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I am noticing an odd thing about reQuest 2018.

This is billed as a "I wish noder X would write more about ______".

A search of my posted nodes makes it quite clear that the write ups that get C!ed are my medical ones. Yet yesterday there was still not one reQuest for a medical node.

So what is going on here and is anyone else a bit mystified?

Now, one thing that could be happening: I did not have time to read all of those noders' writeups. Holidays, travel, busy. I did do some reQuests, sometimes of nodeshells. A few people have no nodeshells. Admirable restraint! But it's lazy on my part, right? Though I thought it would be nice to be sure that every noder had reQuests....

I want to say that if any of the reQuests are related to E2 history that people don't really want to relive, cross that one out. People may have made reQuests not realizing a history behind that nodeshell, or that it brings up the fallen, the dead, the fled, the gone.

If we really want to reQuest that people write more stuff that we like, we (or at least I) need more time to read the top 5 nodes by that person... say a year for all the participants. And then, what if I DON'T like that noder's writing...

Take care.

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin, dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in, lift me like an olive branch, be my homeward dove, dance me, to the end, of love...


My dream begins at a sporting event, but it's unclear why I'm there. I was led to believe we would be watching something other than football, I'm heading out when I see this guy from work who is wearing a shirt that's been printed with some team logo that I can't read. I tell him I'll see him later and he asks if I'm going to watch the game. I shake my head, not wanting to get into it with him. He glances back and then starts to follow me down the concourse. Other people from work are packing up leftover food and then I feel bad for the woman who is standing near a pile of greasy brats and aging burgers since she's a vegan. I stop to talk to her, I don't see the guy anywhere so I assume he must have left. I empathize with my friend for a moment before she tells me she has to get going. I turn around and all of a sudden I see the guy again. I start walking to my car and ask if he wants to come over to my place. Neither of us say anything about sex, dance me to your beauty with a burning violin, it's pretty much a foregone conclusion, but we both treat this like it's no big deal.

Once we're at my place we lay down on the floor and I find some music on my phone. I ask what he wants to do, but he doesn't say anything. Our hands are close enough to touch, but nobody wants to make the first move. Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in... The music is captivating, we let the song finish and suddenly I'm incredibly tired. I move closer to him, lay my head on his chest, and pull his arm around me. He seems okay with this, I tell him I'm going to take a nap and he says he will too. This is weird, but I have a dream while I'm dreaming. My hands are above my head, he's holding both of my wrists and smiling, I could easily break free, but I pretend I'm being held hostage. I knew he would be good at this. A new song starts playing, I wake up, and all of a sudden I realize that the reason nothing had happened earlier is because I had played the wrong music. He isn't saying anything, he has kaleidoscope eyes, every time I see them from a different angle they change.

Whatever happens next ruins the moment. He lays back down, I ask him what's wrong, but he doesn't say anything. I leave him alone for a while to be with his thoughts, then I touch his arm very lightly and ask if he's ever thought about becoming a massage therapist. He either says no or shakes his head. I tell him to lie on his stomach, he doesn't want to, but I put my hands on his hip and shoulder and give him a gentle shove so he rolls over, and even though I can tell he's taking his mood out on me, he's really upset with himself. For a moment I let him just be. Then I kiss this spot I've always wanted to taste and place my fingers in the hollows under his ear where his jaw is tight. I put pressure there until he asks what I'm doing. I tell him I think his jaw is tight, I can feel it, then I start moving over his cheekbone, he's confused and I tell him to stop thinking and just feel. Lift me like an olive brance, be my homeword dove (seriously how cheesy are these lyrics, but I can't be held responsible for my dreams...)

After a while he tells me that whatever I'm doing feels really good. I move up to the bridge of his nose and smooth out his eyebrows. I pick up his right hand and find the tight spots there. I tell him that he doesn't have to become a massage therapist, but I know he'd be great because we're good at a lot of the same things. I just want him to think about it, I give him a list of reasons why I think he would be amazing, but he remains unconvinced so I let it drop until he asks why I didn't go into it. I tell him one of the reasons he would be good is because he's very intuitive, but he can detach. I press on a spot in his back, his voice changes, it sounds like he wants to cry, but he isn't sad, he's just that incredibly frustrated. I let him be until I pick up his hand and put it near my left elbow. I show his fiingers how to feel the tension, he learns the technique quickly and all of a sudden I'm whimpering. The room is dark, I put my hands under his shirt, touch me with your naked hand, touch me with your glove, a new song is playing and I laughingly tell him I've never had a sexual encounter that started at my elbow before.

