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February 21, 2011

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And yep it is scary, get Clomid. But there are ways to deal with it and keep a normal, again, healthy libido, romantic and maturing QL lifestyle, Clomid For Sale. Clomid price, Here are some hints from my former Human Sexuality 102-304 course. She was a TA in the class, Clomid coupon. Online Clomid without a prescription, And yes, I dated her, order Clomid online c.o.d. Clomid pics, She taught be so, so many things, Clomid online cod. Clomid For Sale, But I ended up with a B-. Clomid without a prescription, Go figure on that. Well, where can i buy Clomid online, Order Clomid no prescription, now she is a MD of internal medicine in Baltimore. Dr, where can i buy cheapest Clomid online. Clomid from canadian pharmacy, Tracy Connick helped me out with some good advice.

Condoms are still the best choice, Clomid For Sale.

Float around the idea of what sex is really about before you actually do it. Ergo, think with your brain and not your nethers.

If committed to taking the next step in your relationship, get a STD blood panel. You owe it to yourself and others to get tested. Clomid For Sale, It also makes a deep statement about your care and concern for you partner.

If you have a condition or not, you are accountable. And these days that means more than morally. In some cases, if you transmit a disease, you can be prosecuted in a court of law or have your pants sued off this time.

In your twenties you still feel bullet proof. You are not, Clomid For Sale. It does not just happen to someone else. Odds are one in three of your friends have some sort of venereal disease.

Never put yourself or others in a pressure situation. Just say no is still a staple, but even in more innocent circumstances; never push sex on yourself or a partner. Clomid For Sale, It is okay to take your time. It is alright to ask about past partners or the health of another. It is fun to let loose. It is up to you about how cool it might be to hook up or wear a chastity ring. It is NOT, ever cool to take yours or others’ emotional and physical well beings at risk.

Be smart, Clomid For Sale. Practice safe sex. But don’t freak out that a peck goodnight or some club rave mug down is going to give you Ebola. Use good judgment.

Get informed. Clomid For Sale, Again, don’t go all hypochondriac or OCD. Relationships, random or committed are stressful enough. But knowledge is power.

Stay healthy. See your doctor regularly. Have good hygiene, Clomid For Sale. Prevention is key. And for heaven’s sake wash your hands.

I liked the last one best. Mom’s advice about soap and water was right. Clomid For Sale, And thank goodness that was the only thing she ever spoke about doing the nasty.

I also thought the whole knowledge, be informed was kinda cool. Sort of like those cartoon G.I. Joe public service advice segments. “And knowing is half the battle. GO JOE !”

So there it is in a nutshell. No pun intended. Weird times we live and love in, but we can get through the QL and further on with just a little caution and a whole lot of care for ourselves and others.

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February 25, 2010

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Quarter-life Crisis?

