Toe Jam?

Husband went to bed at 8 p.m. That leaves me here sitting on the computer, messing around. Not that if he had been awake would that made much of a difference.

I am in what you would call a major marriage slump. Been married 11 years. No kids, thank God. He treats me well but I am so fucking bored with him. He is a good man too. Can't say anything bad about him.

Spent the day doing nothing. It is a Sunday, but still I feel I wasted the day. I am on call with the ambulance tonight. Becoming an EMT, and a member of our village ambulance squad. I hope we don't get anything too gory tonight. It is hard to sleep after you have seen carnage.

I am admiring my toes. They are perfect pictures of what toes should look like. I love toe cleavage. I admit to sniffing between my toes for stank, but always find none. I am a clean machine. Never even seen toe jam. What is toe jam? Is it like jelly that lives in the spaces between toes?

Had pizza for dinner. Gave me the shits.

Tomorrow is another day. I am thankful for my abundance. And my perfect, stank-free toes.

Turbulence, Ireland, Fear

Before my terrible fear of flying, I had managed to see a good portion of the world. The Caribbean, Europe, and much of the U.S. It was a trip back from skiing in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, five years ago that did me in. Unbelievable turbulence over the Rocky Mountains. The kind where the plane hits an air pocket and drops several hundred feet. Scared the holy shit out of me and the rest of the passengers on that flight.

After that event, something in me changed and now I refuse to get on a plane. I did manage to get to the Dominican Republic two years ago, but only by being heavily medicated with Valium. The bullshit and anxiety prior to going to the D.R. was almost too much to withstand. Vomiting, the shits, panic attacks, etc. It is not worth the crap that I put myself through.

This fear has not stopped my wanderlust though and I long to travel somewhere far away. My recent trips have been solely by car.

I am so mad that my fear is holding me back. I have this longing, almost an ache, to go to Ireland. It is the land of my people, many generations back. I feel like I belong there and if I were to go, I feel that I would not return to the U.S., rather make my home on the Emerald Isle.

I think about Ireland at night and wonder what it would be like to be there. I can see the green rolling fields, lively pubs, smiling people, fields of sheep, and hear words spoken in that lilting brogue that sounds like laughter. I am Irish and I look Irish. Pale skin, wistfull blue eyes with a hint of merriment. I can also pass the blarney with the best of them.

How much valium would it take to get me there? Online fear of flying courses have been of little help. I have gone so far as to seek a flying coach. Someone who would fly with me and soothe my panic. All on my dime of course.

Much of my life and actions are based on fear. This is something that is becoming more and more unacceptable to me. There is so much to see and do and I feel that I am wasting my potential by being afraid.

If I were not afraid I would:
Sing in public
Fly around the world
Maybe leave my spouse
Get a tattoo
Live in another part of the world for at least a year
Accept my body as it is and love it for what it is
Tell people who really offend me to fuck off
Get back on skiis
Dye my hair red
Go to NYC by myself
Get a nose job
Fuck a dangerous man
Stop being anonymous
Go topless at the beach
Stop worrying about the "what ifs"

Ireland and the rest of the world is calling me. Question is, will I heed the call?

My first random thoughts.

As an overeducated (M.A.), and unemployed young woman, I have a lot of time on my hands. Too much time leads to an active imagination and odd thoughts. It also leads to some weird habits. Many of which I would be too embarrassed to admit, but given the anonymous veil of the internet, I may confess to a few. I secretly think of myself as a feminine freak. Not as a sexual freak, but in a sense of what we all do in private. I love thinking of what people are really like behind closed doors.

Some random thoughts or behaviors in which I undertook today:
Why is it so much fun fart in a public place, walk away, and look back at the calamity of disgusted faces? I do this frequently. Fart that is. Presents from the ass.

How come I only notice beautiful people? Those that I find attractive are usually not attractive to most. I love a crooked face, or a long nose. Husky men do it for me too.
I often wonder if others find me attractive. I have a victorian look. Very pale skin, full lips, curvy. Wonder if anybody ever masturbated thinking of me.

We all pick our noses. Some more than others, but we all do it. I am one who enjoys the hell out of it. To find a queen snot when one was just randomly playing with one's nostril, is for me, a personal kind of lottery.

I think that despite my IQ, I have the mentality of a 12-year-old boy. Perhaps that is giving myself too much credit. Even 12-year-olds grow weary of grossing each other out. Not I. Don't think I ever will.

Despite my penchant for bodily functions, (I love smells too), If you were to meet me, you would like me. You would feel instantly at ease. I can sense people's moods, auras if you will, and immediately adjust myself accordingly. A chamelion of sorts.

Ever smelled your dental floss after you have used it? Try it. Let me know what you think.