Decorus poena.

2008-09-29T12:46:00.001-07:00

I love beginnings. I exist for possibility; the amazing spark that puts a gleam in your eye before the reality of the situation sets in.

If my entire life could be beginnings, I can't even tell you how blessed I would feel. I get butterflies, near-nausea inducing butterflies. I sit on my couch, indian-style (or criss-cross-applesauce as my daughter calls it) with a notebook and pen, mapping out my future and all the positives yet to come. I daydream while sipping my coffee. I read books and find myself in them. The entire world exists for me and me alone... and I feel no self-consciousness admitting that.

I'm often accused of truly thinking the world revolves around me. People misunderstand me on a regular basis - I sometimes come off as pushy, as self-centered, as someone who doesn't take no for an answer. That may be true, in some cases, but often I'm able to step back and look at the whole picture before acting. I am a selfish creature or, at least, I can be. But I don't act based wholly on what I want and forsake other people's emotions. I always take everyone else into account and often put them ahead of me.

But beginnings are lovely. They're just there; they care for everyone equally and the eve of possibility shines just as brightly on all involved.

And I feel like I'm shining today.

2008-09-25T19:37:00.001-07:00

I just edited and updated my 100 things about me section. It was fulfilling.

I'd like everyone to get to know me, Mellie, not Aine.

Aine was lovely, yes. She was nice to write through, as a medium, as she was absolutely me.

She just wasn't all of me. I held back, I wrote what I thought people wanted to hear and didn't write about the entirety of my complex and sometimes very mundane persona.

So I'm Mellie. Nice to meet you.

2008-09-25T14:38:00.000-07:00

I originally wrote and posted this today over at Irrational Beauty, the new place I had been writing, when it occured to me that this is home. This has always been home. I can't just quit on something and move sites because I need a change. I AM that change. No matter where I go and where I write, I'm still me. This place is my history and my future; I'm not ready to walk away from that...

---

June. Wow.

I'm actually pretty amazed I've stayed away so long.

Of course, I've been writing. If you knew me at all, you'd realize how silly the thought of me not writing is. Writing simply is INSIDE me, writing is who I am at my most base level. Creative, expressive, unafraid of opening up and spilling my guts onto the page... without the ability to write I would probably die.

I know that sounds trite, but I honestly believe that.

I've felt it lately.

I got into a car accident last night. It wasn't much, although I did have to go to the hospital for neck pain. It did manage to terrify me into re-evaluating a few things about my life lately. Funny how cliche it is to assume your life will flash before your eyes, but how true it ends up being in the end.

But I'm ok. I'm on some seriously great medication that made me both sleep like a baby and have some pretty intense dreams. I even managed to pleasure myself this afternoon without throwing things TOO out of whack. I'm dedicated that way.

But it did make me realize that I need to write more. Especially when my creative outlets have mostly come from Myspace. It's the armpit of the creative world, but I've felt more safe keeping some things to myself lately. Don't ask me why; it's unlike me to be so closed-off.

So, I'm back. Don't know for how long, or what will come out, but I'm here.

2007-11-01T07:05:00.000-07:00

I've been writing somewhere else. I'm a creative harlot. I believe I have outgrown the usefulness of a blog that started as a sexual entity, even though I'm aware it doesn't need to continue to be that.

I'm so much more - I'm funny, sarcastic, witty, etc. I don't want to be put into the box of a sex writer and I'm just not that girl anymore.

Email me at ainegirl@gmail.com if you want the new address. Please don't be offended if I don't give it to you - it contains a lot of personal information that I don't necessarily want random people to have.

It's been a pleasure writing for you.

2007-10-14T00:44:00.000-07:00

Sleep eluding me, I slipped out of bed. I tried not to wake Bear, as sleep tends to be difficult for him these days as well.

I just wanted to put this in writing, then I'm going to toss and turn for a few more hours until dawn breaks...

It's been so long since we last spoke that I can hardly remember the conversation. You often do this to me, this disappearing offline for months at a time. I've tried to convince myself that we have no connection, that our momentary friendship was what is was and now you have no need for it. But the truth is, I miss you. I miss the witty banter, the raw discussions about emotionally difficult subjects. I miss the you I may have conjured up in my head; in fact, that seems depressingly likely these days.

Anyway, I just felt like it needed to be put into the world. For better or for worse - at least I feel better.

A little creative writing...

2007-10-11T21:33:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile, but I'm so used to writing fiction from the submissive point of view that I thought I'd switch it up a bit and write from the female dominant point of view (Yes, I do have a large amount of that in me even though I don't talk about it much). It's just a small portion and is, in fact, all I have finished so far...

As I sat in the corner of the room, pondering my next move, I could almost feel your heartbeat in the air. A palpable sound (thump-thump thump-thump), it pulsed around me and jolted me back into the present moment and away from my thoughts.

I allowed my eyes to stray to your form, standing on tiptoes in the middle of the room, your arms straight above you and your back arched in an almost vulgar manner. The soft rubbing noise of the rope twisting and straining against your weight was soothing to me. My creative juices flowing, I pressed off against the chair and stalked toward you on black stiletto heels.

I could see your skin jump and flinch with every click of heel against hardwood floor. I walked slowly, then quickly, circling you like a caged tiger as your ears struggled to make sense of what your blindfolded eyes were unable to tell you. I could feel the panic rising again in you, your terror mixed with the scent of arousal on the air. It was a heady smell, a smell that set off a galaxy of reaction inside me.

I took a deep breath, my nostrils flaring as I attempted to intake as much of your musk as possible. My body came to rest inches from your back; I slowly slid my mouth towards your bare shoulder making as little noise as I could. I stood that way for a minute or so, my breath pressing against your shoulder as I listened to your tiny panting breaths rise and fall. I contemplated how to break this silence, my breath slowing to an almost sleeping rhythm. I needed it to be a stunning gesture, a motion that would foreshadow the rest of the evening. Flipping through the rolodex in my head, I decided quickly.

2007-10-10T20:20:00.001-07:00

There are times when, simply put, I'm antagonistic. My Libran nature pushes me to argue and revolt against everything, no matter how much I believe in what's being said.

That's how I've felt lately, especially about writing. You say black, I say white. You say cat, I say dog. And I mean white and dog. I just haven't felt like writing about much because I'm not feeling "in the mood" for much. I'm taking little pleasure in the day to day living and focusing too much on the future.

Who knows if there is a future? Certainly not me. Which means, logically, I should quit dwelling in it, suck it the fuck up and live.

Easier said than done.

2007-10-06T10:37:00.001-07:00

Here I am, neglecting this blog and not giving it a second thought, when I decided to stumble back and check my comments.

Big mistake.

Darling Jill, as much as I love her to tiny bite-sized pieces, can deliver such a kick to the head it isn't even funny. Even with back problems.

Yes, I'm a pussy. Apparently. Change does freak me out sometimes and I have the urge (that I usually act on) to just throw everything up into the air to see where it lands. Small change doesn't sit well with me - I push on through large change and start completely new. Having people watch my process makes me uncomfortable, and I already have a tendency to run instead of explain.

But I started this blog years ago as an outlet. Yes, the subjects I currently need to vent about have changed dramatically, but there are still "things." Am I going to give up on writing here and start worrying about what people will thing of my changes? No. I'm stronger than that. Bless you and fuck you for reminding me of that, Jill. *grin*

2007-09-16T19:57:00.000-07:00

Life is often a serious of temporary adjustments. We shovel out this rut, wallow in it day after day, only to have it fill with water and force us to start again.

I have a choice to make. Spoken or unspoken, dominance and submission is an intrinsic part of my life. It simply is who I am, in many ways. With Bear's back, my role as his submissive (if that's truly what I want) is being forced to change.

In short, I need to be willing and able to submit without force. I have to want it and what I need to figure out is how badly that's true in my life.

My writing here must conform. My life isn't how it was 2 years ago, nor would I want it to be. My mind, my thoughts, my reality... all different.

I'm not sure why that disturbs me so much. Maybe it's feeling left out of a larger community or maybe it's that incredibly non-inspired thing called nostalgia. What I do know is that I miss you but I'm not sure if I'm what you want anymore. And I'm sorry for that.

2007-09-07T22:01:00.001-07:00

I've watched the cursor doing its hypnotic dance on the northern side of monitor for nearly half an hour now. It appears and disappears, reminding me that my frontal lobe has all but been turned off for the past few weeks.

I've been a machine of studying, working and fulfilling my very basic needs in the quickest way possible. I've had little time for creativity, introspective thought or pleasure seeking of even the most mundane variety.

Things are settling down a bit and I intend to begin writing more here in my freedom instead of wasting my talents on that goddamn Myspace.

2007-08-19T14:49:00.001-07:00

My nature is overtly sexual. I am constantly on the prowl like a tigress, exuding sexuality from my pores. Even when I'm obviously not feeling "in the mood," my pheromones betray me and attract people to me regardless of what I'm wearing or how I'm feeling.

Last night was no exception.

It was my girlfriend's birthday and we met at one of my favorite hole in the wall bars in downtown. I agreed to go because a high school acquaintance bartends there, which means not only quick service but also mostly cheap to free drinks. Her friends were all there, people I had never met and continue to have no desire to see ever again. While I'm a social creature, I find conversing with groups of people I have little to nothing in common with tedious and annoying.

