Sunday, November 30, 2008

The real story: I die. I am resuscitated. How much longer?

I didn’t do the 8K this weekend. I didn’t do the 8K because no one, not Cheryl, or Linda or myself believed I would make the finish line. Believed that I was in sufficient condition to finish the race, and believed it was more than a 50% certainly I would be in hospital. So I worked, as I did for the last several nights, past 5:00 a.m. doing things like postcards or getting the blog finished (20 pictures, the last one). Instead of being honest, I gave you the posts of what I thought what you wanted.

I am afraid that people will leave, because no one, not even Linda or Cheryl can talk about the things that are happening right now. One of the recent days, Saturday I think, I woke too weak to speak, or move my head, or use my arms. I have to be carried into my wheelchair, then pushed to the chair in study and carried into that chair. What does that mean? It means that until I take a lot of pain medication, quadruple what I had a few weeks ago, I can’t use my hands or arms, that takes the morning. I can’t hold my head up and I pass out, and come back, then pass out again. The first Lesbian Sleepover had those conversations, but it also had more seizures, more grand mals in one night than I have had in the rest of the week combined.

And then, I think yesterday, I died. Or to be exact, I stopped breathing on my own for a very long time. Four minutes is enough for permanent damage. I stopped breathing for about twenty minutes. During this, my heart, very weak stopped and started. Linda, did mouth to mouth while I was unconscious, until Cheryl found the Ambi-bag. The Ambi-bag is for EMT’s to use until a person can be ventilated (a tube put down their throat and they put on a ventilator). I have had short periods of stopped breathing, I had experienced them earlier that day. Linda sleeps besides me, and listens as I sleep, waking as I stop breathing, and waiting until a time passes or I start breathing again. Many times, there is pain, or pressure, or a desire to breathe, but I just don't have the strength to breathe. This time, I would be brought to a haze of semi-consciousness, but all I felt was total exhaustion. I had no need to breathe: I only wanted to rest. I had no will, no fire, no fight, I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t speak because I had no control over my diaphragm but at one point, with the air pumped into me, I whispered to Cheryl, “Go” meaning, ‘let me go.’ (Picture is called ‘Wreath’)
They brought me back somehow, and I probably tried to continue what I was doing. Later I asked Linda, “When are we going to talk about it?” She said we needed to go to bed right then.

My heart is failing, right now. Every beat, every minute, it is weak and does not beat consistently, and often simply just flutters, doing nothing. Without the heart masking pills, I have unimaginable pain (I would scream and scream, but without my heart I can't breath). I think of the woman in the book in To Kill a Mockingbird, who wanted to die without morphine addiction. Because it is all I can do to hold on from when I ask Linda for another pill and when it starts to work. Yesterday, due to a system failure, my lungs started to close off, an inflammation of some kind. We had an old inhaler of Linda’s and I was able to breathe again.

Why don’t I go to a hospital, where they would put a tube down my throat and keep me alive? Because in all honestly, I don’t know what to do. It turns out there is quite a difference between being terminal and saying, “Well, based on my rate of dropping, I don’t know how many months I have left.” A big difference between that and saying, as I said, when I was placed into bed, my body arranged, my bed inclined for breathing in hopes of limited recovery, “Tell Cheryl I’m sorry, tell them I’m sorry.” I just didn’t have the strength to go on anymore. I felt, that by dying, by giving up, I was failing all my friends and people who read here. You are the “them” I was talking about.

Cheryl and Linda had talked after they had gotten me back breathing. Linda was scared but she didn’t know if she, if they had done the right thing. Cheryl didn’t either. To see me every day in such pain, and to keep bringing me back, again and again. This time it wasn’t a bit of aid; if they had not acted in a steady and prolonged fashion to keep my lungs filling with oxygen, I would be dead; my face wouldn’t have been pale, it would have turned a peculiar shade of grey.

So, the exact particulars of a Do Not Resuscitate aren’t abstract anymore are they?

What is this? This is the picture of the world without Elizabeth McClung. Because that is all that will remain, an empty room.

I am not ready for this, dying, even the requiring, many times, close and continuous help, and that includes 24 hour assistance. I am not ready, but it is here.

It has been quite the week.

I want you to know that when Cheryl had to go on Sunday she left with every postcard request and every other postcard selected this week done. I wrote every single one. I selected every single one. Every package for this week was done. I have hoed to the end of the row; I kept the promises I made. I remember at one point, I think I was lying in Cheryl’s arms, and I tried to explain. “How can I not keep working?”

I think she said that I was literally killing myself. We were both crying

“In an age where everyone is trying to trick people to give their personal information.” I said, tears rolling down my cheeks, “they GAVE me their personal information. They took a chance. They trusted me. How can I break that trust?”

