It seems like most social and semi-social blog tools now cater towards the Twitter generation: short and re-postable.   Not really my style.  I hate Twitter and my updates there are pretty few and far between.  I can’t see the purpose of Tumblr for someone like me who tends to write at length, and though neither of these sites seem to actively censor, I’m just not comfortable with speaking my mind anywhere that I don’t control, regardless.  That says crappy things about our generation(s).

And yes,while  I realize that technically my site is on a space controlled by my webhost, I use Dreamhost, not fucking GoDaddy.  DH would probably die before allowing one of their sites to be censored…and I know that in part because I used to work there.  Plus, one time way back in 1999 or so, some chick complained to Dreamhost and tried to get my site shut down for, I dunno, slander or something else typical of me.  Dreamhost not only laughed at her and said no, they also forwarded her request to me with a “fuck no, we’re fans of yours” note.  I’ve been undyingly loyal to them ever since <3

Still, I sort of miss the privacy allowed by something like Livejournal…there’s a lot of stuff going on that I don’t post here because I can’t really control the audience unless people actually sign up on my site.  Nobody wants to sign up for anything new in the age of FB Connect and I am aware of that.

Does anyone even use LJ anymore?  It seems so cripplingly outdated.

If anyone has a suggestion on a way to blog lengthily, on my own domain, and with customizable viewership…well, I’d be real interested to hear it.

But internet nannies say that topless women are not “family-friendly” despite the fact that breasts were probably one of the very first things you all saw as a child, but you know.  Somehow it’s a terrible classless thing now that we’re all adults.  /eyeroll

It depends on how you market it, I suppose.  I see absolutely nothing wrong with the above, except for “out of focus and bad lighting” but that gave it a softened grainy effect and I kinda like that.

Mostly, though, I just like to show off my 35 year old cha-chas.  I’m slowly falling apart bit by bit, but those…are immortal.

What scares me is the prospect of losing my my edge. Domestication. I need that inner turmoil and that dramatic struggle to keep me sharp. I don’t challenge myself by pushing my limits physically. My endurance, my strength and my keenest weaponry are all mental and emotional. You don’t get that at the gym, you get it from open eyes and life experiences and I’ve got those in spades. Everything else is secondary.

It seems odd that the thing I am least comfortable with is the concept of comfort. I do not want to just be “happy”. Like a working dog needs to work or a predator needs to hunt, I require strife to grow.

That may seem a bit off, but I am okay with that.

…Internet armchair psychologists may now start your engines.

When it comes to people doing stupid fucked up shit, I am vicious and not liable to forgive and forget.  But I’m also not prone to walk away and abandon anyone in need.  I give chances.  Endless fucking chances, because I want to believe that the people I care about are better than that.  That stance has fucked me over on more occasions and in more ways than I care to think about over the years, because most people just see second chances as proof that you’ll give them a third, and so on until you either begin to accept their abuse of your trust as the standard, or you man up and amputate them from your life.  And at that point they always act somehow shocked that you cut them off.  It baffles me.  What did you think was going to happen?  Did you really think I’d stick around forever being a good friend to you after you repeatedly snuck in the opportunity to kick me when my guard was down?

So what do you do when you want to give someone a kick in the ass without martyring whatever relationship exists between the two of you?  There seems to be no good answer.  You can explain, support, discuss, warn and threaten until you go blue in the face and it generally makes no difference – it always seems to boil down to either accepting the person’s repeated fuck ups or opting to surgically remove them from your life.  Both are horrible options, but what else can you do when someone lacks the self-knowledge or strength of will or simply the desire to stop hurting the people who care about them most?  At some point you have to stick to your guns and leave them in the dust, or else lose all sense of the limits that you will endure, along with most of your self-respect.  No one is worth that.

Using my trust and decency against me is a truly bad idea.  When I finally give up and go cold I am utterly without sympathy or remorse and there is no recovering from that.  For every thing that I say, there are ten that I know.  I let things go without comment FAR more often than I ever communicate, and by the time I openly take issue with something it’s because I’ve already noticed a pattern.  Maybe that’s my fault for tolerating it at all, but I try to avoid being even more of a bladed ice bitch than I already am.

Never underestimate my willingness to cut off a limb – either my own, or yours – to escape a trap.

I’ve been in love before…not often, but once or twice.  I’ve had passionate love, deep love, obsessive love.  What I have never had is comfortable love.  Mark and I might have had that if we had both been older when we got together, perhaps, but while I loved him unlike I ever had loved anyone, I was never really settled in.  I totally adored and respected him, but a part of me chafed and rebelled and wondered what else was out there.  Either there was a mismatch (no, actually looking back on our sex life there was a definite mismatch) or we were just too young for it.  Maybe a bit of both.  Whatever the cause, it kept me from ever really feeling 100% there.  This time around, with James, is the first time where I’ve ever just felt completely okay with the idea of just being with him from that point forward.  That probably sounds like not that big a deal to most people, but coming from me, it is.  Bigtime.

