Lately I've felt as though I warped back in time and I'm once again in high school. I find myself gazing out the window, moonily staring at nothing but with my head full of silly notions. Flowers, hand-holding, long talks possess my thoughts during the daylight hours. It's the thoughts that take over at night that are much more fun but so much more frustrating. Do we ever outgrow crushes? They're so adolescent in their purity and innocence but incredibly maddening when you know nothing is going to come of it.

As adults, there are myriad reasons why we fall victim to unrequited admiration. Sometimes the object of our hormones is spoken for or they're out of our league in some way or another or we encounter them online and the distance quashes any possibility of the natural progression of attraction. Oh but they can be so enjoyable for awhile.

And if a person is ever so fortunate as to have their crush show reciprocal feelings. That's better than any drug - it has to be. I've had that happen one time that I know of. It was amazing. That was with Marvin the Martian so many years ago. I can still remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I opened my apartment door and there he stood, the man I'd been fantasizing about for weeks. The heat that soared in my blood the first time I realized he wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss him. God I miss that. Not him, necessarily. Just that feeling, that realization, that awareness.

Insert longing sigh here. Intellectually, I know I won't be alone forever. There will be more men in my life. I'm crushing on a few different guys at this point in time but reality has a way of putting a damper on things. It's interesting, isn't it - how distances are measured in more than mere miles.

If men could menstruate … clearly, menstruation would become an enviable, boast-worthy, masculine event: Men would brag about how long and how much. … Sanitary supplies would be federally funded and free. Of course, some men would still pay for the prestige of such commercial brands as Paul Newman Tampons, Muhammad Ali's Rope-a-Dope Pads, John Wayne Maxi Pads, and Joe Namath Jock Shields-"For Those Light Bachelor Days." - Gloria Steinem

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This remarkable piece of artwork came from this blog. "On the Rag and Proud of It: Celebrating Menstruation!!" A very interesting piece about Aunt Flo.

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Some random menstrual facts:

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  According to the Hebrew Talmud, if at the beginning of her period a woman passes between two men, she kills one of them. If she goes between them towards the end of her period, she only causes them to quarrel violently.
  
  
• 
  
  The average woman has approximately 500 periods in her lifetime.
  
  
• 
  
  She’ll also eat about 35,000 cookies.
  
  
• 
  
  The length of the vagina will increase by as much as 50% by the time a girl has fully matured.
  
  
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  The eye and the vagina are the only self-cleaning organs.
  
  
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  The vagina is approximately 10 cm long.
  
  
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  Other things approximately 10cm long
  
  
  
  
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    a small banana
    
    
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    Cell phone
  
  
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  Estrogen hormone levels can increase by seven times during the normal menstrual cycle.
  
  
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  PMS is caused by these hormone changes.
  
  
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  Chocolate is the #1 food craved by women during PMS.
  
  
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  Chocolate contains phenylethylamine -- the same chemical your brain produces when you fall in love.
  
  
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  White chocolate isn’t really chocolate.
  
  
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  A woman's body temperature rises by .5 to 1 degree every month after ovulation.
  
  
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  A calorie is the energy needed to raise 1 gram of water 1 degree Celsius
  
  
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  Number of Calories in a chicken burrito- 286
  
  
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  In a beef taco- 369
  
  
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  In 2 slices of frozen pepperoni pizza- 534
  
  
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  Approximately 1 out of 5 women can feel themselves ovulate or ovulation's immediate effects.
  
  
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  1 out of 4 Americans has appeared on television.
  
  
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  1 out of 3 dog owners has talked to their pet on the phone.
  
  
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  1 out of 2 billion people will live to 116.
  
  
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  Women have used tampons for thousands of years- no one knows who came up with the idea of internal feminine protection. Tampax, the first commercially successful tampon, has been around for over 60 years.

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"Midol" Parody by Mikerz

"Lucky" Based on the performance by Britney Spears

Author's Note: When reading (or singing) this parody to the tune of "Lucky", it is imperative that the reader clearly understands and pronounces each syllable, especially if it's a four-syllable word in place of four, one-syllable words. Some words you may need help pronouncing correctly: Menstruation - Men·stru·a·tion, Irritable - Ir·ri·ta·ble, and Menopausal - Men·o·paus·al. If you don't pronounce the words correctly, the timing will seem off, and I work extremely hard on perfecting my timing. The only reason I bring these points up is because I found myself, the writer of this parody, saying the aforementioned words incorrectly, more often than not, by combining syllables.

This is a story about why girls need Midol...