I mean I always knew that this wasn’t a ship I was getting off of. That when the time came for someone to make sure everyone was safe, or someone had to stay behind, to make sure that no one else would come to harm, that would be me. It is why I was born: the sacrifice. But if you call, across the distance, and I hear you, I will come, in some way, as much as I can I will be there for you. Cheryl had been worried earlier this week about my not being here when she arrived (yeah, sorry about the hiding of my physical, pain levels and mental state). I told her, “Say ‘I need you.’”

She did.

Say, “I need you to know you will be there until I come.”

She did.

I said, “Now, I’ll be here.” Everyone else first. That’s the rule. Only now I am locked in a room where I don’t have those choices anymore. The room is a metaphor for my body. I can only wait. In fact, I don’t know how many choices I have at all. And maybe, very soon, I will be in hospital for a longish time.

I promised Linda that I would go to bed early, I would sleep more, and we would leave this apartment. She can’t remember when I was last able to leave alone. We would go to the ocean side path, me wrapped in my blanket, and she could push and we would remember, what used to be. That this is where I trained for the commonwealth, me running with her keeping pace on her bike, the same trails where we jogged together after we moved back. We will go out, and remember.

Then we will come back, and soon, we will talk about how much more I can take. How much more I want to take. It will be a intimate but difficult conversation. She feels that she is keeping me here just for her. That to see me waking in agony, begging to be let go, to have them stop reviving me is her being selfish. I don’t know how to explain that the flashes of anger and frustration come from pain, or that I look in front of me for tomorrow, or the day after, or next week and I don’t see, I don't FEEL anything. If it were not for the promises made to S. and C. A. and a few others, I would not come back. But that is then, my fourth seizure, or when I can only drool and lose consciousness.

Now I look at my books and I don’t care anymore if they are sold, in fact, I don’t even really see them or anything as mine anymore. But still, I sit here, with every breath a struggle and my heart stopping and starting, and erratic close to a majority of the beats, and I go on. I have no future. I will take no vacation. I will have no family dinner. I will never have a job. I won’t take an education course. I don’t have the capacity anymore to write that book. What I know waking, and sleeping, and being listened to on the monitor so when I wake, I can be helped up, when I can’t even talk or use my arms.

And still I go on. Why?

I guess because right now, I feel that on some days, I feel I can make a difference. Many days, sometimes many days in a row, it seems that I can’t. It seems that nothing I do, the cards, or gifts, or little letters or the pictures for the posts or the posts on the blog make a difference. And then, I get frustrated and sad, and truthfully, I look forward now to the time when I am free. When my body will rest here, but I will be gone. I hope it is as peaceful as it sounds.

I am losing function so quickly now that it is hard to keep up. I am something like a mix of Flowers for Algernon and Johnny Got his Gun. I am a collection of what people read as horror films or stories. Take Stephen King: the book Thinner is about a person cursed to become thinner until they die. Yeah, that’s life, scary I guess but life. What about Misery? About a person who can’t use their thumbs, whose feet are smashed and they have to use a wheelchair, how they are chained inside. Yeah, my life and that are not very different are they? A “healthy man reduced to that by a maniac, what sickening horror.” So who was the maniac who did this to me? No one. But people find it terrifying all the same. I hope you don’t pull away because of your own fears, or your own sadness that I am, not in a theoretical way, but in a very quick and very literal way dying. In fact, I have already died a few times and come back. Because right now, you are the ones who are keeping me here.

You may not like it but I consider my desire which helps me continue, perhaps part obligation, perhaps part vanity but I want to live because you want me to live. And if means I am in constant pain, and with constant care, and unable to talk; or to lie in bed 50% of my time and 25% of the time be in so much agony I can’t function to the point of holding a toothbrush but I use the other 25% to communicate with you, in postcards, in emails, in blog posts, then that is enough. I live. Maybe I will find some other motivation. But for now, on the bad days, in those bad minutes and hours, it is you.

I am tentatively scheduled to go to Seattle in January. That is a long time away. People will leave to be with the ones they love. I will have to fight alone. I don’t know how to do it in this body.

Some people, many people, some readers think I will go to hell because I love Linda. I think that is supposed to scare me or something. If there is a hell and I am sent there, then I will be free at last, and I will find a way to protect those there. Lesbians in hell, my ass. I spend a great deal of time and was very fortunate to finally find this picture (which I had seen another person own). This is me. I have walked in the fire. Christians aren’t very good on their mythology, because there is something else about the Sacrifice, which is the Eternal Warrior. Hell doesn’t scare me. Pain and the looks on Linda and Cheryl’s face scare me. Feeling nothing, not even the desire to fight scares me. Being free again with a sword does not scare me. The people who think when I die I am not going to come back for them, should be scared of me.