I found nothing different about last night. After seducing my pear martini, I began to talk to the man sitting on my right. He looked familiar to me, but I couldn't place where I knew him from. He seemed shy, quiet and introverted and, after his second Miller Lite, told me he had recently started working at the Humane Society. He was only out of the Army a few months and was having trouble readjusting to world outside of death and total control.

We talked about his experiences and my own as an Army wife. I found him rather adorable and naive for an ex-soldier of 23. He bought my drinks and stared at my chest, which I consider a common courtesy.

Later that evening, we ended up at the gay bar (as usual). My ex-girlfriend met me there, recently out of Airborne training and excited to catch up. We have a very volatile relationship, there are a lot of loose-ends and rampant feelings (which makes me uncomfortable), but we sat and talked. There were a few awkward pauses and brushes of hands on legs, necks and hair, but by the time my current girlfriend got there all was well.

We all danced in the cage, my skirt hiked up well past my knees while grinding myself between two beautiful women on full display. The soldier joined the game and, while I must admit that his extremely rock hard chest was unbelievably sexy, was promptly kicked out of the cage. He sat on the sidelines and watched, I suppose, but there was to be absolutely no touching. I like being watched, so it worked out well. I like having my drinks bought for me even more and he was very quick to provide for me in that capacity, a trumped up cabana boy.

I ended the night on a high note, my girlfriend whispering she loved me into my ear (although she was drunk and I mainly just blew it off - I'm not one for emotions or emotional conversation) and headed home high on endorphins. All in all, it was a lovely evening.

I hope to do it again soon.

2007-08-12T21:17:00.001-07:00

I have this rather backwards tendency of both thinking too highly of myself while also maintaining a fairly persistent state of low self-esteem. I tend to think of this as "faux" esteem - I talk myself up pretty good but, when it really comes down to it, I may act certain ways but don't necessarily believe them myself.

One of my favorite facets of myself, however, is my ability to be a muse. I tend to force creative juices from people, both literally and figuratively.

Last night, I was extremely proud of myself. You see, it's been months since Bear and I have had any sort of satisfying intercourse.

But listening to him growl as he bit into my flesh, feeling how hard and solid he was as he slammed into me from behind... and knowing my acceptance of who and what he is has led to how comfortable we both can be is astounding.

It's the best drug there is.

2007-07-29T23:01:00.000-07:00

Living with someone can be a buzzkill. That romance, the initial spark of intimacy and attraction, is often lost in the day to day living. There's nothing romantic about going to the bathroom, arguing about finances and making shopping lists.

In many ways, my darker side has been hidden under layer upon layer of mundane life. I wake up, clean, cook, parent, sleep, work... you know the drill. I'm so concerned with taking care of Bear after surgery that I see him less and less like a sex object and more and more like a dependent. He's not, not really, but I can't help that I can sometimes have a strong maternal drive that kicks in at inopportune times.

Much like Stella, I'm working on getting my groove back. I need to flip that switch in my head that takes Bear from ouchie backed man to my big strong male again.

Now if I could only find that switch.

The "blahs."

2007-07-25T05:47:00.000-07:00

I've been so consumed by triviality that I didn't notice the undefinable "fun part" of my life had slid slowly out of focus. I've been working, cleaning, parenting, relationshipping (yeah, I know it's not a word. Blow me.) for probably a month now without really enjoying myself.
I need to work on that.

Life is short and beautiful. There's not enough time to be boring and preoccupied.

Tentatively back.

2007-07-17T07:36:00.000-07:00

Typically, springtime is my time of renewal. I'm very driven by seasonal change, as though my DNA is in tune with those things that my ancestors remembered and modern people tend to forget.

Due to issues entirely out of my control, I've been thrust into "fight or flight" territory. My only choice is to sink or swim. I can dwell in my misery and pull against the reins or I can thrust myself headfirst into the wind and go where it takes me.

Bear and I are well. After some momentary arguing about some ingrained issues (that tend to reoccur spontaneously), we're on the road back to discovering the fire that brought us together in the first place. Keeping the romance alive, so to speak, becomes difficult after a tumultuous year and a half in which the physical and emotional caretaker roles switched hands entirely. Re energizing patience, finding our way back to physical intimacy... much easier said than done.

I'll be writing more here. I'm almost done with school for the semester and ready to rock and roll, baby.

Missing her...

2007-07-01T08:25:00.001-07:00

I can't decide if I feel like this:

Or like this:

I had to euthanize my cat on Friday. While I'm positive I made the right decision, especially taking into account her declining heath and quality of life, that doesn't make it any easier. I still listen for the sound of her tiny paws scratching at the carpet to mark her territory. I miss the way she had absolutely no regard for anyone - she'd sit at the end of the bed precisely where the TV was just so no one would see around her and she'd be able to soak up all our attention.

While there are kittens in the future, a house without animals is no house I would ever want to live in, I'm just way too devastated to even think about the possibility. She was my baby, my only child for 2 years before having my daughter, and I'll miss her more than I could ever express.

Life is ugly and meaningless sometimes. Goodbye, my beautiful friend.

I love you.

2007-06-28T13:15:00.000-07:00

Lately, the only time I can shut my brain off from all the ugly thoughts is when I'm running. So, needless to say, I've been running a lot. The gym is a home away from home, a place I can go to get away and emerge myself in an acceptable sort of pain.

Putting on those headphones, blaring something loud and aggressive (it's been earlier Dropkick Murphys or Busdriver the past week or so) and just losing myself in the beats and pushing my body a little bit further than it's willing to go each time helps drown out everything that seems to be going wrong lately.

Things are good here, don't get me wrong. It seems as though the older I get the more jaded I become. Finding the happiness and light in things is taking a backseat to my intrinsic need for violence and aggression. I try to temper each, to find a balance, but it still eludes me for the time being.

I just haven't learned to live with it yet.

To tide you over...

2007-06-20T15:19:00.000-07:00

Courtesy of xkcd.com

2007-06-04T15:24:00.000-07:00

I'm not ignoring you, lovelies. I'm dealing with the imminent death of my dear sweet kitty cat. She's had a terminal illness since birth, so I'm thankful for the 7 years I was able to spend with her past her "life expectancy." It's just that one is never truly prepared and I'm no exception.

I've devastated. I'm trying to pull and hold it together but every time I sit down to write my mind draws a blank.

I'll be back as soon as this dark cloud lifts itself from my head.

2007-05-24T19:50:00.000-07:00

If I was a better writer, I could describe the way watching each individual leaf on the huge buckeye tree outside my practice makes me feel. There is a primal nature to it; one that makes me want to immediately rip my clothes off and go tearing through the front doors and out into the wind.

I've spent the majority of my life pretending to be like other people; pretending not to feel things as deeply and intensely as I do. It's difficult to ignore and not get caught up in the small moments of life instead of "keeping my nose to the grindstone" and practicing the mundane and menial like the rest of the population seems to be doing.

I'm not built like that. I feel, with heightened senses, which is why I sometimes come off as cold and hard. I build up those walls so that people don't understand how easy my heart is to capture and break. Very few people have seen into the courtyard beyond those walls. I'm fine with that.

But now you know my secret. This is why meaningless connection, the wide expanse of the internet and random sexual encounters, have been such a huge part of my life. I relish them - they keep me from attaching and getting hurt. The more I can fuck and run, cut and run... well, the better off I am.

2007-05-23T20:00:00.000-07:00

I was driving home from a very lovely dinner with coworkers this evening when I had one of those moments. It was brought on by nothing in particular; merely the wind on my face and the music from the speakers. I listened to the words, really listened, and felt the breeze blowing my hair.

I felt perfect at the moment. Whole. Beautiful.

It was unexplainable really. I hope to have that again soon.

2007-05-18T20:58:00.000-07:00

To be honest, I haven't been writing much at all lately. I've been thinking. My mind has been a swirling vortex - creating, destroying, piecing together and tearing apart.

Due to a series of events beyond my control, I've been pushed beyond my usual thresholds for pain and suffering (the pain kind, not the type I enjoy) and have probably been a horrendous nightmare for those close to me.

After tomorrow, relief comes. The insanity that is my work schedule begins to right itself and we start the downward bike ride into a new (partly) job and more days off.

But I understand what is important to me. I understand, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that without time to myself and the ability to pamper and pleasure (in the most naive sense of the word, although not always so) both my internal and external bodies I will go out of my mind.

I've also been having a lot of vivid dreams that I don't remember after awaking lately. Strange dreams. Some sexual in nature (I've had sex with both my coworker and a friend who blogs - though on hiatus lately - in the past few days), others more spiritual (I've begun a daily gratitude list to remember to appreciate the little things and find each moment as precious as it deserves to be), but all revolving around the central theme of "good things" in life.

I need more of that and less stress. I need a good session - any volunteers? *grin*

2007-05-16T19:31:00.000-07:00

Before I step out into the breezy late spring air this evening, I wanted to let you know that I am thinking of you.

Another post is in the making, I'm pregnant with words.

2007-05-01T17:45:00.000-07:00

I knew as soon as he kissed me that it was a kiss with intent. Kisses of affection, kisses that bind us together in domestic life and partnership, have been the most common lately. This sort of kiss, filled with abandon and promise, was more than that.

