Mantra

I know this is a very new blog and who ever is reading this has no clue who I am. But here's a sliver of what's eating me.

I used to be a devout Catholic. I've shed the heavy guilt associated with not attending services, with not going to confession, for committing the mortal sins of pre-martial sex and masturbation (mortal sin being that it's an automatic ticket to Hell if you engage in it) a few years ago. It's much harder to shed the guilt associated with every other aspect of my life. And when guilt piles up, shocking my system with moments of hard lucidity and terror, I recite my childhood mantras that slip off the tongue easily like little shards of ice that temporarily cools the burning hot pain that rends my numb being.

I went to a bar called Milk and Honey last night. I've been out to four bars in the last five days and it was at this one where I've drank two drinks, which were delicious. A grasshopper and a Dominican, sweet as candy, whipped into a delicate froth, perfect drinks to be savored in a secret bar with no sign, that you need a reservation for, waited by courteous men doled up in suspenders and Prohibition era outfits. Dark, brick walls, lit by candle-light, interesting conversation by people who were living out "ER" because you know, they're ER residents. But somewhere in my head, I was thinking about the people I associated with on WoW.

One whose friendship I miss terribly and feel I can never redeem myself with, another whom I think I'm imitating in the whole youthful drinking and going out and marveling how alike we are in trying to run away from things, one whom I have sisterly feelings toward, one whom I thought I hated who turned out to be a pretty cool guy and thus throwing my feelings toward everyone in doubt, one who is a dick and wondering why I associate with him, and the one that is the hardest to admit, one whom I secretly admire but is taken and I am eaten up by guilt about my attraction.

Guilt associated with WoW is the strongest reason for me to not play. Perhaps this is a good thing. I've been gaining weight from being despondent and inactive. I'm trying not to post emo shit but thoughts of hurting myself has been playing on my mind recently. It's a fact that I've been ignoring. So I pray with Hail Marys and Our Fathers (Ironic pleads toward parental figures when mine are so hopelessly distant by language/cultural barriers). I focus on work and new projects and volunteering. I hope this phase ends soon.

Id est = i.e. = it is.

It's so easy to forget that I have a minor allergy to raw seafood until my lips start swelling up, red and itchy. I forget that milk gives me indigestion until I'm uncomfortable and bloated. It's convenient to forget these things because of the momentary pleasure they induce. When the pain supercedes that pleasure, then it's not worth it. At the age of 27, I think I'm getting to the point where the pain of going out is inching past the point of no return.

Cons of Going out last weekend:
I didn't drink a drop of alcohol; no fuzzy non-sensical thinking to blare out the bleak facts of life (it's raining and this club music sucks). Somehow that didn't hinder me from the urge to yank the shirttails out from the pants of a guy in his work suit. My girlfriends stopped me from acting on it.

Some random plastic-surgery butchered girl was waving her arms at my girlfriend's face, talking in another language, draping her arm over my friend's shoulder, yelling. Either she wanted to get with her or she was extremely upset and wanted to punch her in the face. I ended up playing bouncer and stood in front of her. Strange thing is I was itching for her to get aggressive, just so that I could hit back, you know?

5 inch High heels belong to the bedroom. My feets still hurt. Ow.

I freaked out on a cab driver. I appreciate people who work. I appreciate the effort they put into their jobs. That's why I don't litter, that's why I don't talk back, that's why I don't bitch about how fast or how slow they go because I can be laid back about it. But when you're fucking ranting about how grateful we should be that he picked us, 4 little Asian girls off the street because god forbid, we should be threatening to call 311 to check his "rule" of resetting the meter after one dropoff... I didn't care initially until I realized he was a screamer who was scared that we would report him. And he would not stop screaming. Oh god, he just piled on the guilt about how we were trying to rip him off, that we need to trust him to do his job, etc. He would not shut up for 5 minutes.

My composure was shot. My button was pushed. I wanted out. I didn't care if it was free or whatever, I was not going to stay in that cab. I started to scream that I needed to get out. It was pouring rain and I didn't notice that he had promised to shut up, to not charge us extra, that we can just have a nice cab ride. I ran out and stood on 57th, admiring the darkness of Central Park. How empty and glittering it was in the middle of the night.

Me in my cute outfit, my back splattered with vomit. Oh good lord. Oh and riding the subway with a super low-cut top. That was fun :) That's a pro.

Pros of going out
Forgetting my ex's attacks of my character on WoW's public forums

Maybe it was worth it after all.

Grats to a former guildie and his getting his first lay in college :) By the way, to know if a girl orgasms or not: her pussy clutches involuntarily quickly with speeds up to 8x a second.