Here is another picture I picked up, of the Valkyries (which was actually the name of my competition sword, Val). Swooping in the sky, weapon in hand. Not the worse life. Right now I live the life of Loki, chained, who has the acid dripping constantly on him, with his wife catching as much as she can in a cup, but when she empties the cup, it drips on him and his screams and writhing shake the world in earthquakes.

So that’s how things are. And if you know how to get from here to January, please help me. In fact, that’s what I want to say, help me. I think, even with a memory of just a day, even with this weak body, even with the pain, that this life is pretty good. I think there are good people out there. And I think I can remind a few people, maybe more than a few that change, and taking risks and caring are possible. They aren’t pain free, and sometimes you will be hurt, but they ARE possible.

When I go, I want to go fighting. I want my body to be so ravaged that they use it for the next 100 years as an example of what is possible. I never got to do the Ironman/Ironwoman Triathlon in Hawaii. This is my Ironman/Ironwoman. I knew a woman who did it three times, and she used to run mountains for just the running section as training. I like that image, not climbing, but RUNNING up mountains. Don’t let me just open my hand and let go.

Even as I type that I know soon I will not be able to type, and I can now use my hands because I have two heart meds and most of my pain meds in me. The pain, the exhaustion of the body system is beyond imagination. Think of a marathoner. Then think of them asked (forced!) to do ANOTHER marathon after the first one, without stopping. And see them staggering to the finish. Now, THAT person is responsible for every beat of my heart; if they lose consciousness, I lose consciousness, if they weave for a second or two, my heart stops for a second or two, if they don’t have perfect pressure every time, I can’t breathe.

That is where I am. It isn’t who I am. Who am I is going to be dead, soon. And I would like to know how to delay that, and I would like to fight. I just don’t know how.

I did ask Linda to find me a 10K in december....just in case.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Lesbians Sleepover II Yuri & Yaoi: girls & guys play and Beth goes straight....again!

Okay, back to the lesbian sleepover! Of which it turns out there is a sad and horrific side. No, no, not talking about that incident where we ran out of batteries. What I mean is the true, and sometimes competitively viscous aspect which emerges during the lesbian sleepover. Yes…the bathroom! Think about it, one bathroom and lots of women…gets to be the grand central station in the morning! But that’s the other thing, people waking up at all sorts of different times. Means one person is warmed up and ready to roll, while everyone else is still in bed (and thankfully SO!). It takes a wee bit of adjusting.

But in the end we do find that at least for SOME of us, our patterns seem to make the NIGHT a very nice place indeed. Ahh, did I forget to mention that this might be another post that isn’t going to be EXACTLY PG. Sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier but was distracted by the kitty cat on my naked BUTT!

Anyway, even the best of friends need time to sneak away for a bit. So during a break Cheryl takes her por…..I mean illustrated manga to the couch while I head off with my, um, high brow reading material, like this woman here; it is kind of difficult to determine what she might be reading (since she has the UKE figure attached to her bag!). Oh right, for future reference, the less dominant guy is the Uke, the more dominant one is the Seme – the Seme also seems to be the one who gets an adam’s apple, poor Uke’s seem to have problems with voices changing or something.

I had gotten some picture books and other books from Japan (see, Yaoi has VERY good resale value, and I ended up with someone’s collection, but the trick is, you have to READ it, to resell it – plus I had some picture books from artists who had an....um....diversity of tastes). For example here is what will happen in the USA AFTER the “don’t act, don’t tell” policy is done away with. Yes, that’s right, MORE soldiers will be playing CHESS. This can only be good for strategic thinking! I can’t see what is odd about guys playing chess (I think more and more of them should!), so strike that policy down!

I was also really hoping that Neil and our other archery experts could let me know, “Are they doing the scoring right?” in this picture. I know accuracy is important in these anime archery pictures and I don’t know if they are counting the points correctly or not. I think if the guys who are into archery could just gaze into this picture for a REALLY long time, and then let me know, that would be very helpful! Thanks.

And for those who are into historic costume and Japanese kimono’s I think you will find this picture interesting. As you can see by the patterning......he is TOTALLY nibbling that guy’s ear. And they both seem to kind of like it! And there are cat ears and a mask, indicating love at a festival. I need to find these festivals! Seriously, send me back to Japan...PLEASE!

Now before you are like, “Oh, God, here we go, getting our mind gender bending by Elizabeth again!”, no, no, I did bring some pictures of girls TOO. For example, here is one by my favorite artist, Kazue Yamamoto. Now, first, I do love braids, they get me a tingling. And she has the sexy glasses look too, but what is with the suit and tie? Is this a lesbian girl? No, no, wait, I am remembering this girl in a FAR more romantic setting, indeed in the ultimate romantic setting as….a snow bunny. Look, there she is, okay, with a GUY admittedly (dump him, he can’t make you happy like I can), and in this one she has a MUCH longer braid (oh so hot!), and that ‘just a little too large’ sexy sweater thing going on and wings. Okay, admittedly, this is supposed to be Yaoi, but I just can’t help but look at those splayed legs and hair ribbon and think…..sigh. One for our side (or meant to be anyway!).

