So some of you may recall my other post about clutter. It’s kind of scary that it was almost a year ago that I wrote about it, isn’t it? Now that I think about it … I think I may be going through another maniac period. I think I am maniac depressive. lol. Seriously. What else would explain my sudden burst of energy with only a few hours of actual sleep? I have to be crazy, right?

But anyways - back to this clutter thing because it is the CLUTTER that kept me up so late - honest. If it weren’t for the clutter that is permanently attached (apparently) to my ass - I would be asleep right now after reading all about my little genes and diploids and protein synthesis. But instead - here I am … writing (yet again) about clutter.

So let me start from the beginning. 2 days ago Oprah had on her show the ultimate pack rat ever known to man. This little lady had a 5 bedroom, 3 story, 2 car garage house - a total of 3200 sq feet. The clutter that they removed from her house (75 tons) was able to fill a 10,000 sq ft storage unit. I can not even tell you how many pairs of shoes this woman had - how many bags - how many “gifts” that she couldn’t even find to wrap with the hundreds of rolls of wrapping paper that she hoarded in her home. There were little pathways around the house that she could walk on - and her husband (God Bless Him) was not even able to sleep in the master bedroom with her due to all of the stuff. Her adult children finally intervened and filmed the disgusting mess and sent it to Oprah who quickly sent out Peter Walsh (remember one of my brain crushes from last year?) who, with a team of about 100 people, came to the rescue.
This “Clean Sweep” took 2 days to complete by the way … first the emptying of the house then another full day to clean out the mice nests, black mold and other biohazards and rebuild new walls, and flooring for most of the house.) By the time that the show had ended ( and the lady was all crying and claiming that she was cured from her Compulsive Hoarding Disorder), I had serious hebejeebes about my own clutter. I was sure - absolutely positive that in my own bedroom there were mice, black mold and other things behind all the stuff. And I don’t have a lot of stuff - honest. I just have the typical American “stuff” that liters my life and that occasionally I tackle and throw out or give a pile away to Good Will. But after that show - I knew that I had to do something about my own mess. So I started to clean. I cleaned out every single drawer in my dresser - throwing away all those little “well - maybe one day I’ll wear this again” items. I rummaged through boxes of all that “software” that came with the Windows 98 computer that you no longer have - but …who knows … ONE day you just might need it when Vista takes over the world and you rebuild your old system. I even went through Jackson’s clothes - because - let’s face it CeCe - you’re not getting another little puppy any time soon so those cute little puppy baby clothes can go too. And then there were the little containers filled with all that hair stuff that one day you just might need - but one day never comes. Except for THIS day - and all those little items found their way to the trash as well. With each item I threw away or gave away I felt the mold dissipating. I didn’t come across any mice and nothing crawled out and said hello. Not that my room was that cluttered, you understand - but there is something really fucked up about watching some woman in a home with 150,000 pounds of shit. It does something to you. It did something to me. And I wasted no time in taking action. I refuse to grow up into that little old lady down the street whose house smells like cat pee that no one sees for 13 years. Hey…every town has one.

So… I’m almost completely finished with my clutter be gone mission 2008. I am pretty sure I’ll go through this again in 2009 - but I hope that it won’t be so extensive. I have to go through my wish list because there are clutter traps hidden behind some of my wants and desires. Of course - many of the things I want isn’t really “stuff” is it? Books, Videos, that type of thing I really DO want to surround myself with. And there is something to be said about “entertainment”, however, I have some makeup on there that honestly - I don’t need yet. I still am using a lot of the makeup that I have received and I don’t wear make up all that often. I also have some perfume on my list - and you know what? I don’t wear it. I wear ONE fragrance for special occasions (Heavenly) but I “want” other perfumes. Why? I have lotions and things like that - and I already have plenty right now. When I finish some I will put up another one - but nothing like that is coming into my home with out me first getting rid of something to make room. And Jackson will suffer, too, unfortunately. He has 50 bajillion toys right now - that I haven’t exactly gone through to see if they are still usable - but I went through a period where every week I had to buy him another squeaker toy. And he still prefers my socks. Go figure. (and so does SBJ I hear…) So I have to clear that up, too. So for now - books, movies - dvds - and music are still perfectly great gifts to give me. In a few days I will have weeded out the other things on my list and left only the things that will TRULY delight me and not things that I think I “should” own because of some fucked up American Ideal - you know what I mean?