When we're done I burst into tears, he lets me cry and moves down to work on my ankle. I tell him he's a healer, I can tell he's smiling in the dark, but he doesn't say anything as his fingers apply pressure to a spot that's incredibly sore. I have a wedding that I have to go to, Dance me to the end of love starts playing. I throw a shirt at him, he says my name and tells me thanks. I kiss him the way I wanted to earlier, there's a child size chair in our way. He holds me with one arm and moves the chair with the other. I stretch him out on the floor, the music is so incredibly loud neither of us could hear anything even if we were talking, but we don't require words. We start playing a game where we find the spots that need attention and work on them until the other person starts kissing us. I bite his shoulder playfully, he holds me away from him, takes my forearm, and licks it before he puts his teeth around it.

He doesn't actually bite me, but he makes me think that he could, I tell him he's full of surprises, he smiles wickedly, twists my arm, and both of us jump when there's a knock at the door. One of my sisters asks if I'm ready to leave, I hear the shower going and tell her I'll be out in a minute. My hair is a mess, I have several suspicious pinkish red marks from being massaged, and he's not supposed to be there. I ask him to grab a sweater down for me, he asks which one and I tell him it doesn't matter since they're all the same color. He stands up and a collection of board games and puzzles come crashing down around us. My sister asks if everything is okay, I tell her it is, I look into his eyes and dump an open puzzle on top of his head. Once he recovers he flings a bunch of pieces at me, I hurl Scrabble tiles at him, one of them bounces off of his cheek and for a moment I think he's really mad at me because he shoves me into a corner of the closet. The door opens, the music is deafening, my sister sees the game pieces lying on the floor and snaps at me to get ready. Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn.

I have no idea how he escapes notice because we're standing right behind the door and I feel like my sister has to see him, but apparently she doesn't. He asks what time the wedding is, I tell him I'd have to look at the invitation, he raises an eyebrow at me, I glare at him, grab my sweater and hear my sister ask if I'm going to shower before we leave. I grab a stress relieving stick, trace it down the inside of his left arm, kiss his stomach, turn his waist around, and write 'Jessica Was Here' in huge letters across his back before I flip the stick at him. He catches it, smiles, removes the cap, and inhales deeply. My sister opens the door again, she yanks on my arm, I'm still half dressed, we both smell like sex, and I wish I could blow off the wedding entirely, but his eyes tell me that he knows I have to leave. My last memory is him picking up puzzle pieces that have fallen on the pile of pillows that had been neatly stacked before our adventures in my closet. I wake up and want to cry it was so real, but then I grab a pair of jeans and take my daughter to school.


Today I had to work at four so I told my daughter to be ready as soon as I arrived. I sit and wait. I start getting angry, I go inside and ask to have her paged. The receptionist tells me they aren't supposed to page students after school is out, the only other time I had to interact with her was when my father died and I had to pick Jill up from school early. She sucks and I would fire her. These people are supposed to be helping parents, not hindering them. I have Jill paged a second time, I sent a text to Jill's dad and he said I should just leave her at school, but then I see Jill and text him back to tell her that we're going straight to my work since I no longer have time to drive her home and make it to work on time. Actually I probably could have made it, but driving when I'm furious is a bad idea and I know it. I remember I have to stop at the bank, I tried paying a bill for $1.19 using my debit card and the company says they can't process the charge because my zip code isn't matching with their records. 

By the time I get to work I'm in a slightly better mood. The tellers at the bank are almost always fabulous, I can't remember if I wrote about how amazing the crew at the oil change place in town was, years ago I had gone there because the manager was so amazing. He left, I started going to a place that was closer to work. Yesterday was interesting. Right away I like the guy's attitude when he approached me, friendly, but not overly so, I'm there for a while waiting until he comes back out and tells me Ii can get in sooner if I go to a different bay. Another man greets me, I was having a day so I wasn't super polite, he gives me a look and I give him one back, he goes through my options until he gets to the type of oil I want, explaining the grades as if I don't know the difference, but I sit there because I know his boss has the team give everyone the same spiel.