And this brings us back to one of our favorite Uke’s (no, sadly NOT the butch lesbian and the femme uke) but who was referred to by readers as “cow eyes” and who I like to call Qwen (for reasons I will explain as we go along). Okay, here is Qwen and his (her?) lover, united again, with wings. Qwen, or Quinn, if you wish, totally has down the “I’m so vulnerable and innocent, won’t you save me!" look. Which sadly, often is a MAJOR turn on for our Seme’s who then love to see the innocence of Qwen/Quinn slowly stripped away. But of course, like a good Uke, Qwen is totally innocent even after numerous betrayals. And needs saving like, every 20-30 minutes. Quew/Quinn can't open a can of soup without needing saving!

Now, here is Qwen, who we are SUPPOSED to believe is a boy, with some of the major characters of this series called something like “No Money” because Qwen owns this HUGE debt and of course HE, the guy who gets a chest that is flat and an adam’s apple, holds the bill. And no matter how Qwen tries to pay it off, it goes wrong. And of course, it turns out that the dude’s tough and mean exterior and tricks reveal a secret soft side that really cares for the Uke, Qwen (or so Uke’s frequently tell themselves, usually while the Seme person is asleep because while awake the Seme is usually teasing the Uke in one way or another).

Okay, before we get into gender bender and getting horny over things so I’m not sure whether I am straight or lesbian or what anymore, let’s have one nice picture of the Uke in the snow. Awww, so cute, you just want to cuddle poor Qwen who it doesn’t seem will EVER have a clue how the real world works (and thus needs to find someone to take care of him/her – any volunteers!).

Okay, now we get the close up, and here is why I have named this Uke: Qwen, because this is the picture and what do you see? Or rather what do you not see? I see silky smooth skin (estrogen!), the same with the face, and tap pants hiked up to be virtually a thong! But I don’t see…..THE PACKAGE! I see rounded bum and I see place where if there is something to see, something should be seen right....right? The problem is, those eyes, that hair. No, no, no Elizabeth, do not get aroused until you are sure, I mean, what if the word got around that you were staring for long, long periods at a guy and getting the tingles?

So we go to the next shot, because that will tell us for sure! We have the ‘harem’ shot here of the parting of the veils with Gwen revealed. And all suddenly, for no reason, Linda and Cheryl are startled by my shouting, “SEE, SEE, look at those hips, look at them!!!!!” I turn and they are looking at ME. I make a throat noise and say, “Sorry, just a cough.” But in my mind it is ‘oh baby, LOOK at those hips – yeah, a little on the thin side but I think they’ll do a delivery JUST FINE!’ So now, see, it is Qwen to me, and so now I can feel WHATEVER I want I am I still a lesbian.

Well until this picture on the next page. A classic erotic Arabian Night tale. Okay, I admit it, my mind seems to be selectively viewing this scene becuase it arouses me! I KNOW that I am looking at a flat exposed chest. I just prefer to think of it as a AAA breasts with a bit of development needed because LOOK at those hips and that thong, my goodness do they come out (and disappear)! I mean that is erotic right? And who knows or cares if my brain is saying, “But gee, the top is awfully flat!”, the rest of me is saying, “No! Don’t move, don’t start the rocking or the friction! No, stop that, no friction!!!! Okay, yes, eyes say erotic, eyes say (fire inside says), ‘what I see is good for me!’ (I think we might definitely be in gender bender land now!)

Now here we have a scene. Oh, the look of longing from our Uke. The Seme turning. Is this when they first fell in love? Did the Seme buy the freedom of Qwen from a house of ill repute (though she looks pretty hot!)? Or is this where the Uke waits, waits until the Seme is done with his friends. What is the look saying, “Save me.”, or “I love you.” Or “Come home to me?”

Anyway, here is Qwen, flying back to her love (remember, theoretically she is a boy, but I am going with what my groin is telling ME, and well, maybe I have gone straight because I want to be the one to save the UKE, I want Qwen to be racing home to me!) in a gown with enough fabric to open a shop. Oh, yeah, I have Linda. Right! Um....well, books are where we get to have fantasy right? So I am sure she will understand!

