Transitions

So I'm all moved in to Ian's apartment.  It feels pretty weird.  It's like all my random crap like bongos and a sewing machine and kites and libertarian propaganda among his uber modern minimalist decor that I never would have picked for myself.  But then I see J. Alfred Prufrock, my gold ceramic duck in the bedroom and the peanut butter we got together at the grocery store because I like chunky, and I guess I really live here now.

I cried like a little bitty fucking baby last night for at least an hour leaving the co-op with all my stuff and when we got home.  God I still feel like crying for another hour about it.  I loved that place.  I don't care if it was a shithole, it was my shithole and I loved everyone in it and everything about it.  When you live there, you don't realize how much your stuff smells like stale cigarette ashes and pot.  Such a beautiful experience to know so many true authentic people, people who care about me and looked out for me.  Of course I'll visit, but I'll miss out on stuff I know it.  Like when we had a huge snowball fight with newspaper in the dining room, and all the late night dance parties in the kitchen making french fries, or just all the times I came home for lunch and laughed until my sides hurt.  Submission parties, Molly cuddle fests, sitting around on the back porch shootin' the shit.  Ahhh, it's so heartbreaking not being there!

Looks like it's time to cry some more.

Ian Ian Ian Iann IaaaaaAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love love love love love him and I think I'll be with him for as long as he'll have me.

"Non-Flammable" Is that a challenge?

 I like to change the English language as it suits my needs.  Here's a new proposal:  You know how when you're chatting with someone online and they type a phrase and then end it with an elipses?  It's so confusing because you don't know if they're just pausing or trailing off, or if there's more to come!  I think whenever people want to indicate a very extended pause they should put, ",,," and if there's more to come they should put, "...".  Doesn't that make more sense?

Pits up Uhmerikuh!

Ian's turned me into the biggest mushiest dork.  It's obscene, it really is.

In other news, I'm growing out my armpit hair.  Ian is not a fan.  Oh the hypocrisy.  :P  :D

It just makes me mad that people are so weird about female armpit hair.  It's such a stupid taboo.  Women wax and shave their pits to perpetuate this ideal, this pretending like we don't grow armpit hair, when everyone knows we do.  It's so stupid, it's funny.  Surely armpit hair serves some worthy evolutionary purpose to be kept around for thousands of years.  I intend to find out what that purpose is.  My guess is the whole trap for pheromones thing.  I know Ian doesn't like armpit hair now, but I bet his desire for me will intensify once it gets long enough.  :D  Sure I'll stink a little, but we'll be connecting on that hormonal level.  :D 

The other day I was rubbing baking soda into my pits because I ran out of deoderant, (that's a SUPER good substitute by the way) and I felt so uber-granola-girl-mother-earth-nature-goddess.  I am emboldened by my armpit hair.  Looking at it now, all I can think is, why must we bow to the pressures of Western consumerism.  Embrace natural femininity, womanhood doesn't need to be cultivated.

EDIT:  Apparently Ian doesn't really care.  That's actually what I thought originally, he's pretty ambivalent about body hair in general it seems, but then we had a discussion about it and he acted a little unsettled by the idea.

Party Bears

Being in love has turned me into the most creatively lame person ever.  :P  All I want to talk about is Ian, and make giant lists about all the things I love about him, and write terrible love poetry, and post all these pictures with stupid happy smiles on our faces on Facebook.  I've turned completely lame sauce.  I feel like making all these weird declarations to the world.  For instance, today I wanted to yell from the rooftops -
GOD BLESS ANAL SEX!  AND GOD BLESS IAN MILLS!
Sigh, I do a lot of sighing.  Falling in love isn't too complicated.  Mostly you just sigh a lot, and think about how sweet his eyelashes look making dark Cs against his cheeks while he's sleeping.  And then you sigh some more.  There's this weird paradox where you feel as natural and as comfortable as you do when you're alone, except you have company and your companion thinks to give you friendly kisses every so often.   Sometimes I feel like the sun is shining on my insides and warming them up.  I mean there's a lot more to it than that, but Ian's the best.  Best Best Best!!!!

The First Of Several - Biographical Sketches Of My Friends

"I'd eat the corn outta her shit."
- Dorian, one of my favorite people.

Completely inappropriate at times, and yet still a total ladies man.

"Dude, quit the facade, we all know you're only into the poop for the corn. They sell it on the cob, too, you know. I had to learn that the hard way..."

- Claire, another favorite person

Flowchart To My Heart (and other bits)

*Click for larger image*

I have this tendency to make charts and graphs and rubrics and the like, in an effort to prioritize what’s important to me – including the stuff of love and relationships.  My logic is twofold:  1) How are you supposed to find what you want if you can’t articulate it?  And 2) When entering semi-uncharted territory, scientific analysis is invaluable.

Imagine my excitement when I found out that OkCupid had a "Flowchart To My Heart" application.   Basically you answer a bunch of questions and then it randomly generates a flowchart that someone can look at and immediately decipher if you'd go on a date with them or not.  I thought it was a cute idea, but unfortunately the flowchart has some fatal errors in its presentation.  I found that certain questions needed higher priority than others, and also that for some questions, giving the wrong answer would be an immediate deal breaker in real life.  Furthermore, not all the questions they asked were relevant to a "dating" relationship.  For instance, I probably wouldn't marry someone who was kindof useless around the house or who didn't make smart decisions about their money, but I might still date them.

So I made my own flowchart that looks and reads exactly how it should!  It’s so tempting to make this sort of thing because I’m obsessed with relationships being about compatibility.  I fit your flowchart, you fit mine.

Sometimes though, I think maybe I’m being silly trying to engineer all this and wanting/expecting things to match perfectly.  There’s no magic in that.  Maybe love should be about finding sparks and chasing them.

I guess I’ll figure it all out soon enough.  (maybe)

On a related note, my dad says it's foolish to be so concerned with a potential mate's political inclination - libertarian or otherwise.  But I think someone's political opinions can be indicative of many other things about their personality.  Plus everyone knows that men who subscribe to the Austrian school of economics are better in bed.  It's just true!