It's no secret that I haven't been "doing the deed," as it were, quite as often as I'd like. I have a rather epic sex drive that is impossible to match or exceed for most people but, during our good periods, Bear has (literally) risen to the challenge.

Needless to say, I was a little hesitant to give in to his unspoken promises. To put it bluntly, the only thing worse than not fucking is starting to fuck and being put off. I'm simply not the type of girl who enjoys that.

But the hair pulling and choking that followed the kiss, well, I'm the just the type of girl who enjoys that sort of thing. And multiple orgasms... let's just say that they're high on my list of "to do's."

It's nice to be reminded that we're not roommates, and I've forgotten just how much I need a strong man in the bedroom. It was a wonderful weekend.

2007-04-28T21:01:00.000-07:00

Springtime is slowly beginning to rouse my slumbering attitude. Little by little, with every lightening flash and new tulip sprout, my body and mind come out of hibernation. I feel renewed. I feel rejuvenated. I feel all sorts of words that start with the prefix re-. *grin*

I'm starting to feel like me again. Or, perhaps, a new and better version of me erupting from the cocoon of winter like a butterfly ready to spread her dewy wings.

Scratch that. I did not just compare myself to a butterfly. How totally cliche.

What I'm trying to say is this...

How does one really know who he or she is unless challenged and allowed the possibility of emotional growth? Without the season of death there would be no season of rebirth. I fully intend to grasp this spring season and hold onto it with all my might, no matter where that might eventually take me.

It might not be the hood of a Buick Regal in the middle of nowhere after a drive-in movie, but who says what comes next isn't equally as wonderful and exciting? Life goes on whether or not you are ready and willing to move with it.

I'm trying to brush away the fear and be ready for it.

Growing up is a bitch.

In case you were wondering...

2007-04-26T16:21:00.000-07:00

Writer's block is a total bitch.

2007-04-24T21:09:00.000-07:00

Long distance D/s relationships... possible or not possible?

Go.

*And yes, this is a lazy post. I'm formulating an opinion on this and will weigh in when thoughts concrete themselves into words.*

2007-04-23T20:28:00.000-07:00

This evening, I have the desire for a long-winded phone conversation. My day is filled with person to person interaction and the nuances have long since faded.

I want to talk on the phone like I'm 16 years old, enraptured in the tone and texture of your voice. I want to listen to you form words and I want to purr for you. I want you to make me drip when I just focus on the sound of your voice.

I've worn out those channels and I miss it. It's too bad I can't have voice comments on my page.

Spring fever.

2007-04-22T23:14:00.000-07:00

It's 12:30 in the morning and I should be in bed. Work, while it wasn't nearly as long and exhausting as the previous overnight shift at the emergency clinic, was just as emotionally demanding.

Tomorrow is Monday, which means much more to everyone else than it does to me. It's simply another day in a never ending stream of days, each of which seem to come more quickly than the last.

I'm tired, but I can't sleep. I still smell like the early morning air, warm and potentially violent, from the walk inside. There are storms in the area but none have seen it fit to visit my precise location. Regardless, weather like this energizes me. I couldn't find my way into the bedroom even if I tried.

A specific lack of sexual activity and the newly tepid weather has brought out a nearly leporid desire in me to rut. I feel like pulling men into alleyways and forcing women by their hair into bathrooms to have my way with them (or let them have their way with me, as it were).

I need it now. Now. Now. My mind is always on sex, it seems. Minor things bring out my inner nymph and I sexualize everything. Licking my lips, tossing my hair out of my face, taking a drink from a straw... I can make everything about sex. If I want to make you want me, you will. Even though that means you'll never be allowed to have me, I want you to want me.

Do you want me now?

2007-04-17T19:27:00.000-07:00

How I long for the days when a post was more than one or two sentences long. Unfortunately, today is not going to be the day that cycle is broken. I have the flu. I hate being sick, I hate spending that much time on cool tile floors without a cock involved, I hate not being able to hold anything down.

I. Hate. The. Flu.

Send me love and vegetarian soup.

R.I.P.

2007-04-12T06:06:00.000-07:00

Rest in Peace, Kurt Vonnegut. You single-handedly introduced me to real writing (my first novel that I chose to read instead of being forced to in school was Slaughterhouse Five). I will forever associate you with freedom of speech - writing what you feel like and not necessarily what everyone else wants to hear.

You've joined your karass in wherever we go after we die. So it goes.

2007-04-09T20:12:00.000-07:00

I sit here, watching the cursor blink blink blinking, while I hope that words will somehow miraculously form themselves and save my mind the trouble of coaxing them out.

I'm not sure what the worst part of writer's block is. Sitting down, staring at a blank screen and not being able to pull anything out of my head hurts me both physically and emotionally. I read other people's words, hoping to gain inspiration, but none comes.

I'm throwing in the towel for this evening. Hopefully when I have more empty time and fewer hiccups I'll be able to produce.

2007-04-07T15:27:00.000-07:00

2007-04-04T21:11:00.000-07:00

You might surmise, from my latest few posts, that I have little to say. That is far from the truth. I in fact have many thoughts bouncing around in my head, but few that are ready go from random thought to the written word.

I'm restless. I'm uncomfortable with life in general, right now. The more things seem to balance out and become more "normal," the larger my tendency is to stand up abruptly and knock over the table. Usually, that desire is healthy and leads to truly greener pastures. Currently, however, it's my own need to make life more interesting by complicating things that is running the show.

I'd be boring if I was on an even keel though, right?

Just for being patient with me, here's one more picture.

2007-04-04T16:58:00.000-07:00

Squeaky clean.

2007-04-03T21:01:00.000-07:00

In lieu of an "actual" post, I bring you Bathing With Aine...

I'll post another tomorrow, if you're good.

2007-04-01T22:23:00.000-07:00

Lately, I feel stress like a noose around my neck. Every tiny thing drops me a bit lower until I'm ready to kick the chair out from underneath my own feet.

I'm not quite sure why my coping mechanisms haven't engaged. I've shopped, I've vented, I'm exercised... nothing seems to help.

I'm just so tired. Tired of having to be everything to everyone else. Tired of pressuring myself to be so perfect. Tired of not having sex. Tired of working 7 days a week.

I'm also physically tired, despite sleeping 13 hours last night. That's one hell of a sleep debt.

I'll be back to my old self soon. Tomorrow is a new day, right?

---

I'm still feeling bitchy, but a good orgasm is the cure for just about anything that ails you. Thank you, Literotica. Most of the writing there is crap, but occasionally I'll stumble upon some gems. Good non-consent writing is few and far between and anyone who finds any should feel free to email it to me. I'd seriously appreciate it.

2007-03-25T22:45:00.000-07:00

I am alive. I have no computer, but yet my heart still beats and my lungs still take in and exhale air. I even manage to function despite it having been several weeks since someone else has touched me in a sexual manner.

Imagine that. I'm growing up.

I'm certainly not the satisfied sex kitten I'd like to be. Someone needs to fix that.

2007-03-19T21:02:00.000-07:00

Spring is in the air.

I was awoken by a thunderstorm this morning, rumbling lazily through my neighborhood. As I listened to the infrequent booming and saw the lightening flashes against closed eyelids, I laughed to myself. Winter isn't quite gone yet, but spring isn't ready to make its appearance yet either. They're simply two quiet puppies dozing sleepily side by side, one tired from playing all day and the other not ready to awake yet.

I can't wait for spring to wake with a vengeance. I'm a thunderstorm-loving, puddle-splashing, umbrella-throwing away weather ballerina. If I could spend the entire season outside on a picnic blanket, I would. No question.

Fuck.

2007-03-06T09:21:00.000-08:00

This may shock some of you, but I'm a brat. I'd go one step further. I'm a Brat. With a capital B. I was an only child for 6 years and was generally spoiled rotten as a young girl. That has definitely spilled into my adulthood. I like things my way. Everything in the spot I want it. I want things to go off exactly as planned. I hate not getting what I want. I'm really, in general, very hard to manage and deal with.

So, naturally, living with Bear and being denied the routine pleasures of his cock due to his back problems makes me a bit pouty. No, fuck that. I'm not a "bit pouty." I'm a lot pouty. I hate it. Hate it hate it hate it. I'd like to tie him up, give him painkillers and Viagra and fuck him stupid. I'm going to say I'm only joking here, merely because I don't want him to get suspicious when I make a trip to Lowes.

Last night, I was asleep. He came in later, as he usually does, and I woke up with his fingers inside me. I remember asking him to quit because I was tired, but I must have been mostly asleep because that would have never crossed my awake and rational brain ever.

This morning, I asked him if he would have fucked me if I woke up. He said probably. I'm an idiot.

Note to self: It is always better to get fewer hours of sleep if there is an orgasm involved. Granted, I had one by myself a few hours earlier, but it's not the same. Damn my heavy sleeping and ineptitude at waking up.

In other news...

2007-03-05T14:18:00.000-08:00

I'm going to try to respond to comments a bit more now that things have calmed down around here. I'll just amend your comment with my response if I feel it needs one, if I'm bored or if I like you. *wink*

I'm an idiot.

2007-03-05T13:52:00.000-08:00

What is it about alcohol that is so appealing to us mere mortals? And don't say the taste... that's the bullshit most alcoholics spout when they're trying to think of something else to say besides "it makes me hammered."