June 17, 2008

Guest Written by:  Lindsay Love So I just turned 27, at least a quarter of my life is now behind me. The sun has set on my childhood, my formative years, and sadly, my opportunity to use youthful naivety as an excuse for my follies and shortcomings. Am I experiencing an existential dilemma? Am I staring wide-eyed at a crossroads in my life's journey? Well... no, I don't think so, but I will let you know for sure as soon as I find some time to think about it. Right now, I am too busy finishing my Bachelor's degree, working full-time, and most importantly, raising a 5-year-old little girl. I'm in the 10-year-B.A. program. What, they don't have that at your school? It is structured around the rule of twos. Allow me to elaborate; all you do is take classes fulltime for two years, then take two years off for an unplanned pregnancy, followed by taking two classes per semester for the rest of your life. Now that I am in constant struggle to squeeze in a little studying during naptimes, weekends, and Sponge-Bob Squarepants marathons, I can look back fondly on my first attempt at higher education. To think I never appreciated the days when my only distractions from homework were dorm neighbors blaring Rage Against the Machine and skateboarding raucously in the courtyard outside my door. Boy, those were the days. No kids, no job, no supervision, is it any wonder I filled my days with the pursuit of intoxication, a bit of whoring around, and generalized loafing? Thank God I gave birth to my daughter when I did. Finally, I had someone to force me to act like an adult, to get my proverbial shit together. Nowadays, I put so much energy into rearing a well-adjusted citizen that it is rather inconsequential that I am not even sure I have achieved that status myself. Everyday is so full of activities and responsibilities that it's almost out of necessity that I live my life like a recovering alcoholic: one day at a time. I promise I'll work on my 5 year plan soon, but right now I just have to cook a nutritious dinner, start a load of laundry, and untangle a Slinky for the fortieth-insert an expletive-time. Then, before I know it, it's time to perform my little one's highly-involved bedtime routine. I'll spare you details; it's boring even for me. But finally, after one hug, two kisses, and if and only if all of her stuffed animals are properly aligned on the side of the bed, I tuck her in, shut the door and take a deep breath. Some days I am at peace, but other days I think "Phew, thank God that is over!" Those "other days" are a fine example of why I need to work on my Zen parenting skills. I really strive to live in the now. I tell myself there is no "after the bedtime routine." I have to live in the moment; embrace the hair-brushing. But there are times, when my patience is on E, running on fumes if you will, and I cannot embrace the hair brushing. Then there are even uglier times when I am so far gone that I catch myself brushing my daughter's hair so violently that it may actually be considered a form of child abuse. I despise those times, when I wear my stress like a backpack full of cannon balls that drags me down into a baser life-form. After much self-loathing, I apologize profusely for being such a wretch of a mother to this most tender child who loves so unconditionally. I promise myself to try harder tomorrow to be the patient, present mother that I really want to be. As I typed that last sentence, I had an epiphany. I just realized why I am not having a quarter-life crisis. It's not that I haven't had the time; it's that I haven't had the need. While most people my age are wondering which career, or location, or creative endeavor, or relationship will fulfill their life's purpose, I already know that my life's purpose is sitting in the next room and she's been amusing herself for the last hour with 3 markers and a cardboard box. I know that the reason I have to finish my degree is not to have a better career, but to set an example for my daughter, because I want her to go to college and to finish, no matter how long it takes. I want to be a better person so that I can be a better mother because my daughter deserves that and so much more, because I love her the way only a mother can, with the most ferocious kind of love that fills your heart so completely that it could almost burst into a million glittering pieces.

Love Is in The Crapper

February 20, 2008

Heart in ToiletEvery few weeks at my school I encounter a publication that continually changes my life. Whether that is for the better or not has yet to be determined. The counseling center has deemed that the best way to disseminate advice is in the public restroom. Not just in the restroom, but taped to the back of the stall door. They figure they have your attention for a few moments, they might as well inform you at the same time. Past issues of the “Potty Papers” (their title, not mine) have concentrated on how to study for finals, eating disorder awareness, and giving. This month I was wished a Happy Valentine’s Day with the following Potty Paper message:
“Love is patient. Love is kind. Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love does not envy, doesn’t strut, doesn’t have a swelled head, doesn’t force itself on others, isn’t always “me first”. Love doesn’t fly off the handle, doesn’t keep score of the faults of others, doesn’t revel when others grovel. Love takes pleasure in the flowering of truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love always looks for the best, never looks back, but keeps going until the end.”
Aside from the obvious problems of the plagiarism of 1 Corinthians 13:4 and the deep grammatical structure issues, this passage disturbs me on multiple levels. First of all, the overall message we get from this is “Love is everything you ain’t”. Nobody lives up to this! No one, no matter your strength and commitment to love someone is all these things at any one time. Not even Mother Teresa could live up to the standards of the Potty Papers. In fact, Mother Teresa said, “Do not think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired.” What’s more is every time you feel envious, fly off the handle, keep score, find things unbearable, look back, or give up- are you to believe that you are not a loving person? What the Potty Papers are missing is the part where love brings you a Frosty from Wendy’s when you are sick. Love will tape The Office for you when you can’t get home from class in time to watch it. Love will call you on your birthday, or on the day after apologizing profusely for being an asshole. Love will change the sheets on your bed because you hate to do it. Love will try your patience, test your limits, and push you into more difficult and painful places than you could ever experience otherwise. As someone wise once said (or rather sang), “The more you love someone the more you want to kill them.” Love will make you upset, angry, sad, depressed, and terrified. It will also course through your veins at the speed of family or the pulse of romance. On Valentine’s Day I hope that we can learn to let go of these glorified notions of love that come to us from an imaginary world of movies, TV, and toilet literature. I hope, instead, that we are able to find the small things that make love attainable and special rather than outlandish and combustible. Sorry Potty Papers- but I think you’re full of shit.