20YearsandCounting

I don't listen to Boston often enough.... Peace of Mind Foreplay

I was just looking at the dates on my last blog entries.... late June! Wow. I know my attendance here has been horribly sporadic to non-existent. And I'm sorry to anyone who may be counting on seeing or hearing from me. I've missed you guys, but life has ramped up a little, and I am just now getting to a space where I can be here again. You guys may remember from past blogs that my relationship with my boss has been.... well, painful would be a word for it. We'll leave it at that. Said boss retired at the end of June, and guess who just found out she's taking her place? Yep, me. Now I'm the boss. It feels weird, and not as stressful as I thought. I think most of that is because I have basically been doing my job plus my boss's for several years now. As we've looked back, me and my coworkers and my boss's boss, we wonder just what she's been doing all this time. Anyway, right now, it mostly just feels like a weight has been lifted off all our shoulders. We are still having what I might call 'flashbacks' - periodic times where we all reflexively cringe waiting for a shoe to drop that is no longer there. I think that will go on for some time. We all have some 'emotional abuse' to work through now that things are safe. And I am hoping I can help make it a place where we can do what we can to work through that. Small workplace - less that five full time including me - means a much less strict sense of boundaries between workers. Which is painful when you work for someone who feels entitled to not only every bit of knowledge about you, but also feels entitled to criticize and offer unsolicited advice.... That person is now gone. What's left is a core team that is capable of trusting each other and trusting each other's abilities. You have no idea how toxic and demoralizing it is to work for someone who is incapable of trusting others to things, even after they have proved their capability for years... To be treated like an FNG even after a decade of good, quality work by someone who cannot see the good in what others do.... I cannot believe I put myself through that for so long. Anyway, the difference that it makes, even in the small, simple decisions and actions and responsibilities are larger than you would believe. When you work for someone who cannot trust others to 'do things right', it kills you a little every day. Like the frog in boiling water. Slowly the temperature increases, until you look down and your legs are cooked and you cannot get out. So here we are, the little band, the little team that's left. And I think we're gonna be quite all right.

Kinda my mood so far...