I'm 25 years old. I've been drinking since I was 15, at least that's the furthest back I can remember. I did it for all the usual reasons - I thought it would make me cool, funny, etc. Turns out, it really only makes me look like an ass and make stupid decisions. Not to mention that my liver probably hates the hell out of me at this point.

The consequences fully outweigh the rewards for continuing this behavior. At some point, I will get a DUI. I will make that one poor decision that will get me raped or killed or, even worse, get someone else killed. I don't want that on my conscience.

(Yes, there was a specific event that led to this decision. No, I probably won't discuss it on here. Nothing happened to me or anyone else, but it could have.)

So, aside from the occasional glass of wine with dinner (I can't give up my eiswein just yet), I'm finished with social drinking. As the child of an alcoholic, I couldn't stand it if my daughter's childhood was affected by drinking the way mine was.

Wish me luck.

For those who have stuck with me through this depressing post, I offer the promise that I will write more pruriently soon and here is my cuteness as gift...

2007-02-28T20:12:00.000-08:00

I am still alive somewhere under this pile of unpacked boxes. When I find myself, I'll dig her out and she'll write a post about that which she knows best... packing, unpacking, cleaning, working and fucking herself. I haven't time for much else.

2007-02-20T19:38:00.000-08:00

In lieu of an actual post, I'd like to offer the future newest addition to my shoe collection. Hot shoes, meet my readers. Readers, meet the cutest shoe ever.

Imagine feeling those against your back as you're thrusting into me. Although I may be too preoccupied starting at the sexy on my feet to pay attention to you.

If they should be mine, you better believe I'll take pictures.

2007-02-19T17:55:00.000-08:00

I have a post in my head, bouncing around merrily, but a recent mundane conversation with someone about guns has gotten me all hot and bothered. I find guns unbelievably sexy and terrifying. I've known how to shoot since the age of sixteen and still get a thrill from the feel of a handgun discharging in my grip.

The post will have to wait.

I may not leave the bedroom for the rest of the evening.

I'm not sure I get this... but it made me laugh.

2007-02-14T13:05:00.001-08:00

2007-02-13T21:40:00.000-08:00

Again, courtesy of one of my fave webcomics, Xkcd.

Happy V-Day if you celebrate. Happy Singles Awareness Day if you don't. I wish everyone good luck in spending the later portion of the evening in bed - whether that's with someone hot and sexy bent on pleasuring you or with a box of Swiss chocolates.

2007-02-12T21:31:00.001-08:00

I can't decide whether I'm tired and horny or horny and tired.

Doesn't matter, I suppose. I'll have to pleasure myself to get to sleep anyway.

2007-02-08T21:01:00.000-08:00

A little tip for the submissives out there...

When lying in bed next to your man, even if you think he's tired and uninterested, even if you're only joking and mean absolutely nothing by it... do not insult his ability and desire to dominate you.

You will end up with your face being pressed into the bed so hard that you can't breathe, your hair wrapped around his fist as he angles the palm of his hand into the back of your neck and the wind knocked out of you as he pounds his cock into you.

Trust me on this one.

2007-02-07T11:05:00.000-08:00

Sex in the rain. It's an old stand-by; a fantasy for the creatively challenged.

Walking back to my car today, my breath showing in crystallized punctuations as I exhaled, it occurred to me that I've always wanted to have sex in the snow.

There is something terribly erotic about snow underfoot. The almost animalistic crunch, the feeling of strength giving way, the way every step leaves a little memory behind... suddenly I imagine myself pressed against a tree. You remove my clothes, my bare skin melting the snow as the rough bark scratches against me, and you laugh as I shiver. I want to wrap my legs around you, feeling your warmth enter me as the soft sound of snow falling makes our lustful noises that much more perverse. I want to feel the tree drawing blood from my back as I draw blood from yours.

I want you.

Me in a nutshell.

2007-02-05T20:41:00.000-08:00

Courtest of Xkcd.

Also, the 3 most recent searches that brought people here were very diverse and I had to share:

- I think my husband's gay and I don't love him anymore. (Huh? This relates to me how?)
- Drawn to hug. (Like, you can't help but hug people all the time or you're drawn into a hug by someone else?)
- She loves the feel of his cock entering her. (Now, I don't dispute this but the grammar literally gives me the willies. Either that or it could be because we're below zero here.)

You people must be very interesting.

2007-02-04T19:58:00.000-08:00

On a Henry Rollin's spoken word cd called Think Tank, he spoke of bisexuality. It always stuck with me because, besides being completely hysterical, what he said was so right on that I generally use it to explain how I feel to heterosexual people.

"And there's nothing wrong to being into all of it. How awesome would it be to be bisexual... to walk into a room and just go 'Mmmm. Alright. Oh yeah.' I've heard that there's a publication in San Francisco, that I've never seen, it's apparently a bisexual publication. It's called Anything That Moves. Fucking awesome!"

For real, Henry.

I realized that even more today while I was sitting in a training seminar (on Superbowl Sunday! Talk about adding insult to the injury that was the fucking Bears game - I mean, you run the kick-off in for a touchdown and you STILL lose the game! Come on!).

Anyway. One of the trainers was this amazing looking butch woman - very short hair with frosted tips, muscular physique, blue blue eyes. Very cute. I was distracted from watching her mouth as she talked by the constant flirting of one of the doctors. He's the epitome of frat boy, but still so goddamn adorable. It's just unfortunate that he's aware of that. I'm just such a lecherous whore.

On a semi-related note, Henry also had something humorous to add to sexism and classification in sexuality...

"Like there's guys and girls who like the opposite sex exclusively. Straight. I'm straight. Hey, shut up, I'm straight. I think I'm going to go have some straight sex... it sounds like the kind of sex the guys in Dragnet would have....

"Then we go onto the next classification. Guys who dig guys. Gay... Let's think about that for a minute... happy. Think about 1970 something America. Pre-specter of death AIDS discotechques... all that great music, all these guys in their leather pants... Imagine the zero level of bullshit in that room... You wouldn't hear any talking. All you'd hear is belt buckles hitting the ground... I guess that's why they call it gay. Happy happy happy all the time."

"Now, I notice that women are given that weird, strange lesbian name...I mean, all the other classifications are adjectives. Gay, adjective. Straight, adjective. Lesbian, sort of sticky mucous membrane noun. Kind of could be a rare and obscure South African arboreal tree frog that only comes down from the triple canopy jungle foliage to mate and then hatch the eggs and then die. The lesbians mate during the rainy season. The female carries the eggs on her back and is fertilized by the male. She goes back up into the tree and waits. Her babies are hatched and then the lesbian dies. It just sounds icky. And it must be a man coming up with the name for women who date women. A man who is mad at a woman who has no need for his dick."

It's probably much more funny if you hear it. Email me if you want the sound file; it cracks me up every time. *laugh*

2007-02-01T20:00:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is Friday, but weekends have meant less and less to me after taking my second job. While I love it, it's perhaps the most challenging position I've ever been placed in, it does tend to run my ass ragged.

Since my ass hasn't been getting much use besides running around, I suppose that I should just be happy for the action.

Actually, I tease. Although I've been down and out with bronchitis for the past 4 days, I've still managed to convince my man to both take care of me and "take care of me." He did both with gusto.

During one rather intense session, I found myself on my hands and knees in front of him. He pressed himself against my back (I love feeling held down and helpless during sex) and shoved himself into me, growling against my ear as I twisted my neck around to kiss him. We talked about finding another man, other men, to fuck me. Watching them fuck me. Being double penetrated. Needless to say, it made me hot.

While I identify as bisexual *waves at all the ladies* and I generally prefer women a little over half of the time, the idea of being with multiple men is still one of my major fantasies. The hardness, the maleness, being used and using them at the same time... it's both submissive and controlling.

The wanton whore... most men believe that it makes them "more of a man" to fuck us. In truth, we use them. We use their bodies, their passion, and leave them. It's something I've done nearly all my life. It's one of the most empowering things, but I'm also settling nicely into monogamy. Who says monogamy can't include some threesomes, foursomes or tensomes every once in awhile. *grin*

Momentary glimpse of fame and fortune.

2007-02-01T11:35:00.000-08:00

After reading about 25 Peeps on both Jill and Hiromi's blogs, I decided "what the hell."

Here I am - I'm not really expecting to stay up there too long but I've been sick for a few days with nothing better to do.

http://www.25peeps.com/r/3028

An addendum.

2007-01-29T19:39:00.000-08:00

While being sick and staying in bed all day is not the most horrible thing in the world from a non-sexual perspective, waking up after being able to nap next to Bear and shedding our clothes in a heated rush to have him inside me isn't so bad either.

Qué será, será.

2007-01-28T16:58:00.000-08:00

Don't get me wrong, I love a good roll in the sheets. Crawling into bed with him, naked flesh against naked flesh, pressing against each other to take the chill off our skin is incredibly satisfying. I love feeling him against me, on top of me, exploring my mouth with his tongue and holding my hands above my head.

But sometimes, goddamnit, it's nice to be in bed sick and be taken care of.

2007-01-24T20:23:00.000-08:00

There is something primitive about sitting alone in the dark. I hear my cat purring as she warms my lap, pressing into my legs with her fleshy pads and the few sharp tips of nails lucky enough to have escaped from their plastic prisons. This occurs as an almost out of body experience. I know she is there, rhythmically bashing into my hand with her cold, wet nose to solicit my attention, but I don't interact.

