verushka70: Kowalski puts his hands to his head (absinthe)
[personal profile] verushka70
Had to get away this past weekend. Drove 3 hours to go stay with my sister, her husband, and their wonderful dog Linus (supposedly a black lab, but his head says "Pit Bull" to me) (fortunately, he has a loving, happy lab personality). Boy I really needed that.

While there saw PotC: Dead Man's Chest. It was a very enjoyable romp, quite eye-poppping, and I very much enjoyed the creatively designed villain pirate captain and crew (Davy Jones and his crew), as well as Will Turner's father's appearance. Creepy, chilling, effective.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!! DO NOT READ if you don't want PotC: DMC spoiled!

SPOILERS...
But I have to say that the adult side of me didn't kick in until Elizabeth kissed Captain Sparrow at the very end, to trick him into going down with his ship. That was some kiss. The slashiness of Will Turner & Sparrow is nowhere in sight in this flick, although Sparrow is as ambiguously flamboyant as ever -- and he either runs while channeling Mr. Sillywalks from Monty Python, or else he just runs like a girl. In his strange way, Capt. Jack Sparrow is quite girlish (Johnny Depp has even been quoted as saying he "sashays," which is a good way of putting it). He does this femmy finger twitching stuff. And yet it's that ambiguity and his tempting of Elizabeth that woke my slumbering libido for less than 2 minutes near the climax of the film. I mean, kudos to Keira Knightley & Johnny; they made that kiss deep, strong, and believable. And I can already predict the 3rd film: Elizabeth, no longer sure she wants to get married & settle down, is tempted by (possibly fought over) Sparrow and Will Turner, and ultimately she'll have to choose. Or will she? She could join a crew and become polyamorous... if Will was up for that.

Then the libido went back to sleep.

I'm so exhausted all the time, but I finally found out why: I'm anemic. I went to donate blood last week but they wouldn't take it -- my hemoglobin was too low.

So I've been eating a lot of green leafies & red meat. I give up; I just think I'm genetically destined to be a red-meat eater. Every time I stop for any length of time, this happens. And despite putting on weight during the past year of nursing school, most of the time I actually was getting 5 or more servings of fruit/veggies per day (usually closer to 7-8. One thing Weight Watchers did for me: I got into the fruit/veg habit and I just don't feel right if I don't eat them. Of course, that doesn't stop the consumption of the potato chips or chocolate, unfortunately... but all those calories are at least in addition to the nutritionally sound fruits/veggies.


I've been having a lot of weird dreams -- and remembering them. I can't remember the last time I dreamt this much; antidepressants always seemed to have a dream-dampening (or dream-remembering-dampening) effect, to the point where I almost NEVER remembered dreams in the last ten years. Now I'm having weird ones every day, some bordering on nightmarish (of the naked-at-school kind, not evil-psycho-killer kind). And way more sex dreams recently than I've had in ...years. Probably since adolescence. And I didn't have all that many then. Yesterday morning, it was Bruce Willis I was liplocked with (and what a good kisser!). Last week I had sex with Daniel Craig in my dream (all hard, lean muscle... yes, please!).

I'm not complaining, by any means, but the strange thing is the dream sexuality doesn't transfer over to waking life. (Bummer. I've never felt so asexual, and it's, like, seriously killing my slashiness.) I feel dead sexually. And romantically. My ex had a big purple bite mark on his neck the last time we hung out, and not only wasn't I bothered, I was slightly amused. I don't want to have sex with him... or anyone. I guess it's the stress of everything else. (I came home from visiting my sister to a job interview & taking my step dad to 3 medical appointments -- fortunately all in the same day & at the same general location!). Although, truth be told, my ex kind of repels me now. Not that I am god's gift or anything. But it's one of those, "Wow, I can't believe I used to have sex with him... what was I thinking?" kind of thoughts. I guess I don't love him anymore. Not that way. Well, it only took 3 years of family stress of aging/sick parents (for both of us), bickering, a withdrawn marriage proposal, and seeing other people to kill that. Now if only I could just get back on the horse and back into dating, like he did, I'd be okay. I guess.

I think I've got the Cymbalta to thank for the dreams, because nothing else has changed in my life, other than the increase in stress with my mom's chemo. So I'm grateful to Cymbalta for (1) all the dreaming and (2), more importantly, the many recent sex dreams. At least my sex life is good in my dreams. Whereas before, it wasn't good in either my dreams or real life. Sigh.

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