Maybe that’s what really being in love is supposed to be like.  Maybe it’s not about the whirlwind romance and the intensity and the drunken sobbing and LJ entries. Maybe it’s as simple as that subtle background *click* that says “I’m done.”  And then the drunken sobbing and LJ entries.

It’s odd and wonderful.  I’m inordinately proud of everything that he does.  I’m completely aware of all his flaws and he gets shit for them but I honestly don’t really care about anything outside how he is with me, here and now.  I think about his broad back and impossibly wide shoulders and I get a shiver that starts at the back of my neck and ends in places the Bible pretends don’t exist.  I quite literally have not fantasized about anyone else since we got together, and that is WEIRD.  I remember his unwavering, frank gaze when he looked in my eyes and asked me to marry him.  And it all sums up to a simple “I’m done”.  There’s no more poetic way to put it than that.  Unless he does something incredibly fucking stupid and ruins everything, that boy has me for life.

It’s a mixture of a bunch of things.  First is that I’ve always been incredibly sexually attracted to him, even back when I didn’t know him and  thought he was a mildly retarded psychopath.  When I first saw pictures of him I was like DAMNNNNN, and that synced up perfectly into our intimate interactions.  Then there’s the fact that he just completely adores me and loves me to the exclusion of all else.  Then there’s the fact that we compliment each other so well.  He is physical force and organization and planning and goal driven action.  I’m mental agility and chaos and intuition and mutable fire.  In nerdspeak, he’s a tank and I’m a rogue.  He doesn’t try to match wits with me any more than I’d try to armwrestle him, and we’re both completely okay with that.  We don’t compete.  Normally, 2 alphas cannot help but compete, but we fit together like puzzle pieces.  Master and Blaster.  Caramon and Raistlin.  Simon and Garfunkel.  It just works.  And omg, god help anyone who pisses the both of us off…I seriously think that there would be no safe place on earth for someone that we both took a negative shine to.  We are, quintessentially, a team.  Team Young.  Team Amarantine.  Team FUCK YEAH.

And being that we’re both such tough guys, it says a lot that we act like squealing teenage girls around each other.  No pride at all, no problems crying around each other, and no dickwaving except on nights and weekends.  I dig, but don’t personally understand, the stuff he’s into.  Likewise with him, he’s fascinated by my interests but they are not his.  When the Zombie Apocalypse hits, between the two of us we’ll be able to scale cliffs, kick in doors, plan an ambush, hack a terminal (Fallout, how I miss thee), patch a wound, treat an infection, snipe enemies from afar, deliver a silent blade to the liver up close and personal, start a fire, track and hunt and improvise.  That’s how I see us..an unstoppable combined force.  And then there’s all the gooey love junk, too.

Plus, the BATTLE SLED.  (if you’re confused, read down my FB wall a ways)

We both have old hurts to overcome and we are both covered with scars, mental physical and emotional.  Neither of us minds this, and we both accept it in the other.  And I take a certain girlish pleasure in knowing that he would keep me safe, no matter what.  He’s got my back no matter what and I am his #1 priority.

Honestly, I couldn’t ask for much more in a man.  So yeah…no crisis.  Just a frustration that I can’t be with him now.  But come October begins the rest of my life, and for once, I am looking forward to the future with everything I’ve got.

Sorry for the lovey positive update…but it’s true.  I’ll get back to hating later.  :P

ooooooooo “fuckmance”….I likes it.

[Show as slideshow]

It seems abrupt, and it is, but sometimes that’s just how things roll…a matter of timing, instinct and opportunity, a dash of dumb luck, a generous helping of sexual obsession and a sprinkling of blind faith, as well.  I’ve spent a lot of time with more than enough men and for the most part I’m the party unwilling to consider a serious commitment, and as such I don’t make commitments lightly.  I’ll be honest and admit that on paper this does not make the best case for a lifelong commitment.  Trust me, I am all too aware of all the gaps in logic here, because while I may lean to the side of chaos in my actions, I am at heart a rational person.  Rational to the point of cold pragmatism, actually.  But every now and then something hits you just right and you’d be a fool to deny the thing that’s staring you in the face.  Despite the fact that initially I really truly did not see him as being anything more than entertainment and a good time, James (the Death Machine gets a public name now, as befitting his new rank of Husband) has done nothing but consistently impress me, be good to me, and keep his word to me on even the most minor of subjects.  I respect him, which is a rarity for me.  He loves me to the exclusion of all else, which is a first for him.  His flaws accentuate my strengths, and and my flaws make his strengths shine.  I cannot truly explain how important that is to someone who has never experienced that, but in something like a marriage it is of the utmost importance.  He deals with my social reticence, my natural territorialism and my aggression without flinching.  He absolutely trusts me and puts himself on the line to prove it, which does wonders to bolster my confidence in our relationship.  He never, ever gives me shit for being who I am, and he is on my side 100%.  So when he got down on his knees and presented me with this absolutely beautiful antique diamond ring framed by sapphires set in white gold scrollwork, I didn’t even hesitate to say yes.

