dream so real

I would have sworn that I was held this morning as I slept.
I had awakened earlier, then gone back to bed, but not to sleep. Tossing and turning, I tried my usual tricks to regain slumber. Start on my right side, until I'm drifting, then roll over to the left to the land of Nod.
Nope. I was still awake.
Try it again. Slow the breath, bring the sheet over my head for a little extra darkness, let the mind go blank.
No. No, no, no. This was not working. And I was to leave for Pennsylvania today and would need to be rested.
And, as I lay there, with the sheet partially covering my face, I thought I felt someone come and lie down against my back, then drape an arm under my own and pull me near.
I didn't dare open my eyes for fear that I would find I was dreaming.
I didn't want the sensation of being held to be proved false.
Yet, it had to be... right?
No.
I chose to believe it to be true and snuggled into the embrace, relaxing into the deep, and not stirring until my alarm clock signaled the time for me to rise.
No one was there with me. I woke alone.
I wanted to talk to the peace Guy about the sensation, but I couldn't. Instead, I found myself fighting back tears.
I want touch.
Not sex.
Touch.
Is it really so impossible to have one without the other?
Sex would be good, too, but that comes with so many expectations and baggage. Also, it would be breaking one of my laws, as brothers, whether by blood or by choice, are out of consideration.
But why would it be wrong for two friends to cuddle while watching tv at the end of a night? Why would it be wrong for those two friends to hold each other while they slept, to wake up next to a smiling face? Why must the solace of such comforting touch only be obtained through sex with strangers?
The situation makes no sense to me, makes me crazy.
The situation makes me very sad.
For now, I need to leave.
Maybe I can talk about it when I return home in a week.
Maybe.
Probably not.
And that makes me sad, too.

hopeful 4 a cure

This film resonated with me. I'm not usually a fan of horror movies, or zombie flicks, or scenes featuring repeated close-ups of decaying flesh. I don't mind shooting at zombies - oh, no, THAT is rather enjoyable and a great release of energy! I just don't want to watch them, on a large screen, for more than about 15 minutes.
That is decidely not the case here. I have seen "Warm Bodies" for my third time today. Yes, you read that correctly: my THIRD time. Thrice, I have paid good money to sit in a cinema and watch a movie about zombies. Odd, right? None the less, it IS a really good movie and it DOES have a lot to say about longing and loneliness and love.
Trust me, I tried to resist it, but the taglines kept tugging at my subconscious. "Cold body. Warm heart." "He's still dead, but he's getting warmer." "There's nothing hotter than a girl with brains." (Actually, I don't recall seeing that last one, but it's listed and sounded cool, so I reprinted it here.)
"Cold body. Warm Heart." Oh, really? Just how does THAT work in the land of zombies? Sounds like he might be a bit conflicted about his status. And who says he has a warm heart?
"He's still dead, but he's getting warmer." So, he's coming back to life, is that what is happening here? Apparently so. It's a surprise to the character, too, to realize while walking in the rain that the rain feels cold - but how could that be? He's dead, right? Right?
Apparently, he's just a little unwell, waiting for a change, waiting for a cure that he didn't even know existed.
I can totally relate.
He uses music - actual albums and a turntable from who knows where - to link him to the world he can't quite recall. He doesn't even remember his name, just the shadow of it. He doesn't recall how he ended up roaming the airport with all the other zombies, all the others in the same - or even worse - condition in this sad, new world. But he's set up camp in one of the airplanes, nesting there with all the items that have caught his eye during his rounds. He listens to Dylan and Springsteen and Waite and Orbison, songs of longing and loneliness and love.
He's even managed to find a zombie to call a friend. Someone to grunt at and have almost-conversations. Someone to look at and see himself reflected in their eyes. Someone to remind him that he was once human.
He knows he's in limbo, waiting, waiting.
I totally get that.
Limbo is a difficult place, neither here nor there, just... in between.
I miss touch. I miss kisses. I miss cuddling up with someone special.
Limbo.
For a while last summer, I was definitely getting warmer.
Then the holidays came and the warmth left and the cold returned.
R reminded me that the warmth is still inside me, waiting to be released.
I just hope I will get warm again soon.
I just hope that I will.
I just hope.

touch me touch me touch me touch me!

