I know this blog has become a place for the pouties lately, and I apologize.

So, here’s some good stuff:

I got hired for that second job that I interviewed for. And I was so sure I wasn’t going to get it and it’s going to look fucking amazing on my résumé so huzzah. Both that and the other one are fairly low time commitments so I’m keeping both for now. So mama’s got this and she is GAINFULLY EMPLOYED.
I’m going to a party tonight with my cohort, who I really like thus far. They’re really cool people.
I’m starting to get to a place where I can write about all the sexy stuff I did with Sir while he moved me in and actually be sexy about it. So keep on the lookout.

<3, Ivy

Kitty Cat Space Captain

Thoughts (Not Sexy Ones)

So, I had a good cry today.

I’m not really much of a crier. It takes a hell of a lot to get tears out of me. Sometimes, I actually want the relief of crying and the tears just don’t come.

But, I cried today – a real, heavy, fully realized cry – for the first time since I moved here.

It was brought on by the fact that the bus that I was trying to take to the gym wound up taking me five miles away from my place and nowhere even close to my gym. By the time I realized that this bus had taken the wonkiest route ever, completely ignoring the schedule listed on the transit website, I was somewhere fairly foreign. Right after I was able to vaguely figure out how to get home on my phone, my cell promptly died.

The walk was long and, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t seem to find a bus headed in the opposite direction. Everything is so spread out here and I’m not used to that yet. Being without a car here, while at first glance seemed manageable, makes stuff difficult.

When I got in the door, I started crying. Not because of the silly erratic bus schedule, that has already let me down twice since Monday. For the first time, I acknowledged how far away from home I am. I’ve never lived this far from everything I’ve known. Before this, almost my entire life could be contained in a two and a half hour radius, give or take.

Now, I’m out here. And I’m happy to be here, I’m having an amazing time. But, I’m far away from my family, my friends, my boyfriend, a public transit system I knew like the back of my hand. For as much as I’m enjoying myself, I haven’t really stopped to take my entire situation in and acknowledge that this has been a big change and I am allowed to have feelings about it.

So, I let it out of my system today and I’m proud of myself. I’m usually one to say I’m not allowed to feel like A because B is going so well.

Afterwards, I washed off the mascara from my face and gave myself a brutal workout at home, which helped blow off the rest of the steam (and got even more makeup running down my face – yuck).

I’ve mentioned this blog is my only journal. So, consider this one of those lame diary entries you have to sift through to find the good stuff. But, it was good stuff for me.

Here’s to acknowledging change.

My landlord is giving me last-minute trouble about moving in and debating shit that’s on the lease we signed months ago. Which…really?

I’m literally so emotional from hormones and womanhood that I plunked down on the couch and watched two episodes of Drag U and cried through them. So it’s one of those days. (I can’t help it! Underdog stories, man.)

But I’m going to go lift some heavy shit and put it back down in a few hours and that usually makes me feel better.

This has been a post.

What he puts up with all the time.

He’s the kind of person where if he breaks the toaster, he gets the toaster repaired.

I’m the kind of person where if I break the toaster, I start googling ways to heat bread with a lighter.

Dance because you’re drunk at a big dance party with your friends and Michael Jackson is playing, not because ‘no one is watching.’ Everyone is watching. We’re at a fucking party. That’s how parties work.

Twelve Habits of Happy, Healthy People Who Don’t Give a Shit About Your Inner Peace

(via joandefers)

Hrm.

In an interesting twist of events, I’ve got an opportunity to go to a foot fetish party and basically get paid to let people play with and lick my feet. It’s really good money and I wouldn’t use my real name, but I’m not sure if this is something that could bite me in the ass one day.

Thoughts? Anyone have experience with this sort of stuff? Anecdotes? Tips?

For the past week or so, I’ve basically had this thing running on a queue. Because my life’s been pretty hectic, but in a lot of good ways. I graduated, moved home for the summer and just about none of that has even begun to sink in.

So, I hope you’ve all been well and I promise to be more of a presence around here once reality catches up with me.

kalkibodhi:

Kinky

KalkiBodhi Archives

I apologize for the lack of response to messages or general activity on tumblr – my life is crazy hectic.

Also my compooper is broken so I’ve been tumblring on my phone. Hence, the queue and lack of activity.

But while I’ve got your attention, what does a girl have to do to get a little friend like this?

This afternoon, I attended the final class of my undergraduate career.

Holy crap. Time flies.

myanonymouslair:

For Ivy.

I have the best followers ever.