I'm - emotional.

No, maybe irritable is the right word. I want to throw a huge temper tantrum, and I've got utterly no reason to do so. Home is wonderful, we get paid tonight, work is - well, it's a pain in my ass, but that's normal, and I'm still not knocked up.

I think that might be it. That might be the root cause of the general over-emotionalness of -everything. It's vaguely PMSy feeling, actually, with the sense of something being 'off' inside my head, and utterly unaffected by what I'm doing out here.

I'm still reading cbirth, and still vacilliating back and forth. Well, not really, I'm debating prenatal care, now. I haven't met the local midwife (the only one I'm willing to use), and I'm hoping - yet not - that we don't hit if off, and then, it'll leave me a clearer path.

I'm considering going to a family doctor, but how many of them do prenatal care, anymore? That's all the realm of an OB - like I really need one to have me pee in a cup and weigh me and write a slip for an ultrasound. Then, I'm also still considering the OB/GYN that I've gone to before - a really cool, seemingly laid back black lady. I don't know - she had a small practice, and she SEEMED aiight - though I do remember tsking over the fact that she had a 'how to prepare for your c-section' pamphlet, but didn't have any breastfeeding ones.

And then, I'm thinking about the hospitals, in general. This town sucks, seriously, when it comes to hospitals - the one that I've doula'd in, I wouldn't birth in if you paid me to - besides, it's too far away. The one up the street from us, I've never been to - but I think I might check it out.

It's rather goofy of me to be worrying over all this, considering I'm not even partially pregnant yet - but it's the last little 'gnawing' worry that I have. I want to talk to A - but I feel - funny, somehow, emailing her ahead of time.

I've also decided that I'm going to go through this journal, and try to remove as many references to my actual location as possible. My name is out there, but that's okay - it won't help anyone find me.

*sigh* What an ugly and confusing mix of paranoia, fear, melencholy, and hope.

Conflict

I hate hate hate when I have a plan all laid out in my head, and then someone comes along who I respect and makes a suggestion that TOTALLY hoses my plans.
I KNOW that I want to be a midwife, but there are a couple of different paths to take, and each kind has its own benefits and disadvantages. The thing that makes this even more delicate is the fact that what midwife needs to legally practice and attend homebirths varies from state to state.
And I SOOO don't want this to end up being about money - at the same time I know that if I take the CNM path, not only is there a possibility of being able to get a grant or a fellowship, I would also be almost guarenteed a job after completion. And while I could work in a hospital (which is always a good fallback) I'd much rather work in a birthing center or attend homebirths. However, the glitter of a job is rather distracting.
What do I want? I want to help families birth their children naturally, in an environment that supports their desires. I read a book called Giving Birth over the weekend that described the working environment of nursemidwives in SkyWay Hospital, which is one of the most midwife integrated hospitals in the US, and it was HORRID. They were wonderful examples of MEDwives rather than miwives. So... that along with other hospital experiences and just the general 'sick until proven healthy' attitudes that most hospitals have towards birthing mothers - UGH. I don't want to have to fight an uphill battle with my job and with politics.
I'm actually a little scared - I feel like suddenly I've been pushed to the edge and I have to make a choice. Not right this minute - but - the choice has to be made and nothing is certain in my mind.

Illusions

We all hold precious illusions. I know have ideas that are so dangerously close to being the foundation of my world view that I dare not look at them too close or my world might crumble in.
I've tried to root out those unrealistic views of the world - to rid myself of the illusions that I use to justify myself. Most of the time, it's nearly impossible - like trying to reach the end of a rainbow. Other times, assumptions will just POP into my head and I'm forced to stop and think about where that came from, and I realize I have this seed of 'whatever' buried in me that I never knew existed.

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I wanted to write about rainbows. I saw four last week, two double sets. I had to put on my sunglasses to see them clearly, but I could see the full arch of both of them. I'm still amazed by rainbows. I alwayshave this urge to hunt for the end of one, simply so that I can say that I've stood in the same spot a rainbow touched. My head calmly tells me that such a thing is impossible, becase rainbows are nothing but an illusion - but the child in me still challanges me to go and see. Somehow, I always manageto silence her. Poor thing.

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My tattoo doesn't look ugly yet, but I can tell that it's almost completely scabbed over. The black isn't solid black anymore - instead it's black with grayish cracking lines running through it from when my skin twists and bends as I move. I can run my fingers lightly over it and feel the inked bits - they are nubbly and raised. They constrast suddenly and sharply with the smooth, soft bits of my skin that are between the lines. I rub my thigh and contemplate the braille of my body. Of course - I quickly snatch my wandering hands away since H. told me NOT to rub my grubby little fingers all over it, but eh. Whatever.

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Porn. I can't really get into it - it's just SO fake. Most porn makes me laugh. I'm not saying that it doesn't turn me on just a wee bit, but honestly I'd rather have a good toe-tingling, eye-blurring, knee-weakening kiss. I'm not tempted to burst out laughing at that - which for some odd reason seems to spoil the mood with porn. I've been told that there IS good porn out there - where the women - while not models, at least look GOOD - and are NATURAL. I mean - what's UP with the Dragon Lady claws? And the BOOBS! Oh heavens - don't even get my started on the utter lack of anything interesting between either the virtual lack of boobs to the silicone wonders. I want some porn where the men look like theyv'e bathed recently, rather than looking grubby, sweaty and oil coated. Where is the porn in which the cum shots are real and so are the moans??
Eh. Maybe I should become a producer.

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One of the random things I want to do before I die? I want to see a ghost.

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I was talking to one of my coworkers today, and she said "Childbirth is the closest most women come to death before they actually die." I was so flabbergasted I didn't know WHAT to say. I mean - WTF? I asked her for a more detailed reasoning behind that statement and she said "Ya know, all the blood and stuff." Once again, see me looking REAL stunned. I mean, how do you even START with someone who has that level of fear of such a NATURAL process stuck in them? How do you even begin to convince them that women have been doing this for as long as humanity has been around, and it's NOT as bloody dangerous/risky/bad as American medical science would have us believe? She'd most likely be one of those caring neighbors who would call the cops on a woman having a homebirth.

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I'm liking the bars today. This has been an odd collections of thoughts that have been bubbling around in my mind. It's actually procrastination. I'm thinking about starting up a business, and I'm starting to feel like its a really stupid idea in an already over saturated environment, and like my mom said The dot.com world is dead. I love her dearly, but sometimes - DAMN that woman. Anyhow - I really should be reading one of the books I have on small business start ups and how to advertise and all that junk - but instead I'm enjoying my new clikcity clackity keyboard by writing this long rambly entry. At the same time, I'm religiously checking The Agonist , and chatting to C. about why Corey was most strongly against us collaborating on a book of erotic fiction.
I don't know if I will ever be - worthwhile. In no way being morbid, but I could vanish off the face of the earth today, and very few people would truly miss the effect/contribution I've had to their lives. And - I'm not sure if I'm okay with that. I know that I don't want to be famous - but I do want to be - vital. Needed. Important in some way to people beyond those I call family. I wonder sometimes if that is why I want children so badly - so that I can have something that depends on ME and that I'm important to. Ugh. I certainly hope not - that would be horrid for both me & the children.

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hm. I think my issue with porn is the illusion of desire. How can there be pleasure in sex without desire?