Today has been exhausting, and it's definitely not over yet. More rape nightmares, but they're getting worse, because my brother was in last night's, and I can't handle people I love being stuck in these shitty dreams, even if they don't know about it. Maggi says we need to tackle these dreams in therapy, but I'd rather focus my energy on behaviors I can really change than the same dreams I've been having since I was twelve, you know? I mean, I've been through this with four counselers before Maggi, and nothing's gotten rid of the bad dreams except, sometimes, for sleeping with someone I feel safe with. I can't count on that, though. I can't need someone in that way. So therapy, it is.
I am listening to the birthday mix I made my brother when he turned seventeen - lots of Will Smith, the theme from Jurassic Park, Ace of Base and Usher. . . Man, I miss that kid. So much that I'm going to post another little-kid picture.
Tonight, there was a Condoms and Cookies event, which Ali led us into, unknowingly. The cookies were good, I scored some ID Glide and Lucky Boy condoms (just, you know, so I can feel that butch), and I finally confronted the health services lady about how all of the dental dams they hand out are either without expiration dates or expired already. She was properly horrified. Ali shouted out the word "Rimming!" with such enthusiasm that it warmed my heart. I got a Laffy Taffy with the following joke: What do you call a chicken crossing a road? ("Poultry in motion.") And now we're talking about Restless Legs Syndrome and waiting for Marshall to call. And I still miss my brother. But I am having lunch with Van Jordan on Sunday, which is thrilling. And life is really, really good.
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