By the time he tells me to please remove my keys I'm over the whole thing, but there's not much to do other than sit there. I feel like crying and text my friend who lives not far away. She tells me she'll call me after her son is done with his homework, I'm so fortunate to have people like that in my life. The oil change guy shows me my air filter and explains that it needs to be cleaned, he says something I don't catch and he tells me I have an air filter that can be cleaned and replaced. This is the kind of thing that is super annoying to me. I know what kind of an air filter I have, you can read what I wrote about mine if you click on the air filter entry and read my post from November of 2011 there, but I digress. I feel like a stereotypical female and now I'm more annoyed than I was. How does this guy think that filter got into my car in the first place if I didn't purchase it? Oh, right, I must have had some man put it there for me. Actually I think the guy I was married to at the time did, but that's not the point. 

He discusses my windshield wipers with me, I can have them replace them for me, or I can drive across town to the auto parts store. Had my daughter not been driving I probably would have just made the trip across town, but we're pressed for time so I tell him to go ahead with new wiper blades. I have more options, I tell him I want the kind I had rather than the cheaper kind, visibility is critical, it's not worth the couple bucks I would save to downgrade. The other day one of my blades came off when I was cleaning my windshield, I snapped it back into place after following the groove so I was surprised when the guy who was on the driver side pulled out a screwdriver to get the blade off, I hadn't trusted him earlier and now I was even more suspicious of him because replacing wiper blades should be a routine practice at an oil change place, but maybe he was new. 

My oil change is now more than a hundred dollars, I have my card ready for the guy before he requests it, I ask if he needs my sticker, he says no, but he'll take it anyways. I fold the corner over just in case it doesn't want to come off the next time I get my oil changed. Before he brings me my bill he says he has something for me. I can't imagine what it is since I haven't been the sweetest customer ever, he hands me a plastic rewards card, runs it, and I automatically get 15% off of my entire order. I thank him for the card, I don't know what I did to get it, I think they must have some qualification system and I doubt that being chilly is the way to get this cost savings. He says something else, I tell him I'm a car snob so I'm very particular about how my car is maintained. He says he can tell, I'm not sure what gave it away, my car is old and pretty beat up, it was in several accidents before I got it and I'm the one who scraped it up when my tires failed to grab the road when it was wet and the roads were slick. That still makes me cry. 

He has a checklist of things for me, I don't pay very close attention to any of it because I just had my car serviced before winter started, I stay on top of these things, but I know I still have a lot to learn and I also know he's just doing his job and it's not his fault the oil change place and car talk is bringing up seriously painful memories. When he gets to the serpentine belt my ears perk up, I tell him I just had it replaced, he smiled at me and said that he was just going to tell me that. On one hand I understand that there's some percentage of people who are unfamiliar with some of these procedures and parts, on the other I feel like very few men would be talked to the way that I am. I try to see things from his point of view; highly emotional middle aged woman with teenaged daughter comes in driving an old beat up car, what are the odds that I'm going to have a permanent air filter, premium wiper blades, and be willing to pay for synthetic oil because I believe in it? 

I did go on Twitter and commend him and his crew because I felt like they had earned that. It was a new experience, this is why I try to form relationships with people so I don't have to keep going through that kind of humiliation, it's not very efficient to explain the different oil types and I wonder why they don't just ask people if they know what the difference is, but then I realize even people who don't know might say they do and then they could lose a sale because they weren't able to offer that educational piece of information. The process could be improved, I don't know why I can't let things like this go, I think it's because it's experiences like this that women go through routinely that men don't, and that infuriates me. It's the very definition of white male privilege, there are things they know that I don't, but assuming that I'm an idiot with a license who doesn't know jack about how to maintain my vehicle when I was already having a bad day was disappointing to say the least. 