We got married at the San Francisco City Hall on April 5th with no witnesses and when we said our vows, both of us felt weak in the knees and sort of high afterward.  I suppose we should have an actual ceremony once he returns from his deployment, but personally I couldn’t care less about that.  I think my friends and his family might feel a bit gypped if we don’t, but I truly can’t imagine wtf I would even want to do for a wedding.

However, this whole marriage thing is really reinforcing how totally undomesticated I am.  I am never going to be a housewife, I still dislike children, I will never have a subscription to anything Oprah or Martha-related, there will never be a dinner party at my house, and I have NO IDEA how to deal with the concept of “family”.  His family is pretty normal, extensive and they are all really close to one another, and they basically want to adopt me and bring me into the fold.  That concept is completely alien and terrifying to me.  I’ve never had much in the way of family, and at this point in my life I have not actually seen anyone I am related to by blood since 2005 (and that was only because she was dying of cancer…and the time before that was in 2002 at a funeral so you get the idea of how close we are).  Even my closest friends who live locally don’t see me for months at a time.  People who know me accept this as a normal part of my behavior.  But now I suddenly have this whole extended family that wants to get to know me and I feel like burying my head in the sand.  Really, I can’t even begin to explain how totally uncomfortable I am with that idea.  I form bonds with singular people in private situations, and never with groups casually.  The fact that my name is Malice and I have a public and highly controversial persona that they can easily look up also makes me a bit uncomfortable, just because I don’t want to deal with any OMG-ing.  That part is probably PTSD left over from Mark’s mom fucking stalking me online, though…jesus christ I couldn’t stand that woman.

So, honestly, I hope that anyone who knows the man I’m married to can understand that I’m not the kind of girl who goes into estrogen overload and begins squealing at babies or romantic comedies and family stuff and wants to make dinner with you and have a girl’s nights out.  I’m essentially a wild animal.  I mean well, but I do not warm up quickly or easily.  I prefer to keep my distance even when I’m comfortable with people, which is never a quick or easy process in itself.  It is never my intention to be rude or unfriendly – I am just something of a distant person by both nature and nurture.  It’s also worth noting that I’m typically extremely blunt and lack a filter for my thoughts.  So I can’t promise that I’ll be the friendly little family-oriented thing that you probably expect me to be.  What I can promise is that I take my word very seriously, and that I will do right by James and take care of him.  That’s the important part, right?  The rest will happen naturally with time, or not.

Felt like this should be said since I’m getting email from his family via the contact form on this website (ummmm awkward) and James has apparently been running interference for me to keep me from being overwhelmed.  He’s not here to do that now, so…best this is understood lest my natural reticence be mistaken for an attitude problem.

To sum up – yeah, I’m pretty happy, and I’m completely serious and totally in love with the man.  Everything else is secondary.  <3

seculo seculorum 

However, he finally arrives for his 10 day leave on Saturday evening.  He’ll be half-dead, I bet…it takes 5 days of boring, uncomfortable, sleepless layovers to get from Afghanistan to California.  Somehow I doubt we’ll be doing much sleeping on Saturday night, though, but he’s a tough boy and I’m sure he will manage.  After a day or so of recovery time, we have 2 nights booked in this room at a hotel/spa called the Bardessono.  I mean, this place is amazing.  We’ll have our own private steam room, a jacuzzi tub, plus an outside shower in our private courtyard.  That just sounds like sexual Disneyland to me and I’m about fit to pop with excitement.  We’re staying in the room and ordering room service and spoiling ourselves and each other just because we can.

The next day, I think he is going to see his family…with me in tow.  I hate meeting people’s parents, that’s always super awkward for me.  I guess we’ll see how that one goes.  Next to him I’ll probably seem pretty normal, anyway, so maybe that won’t suck too much.  The next night I got us tickets to see Henry Rollins, who we’re both big fans of.  And after that…who knows, we’ll have most of a week left to get sick of each other.  My job gave me the okay to take as much time off as I want while he’s in town, so it should be a really fun, laid-back week.  My perception of “laid back” does not exactly = relaxing, though, since I’ll be in sexual overdrive the entire time.