As you may know, I am a fan of Misha Collins and Karl Urban. I also am a fan of Supernatural, and the Doom movie. I am also a writer. Hmmm, do you see where this is going? Yes, Grasshopper, I am going to inflict a fanfiction scene on you. So if you hold certain fan views dear about Castiel Novak (or Castiel Shurley, or just Castiel) or John Grimm, here is your warning. I have been working on a fanfiction story melding Supernatural and Doom into an AU (Alternate Universe for those of you with an actual social life). I don't need to go into the details of that, they don't apply to this scene. For the -sadly- uninitiated, Castiel is a Seraph at the time of this scene. 'Supernatural' Seraphs are like super-powered Angels, and Angels are already super-powered. Only ArchAngels are stronger than Seraphs. Blue lite glows from their eyes when they use their Angel powers. They glow white from the eyes and mouth when seriously injured (possibly not canon). John Grimm is John Grimm- taking the serum made him a Superhuman with the powers of an Angel, roughly. So increased stamina and strength and higher resistance to injury. Think Captain America. He and his sister are now telepathic, and he is touch telepath with Angels. Okay, enough said. I warned you. Turn back now. (SMH) Okay, you asked for it..... > > John Grimm and Castiel Novak OneShot – ‘Test Run’ ‘Okay, Angel Boy, show me whatcha’ got.’ John Grimm smiled and quirked his head in a ‘come over here’ gesture. Castiel stood several feet away. They were safely out in an open field, where nothing could be hurt or broken if Angel Mojo went awry. ‘John, I do not want to hurt you.’ John quirked a smile and lifted his chin at Castiel. ‘I need to find out how the C24 has affected my abilities, Castiel, and you’re the only one I can play with and not hurt. So come on, let’s play.’ John flashed a smile and sank into a ready stance. Castiel shook his head as he took off his trenchcoat and tossed it to the side. John smiled at this. ‘Takin’ me serious, I see. Thank you.’ ‘Don’t thank me yet, John. I may end up seriously injuring you.’ ‘And I heal quickly now, Castiel. Come on, quit stallin’. Lemme see what I got.’ Castiel’s eyes flashed blue with power and his wings appeared with a rush of hot wind. John couldn’t suppress a grin. Aah, yeah, they were playin’ now! Then he had to focus, because Castiel was rushing towards him, Angel-speed, with a minor flick of his enormous, midnight blue wings. John lowered his stance and raced into Castiel’s rush, barreling full-on into the Seraph. They were both a little surprised when Castiel was nearly knocked off his feet, saved only by an instinctive flick of wings. Castiel’s eyes flashed blue again as he recovered himself, grabbing John and flicking his wings again to carry both of them high into the air. In the blink of an eye, John found himself at least eight stories up in the air when Castiel blinked out, a sadistic smirk on his face. ‘Castiel, you fuck!’ John yelled as he tumbled towards the Earth. He might as well find out now if he could make it through this without broken limbs. John oriented himself as though he were coming in hot from a HiLo gone wrong, and when he felt himself hit the ground, he rolled with it a few times, and came back up running. Castiel appeared just ahead of him and John turned his running momentum into a forward flip as he neared Castiel, and came out of it bringing his heel down on Castiel’s shoulder as hard as he could. Castiel crumpled to the ground and rolled backwards, using his wings to help him spring back up. John managed to turn his momentum into a dropkick that caught Castiel squarely in the chest as he sprang forward, and sent him flying back a few feet before his wings once again flicked and caught him. John rolled back over one shoulder and came up in a crouch. Castiel sprang forward, feinting before landing a solid right hook to John’s jaw. John felt his jaw crack, then start to heal nearly instantly. He blocked Castiel’s next blow and managed a quick kidney punch and was gratified to hear the Seraph grunt when he landed the blow. He followed it with a solid blow to the ribs, heard a rib crack and smiled. Then his fist came up and caught Castiel under the jaw with another massive crack, and he knew he’d broken the Seraph’s jaw, at least for a moment. Castiel fell back a step or two before his wings caught him. He looked up at John and smiled grimly, his teeth bloody. He passed his hand briefly over his jawline and just like that, his jaw was healed, and he was racing back towards John. Castiel tackled John and held him pinned to the ground, one hand tightening around his throat. John felt his vision start to gray around the edges as one hand grappled with Castiel and tried to loosen his grip, while he wrapped his legs around Castiel’s waist, hefting him over sideways. Even though they lay on their sides, Castiel never loosened his hold on John’s neck. John used right hand to grab Castiel’s wing near the top of the radius and ulna and squeezed, wrenching as hard as he could at the awkward angle. He heard wing bones break and kept squeezing until he felt them shatter to dust under the skin. Castiel let go of John immediately, throwing back his head and screeching like an unholy banshee in Enochian, white light pouring from his eyes and mouth. ‘Thy hands torment me!’ Castiel’s wing hung limply behind him as he rolled away and stood, backing away from John, his eyes burning blue with power. John felt almost too stunned to move. He skittered backwards into a standing position, crouched warily now. They circled each other, and there was a new caution in Castiel’s movements that was not entirely related to the wing now dragging the ground behind him. Castiel’s broken wing twitched as he feinted forward, and he tossed back his head briefly and let out a brief, frustrated screech, never taking his eyes off of John. John realized that Castiel was grounded now, unable to use his wings to take off, or even ‘blink out’. He smiled and feinted back as Castiel came at him again, testing and circling. Castiel rushed him, flexing his good wing to give him speed, tackling John again. John turned the tackle and managed to throw Castiel off behind him, springing to his feet and turning. Castiel was already on his feet again and rushing John. John lowered his stance and rushed forward into it, drawing an arm back and combining a punch with his forward momentum and Castiel’s. The combined momentum sent Castiel flying backwards a few feet, this time landing heavily on the ground since he could not use his wings to catch himself. John wasted no time, using Castiel to break his fall, and crushing the bones of Castiel’s other wing as Castiel tried to crush his throat. John felt Castiel’s fingers like steel around his throat, felt his vision going gray again. John brought his fist down in the middle of Castiel’s face and felt the bones of his nose crunch under his fist. Blood flowed out of Castiel’s nose, but the wound healed nearly instantly, the cartilage cracking and grinding as it formed together again. Still Castiel gripped John’s throat, squeezing ever tighter, his eyes glowing blue. John felt sure his head would pop off soon, but he refused to give up. He fisted his hand and continued to drive it into Castiel’s face as his vision continued to darken, his body and mind deprived of the oxygen he needed to survive. John tried to form words as world went dark, but without oxygen, he couldn’t speak. John stilled himself and brushed his fingers over Castiel’s forehead, closing his eyes and thinking about Castiel. Ever since he’d had to give the C24 to Samantha, they had been able to communicate telepathically, even without physical contact. John knew that Angels heard prayers, and hoped that with contact, Castiel would be able to hear him. ‘Castiel?’ Castiel’s eyes blazed white for a moment. He spoke a phrase in Enochian, a question. ‘Thou canst hear me?’ John felt Castiel’s grip relax around his throat, felt Castiel sit up gingerly with John now seated carefully in his lap. John’s hand brushed Castiel’s temple as he tried to make his mind relax. He realized that once he stopped trying to figure out the words, he understood them. ‘You can hear me?’ ‘Yes, Castiel, I can hear you. I can hear Samantha, too, ever since I had to give her the C24.’ ‘Are you in pain, John Grimm?’ John laughed at this, and winced at the pain in his rapidly healing throat. ‘Yes, I am in pain, you idiot. You just beat the goddamned Hell out of me and nearly choked me to death.’ ‘No, John, I mean does it cause you pain to hear me?’ John opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a perplexed and slightly awed Seraph. ‘Of course not. Why would it?’ ‘Most humans experience great pain when they come in contact with even the smallest part of our True Form, whether through speech or vision. The fact that you can see into my mind without pain is something I have never encountered before.’ ‘I’m sure someone in all the millions of years of your existence has been able to talk to you telepathically, Castiel.’ ‘Other Angels, of course.’ ‘What about the Martians? They were the ones who initially developed the C24. Surely you could talk to them.’ ‘Only with great pain on their part, though many tried.’ John sat back and stood up slowly. His whole body hurt, but he could feel himself healing quickly. He needed to get home and eat and sleep, give his body a chance to recover from healing itself. He could still feel the weight of Castiel’s mind, like standing at the foothills of the Himalayas. John reached out to Castiel and took his hand to help him up. As he did, he felt Castiel’s mind like an unfathomable white tide of light, washing over his mind. The tide receded and John became aware of an immense wall in his mind. A door appeared before him and he gently pushed it open - light beyond light, painful in its purity, engulfed John; an enormous being stood before him, radiant and fearsome and terrible in its beauty. It had six wings of a deep midnight blue – the bottom pair covered its feet, the top pair covered its face, and middle pair flexed restlessly back and forth. Its entire body radiated light. ‘Cas- Castiel?’ The middle set of wings stilled for a moment. John felt mesmerized and awed; it was so terrible, but so beautiful at the same time. One of the wings stretched out towards John and brushed his shoulder. For a moment, John felt Castiel’s entire lifetime stretched out before him, like a movie playing in fast forward. The wing receded, and the movie stopped. ‘Castiel-‘ Castiel stepped away from John, breaking the contact and the connection. John fell forward to his hands and knees, breathing heavily. He was reeling inside, like he’d been deep sea diving and come up too fast, with the Bends. His face felt wet, and he realized he was crying, sobbing uncontrollably. How long had it been since he’d cried like a baby? When his parents died? When he’d looked over during the funeral service and seen Sam looking so small and lost, her lip quivering bravely? A damn had burst inside him then, and the tears had come flooding out, like this. John took a deep, shuddering breath. He wasn’t a baby anymore. It was time to man up and take care of business. He could do this. He’d done much better against the Seraph than he had bargained on, lasted much longer than he’d thought he would. Castiel had given him a good workout; put him through his paces and he’d learned some very valuable lessons about his limits. John smiled to himself. Eight fucking stories without so much as a scratch on him. John looked up at Castiel and smiled, his determination clear. ‘Take me up ten stories this time, Angel Boy, and no catchin’ me!’ Castiel flexed his wings experimentally; they had already healed. He flicked them once and picked John up as he swooped past, rising high in the sky – well over ten stories – before blinking out and leaving John to fall to the Earth. John let out a war whoop and maneuvered his body into what he now thought of as ‘landing position’. He let his legs collapse beneath him as he landed, rolling several times to bleed off momentum before jogging to a stop in front of Castiel. ‘That’s what I’m talkin’ about!’ ===============================================================