Ah, and here is Qwen (still in some sort of gown) back in her lover’s arms, bound (a bit literally, but stylishly on one arm) in love. Or maybe because she keeps getting lost and needing to get rescued, like all the women who fall for the superheroes (Lois Lane could end up having someone shove her off a cliff or point a gun at her in less than 15 minutes, on a desert island!...she just had this knack for it!). Anyway, not loving the big broad chest thing, but hey, at least he had the decency to wax his. And guys are like 25% of the population or something so I suppose someone has to be hetero. Of course if someone like Qwen is classified as a guy I could um, you know, go for doing a little rescuing of Qwen, if that was called for (like Qwen doesn’t need to be rescued from herself/himself about four times a day; probably almost strangled themselves with the mittens up above trying to get them off!). Does that make me straight? And if it does, then where (to be blunt), is the ‘tackle’?

Well, I am going to put my book mark in there for today, though I could go on with more pictures. Because while it might be snowy outside, I am WARM, and tingling. Woo ha! I wonder where Linda is, and if she will hit me on the head, when I mutter, “Oh Qwen, do you need some rescuing?” Because quite honestly, I don’t think explaining that statement is going to get me any, well...any of ANYTHING, not even if I show the pictures. But right now I am, um, whew, it sure it hot in here!

Anyway, that was my gender bender tour of me going straight (maybe) for a while though the land of Yaoi. But now we are back in Yuri land and I have to get ready for tomorrow, because I think we are having a picnic. And as well all know, while we can’t have PILLOW FIGHTS at picnics, lesbians tend to dress like THIS for them. Um, well yeah, that’s pretty close if you just imagine jeans and doc martins for a few of our members instead of white gowns. But there probably will be hand holding, is that close enough?

So, this tour of the um, interesting twists of Elizabeth’s mind is over, please don’t leave any luggage behind as you exit the ride, and enjoy your stay in lesbian sleepover land!

On to Part III

Thursday, November 27, 2008

The great Lesbian Sleepover - Part I (again!)

Well, the Americans and stuffed with Turkey while for the rest of us it is just another cold day (except for those in Australia, where summer is starting). And of course, like most people, our thoughts turn to not politics, or such things but LESBIANS. Yes, what is it that lesbians do that make them so fun to make movies about, and why are they always in groups squirting water on each other. I mean, they get to do and say what they want, it is like having lots of great girl friends, which is why a lot of hetero women (the poor confused things), like hanging with...yes....LESBIANS.

I don’t remember much of earlier today, except little bits now and then because I had a well, all I remember is the amount of pressure made me think that my eyes were going to fill with blood and then I lost consciousness. And when I woke up later I thought I was a person who killed people and brought in heads for bounty. And Linda explained that she is my handler and that Cheryl is my sister who I COULD have sex with but I don’t. But since my memory is of being the domestic maid or assistant to various males before I would find their moment of unhappiness and then free them from it (usually in back with an ice pick to the heart, with a twist to destroy all four chambers. But when I showed how then my handler Linda she said, “NOW, you’re scaring me.” Then she made me promise to not kill them tonight – I explained there was no reason to ‘expedite’ them (I only 'expedite' men!).) I explained that after ‘expediting’ someone I cut off their head and carried it out, usually wrapped in plastic in a cloth shopping bag, something to go with the economic station I was using at the time. Then I would be paid $5,000). I really wanted to go and find some target and make some money since Linda indicated not so good (I tend to have overlapping memories and go with the most vivid ones). Linda, said that my most vivid memories were actually a series of dreams during and after my seizure and that now I was sick and I was not to kill anyone today. So, that’s out she says. Just to let you know.

So what DO lesbians do when they get together? Well have baths together of COURSE! No, really we talk family and politics but no one wants to hear that so we will go with baths, and pillow fights! Seriously, once I woke up we had a bit of a party with a roast. Part of the reason for Cheryl to come over was to help us, both Linda and I a break; me in not having to work five to ten hours a day on Linda’s stuff, that is Cheryl’s thing now. The other plan was to get me some reserves in some hopes that my heart is able to stabilize because right now two chambers are working about 60% and the other two chambers are more like 40% and I am maxed out on all three pain killers and heart meds, which are just masking agents, when I switch over (need to take more) it hurts so much to take a breath that I pass out a little each time.

So we invited Strength to our party (we certainly NEED her!), which was a roast with corn and wine to toast to Dawn and her Brother, who died a year ago yesterday. Dawn right now is struggling with grief and memories AND working hard on a fellowship due on Friday. Maybe we should send Strength to go visit her too! But we toasted and of course, the problem is that once you invite Strength, you don’t know who is going to show up, which turned out to be Temperance. Now this is the problem, Temperance is HOT, but after the fifth time of going, “Yes, yes, I know ALL the reasons why I should drink water and its essential cleansing properties!” and then drink my red wine (which is good for my heart – take THAT Temperance), she essentially goes into the mental “high maintenance box.” This is where you might have a one night stand and stay ‘good friends’ but sheesh, living with that kind of obsession all the time, not for me! While Strength, dang, I wamted to BE Strength, not to sleep with her, because she is action girl AND has a big kitty – sort of living bliss!