In case it’s not incredibly obvious, I am madly looking forward to shredding my months-long stint of celibacy.  Jesus christ I really am not cut out for keeping my clothes on.  The only thing that’s made it bearable is the fact that all the sex I’ve had in the last half a year other than with him has been tragically disappointing.  It’s a lot easier to focus on one person who is far away when sex with other people is lame by comparison.  And besides, the man spoils me fucking rotten and looks like a god with his clothes off – I’m quite happy with my lot in life at the moment.

I am super excited.  Hopefully nothing gay happens to ruin it because I am really looking forward to this visit.  *scream*

(funny how the moniker “the death machine” was actually originally intended as a bit of a sarcastic insult, but has since become a legitimate term of endearment…oh, life.)

People mean different things when they ask me this.  Some refer to my ability to shrug off criticism and flaming without every letting it bother me.  I suppose others are probably referencing the fact that I continually get myself into situations where I end up feeling hurt, and then I turn it into an internet laugh-fest and move on without any apparent damage.  The answer has a lot of facets to it, not all of which I can touch on here, but I’ll try to hit on the more important points.

First and foremost, if you have never taken the time to discover yourself, then you have nothing to stay true to.  Discovering yourself means seeing yourself for what you really are, as opposed to what you want to be or what you wish you were not.  Everyone is damaged, everyone has insecurities, and everyone has strong points, too.  Most people will never be the “best” at anything they do, but they will excel at something.  Knowing yourself is as simple (and as seemingly impossible) as taking honest stock of all of these things, accepting the things you can’t change, working on the things you think you can, and being proud of the things that you’re good at.  And then making yourself great at them.  It doesn’t matter what those things are or how they relate to the outside world because the outside world does not come into this equation whatsoever.  This is an entirely internal personal process, and not about proving anything to anyone…not even yourself.

Once you’ve come to grips with who you are, taken stock of your faults and given yourself credit for your strengths – an already difficult process that may very well destroy your ego as you know it if done correctly – you must take the even harder step of accepting it.  Do NOT fall into the trap of self-loathers where nothing is ever good enough.  It is great to push yourself and achieve and not become complacent, but it is weak-minded to get down on yourself and lay blame for your imperfections and then wallow in them.  In some ways, you will suck.  Everyone does.  Maybe it’s your short legs or your poor spelling or the fact that you’re shy or that you can’t stand up for yourself or that you’ll never really be thin.  That’s all fine if you can accept it.  Bragging about your flaws and trying to turn them into good points, or hating yourself for not being better in those areas, is a far greater failure than your inherent flaws will ever be.  You have one skin in this life – learn to become comfortable within it.

The third step is in the becoming.  Become who you are, and not just who you’d prefer everyone else think you are or should be.  Is your purpose in life to prove some inane bullshit to other people?  Is that your goal?  I should hope not.  If you can own your flaws, they will often become your strengths, or at the very least, cease to be such glaring weaknesses.  If your written communication sucks and you just don’t have the knack for it no matter how hard you try, work on other ways of communicating.  Develop your speech.  Develop your body language.  There is always more than one way to work with what you’ve got.  Not strong?  Be smart.  Neither smart or strong?  Be empathetic and reliable.  Develop what you are, and make it your own.

The last major step is to cease questioning yourself, while remaining inquisitive.  I’ll explain.  To question yourself is to constantly second guess your own motives or reactions in an anxious, paranoid, or otherwise negative way.  If you are still doing this, then you are not at this phase of your life yet and you have a lot more work to do.  Remaining inquisitive is different – that’s the process of double checking, seeing things from different viewpoints, cross referencing your actions with your philosophical, moral and ethical boundaries, and making sure you keep yourself in line with what you deem are your limits.  Note that I said “what you deem”…not what someone else deems as being acceptable limits.  You are an adult.  Your life is yours.  Again – own it.

Once you’ve come to terms with yourself, other people will be hard pressed to make a dent in that.  If they do, then consider: are you as centered as you think?  If you believe the answer is yes, then perhaps this person is posing a viewpoint that you had not yet considered and you potentially have something more to learn, as we all do.  This is a good thing.  Or perhaps this person is incredibly special and touches you in those precious soft areas of your soul that should always exist, but perhaps not necessarily be in plain view.  That’s something to handle carefully, but also something that can potentially bring you great joy if their intentions are good.  But knowing other people is a completely different process, and not relevant to this post.