I'm doing okay, thank you for asking. Every time I feel distant from my hubby, I find that focusing on the small things, the little touches several times a day, the little things we do for each other - those help me feel closer. You'll get there.

It's not stupid, squatch. Try to focus on reconnecting with your wife. Like jkd suggested, sometimes the little things can make a difference.

Congrats on sobriety, Squatch!!! 🙌😃 I know our sexuality and libido changes as we age, though I don't know if low libido represents a change for you. You might think about your relationship with your wife - is there something there/not there that is affecting you? You might also think about general life circumstances, and how that may/may not be affecting you. Sometimes stresses, people, and/or events can make us feel very impotent, and this can translate into low libido.

Just wondering - and trying to keep my thoughts away from anxiety-ridden topics - why we idolize celebrities so much? Do we really see them - who they are? Or do we just see the characters they are known for playing, and sort of paste that over their face like some sort of weird mask? Or maybe we give them qualities that we ourselves wish we had. Makes me wonder. Misha Collins is a crazy, out there, creative, outgoing, loving sort of person. Basically, the polar opposite of me. I am more like Castiel on the outside, and Dean (minus the liking people) on the inside. The thought of actually meeting Misha or interacting with him in any format gives me anxiety attacks. He was quoted once as referring to the persona of Misha Collins as a 'piece of roving performance art'. I thought that was interesting. It was like he saw himself as two different people, Dmitri Krushnic and Misha Collins. I guess a certain amount of that 'distancing' would be necessary to survive stardom. I wonder if maybe it's that dichotomy - that sort of double existence - that intrigues me. Mostly for me, he is Castiel and not Misha or Dmitri. So can I say I really see him? Can we say we really see any celebrity?

How are you doing with this situation, louis?