One of Those Days.

feeling fat, obviously tumblr was a bad choice.
I think I’ll just go for a walk. 

Parental Discretion is Discouraged.

That means you, mom. Don’t read this. Why? Because I’m a pervert.

Today I had my first karate, or jujitsu, or martial arts class. It was hard to concentrate on specifics, but I am fully aware that I beat the crap out of a punching bag and rolled around a lot. It was a lot of fun, and I’ve always wanted to learn how to punch. However, I was lucky enough to not only want to learn how to fight, but learn how to fight from someone who is breathtakingly gorgeous. I mean seriously, it should be a crime getting that good looking of a guy to put on minimal amounts of clothing to roll around, sweat and be that pretty. No, that shouldn’t be a crime, that’s the work of god. What’s a crime is putting a ring on him before I have the opportunity to have his babies. Anyways, the other day I was telling Jenny that the butt thrusting exercise was my favorite of all time because it makes your butt look phenomenal and makes everyone around you uncomfortable. Win, win. Guess what. It’s a jujitsu move, just slightly tweaked. As we were giggling at thrusting ourselves upward, questioning its relativity to anything remotely defensive, I was asked to mount this heart throb of a man. We were taught earlier that ‘mounting was a term of being on top of something in a mounted position, but my mind went strait to the gutter, of course.) I felt my heart drop and my blood flush upwards. My face was bright, I could feel it. I had s shit eating grin that i couldn’t even try to stifle. I was in the appropriate position when his hips threw me forward, causing me to drop my hands against the mat. My face inches away from his, still red down to my collar bones, my legs now wrapped around his body in mid air. His hand took mine out of the way easily, causing me to fall on his chest and he pinned me to the ground. Then I realized how simple it was to kick someones ass if you just know the weak spots. Seriously though, that moment had enough lust in it for me to hold me down the next few weeks. Now, I want to beat the shit out a bag. Jenny and I spent the hour drive home objectifying this perfectly decent man because he was so good looking, and I was the one who got to mount him. I am fully satisfied.
In other news, I applied for a CNA certificate, but the school keeps calling at the most inconvenient times (ie, shower, doing barn work, when i forgot my phone in Platteville and spent the day in troll county) but I’m considering getting a certificate and moving back to Boise to work at a hospital until the fall. I know I make a lot of plans, and generally they fall through due to lack of motivation and application on my part, but I finally did something with myself. I applied for a WWOOF volunteer position and will be sent in the fall to work on an organic farm in Denmark. While I am there I have many other plans, but ho hum if I actually make serious ones. Just in case.

I’m a very happy girl.

Venting Moment;

It’s probably just a reaction to my actions, but you’ve been treating me so differently lately. My actions are reactions probably from something that was a reaction in the first place. I have started avoiding you, avoiding humanity, and secluding myself to a bubble of books and cleaning. I’m comfortable there. You stared as passive, but I could always sense the aggressive buried in there, I just didn’t know if it was my fault. Now I can’t get away from the aggressive. Hence my self indulgence in myself. I want to get away, run away. When I first met you, you were funny and wild. I loved being around you, I loved talking to you, i even liked working for you despite your constant nagging about me doing “too much”. What do you expect me to do now? Should I be thrilled waking up in the morning when I am fully aware you don’t want me around anymore? Maybe I should be happy to spend hours with you during the day listening to you complain about everything that is wrong. No, I want to sleep. Again, I’m spiraling down to unmotivated, desperate escape mode. You accuse me of stealing and treat me like a bad person. I pity the boy that lived with you last. I don’t know your twisted stories from reality. I believed everything you said about the last kid and his horrendous actions. I wonder what mine will be to the next. What have I done in your mind while I was sitting upstairs. I want to go home.