So - that is what I did today. I dealt with my own personal detritus. I did some spring cleaning - some purging of my own. Thanks Oprah and Peter Walsh.

So … here is a challenge that Peter Walsh says that we should take (those of us who have those “junk drawers/closets/rooms/houses/wherehouses”, etc.) : Every day go through your home/room/closet/etc. with 2 bags in your hand (garbage bags) - Fill one up with all of the “garbage” - and fill the other one up with stuff to go to Good Will. In no time at all (unless you are like the friend of ours on Oprah with 150,000 pounds of crap) you will have cleaned away all that clutter. You will be able to breathe better, you’ll be able to display all those things that are important to you and have true value in your life, and you will be taking a stand against this thing called materialism that drives pretty much every single one of us. I swear I’m so fuckin’ inspired that I want to go around the entire state with my garbage bags to help everyone out!

I better go to bed - but thanks to all of the calls today - to Rolf for the gift certificates so that I could buy a few of my favorite books - and to SBJ for the gift that is soon arriving I hear. I have PLENTY…I really do. Thank you all so much for helping me to surround myself with things that matter, giving me courage to rid myself of useless things all while encouraging me to reach for things of value.

Remember tomorrow there will be a power outage where I live and I will not be logging in after 8:00PM. I think I will probably log in for a bit during the afternoon and then for the rest of the evening I will be speaking to a few special close friends of mine (in the dark) and reading a chapter or two in one of my many books I’m longing to read (by candlelight.) Speak soon!

**edited @ 8:31PM 3/27/08 - Apparently the notice said AM and not PM - so I am currently on for a bit reading some poli sci and drawing some mitosis and meiosis models. You should see my Protein Synthesis drawing. It’s TRULY amazing. I may have to scan it on in so you can be as impressed as I am! *wink* /end edit**

So I finally posted this! Sorry for the delay. Slowly catching up on everything after taking a small hiatus to study for 8 chapters of ADT, ATP, Protein construction, functions and functional groups - not to mention also having to learn more than I ever really wanted to about phospholipids, mitachondria, and step by step production of atp through respiration and … never mind. You get the picture.
Anyways - here is Episode #7 - FINALLY - which is just a little bit of a rant on my adventures into the non smoking community and my discovery of the doggy park. 22 minutes of pure entertainment for your enjoyment.

I’ll be logging in for a bit this evening (8:00PM - 12:00PM). I’ll also be logging in in the evening on Thursday for a bit too. Maybe early evening - but days are reserved for all the day to day stuff that I haven’t been able to get to for the past week (recordings, laundry, studying, doggy park, etc.)

I’m planning on writing a longer more detailed post in a few days. We’ll see how that works. Sorry for being a bit “flakey” lately - blame it on Biology…my heart truly would have preferred to be here with all of you.

It was when I was just 6 years old that I realized that I had a little bit of a problem. I was sensitive. I was so sensitive and so wanting to be liked by the “right” people that I often found myself doing things for that little bit of whatever one can call it. I got my feelings hurt very easily - especially when someone was cross at me, raised their voice at me to correct me - or didn’t like me for whatever reason. I think the word that was used then was “cry baby” and my mother just translated that into “sensitive” to make it sound almost like a quality and not so much like a fault.

