WARNING: Overhaul in progress

A few posts ago I mentioned how 25 Single White Female was on the lookout for new writers. Out of this new wave of talent, I have been thinking more about the evolution of this space and I want to prepare you for some bigger changes that are coming up. A name change, a structuring change, a change in spirit are all on the table. Are you excited? I know I am! What do you want to read/see/hear about? Tell me! (The collective) we will make it happen.

Yours ready to paint this room a new color,

25swf

I’m Annoyed.

This week I am (officially) annoyed at being in a relationship. Every time I try to have alone time or space it seems to be interrupted. And lately (more than usual) I have been feeling the stinging realization that I am not single. Like really not single. Like can’t escape into your own apartment single. Like we’re on a family cell phone plane together. Like we’re moving to New York come this spring together. Like, this is it, together.

I only feel this way when I’m trying to be creative or have some me time. The juices are flowing (so to speak) and my creativity is interrupted by “cat talk” –the cat person’s version of “baby talk.” I’m trying to read my New Yorker here.

my literal notes

I know it doesn’t seem important to you, but I’m absorbing something that I’ve worked to enjoy. I made dinner. I cleaned the dishes. I want to read The New Yorker without having the TV turned on next to me.  Hearing “Ohhhh baby girl (to the cat), you’re so sweet. You’re the sweetest. Did you know that?” I’m trying to take notes (literally) on the Lowline Project, Emily Nussbaum, and a Tennessee William’s play I want to read. The TV blaring next to me really isn’t helping my cognitive absorption. I’m having a surge of creativity and inspiration, and I want to explore it…NOW. Not tend to your questions or your own blabbering. Plus, my anxiety of being behind 10-12 New Yorkers at any given time is not helping matters.

I think I’m being stupid.

I think I’m just being reactionary.

I know I’m on my period.

I know I need to get sexed* up.

But DAMNIT are all fleeting waves of complex annoying emotions the result of uterus hemorrhaging, or are they REAL? These are the First World questions that haunt me.

Am I annoyed. Or am I Annoyed. ANNOYED is how I feel.

Yours questioning the merits of irrational annoyances,

25swf

*It’s been like three weeks. That’s just not right.

Times They are a Changin’

With the changing leaves and colder breeze, I recently had an idea.

I want more voices on this here blog.

If I had a sign it would say, “CALLING ALL SINGLETONS AND MORE!” Male, or female. Old, or young. Games of Thrones fan, or not. I’m looking for some new guest bloggers to hang out and talk about the nitty gritty relationship stuff. Whether you are single OR in a relationship, I want you!

Yeah, that’s right, I’m talking to you married folk, too.

Fill out this form and tell me a little bit about yourself and I’ll check ya out and see if you would fit. You could be a reocurring guest blogger, or a one-hit wonder. It’s up to you! I just know the world wants to hear your story, and this is a safe place to tell it.

This blog is about relationships, and it’s mission is to make people with broken hearts feel less lonely — women feel less insane about having emotions — and men feel less baffled by lady emotions. The goal is simple: let’s talk about the complexity of relationships and lurv. Clearly, there is a lot to talk about, and neverending stories to tell.

TV MA

*Sex is extremely important to me. It’s in the top 5 things that I need to be happy.

When I was little I use to sneak around in the middle of the night, pretending like I couldn’t fall asleep. “Oh the insomnia,” I would whine. Little did my mom know, I was turning to Cinemax and HBO for some soft-core porno action. I utilized the previous channel button on the remote to keep my sexy secret safe. MTV, QVC, or some other three-letter network acted as my quick getaway. If I heard my mom’s door open. BAM. From moans to My So-Called Life. 

I think this all started when I was about 12 or so. I remember the feeling I would get while watching these dirty movies. A tingling sensation would take over. Sometimes I would touch myself, but that felt awkward and boring. Most of the time I would just watch. Enthralled with the feeling between my legs, I was obsessed. Every night I would sneak away, turn the TV down extra low, and hunker down for a night of learning and yearning. Those HBO bells would chime…the static would play…the choir would sing…and I would be whisked away on a journey of a good girl gone bad.

I felt guilty for my porno secret. I remember sitting in my 6th grade math class thinking, “If only they all knew what I did last night…they would be so ashamed.” Up until age 23-ish I was always conflicted with my sexuality and my conscience. Welcome to being a girl. Yayyyyy.

Like all normal people, there came a time when we stopped paying exorbitant amounts for HBO and Skinamax, but my love for porn never stopped. My high school boyfriend got me a porno DVD as a gift once. It was vile and was not the classy HBO/Cinemax stuff I had grown accustomed to. That was really the last time I watched it.

Until last week. Continue reading

Kick It

I’ve been trying to shove it out of my head, or *kick it, as I call it. This feeling of lostness and depression keeps rearing it’s ugly head.

Due to life, my plans have changed. I am thankful. I am grateful. And then I just find myself feeling overwhelmed and I don’t know where to begin.

The house is a mess, I don’t want to clean it.

My resume needs a revamp, I don’t want to do it.

There are movies to be made, I don’t want to make them.

There are things to do. Lots of them.

I don’t want to do any of them.

This is my depression. Going on about three weeks now I have felt awful, and then better. Then awful again.

The only thing that keeps me sane nowadays is my relationship with Mr. M. His existence gives me hope.

For me, I know this is circumstantial depression. My mom, my friend’s dad, my uncle, Janet. Lots of sadness has been had in the past 6 months. I hate wallowing, and I can’t stand whiners. But life is really sad sometimes and it’s hard for me to accept that. I just want the lost feeling to go away.

I need a sign.

Yours trying to kick it,

25swf

*Kick it: the act of “kicking it” is a visualization I’ve done since I was a teenager. When my mind starts writhing and swirling down the rabbit hole of insecurity, worry, negativity, etc. I visually kick that thought out of my head. It flies high and far away from me. Thus, my opinion is that strong legs are helpful in life.