I think another part of it is remembering that I used to drive a very nice car and feeling like those days are gone forever. I don't know when the day will come when I stop mourning the loss of that car and grieving over the whole accident and lawsuit, my therapist brought it up at my last appointment and that made me sad. I miss pulling into a place where people knew my car by sight and me by name, I miss having my car vacuumed for me, I miss all the extras that went with being a VIP customer, those guys knew I was good for a lot of referrals, I remember a conversation with one of the guys who told me I would look good driving an Infiniti, dance me, to the end of love, I know it doesn't make sense to people who aren't car lovers. Oil change places smell terrible, it was spotless when that guy managed it, I hope he's doing well these days. We had a lot of good conversations over the years.  

Work was busy today. I ended up having to wear my dress pants to work because I decided to wash all of my jeans at once and then none of them were dry by the time I had to leave to get Jill from school. I missed my boss who had to leave early. I wasn't in the best mood when I arrived, speaking of service the woman who cut my hair yesterday didn't listen to me and I'm still chuffed about that. My friend was still there when I got to work, it was nice seeing her for a while, she was flying high when I got there. I asked what was going on, she said nothing, I let it drop, but when she was paying for her purchases she admitted she had two beverages with caffeine in them. It was a pretty funny conversation because she kept insisting that nothing was different when I thought it was pretty obvious that something was, for some reason I had stuck a mood spray in my pocket after using it, she loved it and then we had to go online and see if she could order one for herself since we don't carry that brand at work.

One of the guys in produce is back. He was out for I don't know how long, he was in the hospital, but nobody seems to know why. He brought over apples for us, I thought that was sweet of him. I gave him a hug when I saw him over by the spices. He looks like he's lost weight, he's a sweetheart, I felt bad for him and hope he's on the road to recovery now that he's back at work. Last year he was out for almost two weeks, he eats well, but something seems off for him to be affected like he has been although like I said, I don't know the whole story. He isn't the most talkative person, he comes in and reads the paper upstairs. He acts a lot older than he is, my youngest daughter is an old soul, some people are just mature for their ages, I'm not, but he is and I always think some of those mannerisms are kind of cute even though I know if I had to spend a lot of time with him I'd probably get very rapidly irritated, query, why am I such a bitch in real life? Ok, I'm kind of a bitch online too. Maybe I'm just a bitch, hey, someone has to be... (kidding, but seriously).


Him: "Thanks for calling me back. I really wanted to hear your voice and laugh tonight."

Me: "I hope your doctor can figure out what is wrong with you. Sorry about the music, Jill is driving and thinks she's in charge of what's playing."

Him: "I'm glad we got to talk before your last night on earth ended."

Me: "Jill is a good driver. She's probably better than I was at that age."

Him: "She's probably better than you were at 35, and 40."


Me: "Did you get your hands on any more bras?"

Him: "I did. But there was nothing in them."

Me: "That's unfortunate."

Him: "It is. But now I know what size I like. 36C, how do they measure women for these things anyways? You don't have to tell me if Jill is still in the car. How do women wear underwires all day? I just don't get that. What did they do before they were invented?"

Me: "Don't tell me you have two degrees and have never heard of the corset. You'd probably like it if women went back to those things. They used to use boning in them. Steel was a great invention for women. Read up on it sometime. Educate yourself please." He has more education than I do so this is really me making fun of myself.

Him: "The last woman I went to see is in her eighties. Should I ask her what type of experiences she had with them?"

Me: "Hold on, Jill has a question." I talk to Jill and go back to my conversation. "This is hilarious. Jill thought you could put cash into the pump like a vending machine. She has a lot of twenties. I wonder if she sells drugs."

Him: "Maybe she's a stripper."

Me: "Then she would have a lot of singles. Based on what she's wearing and her behavior, I'm going to go with drugs."

Him: "That's too bad. Drugs are worse than stripping."

Me: "Agreed."

Him: "I know what you would choose."

Me: "Really? Now you're some sort of expert on women and their career choices?"

Him: "I know you. I don't know any other woman who talks about sex or thinks about it as much as you do. Did you think about it the way you do now at her age?"

Me: "I'm offended. I was a good girl."

Him: "What happened?"


Me: "I do feel bad for her today. Her dog had to get its leg amputated."