Earlier we had gotten in some books from Japan, art books that were recommended (it turns out my MEN, and I thought they were women – or maybe they were recommended by women…strange women!), and there was one artist that had a lot of really great pictures including some um, very girl to girl friendly pictures. Only there was three girls, it seemed and there was a object which looked honestly like a hot dog bun closed on a hot dog, and a white dot for censoring over the end. We debated over this and in the end gave it to Cheryl with, “Hey you said you knew lesbians who like gay porn, tell us, what IS that?” Turns out it is some sort of anatomical rendering of well, the guy bit. I was, “Are you SURE, I mean, look at that seam down the side, that is definitely a hot dog bun!” She suggested maybe he was using a hot dog bun as a model, but that this was the “classic cum shot” – the what? Anyway, we were like, but they are three women? Then I remembered being told about a type of Japanese animation which is a popular subcult where women are changed and have the male bit which allows you to pee standing up but otherwise all normal. So we concluded this was that, and then turned the page quickly. Because looking at girls with girls in the “classic tumble” scene (you know, two girls sprawled across each other because one fell and then the other just HAPPENED to fall on her and they are just having problems getting up) equals FUN, looking at hot dog buns= “Ewwww!” – this is why I am against the rampant ideas of heterosexualism which are taught in schools.

Anyway, things sort of degenerated from there in terms of sexual inuenndo. And here is a picture of Linda, who is looking pensive and far above the shenanigans of Cheryl and I who are going, “Lady if you can do that with your breast, go back and see your enhancement surgeon because he did it WRONG!” Or, “Hey, a Wedding Day MIGHT be the time to wear a BRA, sheesh, trying looking in the mirror once in a while! Jeez!”

While actually she is coming up with even more complicated and potentially lewd short comments which as you see here leave me not only speechless and blushing! Oh Linda, when oh when did you see female anal strap-ons? I know about the Feeldoe but have you been shopping without me. Hey (alarmed expression on my face) what exactly is happening tonight! And Tomorrow Night!? Cheryl says she brought her ipod and can put the sound up REALLY loud! Er?

Well, after I woke up and clarified who my handler (Linda) says I can have sex with. First she was, “Cheryl is your sister, but you COULD have sex with her, only you can’t.”

“Is she bad at it or something?” I asked.

Linda’s face went funny, “No, I mean, she not literally related but you don’t have sex with her.”

“I’m pretty sure I can satisfy you,” I said, and after a moments thought, “and after I'll have sex with Cheryl?”

Linda decided to have a more direct talk with me on who I am allowed to kiss or not! I told Cheryl “I’m sorry, I can’t have sex with you until I satisfy Linda!”

This is seems was the WRONG understanding.

I think Linda actually likes it when I lose most of my memory (except when I tell how I kill or remove a head), because she gets to play keeper or mentor or older sister or something. She is bossy and she seems to be having fun. Off to the bath we go! Hey, if I am going to be nestled in Linda’s breasts who am I to complain? But I just want to point out that is a waste of a vibrator rubber ducky to put it THERE.

Another thing I found out is that with Cheryl here, the people taking “care” of me not only outnumber me but they actually work in concert and I definitely feel in a minority. For example, when they decide I need a cool down, Linda and Cheryl actually seem to enjoy my yelps, and congratulate themselves on how well they are doing. You can see Cheryl here yelling lewd suggestions as well as places Linda might have missed. Linda is having a blast, Cheryl is having fun. My face says, “Cold!”

After this we watched an episode of Bones Season 3 where Bones and the Agent kiss (I tell you that Hetero stuff is EVERYWHERE!). So of course, I had to demonstrate to Linda that whatever they can do, we can do better, and longer, and with more tongue! Er, if Linda's mom is reading, then just forget I wrote that last part! Anyway, after several minutes of, um, proving that hetero is just a passing phase, we were both so overcome with our success that we had to take a moment to stop and sort of take a few deep breaths (remember I have a bad heart). Also, somehow, our clothes had becomed loosened. Odd how that keeps happening.
Oh, is it too late to say this might not be a PG rated blog? Anyway, here is a nice PG rated picture. Linda says it reminds her of us, that and another picture I will show you tomorrow of the same couple (no photo right now). This is from Maria-sama, one of the best loved girl’s school lesbian themed anime dramas. Linda sees herself as the taller dark haired one and I am the shorter brown haired girl. I think Linda sees herself as the tall girl not because she sees herself as more mature, but that I am the one who always has my emotions right up there in the front of my face! While Linda is the one who has a calm and less emotional demenor even while I drag her into things. Or at least that is the way it works when we are at our best. Plus with me in the wheelchair, she is taller than me now. That’s just the way it is.