I am focused.

The computer monitor holds my attention, the clicking of my fingernails against the keys, and I watch as words form. Sentences appear. Paragraphs now, frenzied and disjointed, those words and sentences strewn together haphazardly in an attempt to find peace from this manic need to create.

I was once told that all creative people are psychologically "off." There is some facet of personality, some minor quirk that places them apart from the so-called normalcy of the rest of society. I have found, in my experience, that this is almost always true. It's an addiction, especially with the more recent creation of online societies, to seek the endorphin rush that comes with creating (even anonymously) for people who read, comment and ultimately inflate the ego.

I was born with an overactive sense of lust, in every sense of the word. I have lust in the most basic definition... I love to be involved in sexual trysts and liaisons, studying bodies with my hands and tongue, learning what makes people tick in the most primeval way. I have lust for life. I have lust for educating myself, teaching myself new words nearly every single day (in many languages). I have that manic lust for creating and for reading the words of the few who comment here. They feed me.

There are few who share my obsession, but I thoroughly enjoy engaging those who do the few times I'm able to online. It's almost like a secret society, filled with the angry, lustful, dispossessed, strong and intelligent. We're the revolutionaries of a new generation; one where writing is more accessible and you don't have to have a book deal to be heard. It feels good to share that with you.

Blog for Choice.

2007-01-22T10:37:00.000-08:00

I am pro-choice. As a woman, my body is my temple. I eat well, I exercise, I take care of myself both inside and out. It is my body, the only one I have, and I treat it that way.

I feel that it is incredibly inappropriate for lawmakers, especially male lawmakers, to make decisions about my body. The simple fact is that they are not women. They don't know what it's like to have to make a decision like that. They couldn't know.

A woman's right to choose should be nonnegotiable. Reproductive healthcare is not something that women should have to receive with shame in back alley clinics.

I have never had an abortion. The fact is that I'm not sure I ever could. But I've held my friends' hands as they've crossed through lines of protesters holding signs of dead fetuses. I've tucked them into bed, wiped their eyes and sat outside their bedrooms for support. I've seen the fear in their eyes turn into relief as they realize that they've done the absolute best thing for them. I would do it again in an instant.

Today, I blog for choice in support of all the woman who have had to make that decision, all the woman who will someday have to make that decision, and all the women who are lucky enough to never have to make that decision. On the 34th anniversary of Roe Vs. Wade, hug your sister. Hug your wife or your girlfriend. Make the commitment to make sure they're free to choose what's right for their own bodies for the next 34 years.

MP3 meme.

2007-01-16T09:25:00.000-08:00

Borrowed this meme from Daemon, since it's about the most creativity I can fathom between packing packing packing.

Instructions:
1. Open your library on your iPod (or in iTunes). - (I use a Creative MP3 player, fuck iPods.)
2. Put it on shuffle.
3. Press play.
4. For every question, type the song that’s playing.
5. When you go to a new question, press the Next button.

Opening Credits: I Know I Know I Know (Tegan and Sara ) - Nice and mellow, a slow wake up.
Waking Up: Folsom Prison Blues (Johnny Cash) - I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.
Falling in Love: England Belongs to Me (Cock Sparrer) - Haha. Is that trying to say I'm possessive?
Fight Song: Ocean Apart (Julie Delpy) - Um, ok? Soft and mellow. Maybe a surrealist fight scene in some weird movie. I definitely fight a little less, um, sweet than that.
Breakup Song: Rattling Bones (Communique) - Wow. Yeah.
Making Up Song: John Saw That Number (Neko Case) - I'm not quite sure I understand that one.
Life’s Okay Song: Nanny Nanny Boo Boo (Le Tigre) - I concur. I dance to this song when I'm feeling happy!
Mental Breakdown: Psychobitches Outta Hell (The Horrorpops) - Hahaha. Hysterical. Perfect.
Driving: Feel Good Inc. (Gorillaz) - In fact I was listening to this one driving the other day!
Flashbacks: I Love You More Than Words Can Say (Otis Redding) - This reminds me of driving in the middle of nowhere with Bear. In fact, he made the comp that this song was originally on.
Happy Dance: Rapture (Pedro the Lion) - Happy in an entirely prurient way.
Regret: Dig Me Out (Sleater Kinney) - Well the title is good, I guess. The song isn't too regretful, though.
Final Battle: She's Just That Kinda Girl (Lucero) - Yup. No fighting. Just accept that I don't change.
Death Scene: This Modern Love (Bloc Party) - Hmmmm.
Final Credits: Leap Year (Maria Taylor) - Sweet and easy way to begin, sweet and easy way to end. Love it.

2007-01-11T18:34:00.000-08:00

The laughing couple holding hands while driving their minivan down a suburban street as their child sleeps in the car seat behind them. Women scrubbing their sinks happily as energetic children track mud across their spotless white tile kitchen floors. Men leaving for the office in the morning, briefcase in one hand and a travel mug of coffee in the other, pausing for a moment to turn towards the door and smile at the wife waiting there as the sun rises.

I understand that it's advertising. The entire concept of advertising is to present an unrealistic future, the golden standard, something obviously unattainable but close enough to our reach that we view it as the ring on the carousel. Our idealistic vision of our perfect lives.

I still feel uncomfortable watching them. It's not that I don't have love in my life; Bear and I hold hands in public enough to make anyone ill. I've just never wanted that sort of mundane future for myself... The 2.5 children. The picket fence. Being a stay at home mother while my husband works hard and comes home to find a spotless house and dinner on the table.

I've always wanted more for myself. The things I aspire to, have always aspired to, are things that truly make a difference. I don't base my worth on how clean my sink is, how many cars I have or how many square feet my house is. The idea of living in suburbia, in the picture perfect cardboard cut out home, makes me feel sick. I'm a free spirit. I want to live in the hustle and bustle. I want museums. I want food choices that aren't chain restaurants. I want my daughter to grow up knowing what diversity really looks like.

Yet, viewing those ads, I feel like the freak. Like my desires for life are somehow less realistic than everyone else's desires. I'm a mother, but I teach my child that life sucks and that she'll need to be prepared to defend her choices. I'm a lover, but I feel most valued when I'm being forcefully pressed to the bed and tears are streaming from my eyes. I'm a student, but I'm the first to raise my hand and challenge a position. Is that less valid? Less worthy of praise?

(PostSecret)

2007-01-10T19:38:00.000-08:00

I am a very needful creature. I consider myself somewhat akin to a feline - the type that winds herself around your legs, sits down on the book you're trying to read and stares at you until you decide to pay her some attention.

I've gotten used to my solitude, however. I'm not quite the attention whore I used to be. Quiet evenings spent sitting cross-legged on the couch, wrapped in a giant comforter and reading a book are perhaps more important to me now than being the center of attention at a party or the bar.

There is one large hurdle that I can't seem to jump over, however. I have a very active sex drive. Someone once compared me to a teenage boy - I have sex on my mind constantly and am nearly always up for it. Now, because of the pain and medications that Bear is on, my sex drive easily surpasses his. As he pointed out to me early, the will is there. The desire is there. The back, well, that's another story. I will be on top, in fact I come easier that way, but I far prefer being on my stomach with my face pressed into a pillow. Call it nature's way of getting me to shut the fuck up for a few minutes. *grin*

Although it's been this way for nearly a year now, I still have a hard time dealing with it. Now, moving in together, I'm worried that it may become even more of an issue. I've never been a faithful person - cheating is something that comes easily for me and leaves me with no bad taste in my mouth. Bear and I have been together for four years and not once have I touched another person without his express consent (besides, of course, getting drunk and kissing people). I love him. I don't want to be with anyone else, except in my head (and if you're reading this, you've been in my head at least once. Especially specific people who read this, and you know who you are. *wink*). I'm not going to cheat on him. It's just that this massive sex drive, this beast of burden that causes me undo suffering, reminds me that I need it. I crave it.

I'm going to go take care of that right now, in fact.

2007-01-09T08:55:00.000-08:00

I was running late. I'm very sensitive about being late anywhere, mainly because my mother is consistently fifteen minutes late. As every woman knows, you never want anyone to have the recourse to tell that "you're just like your mother." It's one of the worst statements ever uttered by humanity. Trust me.

I stood on my tiptoes to give Bear a kiss goodbye when he wrapped his long, cold fingers around the back of my neck. Melting into his hand, I found myself pressing my tongue into his mouth. To those who don't know me, and even those that know me fairly well, discovering that I'm capable of such a loss of control at inapparent stimuli might be shocking. Bear, well, Bear knows each of my little tells and manipulates them to achieve his sexual aims.

My clothes melted off onto the floor and a heavy silence filled the room, punctuated by the sounds of mouths pressed together, zippers being undone and my weak attempts begging him to let me leave so that I would be on time to meet my father for lunch.

Bear bent me across the foot of the bed in a near backbend, kissing and biting at my breasts. My eyes rolled back into my head, unable to even keep them focused on him. I was slipping further and further away and Bear was aware of each little detail of my mental state. When he finally pressed himself into my slit, which was dripping with so much wetness that it was beginning to run down my legs, he grabbed my hair and told me that I was going to be late. I believed him.