For my part, I choose to take everything as a compliment.  Everything.  If they’re going out of their way to bring me down, then clearly they see me as being above them.  If they are angry, then clearly I have the power to effect them.  If they hate me, even more so.  If they spend the time to pick apart my physical flaws, it’s because they’re horribly intimidated by the rest of me.  Whether or not this is actually true is of no merit.  The important part is that this is how I choose to perceive it, and therefore gain near-immunity.  In those rare instances where someone actually gets under my skin – and I don’t mean pisses me off cuz that’s not special at all, I mean when they manage something that *really bothers me* – then I take the time to reflect on why and what I can do about it.  And then I am, in my way, thankful for their criticism for bringing to light a potential weakness that I can either work on or learn to accept as a part of myself and develop a coping strategy around.  That feedback is valuable.

So, in short, nowadays when someone calls me offensive, machiavellian, or a sociopath, I simply take that as my due.  When they insult me physically, I laugh at their obvious insecurity.  If they insult my intelligence, I go into paroxysms of hysteria trying to imagine what kind of completely retarded jackass someone would have to be to read even a single thing I’ve written and somehow still come to the conclusion that I am anything other than extremely intelligent.  Call me a slut, and I’ll say “only sometimes”.  Say I’m a user and I’ll correct you, with examples.  And so it goes.

I’m far from being the complete samurai that I wish I was on this topic.  When I really like someone I’m still shy and insecure.  I still fly off the handle with my rotten fucking temper when my hot buttons get pushed.  I still fuck up and make mistakes.  But I can admit to all of these things, and more importantly, I am embarrassed by none of them.  That gives me the groundwork for building the fortress that is my personality.

I am not hiding within that fortress – I AM that fortress, beautiful and built to withstand siege.

None of this is easy.  I have to constantly correct myself and forcibly disallow certain habits and behaviors from becoming truly routine and thus slipping under the radar.  The way I personally manage that is by allowing myself a certain amount of almost every vice I desire.  There are periods of time where I will drink to excess and I feel no guilt over that, because I’ll stop drinking entirely for a month or two and never break a sweat about it.  I will let my temper rage because I respect the fact that aggression is an inherent part of my nature and is a healthy way for me to blow off steam.  If I feel like it, I’ll toss whatever sexual morals I abide by and live in the moment for a brief period, always aware that I will return to the rules shortly.  So, in my case, the answer is not denial in any sense of the word, but in moderation.  Fuck yes I’ll eat that double quarter pounder if I feel like it today, I just won’t regularly.  I’ll maintain my anti-drug stance, but I’ll take a hallucinogen a couple times a year and watch the pretty lights.  I will avoid casual sex unless there is a worthwhile reason for me to do otherwise.  And so on and so on…it makes my limits tolerable and workable.  I am no priest.  We’ve seen what happens there.

Now, there ARE hard set rules that I will never break.  For example, I will never lie to the face of someone I respect.  I will never backstab a friend.  I will never do less than put myself completely on the line for something I strongly believe in.  And if I fuck up, I will not attempt so justify my poor behavior and I will own up to my shit.  On these points, I am implacable.

So, yes, I’m pretty comfortable with myself, though totally aware that some things could be better.  When someone brings up my faults, there’s no shock or  horror involved.  I know myself very well, have spent my entire life learning how to live with myself, and while a work in process, man, it’s all gravy.

And the best part?  Once you truly accept yourself, other people naturally accept you as well.  This is why although I’m an unrepentant carnivore, I have plenty of vegetarian and vegan friends who never try to convert me.  It’s why all my various multi-ethnic friends don’t get offended at my neverending racial humor.  It’s why my friends do not get sick of my shit and abandon me when things get bad.  Do it, and you’ll see what I mean.

I am who I am and will be who I will be, and anyone who meets me knows that this is not up for discussion.  As far as I’m concerned, there is no other option.  All is as it should be.

These actually are not photoshopped – the effects are from the Android app “Vignette”, which I love dearly.  And I’m not wearing false eyelashes, either…that’s the effect of using Latisse for months.  It actually does make your eyelashes grow crazy long.  Expensive shit, but you see the results.  Shazam!  I’ve been using it for about 6 months now.

Anyway, I was just taking pictures for my boy.  Most of them I can’t/won’t put on here  But I’ll give you a taste of my present-day camwhoring abilities.

I haven’t worked out regularly since something like 2004, btw.  One of these days all this sedentary lifestyle will catch up to me, but until then, I’ll annoyingly revel in my genetics.  :D

A lot of this is happening just because I’m so sexually frustrated.  It’s starting to make a pervert out of me in a big way.  Like, seriously.