The Rocky Horror Picture Show song is totally appropriate!
I was in SUCH a great frame of mind today! My mood ring would have glowed warm purple for mellow and loved. Truly!

And I have figured out why, too.
Touch.
I scored major touch from all kinds of sources today! It's been pure magic, the transformation of a physical sensation to a balm for my mental, emotional, and spiritual self!

How did it begin?
I met my stepmom for lunch and a movie, something we haven't done in far too long. Schedule conflicts, what with my Fridays being consumed either by meetings or special make-up tests for students. In other words, lots of special favors for others, none for me. Boo hiss!
So this was an especially nice way to celebrate my first day of Spring Break! Oh, yeah! Hugs, first, then a leisurely lunch at what has become our favorite twice-named restaurant. The manager even brought us a free sampler of their new treats: fried mushrooms for her and fried pickle chips for me. Yum!!! Nice and crispy and zingy pickles!
Then off to the movies! She even got an extra dollar off because it was Senior Monday. Nice! We got the popcorn & soda special, too (and a free refill on the large tub before we left, of course!) and had a good time laughing at the movie.
I may have enjoyed "Identity Thief" more than she did, as it had the expected harsh language in it, and a bit more than she liked. Still, we totally enjoyed being with each other and ended our day together with more hugs before going in our opposite directions.
I went home, put away the popcorn, and checked facebook. Oh, yeah! The indomitable JinHi had received a clean-of-cancer decree by her doctor! The evil marshmallow was gone and had left naught behind!!! Woohoo!!! A quick call then to my house-mate. Had he heard the news? Nope, not yet. Yeah! Definitely a night-brightener for both of us!
Then north I headed to downtown for some improv to add more laughter to my life. Great idea! Hugs for the loving husband of the indomitable JihHi! Hugs from friends there when I entered! Hugs from friends there when I exited almost wo hours later! Hugs, hugs, hugs!!!
Then to the Liquor Posse for a bit of camaraderie around a team trivia table. Nice! Some of the Philo Cafe crowd were there, too, adding to the merriment. I can't recall if our team won or lost, but we sure had fun trying! Then hugs before we all dispersed into the night.
Wow! What a fabulous day!

wonderful Wednesday, y'all!

One of the best things about being full-time on campus is being able to attend special pomp-and-circumstance events like the convocation. The event is akin to a Presidential State of the Union address, meant to not only address any weak aspects, but to compliment our good points and inform us on improvements to be made.
And, afterward, there's always a nice lunch. Bonus!
I had arranged to attend, as I'm always up for these events, as I said.
The crux of this meeting concerned the upcoming inspections this spring. The inspectors will be checking to see how the new QEP is working. But also, and of more concern to those in charge, the inspectors will be checking to see how well-known the QEP is on campus. Are the students aware that there is a Quality Enhancement Plan? What about the staff, do they know of it? And, perhaps most importantly, are the faculty well-versed in the basic tenets of First Class? These are questions which keep administrators up at night.
Seriously.
Well, I consider the head administrator a friend of mine. She and I have been chatting over coffee and at events (from tree-planting to art show receptions to wherever we happen to be together), for the past three years and we have found we have several things in common. Nice! We are always sure to give each other a warm hug, too!
So, there we were, chatting post-convocation, and the concern over spreading the word about the QEP arose. Out of nowhere, the words spring out of my mouth: Why not have practice runs on campus before the investigators arrive? Why not have folks get randomly stopped and asked about the QEP? If they don't know, then would be the time to educate them. If they DO know, and can briefly describe First Class, why not reward them with a pin or something that they can show off? You know, give them bragging rights!
Let me tell you, she LOVED the idea! Much excitement! She called over others to have them note the idea and made sure they wrote my name, too. Wow! And soon it was being determined what type of reward... pins would be good, pins that maybe said "First Class"... and what a boon it would be to surprise the investigators with an informed and active community before their very eyes!
Sometimes, I have no idea what my mind is coming up with next. Like that time I was talking about the chairs in my dining room being in an aromatic configuration...
Bit I digress.
I can say that those words to the administrator friend were derived from my marriage for fifteen years to a man in advertising, all the while listening to his ideas and concerns and analyses of current ad campaigns.
See, I did listen. Thankfully.
I'll be very interested to see how this works out!
After the luncheon, I resumed my regularly scheduled activities.
And after THAT, I was off to the latest Wednesday night offering by the PFS. Woohoo! Film noir with my bfe! The film was from 1952, "Kansas City Confidential", and was one I had been eagerly anticipating. I'm a fan of noir and the whole good-guy-triumphing-over-evil thing, especially, and although I can't ever seem to match the man's face with his name, I like John Payne, too. He fits right in with old time favorites like Montgomery CLift and Gregory Peck, you know? But in a more rugged, yet more sensitive, style.
So, there I was having a marvelous day, spending the tail end of that day sitting with my bfe watching a good, old, movie, on the couch he had snagged for us at the coffee house. Usually, we were the only ones on the couch; tonight, there was a third, a fellow I had spoken with before about the house tomato soup. I was in the middle.
I like to give my bfe plenty of room. In the past, I've gotten the impression he preferred it that way. Not tonight. When I settled back to watch the movie, I became aware that my arm was touching his... and he was keeping it that way. Then, my arm was allowed to slip down a little farther, and I could feel his chest rising as he breathed. And we stayed that way, amazingly.
I was being nestled.
So very nice.
You know how I am about touch.
And I just settled into his touch there, enjoying his company, breathing the air together, watching an old black and white film made before either of us were born.
How very soothing... and what a marvelous end to my golden day...