It was in Kindergarten that the big event happened that would change my life forever. This cute little dark haired boy who we will call from this point on Mikey S. - told me that he would give me a shiny quarter if I lifted up my skirt. I had already been reprimanded earlier that day by a teacher who told me not to hang upside down on the jungle gym in a skirt because “good girls don’t do that” - and prior to that humiliating event, had been asked to go steady by a 2nd grader who later turned out to be gay. When I say that the first 2 years of school shaped my life tremendously, please believe me. So Mikey held up a nice shiny quarter and as I was contemplating what I would do (ok, ok - I lifted up my skirt) in walks Mrs. Harden - our teacher. She gasped. Seriously gasped. Sometimes people say “gasp” and they mean some inward surprise reaction that they picked up but I heard my teacher audibly gasp - like “haaaaaaha” and quickly pulled Mikey from the scene of the crime returning to pull me into a corner where she lectured me for the second time that day. Good girls do not show their panties to boys, she told me. What she didn’t say was that I had shown my panties to a boy so I was not “good” anymore. For a second I did think to ask her if good boys offered good girls quarters to see their panties, but I couldn’t think after the label she had bestowed on me. To make matters just that much worse, my father (The Reverend) was called in to school to speak to the teacher about my obvious deviance. It was a good thing that he stopped on by because I needed a ride home after I vomited in the water fountain from the absolute horrible shame I felt. I remember thinking as I got sick that the worst part of the whole ordeal (2nd only to my father having to come hear about his slutty daughter) was that I didn’t even get my quarter!

My father never spoke to me about it. I suppose he figured I had already made myself sick from the shame of the whole ordeal that he would just let it slide - but I never quite got over it and secretly always hated Mikey S for never having gotten so much of a lecture for his part in my defilement. He moved away (thankfully) in 3rd grade so I didn’t have to see him again - but I recently saw him at a wedding. He was pretty cute, actually, but I was not to be fooled twice (shame on me). I walked over to the table that he was seated at and put out my hand.

“I’d like my quarter, please”, I told him.

He laughed while eyeing me up and down - reached into his pocket and handed me a quarter, not even taking into consideration the rate of inflation. I thought that it would seem bigger than it actually was - but it just sat in my hand like some cheap representation of the years of shame I had lived through. I smiled, thanked him, and returned back to my seat across the banquet hall to the accompaniment of laughter. There was no water fountain, no quiet father driving me home, and sadly - no sense of victory in the exercise. For years I had hung on to something that really was insignificant…because I… am a cry baby sensitive.

I’ve tried for the past few years to be assertive. or a little assertive as the case more than likely is. I’ve been in a few bad positions due to my reluctance to practice these types of skills. I realize that there is a part of me that passively lives and when I see that trait in other people it angers me. Even in the most submissive relationships there is a strength in both partners, you know.

There is a situation that I’m going through right now that will soon be over (thankfully) and all I can really say (because really - people will “get it” with out knowing all the juicy boring details, honest) is that what bothers me the most is how I became in this situation a person who was lifting her skirt up for a quarter. Somehow I felt that I had to go along with it - maybe because he was a Professor - an elder - someone who I was dependent on for giving me a grade or whatever. But I did it. I fuckin pulled up my skirt and held my hand out for the quarter…which I never recieved. It’s not the quarter, Mikey S - and Professor. It really isn’t. It’s the fact that I lifted up my skirt - and that somehow I felt that I needed to do what I was told to do and as a result paid the price. In a fantasy being overwhelmed is sexy. But in real life sometimes being overwhelmed just makes me sick.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. This too shall pass.

Oh - I guess this would be a P.S. I can see a whole lot of .25 cent tributes coming my way today… there. I ruined the joke… it’s not quite funny enough yet. Well - actually the quarter story is funny now - but the other situation I eluded to isn’t quite funny yet. Remember my sensitivity issues, please. *lol*

I have started and stopped and deleted and backspaced over thousands of words on here tonight. The thing is, I really don’t want to write something vapid just so that I write - but the things that are going through my head probably aren’t the type of things that one should share on a public blog. I just feel stuck again. I go through this every once in a while and there it is…again… that blank page staring back at me with TONS of stuff slamming into me like some pile up on the 405 Freeway during rush hour. I have so much to say and have no way of knowing or trusting in myself to edit it. It’s just annoying as hell. Really annoying.