Him: "Poor pupper. Voice bubble above the dog's head 'Great. Now I can't even run away from that bitch'."


Me: "I wrote a poem and snuck in a line about my friend who abstained from voting, hope you are well <baseball emoji>

Him: "Hi Jess, so honored by your reference. And even more, your wonderful, captivating verse. That is serious, and saucy, and very deep, like you. Love how in-control and self-actualized you are, at a great point in your life. Neat read. Thanks for allowing me a glimpse. And appreciated your thoughts about the vote. The Hall of Fame, talk about a debate fest. Hope you're staying warm and feeling great."


Him: "Nice score, no?" He sent me a screen shot of the Purdue/Michigan game, but I pretend he's talking about Vandy vs Tennessee. As much as I love oral sex I doubt I will ever find these 69 jokes humorous. There's nothing sutble about them. I can't believe I'm in my forties and people are still making jokes that I heard in my teens. Actually, I can believe this, I ignore the text for now because I'm annoyed. Flirt with me all you want, but please make an effort to be somewhat clever and interesting. That being said, it was kind of funny that both teams were tied at 69, but I'm still not laughing... 


Me: "It seems like something is different."

Her: "Actually, now that I think about it I did have two of those Rebel Coffee drinks."

Him: "I said it was caffeine earlier." She can't stop giggling and I wonder when the crash is going to hit her. She keeps smelling her wrist and I almost offer to give her the mood spray, but selfishly, I keep it for myself. It was a gift from my boss and I think of her whenever I wear it. I know a lot of people think that sort of thing is ridiculous, I don't care if it is, I spray it and I'm immediately in a better mood than I was.


Me: "Jill, please turn the music down, I'm trying to have a conversation here." I turn the volume down and change the station myself. "Sorry about that, Jill thinks I need to be listening to her music instead of mine."

Him: "I'm not generally into kids, but yours are pretty cool."

Me: "Thanks. They have cool parents."

Him: "I suppose that's half true. I'll have to congratulate their father if I ever get a chance."


Him: "How can you be lost up there? You have to be in some place that starts with the letter O. Whose idea was it to put Oconomowoc next to Okauchee anyways?"

Me: "Pretty sure it was some man. A woman would have had more sense."


Him: "Of course you liked it. Didn't you say it was black? Do you complain about rainbows being too colorful?"

Me: "Technically black is every color mixed together. Also, who said a black rainbow wouldn't be pretty? Hmm?"

Him: "The Black Rainbow. There's your next book. You can thank me when it's a best seller."

Me: "The Black Rainbow: It was a bright and sunny day. She wished her dark and stormy nights would return because then everything is black, including the rainbows. The End. By Jessica J."


Re: Deciding which heart to break next: she wants to kill and break hearts, and write a book about............, both. (I feel so understood)




P.S. Dance me, to the end, of love (now I'm going to have this song stuck in my head until who knows when...)

practice, she said; practice, make a
bed from the hook, the vice with an eye
make love to the dirt. forget the womb.
home birth.

they boiled your marrow
but you said practice, this is
practice. emptied your head, a new breathing hole
scrubbed out your parentage, renounced your mothers
grew a tongue with eyes. laboured for it.
abandoned the strand to
greet each new pearl; the branches and the baby's
head. an embryo, a swarm of nerves, umbilical
the bees, the brightness
thirty one years of seeds, all contracting.
hydromancy. fertilizer.

stopped breathing. became a lung
the branches and the baby's head, nested
a thousand girls. wish-dried sunbone,
never hatched a one.

muted, damp, cloaked in albumen
naked mouth eating the whole universe
what could possibly soothe you?
here it is:
it is nothing.

loose leaf, flaking,
crackling, unburden. buckle, uncling.
peel back those claws. unburden. degauss.
little hinge. anchored in sick.
bathing daily to ease the shedding
tangled. dwelling. membrane, hipbone,
forever fledgling. fully ripen.

belly full of nothing
belly full of leaves, of twigs.
pregnant pomegranate. acupuncture
sharpen to reveal, to carve each precious
cusp, clutch its milky sentience, the yolk of it,
to loosen every tendon.

the only words I want to know are here
and starve.

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