And for those who made it down this far, we are going to take a small break. I went today and got my Bisen protected and a few of them in the framing department with custom matte so I could get them framed. This was one of them and one of the few guys I have, since I prefer girls (you might be just noticing that by now!). But he is in the traditional wear and with a mask that often worn at festivals. So I thought it would be a nice change for people who made it this far and LIKE guys (I mean besides the bisexual and gay guys who read this blog). I have heard this rumor. Is it true, does this guy look nice? I really can’t tell the difference but I know that other women see different types.

Anyway, it is late and I have to try and start going to bed at a normal time like 2:45 am instead of 5:40 am or 4:00 am! Let’s see, we hit anal sex, cum shots, the um ‘hot dog bun’, strap-ons, lesbian bath scenes, hot lesbian kissing and disrobing, what am I missing. Well, the bed scene, but since we have company, we are doing the “big lesbian romp” where we START sleeping separate and then, well, who is with whom when we wake up, who can say, accidents happen and people roll in their sleep. Now that is Linda and I in each other’s arms, and Cheryl with her arms back taking it all in with a sly smile. But who is it that joined us? Oh well, the more the merrier. Maybe tomorrow we will do postcards together (no that’s not sex slang, it is postcards, you know, cardboard and such?).

See ya……in the bed? Part II tomorrow.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Lost, sexy bra and panties, Bisen, Shitajiki, beauty

This is going to be an image heavy post, sorry for those one dial up, but I promise it will be worth the wait (tune in tomorrow for the Lesbian Sleepover Part II – that one will be REALLY worth the wait!).

I want to talk about something that is very disability related and then about something a little lighter. I have been having a hard time. Because though Linda is home, I am more often the caregiver than she is as not a day has gone by when the phone or email has not left an eight hour mess on our door. And I’m not going to talk about THAT, what I want to talk about is what it does to a person with a disability.

I went to badminton, and won the games, the last game, I threw myself out of the chair, made the hit, over the net, screaming, “Play on, play on!” I had positioned myself to tip forward so I thrust myself back and up, and we went on and won the point, winning the game, 15-13. In that game I also made a hit that had my chair at a 45 degree angle off the floor, but I had enough trunk control and it slammed back down. I overheard the other side going, “I was sure it was a winner but that girl in the wheelchair…..I mean, she went off the floor……and her arms as so long…I was sure.”

The problem was, I couldn’t come home. I sat in that lobby and home was the place where I had a medical appointment in seven hours, it was where I had to help write email messages to government, where Linda was getting sicker in front of my eyes. Where everything of joy turned to ash in front of me. I simply could not go home. So I sat there in my chair for an hour crying. I was actively suicidal, when I finally moved. I rolled into the road wanting to be hit. I rolled past some bums and I felt so numb I WANTED them to attack me, wanted them to rape me because then I would be in the hospital and not have to go home (my body was so numb and so bent on self destruction - if you haven't felt it I don't know how to explain that). It took me 80 minutes to go the three blocks and then I cried at home, and then I got to work for five hours, dealing with the days crap. I had nightmares. We are three days away from our current financial crisis (I can’t remember what it is but read back and it was a computer), but we don’t know if Linda is even going to receive a paycheck and we are going to have rent. This is life. A new day, a new call from an investigator who can’t answer a simply question, “Under whose authority were you originally hired, because I can’t find the authorization for your hiring or your investigation.” This is a investigator who is to collect all the evidence and anecdotes from Linda who will then take it to the people who are currently discriminating against her. So I worked for eight straight hours on that.

And then I stopped breathing. I stopped breathing for a LONG time. Linda had to do mouth to mouth. I saw a doorway and shapes rushing through but as much as I tried to get to the doorway I couldn’t. Everyone was just passing me by. And then I started breathing on my own again. I didn’t want to live because I had lost sight of beauty and joy. I believe with fighting insurance companies, or various agencies, sometimes, it seems easier, if we just ‘accidentally’ didn’t stop in time for traffic. I came home and two of my fingers were black. Another day. Do I do anything about them? Linda did. It was severe frostbite. I had that feeling of heaviness, of not knowing how to go on, of not knowing and not wanting to know what the future holds. It is beyond depression into a blank numbness. I went to sleep by dreaming I was thrown into a giant pit, falling in darkness forever. This is as close to comfort as I had.

And I got up, and I stared out and nothing had changed. There was/is still more complex emails to write, and I was in an empty space with nothing. But I go on. The look of confusion, of blankness is because now my memory trap, due to stressed and frequent seizures has diminished to only a few hours of memory. I literally live in a blank field.

But that doesn’t mean that beauty doesn’t exist. I was sent this letter from someone, I don’t know yet because I haven’t opened it. honestly, I find it so mysteriously wonderful I don’t know how TO open it. To destroy such beauty, would there be anything inside worth the feeling that the beauty gives me; which is to care about something again?