I don't have the time, memory or mental energy to describe much more than that, so I'll let a picture do the talking. I apologize for the quality, it was taken on my cell phone.

2007-01-07T12:08:00.000-08:00

In every relationship, a balance exists. The type of balance varies within the context of each individual relationship, depending on a number of different factors. The majority of the balance is due to functions of the human condition beyond our control, mainly hormones and pheromones that occur naturally in our bodies. We can't change them.

Sometimes our bodies betray us and attract the wrong sort of people, people who are able to "smell" our unique dysfunctions and manipulate them to achieve their own selfish goals. Other times, two people are brought together because, right or wrong, they simply compliment each other. I'm no human biologist and I couldn't begin to explain the "hows" or "whys" of this situation, but having experienced both conditions myself I'm aware that they exist.

Bear and I have always had "a way"... the natural ebb and flow, the organic way that we behave around each other. Neither one of us are superior/inferior to the other, we coexist and have been together for the past four years because our weaknesses and strengths correspond and help the other person to grow and change for the better. In our relationship, we share everything. We talk, we fight sometimes, we give in and compromise. We simply love each other - no pretensions or desires to make the other person into someone they're not.

And in our relationship, I am naturally submissive. Much like the breaking down and reforming of molecules, no two objects are exactly the same. My submission to Bear would never be the same as my assumed submission to someone else. In fact, I've never been submissive to anyone else besides Bear. It's something that I've embraced as the unique behavior it is. He is dominant. I am submissive. That's our way.

It's with the understanding that we have come full circle and embraced each other's essential unchangeable nature (both positive and negative) that we embark on the next path in our lives together - we're moving back in. It feels right this time - not the result of a forced hand or jumping in head first. We've grown so much in the past year and a half that we're finally ready to give it a complete go this time. Wish us luck.

2006-12-30T21:52:00.000-08:00

I'm without Internet access for another 2 weeks (gotta love being forced to deal with your addiction to technology by having it completely taken out of your hands!) but I wanted to drop in and wish everyone a happy new year.

May 2007 be filled with love, kindness, unadulterated joy, laughter and as many zen moments as humanely possible. Live well.

Merry Christmas (late, I know).

2006-12-25T23:41:00.000-08:00

Money and presents are just fine for Christmas, but orgasms are the best gift of all. Especially when the mood strikes right in the middle of playing the brand new Final Fantasy XII game (yes, I'm a nerd. But a hot nerd!) and forces me to succumb to my urges while lying on the living room floor surrounded by bows and discarded wrapping paper. Touching myself never felt so naughty before. And so oddly festive.

Afternoon delight.

2006-12-22T19:57:00.000-08:00

My pupils dilated as I implored him, without words, to take a moment out of his time. The soft whirr of his MP3 player, each solemn chirp pushing me to the limits of my patience, made sure I knew every folder and every song that took precedence over me.

I rubbed my head against the inside of his thighs, relishing the scratchy denim and the smell of both soap and testosterone. I was on my knees in front of him for no sexual reason; all I wanted was a quick tousle of the hair and a little attention.

It's moments like these that remind me just how much he means to me. He's tough and vulnerable at the same time, a beautiful combination of balls and brains. As much as I fight it (dominance is just so much more prestigious than submission), kneeling in front of him with an adoring gaze is something that comes so natural to me. To us.

He respects me, he loves me.. we interlock because our differences mesh so well together. He craves the dominance, the feel of my flesh as it gives way under his hand. I crave the morning after, watching the bruises turn from purple to blue to green to yellow. He loves rutting me, pressing my face into the bed as he ravishes me. I love walking around hours after, my sore and tormented pussy serving as my naughty little secret.

I love him.

2006-12-21T19:36:00.000-08:00

I have a creative block. Instead of continuing to sit here, pushing myself until I see the bright tiny beginnings of a migraine start to form, I'm going to give in for the moment. There is a reason I'm unable to write and I need to figure that out instead of forcing it. I'll be back again soon with writings about torrid sexual encounters and insights into my twisted mind. Promise.

Being a Libra is quite annoying.

2006-12-16T14:39:00.000-08:00

I have never been a good writer. Sure, I'm creative and I thoroughly enjoy sitting down at the computer and letting my fingers help my emotions come to the surface. God knows I have a hard time manufacturing them on my own. I've never wrote for anyone other than myself though and, thus, I'm not really too concerned with what other people think of me or this site.

Of course I enjoy that you read this. It helps me to know that people are coming on this journey with me. I just can't write for you; it would make me dishonest if I was catering to the people who wander in and out of my online life.

Knowing all that, it makes me want to rip my hair out that I edit and edit before publishing. Why am I so concerned with finding the perfect word to express my discontentment or my pain? Why will I write and rewrite the same sentence with the same sentiment over and over?

I supposed I'm more concerned with what you think than I'm aware of. I want to make you think highly of me, but I also want to not care what you think.

Double edged sword, that. This whole blogging thing is quite the obnoxious cultural phenomenon.

Death.

2006-12-15T16:31:00.000-08:00

As the life left her, I choked back tears and concentrated on my job. I placed myself outside the moment, forcing myself to continue breathing for her minutes after her heart had stopped and her eyes had glazed over.

She was the first patient I have ever lost. In the nearly two years I've worked at the clinic, I've been the kind hands that ushered hundreds of beloved pets to their final destination. I've stroked their heads and told them how wonderful and cared for they were, even if their humans weren't strong enough to be there as they passed. But never have I tried so hard to save one, been the sole moderater between the dog and the afterlife, and felt so incredibly helpless.

It hurts. There was nothing I could have done, she had been poisoned by antifreeze days before and the damage was already done. But sitting with her for six hours, petting and taking her vital signs every fifteen minutes as she stared up at me with eyes full of hurt and the desire to die, made me feel as though I should have done more. Watching her breathe in, unable to catch her breath and knowing that every breath hurt more than the last, I wanted so badly so save her.

I'm sorry, girl. I wish I could have saved you.

Death is a part of life - it's the natural end for each and every one of us. No one can cheat death, not when her final price is so steep.

2006-12-12T08:41:00.000-08:00

I'm still alive. My lovely daughter is out of town until this weekend, so I've been spending most of my time over at Bear's humble abode. It's nice "playing house" again, as my grandmother would say.

Mostly, things have been fairly even keeled. I'm trying to ignore the rabid countdown to both Christmas and the end of the year and focus on what's important - my child, my relationships, my family and myself.

I did, however, get laid yesterday. And can I just say, Bear fucks like a lesbian. Seriously. That man has some natural born manual dexterity that no one else should ever even aspire to. Totally other scale, that wonderful man of mine. I've almost forgotten just how wonderful orgasms are! I'm a fan, imagine that.

Anyway, I'm working 2 jobs now (regular vet clinic and overnights at the emergency vet clinic) and spending this week at Bear's. If you need to or would like to get ahold of me, email me.

Gotta love when spell check asks about the word "fuck" about ten times...

2006-12-05T20:31:00.000-08:00

When I made the decision to start writing here, it was mainly to document my submissiveness and my sexual adventures. The beginning statement from my first post, the words that I uttered to begin this project, were:

"I am a submissive. I make no apologies, I accept no condemnation. It simply is who I am, my basic genetic makeup has made this my fate since before I was born."

This site has blossomed into so much more for me. I've learned about myself in ways I never thought possible, watched myself change and grow in infinite directions. Although I have gotten away from the original intent, I feel like I'm still valid in my thoughts and desires for writing here. There is the occasional pang of guilt that I'm not following through with some unsaid promises for lascivious words and prurient intentions, but I hope that some pleasure is still derived from my words.

In that first post, I promised honesty. The beautiful or ugly truth. Here it is...

Simply put, I'm not having sex currently. A few months ago that would have horrified me. A few years ago I would have told you that I'd have put a bullet in my head by now. While I'm still consumed by my more base instincts (I find it incredibly hard to fall asleep without making myself come first), I'm finding pleasure in other more understated things.

This morning, I helped my man clear his car of all the ice and snow that has fallen lately. He sat in the car most of the time while I took my aggression out on the nearly one inch accumulation of packed ice and at least 2 inch accumulation of snow that covered his entire Ford Escort. We may not be fucking, but I still get pleasure out of serving him. I'm not submissive in non-sexual situations, a bit hell no to that, but I felt accomplished that I could still make his life just a little bit easier by giving up a few minutes of my time.

I also get a lot of pleasure from Phedre, though we're not currently sexually involved. Watching her doze off on my couch, her head in my lap, or talking about nothing while we're eating lunch out makes me just as happy (and perhaps, more happy) as fucking her would. I've never existed in relationships without sex before; I'm proving to myself that I can do it and that it's not quite as horrid as I imagined it.

I'd still fuck them both at this exact moment if they walked through my door, though. Having hands in my hair, being held down and having my clothes ripped off is one of my favorite past times. As is making beautiful girls cry while ripping their perfect skin to shreds. You know what they say... you can take the girl from the sadomasochism but you can't, well, that doesn't make sense but you know what I'm getting at.

My apartment is also much more spotless with all that channeled energy. You win some, you lose some.

2006-12-04T20:28:00.000-08:00

There is something so satisfying about life when it brings people back to you that add something intangibly good to your existence. I don't know why and I don't know how, nor do I particularly care, but it feels good to be back in contact with this person.