I haven’t written in my personal journal (and remember - I have tons of them) in such a long time. That probably would help a bit. If I wrote in there I would feel like I’m writing things and feel protected against writing things in here that I shouldn’t be writing about. It’s not that they are that kinky or sexy or whatever. You all know me better than that by now. I just have other people’s privacy to worry about and not sure how much of my life I feel like pouring out onto these pages right now.

I wanted to write about my mother. Then I wanted to write about my father. Then I wanted to tie up all the things I said about each parent and somehow have that explain why I am the way I am. I’m realizing now that if I were to put it that way it would be a Talk Show topic. My mother did this. I thought this. My father did this. I thought this. I now think this way about all women. I now think this way about all men. Thank you for being a guest on the Oprah Winfrey Show, CeCe. Tomorrow we’ll discuss the men of Niteflirt - and the women who serve them. I mean … how absolutely deep and boring can I get? (don’t answer that).

I just can’t do it right now. Just know that there is a deep and spiritual post in me ready to be written at some point - but I can’t do it right now. It’s too - scrambled up. And I’m too - tired to place my tiles in a way to make the most out of my letters. I can’t help wanting to and I’m starting to force every single thing that flies off my fingertips. Makes for really lousy writing. There’s nothing worse than knowing you’re writing like crap and not being able to stop yourself from writing it.

Speaking of writing - I wish I would actually start to write something in my Screenwriting class. And if my professor is reading this right now: You’re killing me softly, Sir. You’re killing me. I woke up late today and I didn’t even miss anything. I’m trying really hard not to let that convince me to continue waking up late - and trust me, it’s hard. I walked in and we were watching upcoming attractions. I have watched so many movies now - and written so many plot points to those movies that I really feel … restless. I want to know the rules. I want to know what comes next. I want to start writing and I want to know how to pitch stuff. I want to be sitting here working on my screenplay - not struggling over how to introduce my parents in a blog entry with out it sounding drab, typical teenage angst-y, and boring. I don’t want to come up with any more “ideas” - I want to write. I find myself eyeing the people in my class, particularily one loud mouthed girl who always has an answer to whatever. I want her to shut up - and the only way I can think of that to happen is if we all start to write already. I’m beginning to think that God doesn’t exist because surely he would take pity on me already. Wouldn’t he?

I think I have a Math quiz tomorrow so I should end this. I’m inches away from deleting this - and maybe after I publish this entry I will instantly wish that I had… but I’m really needing to at least have some proof that my head is still attached and that my heart is pounding away in my chest begging to be let out, you know? If I just hang onto all of these feelings I start to slowly go a bit mad. I’m ready to blow, honestly, so I guess this post is just letting out a bit of steam. Keeping the pressure in to let everything soak in for a bit - but letting a little bit of steam out every now and again so I don’t lose my … head. lol. Good analogy? Ok - a bit weak … but it’s the best that I can do.

Such a cuddly kittenish voice makes the wild erotic fantasies you are hearing even more incredible. Email her first with what you need and she will amaze you.

Thanks so much to my darling sweet girl for this feedback. When we accidently got disconnected, sweet Scarlett said with a smile so wide I could FEEL it on the other end of the phone, “Well, now I’ll get to leave you MORE feedback!” Could anyone be any sweeter, is what I’d like to know! Scarlett did email me before our fantasy together and I had a bit of self doubt that I’d be able to to come through for her. I shoulda had more confidence because once we started I was off and running! I can not wait for next time, that’s for sure! Can I just further embarrass you, Scarlett, and say that um … when you said that you had … er… finished - you sounded so damn cute. It was like a confession more than a declaration of accomplishment! “um … oops… I’m done, CeCe…” I must have been on a roll and you hated to interupt my story, huh? Don’t worry … we can have part II next time, k?

