June 2007

“Get out of my way,” she shouted. This was not directed at some ordinary stranger stubbornly blocking her on the street. It was not a directive issued simply because someone pissed her off. No, this was a direct order at someone who, only half and hour earlier, had been diligently fucking the daylights out of her. Who had, only minutes earlier, come deep inside of her, and lain heavily on top, heaving raspy breaths on the side of her neck. Who, only seconds earlier, rolled off her sweat-covered torso, eliciting a response in her left hand to quickly slide behind and under her buttocks, in anticipation for the streaming out of spunk. The other hand slid between her thighs, and covered her pussy. Thus self-straight jacketed, she rocked her body side to side, her legs simultaneously pulling her towards the edge of the bed, making haste towards the bathroom, to avoid any spillage. She hoisted herself past his surprised face, and staggered straight into the shower stall. Usually, a quick squat down on the toilet was sufficient, but with both hands covered, she felt it necessary to fully clean off. So the shower was best for the job, allowing sweat, sperm, and piss to release under chemically fragrant-smelling gel wash. (more…)


It’s been over a year since I read The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman, yet it still serves as a touchstone for me and the dreadfully charming Mr. Right. If you’re looking for a quick, easy (though not particularly well-written) book to revitalize your relationship, this is a good choice.

Here’s the premise: Every one of us has a “love tank” that, like the VW’s gas tank, can be full, empty or somewhere in between. The tank is full when our partner is demonstrating his/her love in the language that speaks best to us.


The tank is empty when we don’t feel loved because either A) our partner is not showing his/her love to us–at all, or B) our partner is not showing love to us in a way that we can hear and feel–s/he isn’t speaking our “love language.”


According to Dr. Chapman, there are 5 languages of love:

1) words of affirmation
2) acts of service
3) gifts
4) physical contact
5) quality time

OK, so you’re looking for the list that says: 6) all of the above, right? (more…)

I’m a little late on the advice topic, and part of the reason for this is that I was trying to think of who gave me good advice growing up. And much as I hate to say this, and as silly as it seems, I’m going to have to say I learned a lot from the boob tube. Yes, you heard right.

My father was extremely laid back, and my mom was not really suited for parenthood. That’s not to say she wasn’t a good mother–but she was high-strung and not particularly patient and very emotional. My discipline was not the most consistent. And we were a Chinese American family, with Chinese American customs and habits. I only knew what “normal” American families were like from watching TV. I lived in Kansas, not particularly a hotbed of diversity although having a university helped a lot.


I advise people to take a holiday when they need to – there’s never a good time to take a holiday, so plan it, book it and do it….I advise people to make time for the things that are important…to not let the little things get to them…

but here I am – thinking about planning my holiday, procrastinating and probably not making it on my planned holiday in Sept. I’ve also not made time to write any posts, to tidy my study, to go to training, to read…. and I’ve been letting the little annoying things that people do and say influence my attitude.

So, maybe the best advice for all of us is to follow the good advice we give everyone else!

because my parents decided that they were going to give me to the state for adoption if she didn’t want to, my Grandma took me when i was five years old to raise me.

i was smart but damaged, having already seen more traumatic things in five years than most people do in a lifetime, and my Grandma grieved for the childhood that i had lost and the behaviors that told her how neglected i had been.

even though they were not good ones, my parents were all that i had ever known of a mommy and daddy and so i kept expecting them to show up to see me, at least…to hug me, maybe. as time went on and they didn’t, i became even more withdrawn and sad, feeling that it was something i had done or said or deserved that had caused them to not want me. i tried to figure out the things that i could have done better, how i could have worked harder to be a good girl, so that they wouldn’t have hated me so much. i would ask my grandma, when i did chores or cleaned up messes or dressed myself, “i’m a good girl, right Grandma? if i keep being a good girl, will my daddy come to see me? do you tell him that i read good and clean up after i take my shower?”

these conversations devastated my Grandma and so she tracked my dad down and begged him to speak to me and promise me that he would come to see me. he did so, telling me that he would come on Saturday at one o’clock and that he would take me to Wal-Mart and i could pick out anything i wanted. all week, i kept reminding my Grandma of this impending visit, and telling her that i wasn’t even going to pick out something expensive…that i was going to just get something small like a stuffed bear so that he could know that i didn’t want him to buy me things but that i just wanted to see him, but that i was going to take a while to pick it out and have him help me so that we could be there for longer. these conversations broke my Grandma’s heart, and she would cry and when i asked why, tell me that i was such a good girl that it made her cry happy tears.


Back in March I covered the Antalya marathon as a member of the press (I love that bloggers are considered press now!). Emirhan and I were both inspired. Later that evening we said that if it weren’t for our plans to be abroad next March, we’d definitely want to run the marathon. In fact, we kind of promised that if we weren’t out of the country at the time, we’d do it. But we knew for sure we’d be out of the country, so there was no harm in making a teensy meaningless promise, right?

Yeah, well, guess what? Those solid-as-a-rock travel plans fell through. So I suppose that means we’re running a marathon next March.

Wow. I’m excited and terrified. I’m near the end of the first week of training, and there’s a huge mountain ahead. I’m keeping track of this mammoth journey so I can look back at it later and feel proud/laugh/cry/whatever.

Right now it just feels so surreal. I’m going to run 26 miles? I’m going to run 26 miles.

Melissa, 34, Antalya

As readers of my previous posts will be aware I’ve been on the receiving end of a lot of advice of late – not all of it welcome. There have however been times in my life when I’d have welcomed some intervention although admittedly, when I think about the multitude of mistakes I have made over the years I realise that in most cases I simply ignored the advice I was given. Doesn’t everyone? Looking at the pieces of advice that I really have taken to heart over the years most were proffered by my parents. Annoyingly they were right and I’m sure I’ll be dishing out the same pearls of wisdom to my future offspring in the years to come. I’m just as sure they’ll ignore me as well until they find out for themselves. I now find myself in the peculiar position of offering advice to younger friends and, in particular, to the people I manage at work. Gratifyingly the latter tend to take my word for it and have benefited accordingly, my friends less so. Am I surprised? No. There are some lessons we all have to learn the hard way.


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