Also recently, I received from someone I communicated with on-line, some Bisen. Bisen is art of stationary which is produced by artists, in fact, some artists go on to be very, very famous. But in the early days, they make an art print and due to the extremely high quality of Japanese Paper, they can reproduce color so high that it can’t be reproduced in North America. Some of it is watercolor, other ink, some abstract, some detailed. And while it is very thin stationary, like a bond weight of 5 maybe, it can only be bought at these expos and shows and so collectors or people like me who buy them and then send them on to others, can only get more by contacting and swapping what they have with other collectors.

This particularly paper, a single sheet is from the famous group “Green Glass” and from their ‘Jewels’ series, called Pearl.
This is from a less known artist who prefers drawing with watercolor, and less detailed but cute in it’s own way.

This piece here was the reason I was excited and went out today to get them laminated (I get a very thin laminate on them to stop them going downhill as just a thumb pushing too hard with crease them forever! Something the MANAGER who dealt with me today couldn’t seem to understand. Indeed, he claimed not really to laminate until I told him I came EVERY week – it was less than customer based service). There is a series called the Gown Series by Green Glass, there is Blue, there is Pink and there is White. I have never seen White even in pictures but a person had a Pink, so I traded for it and it arrived and I was pretty excited, so I REALLY don’t want a guy with butter on his fingers to ruin this piece of art. I know, I get excited about silly things, but Bisen isn’t expensive, it is just very, very hard to collect. And truthfully, I tend to give most of what I get away!

I also, with the Bisen got a Shitajiki board (also known as a Pencil Board – I give these away too!). These cost between $5 and $45 dollars, are made of a laminate and have pictures on them. Often they are to promote a particular game or anime. This one is to promote a store, these two girls are going off to a comi-fest (you can see the catalogue in their arms), and on the back is a list and map of the stores. One is dressed with cat ears and the lesbian overtones of course had NO BEARING on why I might have bought this (I can't see Linda and I in this board at all, no no, no - what do you mean "da' Nile ain't just a river in Egypt?")

Other Shitajiki boards are created by stores for special events where they hire famous artists. This is an example of a board like that. (she's so CUTE! But *ahem*, I showed it becuase of the Autumn theme in it, honest!). Because they boards have two sides, the artists can make two images and that is sort of the fun of getting the boards, they are permanent art, which never fades (What? You see lesbian overtones in that too! No, the reason I keep getting art of two women is um, an odd accident, some sort of eye problem, I think!). Some of the boards are turned into postcards and I have sent quite a few of those out (about 50 or so). I also frame some of the boards and send those out. I find them to be lovely and a reasonable present of personal art from a named artist.

Some Bisen (the paper stationary) are special, there are called, “Puzzle Pictures” because each paper is a separate image, but if you can get BOTH images, and put them together, then you get a third image. Here is the first Puzzle Picture I have been able to complete: so a boy playing with a plane and a boy with a cat instead become a larger picture. I am working with the framers to see how this can be framed safely.

Okay, enough! As some people say, I am a little Japan crazy. Not true, I just find them pretty. And right now, I like pretty. In fact, while Linda and I were taking this picture I was like, “Why is it WE don’t have matching bra and panty sets like this!” I have to admit I like the purple butterfly, no matter how impossible/itchy that might be if you tried to wear jeans – but then I think these are a bra and panty set for people to take OFF, not on, right? Anyway, she agreed and we are looking forward to the sale at Victoria Secret after Xmas – BRING US THE PURPLE TINGED BRA AND PANTY SETS! Oddly, I am actually the short one in this picture becuase you notice her staring at Linda's breasts. Linda's breasts are like the sunset, while they go on day after day, they are so beautiful that I could stare at them all the time. Okay back to Victoria Secret, which is fun because there are rooms and room and then finally the changing room and I have a friend who calls it “The candy store” because you can get so much there that looks delish! But also in some mid room is a VERY uncomfortable looking male who is trying to stare BACKWARDS into his skull while three feet away two 21 year olds are trying to find bras in the C basket. Because his girlfriend is trying things on and if he is caught oogling when she returns….poor guy. Besides that the WALLS are pink, there is pink everywhere and he is outnumbered about 100 to 1 by women. I feel sorry for the guys and think like some stores have for children, Victoria Secret should have a room with lounge chairs and plaid walls and magazines on electronics where men can be deposited.

Right now Linda and I are trying to get buy, minute by minute, hour by hour. We take our little pleasures (like stealing food from each other – woot!). And though I don’t know what day it is, I keep on. I have worked and now I will go sleep, though it is past 5:00 am.

I hope soon, that I will be able to see some sky and sun and beauty and while I will look a bit like this, bewildered by it all, I will learn to adjust that not everything is going to attack me, it just that some days seem like that. Too many days. But the sun will come.