I really need to go to bed now. I’m up way too late and no matter what time I close my eyes there will still be a math quiz waiting for me when I open my eyes. Math is like that.

the party’s over. Were some of you wondering what happened to me last night. Well - not actually “last” night - but Thursday night? Apparently they were working on some electrical/power thingee down the street that happened to affect about 4 blocks in my neighborhood. The same thing happened last year, too. They put a notice in the town paper and well, I don’t read the paper. Town or otherwise. I keep telling myself I should …
Anyway, about 9:30PM PST all the power just evaporated into thin air. I could almost hear it when it was shut off. It sounded like the air in a balloon leaving via a small pin size hole. sssssssssssss - silence. Like that. Pitch black. I had gone on alerts to pay attention to Jackson who has taken to tearing up his pee pads in his “cell” when Momma leaves him alone too long. We were playing a friendly game of tug and war (I was letting him win) and then we were suddenly enveloped in this dark eery creepy silence. I thought - OH SHIT. My family wanted to know why I was pacing back and forth trying to figure out what to do. Remember - they have no idea what I do in my little guest home in the middle of the evenings. I made up some story about being on call for a big web project - and then ran to Walmart to get a phone. Yes - I have a phone but the problem is: My phone is a cordless. It runs via electricity - like everything in my home, really. The television. The radio. My clock. My computer!!!. My very life.

So, I ran to Walmart - calling up everyone I could think of to log into my account and turn my alerts on to ARRANGE CALLS. I thought in the event I couldn’t find anyone to change my status that I could at least get an old fashioned plug into a cord phone and take calls on that until the morning when power (and sanity) would be restored once more. I was freaking out. And I was having a really great nite, too. I was horny - I was creative and I was having a great time until the world went black. So I’m in Walmart - in a part of town where there WAS power. I kept looking at people with jealousy leaking out of my eyeballs, sure that they lived in the part of town where they could watch a movie once they got down shopping. I’m sure they could go into their fridge and cook something in their microwave, not that I wanted to eat necessarily - but there’s something about not being able to do something that makes you crave doing it, you know? (Several sexual acts just popped into my mind to give as examples…I’ll save them for my calls… *wink*) So while I was hating everyone I came in contact with at Walmart - I found myself in the pet section. Please…don’t give me any grief. I had no power in my home and was losing customers at every minute. I had to shop for the dog - there’s just something therapeutic about it and I needed the joy and rush from the shopping experience. (I don’t really have a problem, by the way. I could stop buying shit for the dog any time I wanted to. I just don’t really wanna stop right now. But I can stop instantly if I felt like it.) I bought a few toys because the 100 toys I have at home is not enough for Jack. Then I bought some mechanical pencils for Algebra because regular pencils just drive me batty and the 10 other mechanical pencils I had weren’t enough. By the time I made it to the Walmart I had 15 items in my hands. I had walked right by the cart because all I went into Walmart for was a damn phone, remember? 45 dollars later I made my way to my house which was still dark. My family called up to me and told me they were reading The Secret Garden (not the Secret Garden by Nancy Friday - but the Secret Garden children’s book) and I was welcome to join. I declined the offer (and would have if the other Secret Garden was the book that was being read, too - for slightly different reasons) and made my way to my dark house in the woods. I plugged in my phone (success) and looked at my lap top wishing I had dial up. I then took my tired ass to bed and read my “Puppy School” book. I fell asleep shortly thereafter after hearing from Momma Tee that despite her sure case of food poisioning, she had logged me off of Niteflirt before dragging her body in to worship the porcelain goddess.

So I’m sorry - for anyone who was trying to contact me on Thursday Evening. It was not my intent to log off forever - I was going to come back - but it just wasn’t meant to be.