And now I'm using my website to make a plea... Eala. For real. Come visit. We'll go to the gay bar. We'll eat indian food. We'll sleep in the same bed. It'll be great. You know you want to.

Possessions.

2006-12-02T22:33:00.000-08:00

Anger. Of the many qualities that constitute me, that is the one I am the most comfortable with. I have no demons with my anger. I make no excuses. I am a fiery Irish woman; it's simply in my nature to want to be in control of every situation all the time (unless, of course, I control the fact that I choose to be out of control). I react with fury when I'm not - sometimes physical (if the situation calls for it) and other times verbal. I rarely step out of line when not provoked.

Along with that anger comes jealousy. I'm not jealous of other people - how people choose to live their lives and the blessings and curses that come along with that is simply none of my business. I'm insanely jealous of those I deem "mine," people that have become prized possessions in my life.

Don't get me wrong, I see them as people. I value them as the people they are - friends, lovers, etc - but also treat them as someone would treat an expensive sports car. It is mine to drive at will, no matter how fast or how reckless, but the second someone else tries to step into that car I will take them down. It's my car. Mine. Don't look at it, touch it, breathe on it... under penalty of duress.

I do feel guilt that my mind works this way. Obviously not enough to actually do anything about, but enough to realize that this might not be the healthiest way to behave. Close friends have pointed out that I bait people, trying to engage them in this game of cat and mouse to extract their jealousy, so that I'm not feeling one-sided and culpable.

The truth is, I love my things. If I could take them out and play with them when I want to and put them away when I'm finished, I would. If I could have my cake and eat it to, avoid all the emotional entanglement required in really giving myself to people, I would. Fucked up, huh? Sometimes I have to work to be human and that terrifies me.

A moment.

2006-12-02T14:42:00.000-08:00

When I'm feeling down and out for the count, life has a way of showing me just how beautiful it really can be. There are a limited number of perfect moments - moments that let everything else melt away in a perfection that seems to stop time. This was one of those moments; my MP3 player (on shuffle) provided me with my favorite song (The Weakerthans - My Favorite Chords) and gave me this stunning miracle of nature. The trees are coated in ice from the storm that dropped nearly a foot of snow on us and, although I was on my way back to work and remain extremely stressed out from the impending holiday, I allowed myself the time to simply breathe and take it all in.

May your life be blessed with one of these moments during this season as well. I don't need religion to remind me that I'm very lucky to be alive. In the hustle and bustle, in thinking of everyone else before taking the time to think of yourself, everyone needs time to relax. Take that time. You'll thank yourself later.

2006-12-01T12:04:00.000-08:00

Wow, over 500 hits on my site in the past few days and only 5 people have voted? For shame!

That wonderful creature below happens to be my beautiful girlfriend, Phedre.

It's that time again....

2006-11-29T20:20:00.000-08:00

Analysis.

2006-11-27T19:13:00.000-08:00

Human beings are interesting creatures. We have all the base instincts of our predecessors - we fuck, eat, fight, crave shelter, feel territorial, etc. At our core, we are animals.

The thing that separates us from the animals in our past, however, is this omnipresent need to think things to death. Ninty percent of our lives is wasted in analysis; puzzling, mulling things over, debating, call it what you will. We spend a lot of time, A LOT of time, thinking about how things should be. We concentrate on the future - how I'm going to be rich one day or how I can't wait to finish this project because it will lead me to fame and success. What we miss, the most important thing of all, is living in the moment.

I know that sounds like a whole bunch of new age garbage. Most people disagree almost immediately with it; they're not willing to let go of their hopes and dreams and simply be. I'm not, at least not yet. But I hope to be in the future.

That's partly what my cohesive love of BDSM is. It allows me, if only for the day, to be solely in the moment. I'm living to the exact second - every stroke, every thrust, the loss of each strand of hair, every tiny spasm of my inner walls after orgasm - I feel them all as they're happening and I revel in each little intricate detail.

I'm trying to find balance in my life - ebb and flow, give and take, push and pull. I'm always better at one side than trying to understand both because I've been so conditioned to take life as a fight. I try to drag that other side over the invisible line in the sand instead of equally pushing and pulling. It's very un-Libralike of me. I'm hoping that I grow into my enormous heart someday instead of fighting so hard to hide it away.

Hear those sleigh bells...

2006-11-25T21:25:00.000-08:00

The soothing embrace of darkness always leaves me feeling most creative. It's almost as though I'm wrapped in a cocoon, listening to nothing but the clicking of my fingernails on the keyboard. I can hear the words coming out, imagine them forming the end result instead of fighting against the background noise of neighbors, television, music, the cell phone, my daughter, etc.

The corner of my eye catches the colored reflection of the Christmas tree on my apartment colored walls (It almost pains me to type the word "Christmas," but it pains me from a different perspective to use the slang and unappealing grammar that is "Xmas."). In my chilly home, with the lights in the background, I can almost feel the spirit of the holiday. I'm not quite there, like I'm lying on my back wishing for an orgasm that I can almost feel but am not sure will actually materialize. That waiting is a killer.

My mother always told me to "fake it until [I] make it," but that's partly what has led me to become the cold and emotionless monster I am today. Strike that. I'm not a monster and I do have emotions and general warm fuzzy feelings, it's just that I'm unable (most times) to express them with any sort of grace or dignity. Crying feels like weakness to me and letting someone else see me so vulnerable, well, that rarely happens.

What I really want for Christmas is to be able to open up and feel the spirit of the season. I want to get caught up in life and forget my troubles. I'd like to be able to express my emotions to someone, just to call and say "I love you" in the middle of the day with no rhyme or reason, without the receiving party assuming there's something wrong. I'd really like that.

2006-11-25T13:48:00.000-08:00

Writer's block... please hold.

Time out!

2006-11-21T20:29:00.000-08:00

I seem to be lost in my head a lot more than usual lately. It's almost as if a fog has rolled in, covering all my thoughts in a deep haze and clouding my judgment. I'm second guessing everything, the minor decisions along with the major ones, ripping my hair out in an attempt to feel something. I'm clawing my way upwards like I'm swimming through a closed off canal, poking my head up every few seconds to try to find a brief opening in which to gasp for breath.

Life comes in waves. My life comes in two types - painful and life altering. I barely have time to breathe before they come crashing back onto my shores. Usually I enjoy it that way; I revel in the intensity. This time it just seems, well, tiring. To be on on on all the time, always feeling, always thinking, always so always something... it just wears me out.

I'm taking a few days off from blogging to celebrate Thanksgiving with those closest to me. To all those who celebrate, I wish you all a very non-intense, comforting fat-filled holiday.

Au natural, baby.

2006-11-19T20:29:00.000-08:00

Too tired for a title.

2006-11-18T22:57:00.000-08:00

Still no snow. The temperature is continually hovering above that magic number despite my many persuasions. I'm beginning to get restless waiting; hoping that every tiny piece of cotton floating past my field of vision would change into something more like precipitation and less like garbage.

And, like it or not, the holiday season is here. Tomorrow I'll take my daughter to the local Festival of Trees. I've already cleared the spot in our living room where the tree will be put up, but am patiently and methodically waiting until after Thanksgiving to even get the box out. It seems like the holidays keep coming earlier and earlier each year - a holiday based on thankfulness (and, you know, the complete rape of the Native Americans) is being completely steamrolled by one that's becoming more and more about consumerism each year (Side note - I stumbled on this website a few days ago and can't get it out of my head. Just in case you feel like giving something a little bit more meaningful than Barbie dolls and slippers.).

I'm beginning to wonder if my loner nature is going to subside anytime soon. I've been treating it like a symptom, a temporary side effect of an undiagnosed disease, but it seems more and more as though it's metastasizing into my every day life. The holidays for me were about being with family and sharing the giving spirit, but this year it's more about getting through them and into next year. I hope it changes but, with everything, I have a lot of hope and very little realistic belief.

On that note, I think I'm finally able to get some sleep. I've been up all night watching episodes of Dexter... such a great fucking show. I'm all about antiheroes. Goodnight everyone.

Sleepless nights.

2006-11-17T20:10:00.000-08:00

I remember, once upon a time, when life was black and white. It consisted of right and wrong, good and bad, life and death and was more simple because of that. If I wasn't in before the sun went down, I was grounded the next day. If I didn't study, I got a bad grade.

I really miss those times. Life these days is complex and serious, resulting in many long and sleepless nights deciding between the better of two evils. It's always a damned if you do, damned if you don't scenario. There's simply no way around that.

Bear has been pushing for monogamy. He loves me, I know and see that, and wants me all to himself. I can't honestly blame or punish him for that; I am an insanely jealous person and would never be able to handle him dating anyone else, same sex or not. I love him too, more than anything.

But there's Phedre. We're friends, essentially, but our level of emotional involvement is way deeper than that. I have strong feelings for her and have spoken with her recently about Bear's desire for monogamy. Although we've never stated our feelings for each other out loud, I know that I'm breaking something that means a lot to both of us.

I'm hurting inside. What's new, really? I have a future with Bear, a marriage and a family, but can't seem to get her out of my head.

Snowflake.

