

In some circles, I am actually considered to be pretty even keel. Because, you know, I don’t throw tantrums and I try not to overwhelm other people with my problems. Even my friends have to spend a considerable amount of time with me before I am ready to tell them what is really going on. And it is pretty much mandatory that I do so in a place that is familiar to me and has a table (such as my dining room or a certain shitty little cafe.) I need drawing out. But the telling of secrets and fears is by no means of diminished importance to me, even though I do so sporadically at best. If I don’t say what is wrong, it just keeps swimming around in my head, becoming ever more dark and complex, breeding in the unseen corners of my mind. Which is why, if you haven’t noticed, I tend to complain to you a lot. So much so that one of you has taken to calling me “emo” on a semi-regular basis. Which I don’t exactly appreciate BY THE WAY.

The thing is, If you only read this blog, and don’t have the incredible pleasure of actually knowing me in person, you may start to think that complaining is all I ever really do… which is not true… I don’t think. Anyway, the point of this is that I feel it is time to tell all you lovely readers (even the lurkers, who I may have somewhat shamed the other day) what in my life is going right.

So here goes…

1. I FUCKING PASSED THE FUCKING CLASS!!!

Remember that Cosmetology Pre-Req I told you all about? The one that had me getting up at 5am every day, causing me to lose sleep, skip meals, and have about the worst case of ongoing nervous stomach syndrome (if that’s even a real thing) in the history of mankind? Well, I PASSED IT! Not only that, but I got into the upcoming Nail Tech class along with those who I  consider to be some of the most relatable and well-rounded people in my class. Meaning I can train for a job that’s not in retail and I can do so with people I actually really like. Score. (And I really do mean that.)

2. I managed to turn a semi-real friendship into a real-real friendship by… you guessed it… opening up about my problems. On Tuesday, right after I was informed that my humiliating confessions about The Coworker had actually been read by The Coworker, my friend Bart took me to a neighborhood cafe (that for some reason or another is my favorite place to vent) and let me go on and on about how frustrating the whole thing was to me. And by “let me go on and on”, I really mean that he listened, asked questions, and helped me see the bright side of things. Which helped. A LOT. Being able to talk to an actual person, one who isn’t going to judge or tell me to do things differently, is of incredible importance and, since it is a real person and not a phone or computer screen, actually enables me to laugh and make jokes about the situation, rather than just brooding in my discontent. (Anyone else feel that that was just about the longest sentence of the year? Oh well, Fuck it. It is only January 9th, after all.)

3. I have left physical insecurity far behind and have instead become downright cocky. Apparently flirting helps, because I don’t even mind telling you that I walk around like I’m the shit lately.

4. The New Coworker is, I kid you not, the best thing since sliced bread. It naturally took me a little while to get to know him enough to see if he was “cool”, but once I did we just hit it off really well. I can be completely myself around him and I always have fun when we work together. Even though it is work, and generally blows. You know, because it is work. Anyway, the point is that I’m glad he’s around. And will be reading this blog SOON. (Sorry Coworker number 1, but it had to be done, my friend.) To avoid confusion, The New Coworker is Matt and Coworker number 1 is… well, you know who you are.

So there you go, Some things really do go right for me. I’m sure there are others, but I’m very tired now and would like to start my day of absolutely-no-exertion early. So goodnight everyone. Or good morning. Or good whatever time of day it is when you read this. Basically, just “good”.

The Whole Cosmos

This week, believe it or not, I have been doing things other than dealing with The Coworker and my possibly ridiculous need for closure, closure, closure! (Which I will possibly never get… but such is life, homes, no matter what you were told on all those 50′s sitcoms.) Anyway, what have I been doing, you may ask? Well, I will tell you… in a second…

Hold on, I think I need some peppermint tea…

OK, I’m back.

Where was I?

Oh yes, Cosmetology. For those of you who don’t know (which will be a lot, as I’m pretty sure I’ve never mentioned it before), I have been contemplating becoming a cosmetologist for a considerable amount of time. But, like with most things, I spent a lot of time dragging my feet, considering other options, and generally discounting the idea until I was finally reading to, as they say, dive right in.

This week was when I hit the water. Sort of. In order to enroll in the cosmetology class at this particular school, everyone has to complete a week long cosmetology pre-req. It started on Monday and ends, thankfully, tomorrow. Although the eight-hour long lectures (with frequent breaks, thank God!), have at times been significantly hard to bear, the worst thing by far was actually having to get up (at 5AM!) every morning… because if you’re late, you are screwed. Not literally screwed, of course, as this is not England and we are not at an all boys school for the incurably rich, but you get the idea. At times it has been complete hell. Mostly because I hardly have time to eat, which is dangerous if you are me. Very dangerous. (I get a bit mean. Or nervous.) But, surprisingly enough, I have mostly been enjoying it. I know, right?! It’s strange, especially as most of this week’s mornings have been spent fighting the urge to give up entirely and just go on back to sleep. (As far as I’m concerned, if the sun’s not up, I shouldn’t be either. And then sometimes even if the sun is up. What can I say? I like my sleep!)

One of the things that makes the course at least semi-enjoyable is the instructors, which are none of them crap. Although one of them does like to talk a lot. And get off subject. Which is annoying. As shit. And I really do mean that. (But mostly because I don’t find her stories very entertaining.) Anyway (possibly I should not be complaining about people who get off subject, particularly in this entry), most of the time the instructors are engaging and interesting and actually seem to know what they’re talking about. Which is a bit surprising, though at the moment I can’t think why.

Also, how easy is it to get along with people who want to make a living out of basically getting along with other people? Very, very easy. I have yet to get into a boring, irritating, or offensive conversation. Which is saying something. I know that realistically speaking, it has only been three days, and that you can’t really get to know an entire group in that amount of time. But as most people (retail customers especially) tend to bug the crap out of me in the first three minutes, I am going to go ahead and give my classmates the benefit of my slightly unstudied assessment.

Oh no, remember how I said I have to get up at 5am? Well that means that I have to go to bed. Now. You have no idea how much I wish this weren’t true. But it is. So, Alas! Goodnight.

P.S. If a certain someone of you is reading this, I just have one last thing to say.

I really want to be able to stop being mad at you. I think we should talk in person.