Tonight I logged in and took a few calls (Joe, Catwoman, Jerod, Math Tutor, etc,) spoke to my Tiffy while my family ignored the phone pressed against my ear and spoke to me about 80’s costumes and other things. Tiffy just sat and giggled as she eavesdropped and I shook my head hoping that they wouldn’t reveal anything too personal. Tiffy always wants to have an inside look into my life - and often gets it. As if my diary wasn’t enough - speaking to me while I’m sitting outside in the lawn chair by the fountain always brings about interesting conversations and encounters, huh, Tiffers? It was a busy evening - and now I’m going to tuck my behind in bed and *gasp* do some Math homework. It’s growing on me. I’m solving equations now with variables in them (the value of the variables are given so it’s almost like solving a puzzle of sorts.) Very cool but don’t tell my Math teacher that - he already is patting himself on the back for successfully getting a B out of me on my first quiz. lol. You know what though? I have a certain amount of respect for math. It’s either right or wrong. No ifs, and or buts about it. It’s one of those subjects that doesn’t rely on a well thought out argument - or some sexual favors from teachers in order to pass a test. (FUCK!) You solve the problem - there is only one right answer. That’s it. And there is something really satisfying about that one right answer. I find myself working the problems now and really wanting to know if I got it right. And when I get something wrong - and pout for a minute and whine to my family about how hard it is - I go back to that problem and work it out until I get the answer I know I’m suppose to have. I study the process - remember the rules - and lo and behold… I get it. It’s not “simple” yet - but there are definitely parts of it that are clearer to me. I can dig it. But let’s just keep that between us for now, okay?

New subject. I’m not sure if I mentioned it or not - but there is a pet store not very far from me where I would go and pick up little treats and toys for Jackson. They have a lot of stuff in there and it’s closer than Petsmart so I thought it was a great find. I noticed that they had a puppy in the window but I didn’t really think too much about it. Until I started reading a bit about back yard breeders and Puppy mills and stuff like that. Everytime after I started to read about that stuff I had this feeling of uneasiness whenever I went into that Pet store - like I was being … what is the word I’m looking for - disrespectful? I dunno - I guess that will work. I was being disrespectful to the puppies by giving my business to part of the problem. If the pet stores refused to sell these puppies then slowly the puppy mills would go out of business. See? So I decided to stop going to the store - and the day I decided I would never put a foot inside of that store again I saw in the window a little Maltese - about the same age as Jack - with some of the worst tear staining around his little eyes that I have ever seen. He looked alone - sad - not played with and hot in the little plexiglass cell in front of the window. 1600.00 they wanted for him. If I had the money I would have been tempted - but again - I would have been contributing to the puppy mill problem since the puppy would just be replaced by another born out of the same extreme conditions. It broke my heart seeing a little maltese in the window though. There was also a Shitzu and a Boston Terrior. The Boston Terrior was already showing signs of distress by eating his own poop and the Shitzu just paced back and forth or whined pathetically at the passerbys.

A friend of a friend bought the Maltese I just found out today… (that was the news, Tiffy.) Ugh. I wonder how he is doing. I’ll have to keep you up to date on his progress. I really want to do my part to not support these puppy making machines. I just think there is something wrong when profit comes before the well being of a puppy. And it makes me feel just a tad bit guilty that I bought a doggy that would have very little chances of NOT being adopted/bought instead of going to the pound like several people told me to do to get a puppy with fewer chances of finding a home and a family that loved him. I know for my situation I couldn’t have a puppy that was too big - it just wouldn’t work in our home - but I could have held out for a rescue, I’m sure. Or maybe I could have waited and found a smaller puppy even if it wasn’t a “pure bred”. At least my puppy isn’t some result of some puppy mill. At least my puppy wasn’t bred in some back yard of someone who knows nothing about genetic testing to make sure the puppies are given every chance of developing with out the problems that run amuck with toy breeds. At least Jackson’s parents were part of a family that cared about them - and not stuck in some shed with piss poor conditions and … you know what? I’m going to stop now. I’m sure I’ve made my point. Probably about 50 sentences ago, huh?

I’ll be back on tomorrow evening some time. I have absolutely nothing on my agenda tomorrow except to play with the kid Jack, fold my laundry, and finish cleaning my room and complete some math homework. I have a few little errands to run - but nothing that won’t be done before logging in tomorrow evening.

Thanks for keeping me busy tonight, men. It was indeed my pleasure. I’m pretty sure the power thingee is taken care of and won’t return this weekend - but in the event that we are speaking and the line completely goes dead - I have another phone and a flash light.
The party will not be interupted. I’ll make sure my vibrator is close by though just in case the batteries go dead. Maybe I should get some batteries tomorrow while I’m out and about. I won’t be caught (unprepared) in the dark again.