touch

I almost went barhopping last night, but realized that what I wanted I wouldn't really find. I wanted touch. That's all. Not sex, not wild thrusting, not a casual hook-up with a nameless face. I just wanted to have someone hold me through the night. But how do you ask for that and not have the person think they're gonna get some action?

I do understand that part of the reason folks go to bars is to get laid. Of course, if you have to get drunk to be able to get laid, then you're doing it wrong. And if you have to get someone else drunk in order to get laid, then you're doing it incredibly wrong. But getting drunk gives a person an out: oh, I would NEVER have done that if I wasn't drunk. Lemme tell you, you do the same things when drunk that your head thinks about when sober, but the alcohol just helps you give yourself permission to do something you know isn't good for you. Been there, got the T-shirt many years ago when I was young and could write it off as experience gained and lessons learned.

But this week has been hard on me and I was wanting companionship last night. So, off I went, to hang out with others and have a drink or two, sing a song or two. And, amazingly, I did have a good time and I did make connections with folks. Some of the other regulars there chatted with me, some new folks really liked my singing (go figure), and I even got to dance a nice slow one. That was a bonus and a big help - kudos to Ken for his kindness. But at the end of the night, I still felt I needed something more and very nearly went in search of it. Instead, I took my silly self home and turned on the mattress pad. Thank God my bestest best friend turned me on to that night-time aid in fall of 2007. Cold beds can chill the heart and the mind.

I know I'm not wired right. This is a topic that comes up repeatedly. I know I don't go for the usual girl songs when I sing, I know I don't go for the usual karaoke songs that anyone sings. That's okay: I sing the songs I choose because I want to hear them, even though I may not get them quite right. I don't know of a single radio station that plays songs by only women or only men, so why should my song list be artificially limited when my ears are not?

I know I'm not wired right. It bears repeating. I know I don't care for the usual girl stuff, like roses and diamonds and Valentine's day forced displays of love. I have never cared for those things: ask anyone who knows me. It probably has a lot to do with being a 1976 high school graduate, believing the sky was the limit and women had the same opportunities as men. It probably had a lot to do with being the only girl in a house full of boys. That doesn't mean that I can't be girly, that I don't want romance; romance is actually very important to a hopeful romantic like me. I just don't want THINGS that a commercial society pushes men to buy for women as expressions of love, THINGS that a woman is supposed to want in order to feel loved. What nonsense.

I know I'm not wired right. I want touch.