2004-12-03 - 7:07 p.m.
The only place I ever feel like I am doing anything right is when I am on the massage table. Isn't that crazy? I am so paranoid everywhere I go that I am not doing things right, that I am annoying people, that I am frustrating someone, that I am just a simple nuisance...except when I am getting a massage. I always get this feeling that I am a joy to work on. Maybe that is because when I was doing massage I always hoped for someone like me. Someone that would just kind of melt into the table and let their body be trusted in the hands of another. I always wished that people weren't so inhibited, so aware of the blanket covering them and always trying to pull the blanket here and there to cover parts of their body I never would have seen anyway. I mean, we were TRAINED with fancy tricks to keep the towel or blanket where it was supposed to be. I always wished for someone that would be okay with just taking off everything instead of leaving underwear on, or even a bra. Because you can get to so many more places (without intruding into those secret spots) when someone completely disrobes. So maybe that is why I feel perfectly wonderful when I am getting a massage, because I know who the perfect client is. I AM the perfect client. But then again...I also know who the perfect customer at a restaurant is...and it is never me. I am very paranoid when eating out that I am annoying the server. I don't know. More than the massage, it is just a good feeling to feel as though I was a joy to work on. I actually had a massage therapist tell me that one time...that it was really nice to work with (on) me.
Anyway...I had a pretty good birthday. We drank entirely too much strong coffee at work today and we were all kind of wired and the talk, for most of the day after we got wired, was about dirty, nasty, taboo sex. We were getting some strange kick out of breaking into a conversation about something like how effective Analease (though none of us even knew what it was really) was whenever someone would walk back into the servers aisle. They acted all disgusted with us, but they kept coming back, more than usual. Had lots of cookies and Kathy brought me a kind of baklava sort of thing and I ate a mango for lunch. Then I came home and took a nap and woke up to someone knocking at my door and it was the UPS guy with a box. Now, when I get up from a nap I go into this really strange space of being. I am a complete zombie and all I can think about is sugar. I just shove stuff into my mouth, after a nap, trying to get rid of my coma like state. Anyway, inside the box was chocolate, from my best friend. From some fancy organic company that makes these homemade, handmade chocolates. Fancy chocolate. And I sat in front of the front door and ate the entire box within three minutes. I couldn't help it, it was very bad timing for chocolate to arrive at my door.
So then I took a bath.
And then I got a massage.
And the massage was nice but I am still looking for a perfect massage therapist. It's so odd...but this guy at work gives the most incredible shoulder massages...I mean, he is the BEST. I would seriously pay him whatever kind of money he wanted to get a whole massage from him. I want him to go to school for massage because he would be incredible. (but his girlfriend "won't let him.") I just want a massage where someone can make my shoulders feel like they do when Billy rubs them.
And now I am going to bed.
I really wish I had gone to Chicago. I think I really screwed up.|
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