Major cramping, bloating too
Pound, pound, pounding headache
Excedrin Migraine, two capsules
Is all it takes to feel great
They go...
"Isn't she grouchy, when PMS strikes?"
And they say…

She needs Midol, she's a bitch
And she scream, scream, screams when her jeans don't fit, pleading
I need tampons, any brand will do
Menstruation please be through soon

Hot and cold flashes, swollen feet
Not to mention she's irritable
And her head feels queasy, her stomach's uneasy
She can't wait to be menopausal
They go...
"Isn't she grouchy, when PMS strikes?"
And they say…

She needs Midol, she's a bitch
And she scream, scream, screams when her jeans don't fit, pleading
I need tampons, any brand will do
Menstruation please be through soon

"Best relief, and the winner is . . . Midol!"
"I'm a woman standing inside a drugstore fighting over the last box of Midol"
"Stupid bitch . . . give me that!"

"Isn't she grouchy, when PMS strikes?"

She needs some Midol, and boy does she scream
I need some tampons, any brand will do
Menstruation be through
And they say...

She needs Midol, she's a bitch
And she scream, scream, screams when her jeans don't fit, pleading
I need tampons, any brand will do
Menstruation please be through soon

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This entry brought to you by....

Well today I figured I'd blog about this thought that's been chewing up the inside of my brain for the past few months. I have a tendency to place people whom I initially find impressive up on a sort of pedestal. A honeymoon period, if you will. During this time, everything is shiny, new, and intoxicating. Pleasure is derived simply from being in the person's presence. I can't wait to see what they have to say or what they've been doing because it's a joyous learning experience for me to be privy to them.

And is often the case with marriages, after the honeymoon period comes the reality check. The shiny exterior begins to tarnish. I see actions, hear words that show people as the imperfect entities they are. The pedestal crumbles and suddenly I'm eye to eye with the object of my esteem. Sometimes this is fine. Their imperfections bring them to my level, make them real and I'm able to get to know them in an entirely different way. Other times, seeing what their choices or actions or words reveal about them comes with disappointment. I don't want to know that this person who I've held in such high regard has flaws. I want to keep them perfect in an air-tight container so I can continue to be entertained by them, continue to marvel at their magnificence.

But that's not how life works. That's not how humanity works. We're all imperfect. We all do stupid things, hurtful things, cruel things - whether they are intentional or not - this is the reality. Normally I glory in those imperfections because often times they are what makes life interesting. Growth and maturity are born out of the horrible, stupid things we do.

I've learned to reconcile that bite of disappointment in finding out my idols aren't all they seem to be. Because honestly, would I really want to learn from someone who's never screwed up? Someone who's never known what it's like to hurt another person and feel the remorse and sadness that inherently follows? How else would we know not to be cruel, indifferent and do all those other terrible things we do to each other without having done them before and feeling what it's like?

Because you can't take someone's word for that. Your parents, your elders, your friends can all tell you that being mean isn't good but until you're mean to someone you care about, you won't get it. When you're a child and you break your friend's toy just because you're pissed off that the toy isn't yours, that brief joy you feel in his or her pain quickly turns to guilt and sadness when you see their tears. When you judge someone based on the color of their skin or on their place in society and feel the sting of embarrassment of being so stupid, you know that's something you don't want to ever feel again.

Does any of this stop me from admiring and idolizing others? Not really. Why else would I lust after famous actors whose physical appearance embodies my ideal of perfection? Why else would I moon over other people I encounter because they have personality traits that amaze the hell out of me? That disappointment at finding out a person's true colors is why I'd rather not ever meet Kiefer Sutherland or hang out with Johnny Depp. I don't want my idealized versions of them to be destroyed. I want to be able to keep them all shiny and wonderful in my mind.

In fact, there are some people here on Xanga that given the opportunity to meet them, I'd probably pass. Because how well can you get to know someone merely by reading their blog? Truthfully, not that well. You see the person they want you to see. As honest and revealing as their writing may be, you're still not getting the entire picture. You're not seeing for yourself how they act when they pass a homeless person on the street. You're not truly seeing the reaction in their eyes when they meet a person with some kind of disfigurement. You don't see if they've got their closet compulsively organized by color, type of clothing, every item wrapped in plastic. You don't see if they pick their teeth with their fingernails after a meal. Things that would completely change your view of them, or at least annoy the hell out of you.

The thing of it is, I need to have idols. I need to have people who embody traits I want to have. It's helped me enormously seeing people who act ways, do things, feel things, say words that I want to emulate. To have an example on which to base aspects of myself. Throughout my life, there have been people, some famous - some not, whom I admired and who profoundly affected me and helped to shape who I am today.

I suppose the point of all this nonsense is that sometimes it's good and it's ok to leave idols all shiny in their plastic wrap. I don't need to eviscerate the inner workings of everyone I admire and fumble around in their innards. I can see their goodness and wisdom and glean what I need from that. That when I have a choice, occasionally it's better to leave the pedestal intact.