2006-11-15T21:00:00.000-08:00

The wind is whistling past my windows, creating an almost musical whir over the sound of Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons" playing at a moderate volume on my computer. They say it may snow this evening, but I hope it holds out until the morning. Besides the unpleasantness caused by having to scrape ice off my car windows, one of the few joys of the season comes from catching the first snowflake on my tongue.

I don't mind that my life is punctuated by these fleeting moments of beauty and childlike abandon. I only wish there was a world where nothing else existed but those times.

I've had an old friend try to reach out to me recently. Lying in bed last night, staring at the ceiling in a vain attempt to talk my body into sleeping, I realized we have known each other for over 10 years at this point. He remains one of the few people that has been my friend for that long; someone I've allowed to watch me grow, change and make mistakes.

He married someone that I don't approve of, she's incredibly wary and jealous of me, and it's been over a year since we've had any sort of real conversation. I love this man, he's very important to me, and I've over the past year I've forgotten just how much he really does mean to me. I miss him and I hope that his attempting to reforge that bond means that he's willing to stand up for himself and let me back into his life. I'm not getting my hopes up, though.

So here's to old friends. Here's to hope. Here's to new friends - the ones I've met and the one's I've yet to meet. And here's to that first snowflake of the season.

R.I.P.

2006-11-14T15:05:00.000-08:00

I am an anarchist. I have no qualms about it and I make no apologies for it. In my heart and soul, I know that the best thing for society is for us to work towards a life with no government interference. I frequent a few local anarchist websites and was completely taken aback to come upon this news story from my own stomping grounds.

To give up one's own life for the cause is the ultimate gesture of commitment. Regardless of how this blog began, however, my intention is not political in nature.

How many things in your life would you die for? Not in theory, but in practice. Would you set yourself on fire to protest something that you believe is unjust and wrong? We all have people that we would take a bullet for, but an idea? How many people can honestly say that they'd die for an idea?

The unfortunate truth is that there are very few true American martyrs. There are, in fact, very few true martyrs at all. Real martyrs refuse to sacrifice other people for their own beliefs; they choose death to emphasize their cause. They believe something so strongly that they simply can't stand by and watch idly. They're active participants in their own life, oddly enough, by choosing to make their own death count towards something larger than themselves.

So, I ask again, how many of you are strong enough to die for your beliefs?

You may not believe in what Malachi Ritchsher believed so strongly that he would kill himself for, but you have to give him credit for doing what so many people can't... feeling something so totally that it consumes you. Rest in peace, Malachi.

*In case you missed the link in the article, this is all that was run in the Sun Times. Sick how many gratuitous stories we can read about murder, rape, child molestation and the like but how one man's suicide to speak out against something the government is doing gets relegated to a small story about a crazy man and nothing about the politics behind it.

The journey.

2006-11-13T19:21:00.000-08:00

There is a passionate anxiety to writing. People who don't feel the pull to create can't possibly imagine this feeling. It's an almost manic scrawling... the need to find any close scrap of paper to capture that perfect phrase that makes an appearance while in line at the grocery store. Some days, I feel as though I'm close enough to madness to prick my own finger simply to use my own blood as ink.

There are some thoughts that are immediately censored before they find their way onto a more permanent medium. My mind is full of darkness and anger just as surely as it is filled with happiness and light. My thoughts seethe in my brain, a blackened cauldron bubbling over a glowing fire of rage and bitterness. These are the thoughts that I can't give literary birth to, for doing so may ignite a small seed in me that chills me to the bone.

The angel and devil on my shoulders are very pronounced. It's an almost visual tug of war between them... do the right thing, the socially acceptable thing, or do what I want. Be the person that I want to be, world be damned, or continue to act in moral and upstanding ways that don't seem to suit me.

It's hard to live a life that's full of contentment when you're living it for other people. I'm so appreciative of the loved ones in my life that support me for who I am and what I want... not who they think I should be and what they would do in my situation. In my experience, people like that are few and far between.

Do I have a point? No. I'm writing just to write; the itch to create this evening far exceeded the fact that I have nothing to say. I'm trying to make sense out of a life that has been on hold a lot lately; trying to turn inaction into the right sort of action that will take me further along the road towards where I want to ultimately end up. The problem is, I don't know where I want to end up. Sometimes the journey is best part.

I can't get no.....satisfaction.....

2006-11-12T19:12:00.000-08:00

There was a small fraction of a moment, some incidental clicking of a second hand, that served as my awakening. Perhaps it was the rough scratching of the beige apartment carpet on the soft delicate skin of my left cheek or the way that each thrust brought with it another sharp slap of his hand against my already welted backside... it's really very difficult to tell. It may have not been physical at all, the way that repressed memories or the ignored knowledge of previous lives tends to take one by surprised at the most inopportune moments.

Sex is my poetry. Being close to people, intimately close, fills me with an undeniable sense of purpose. My partner and I communicate most effectively when we're connected in that sense; it's almost as though all those things that we set aside and ignore during the course of normal conversation suddenly don't need to be said. Everything between us returns to equilibrium.

I enjoy a life in balance. I like black, white and grey. I like happy, sad and neutral. I like pain, pleasure and, well, both at the same time. The nasty sort of pain and the illness that has precluded our sexual relationship has thrown a blanket over some of my more delicate senses. I've become less overtly sexual in nature... where we'd spend our weekends together ordering in and fucking all day we now rent movies and cuddle. I'm out of balance with myself.

This weekend was different. I've been used, abused and fucked within an inch of my life. I've made guttural sounds that shouldn't come from a human being. I feel loved, I feel beautiful, I feel closer to him than I have in a long time. I used to believe that my need for the closeness that sex provides was a flaw, something that made me weak and needful, but I'm reevaluating that.

For now, I'm satisfied.

Nights like these...

2006-11-07T20:26:00.000-08:00

Today is one of those days when I crave submission. I've been running around like crazy all day - I voted bright and early, went for a run at the gym, had a work lunch/meeting and then I worked again in the evening. It's 10:30 and I'm just now sitting down at my computer for a few brief moments of sanity regaining time before viewing the latest election results (too close to call, though it's looking terrifying Republican at the moment) and heading off to bed.

It's times like these when I need to let go and lose control for a while. I need to give in to that powerful urge to submit, to kneel at his feet and feel his pride, love and joy wash over me. It provides me with the ability to take time for myself and for my man, to center things around us and put the concerns of the rest of our lives and the world on the backburner to concentrate on the moment.

It's been months since we've done anything substantially D/s, and probably over a year since I can remember the last time I've felt satisfied for more than the afterglow with the amount that's in our lives. We've never found a healthy balance - too much makes me angry and withdrawn, too little makes me act out like a petulant toddler. Learning what D/s means in our relationship now that he's in so much pain has had to take a backseat to so many other more important issues for us.

It's just nights like these, as Lucero would say, that make him seem so far away.

If you'll excuse me, I'm off to bed. No visions of sugar plum fairies tonight, my darlings.

Vote, fuckers!

2006-11-06T20:03:00.000-08:00

I may be without a real blog template at the moment, but I wanted to take a time out from my frantic hacking and remind everyone that it's your right and responsibility to cast your vote tomorrow. You may not think you're making a difference, but you are. You're shaping your state for the future, your future. You're influencing policy, helping put people in office who believe the same things that you do and will fight for them.

Vote tomorrow, and vote wisely. Do your research - don't just blindly vote democrat or republican unless you've looked at what that means for each candidate. I may be an anarchist, but until that is as feasible and maintainable for our society in practice as it is in theory my ass is getting out and marking that ballet.

Do your duty, people. That's all I'm sayin'.

*Comic courtesy of the best damn webcomic with stick figures out there, xkcd.

2006-11-05T20:29:00.000-08:00

I'm going absolutely nuts trying to redesign this page; my fingers are sore and my brain is nearly dead. If anyone has any extra time on their hands and would like to toss me a template or something that I can just tweak a bit, add a header I've designed and stick up there instead of spending all my time messing with the HTML and CSS myself, I'd appreciate it. Be your best friend!

2006-11-05T08:25:00.000-08:00

If I were a religious woman, I would pray for days like these. Wrapped in my favorite white chenille blanket (which, these days, seems more like a comfort "blankie" than a simple decorative piece of fabric), my hands pressed around the theoretical mug of hot chocolate that I dreamed of a few days ago, my mind anticipating doing next to nothing the entire day... life couldn't get more wonderful than this.

I'm planning a rousing day of closet cleaning, grocery shopping and movie seeing... next week starts that downward decline to the holiday season that spirals me into a constant whirl of activity and stress. Today, however, I am zen. I am peaceful and content. I am serene. And, I need to get laid? Where did that come from?

I was flipping through my "trunk o' naughty" at the foot of my bed last night (my girl had never seen liquid latex... which is a travesty) and the intoxicating smell just sent my senses into overdrive. I haven't been in there in months, and the combination of leather, robe, lubricant and latex that mingled with the sound of chain and sadistic implements rustling just rocked my world. I'm going to be turned on for the rest of the day.

2006-10-29T19:08:00.000-08:00

It's no secret to those who know me best that I'm a cat person. I prefer the more introverted nature of cats, the way that they allow you to vacation for days at a time without need of walking or attention (and you don't need to worry about them chewing on your furniture to "get back at you" while you're away either). I love how aloof and self-aware they are, yet they prefer to sleep on top of a warm appliance or cuddled up next to you instead of being petted or played with.

My cat is the queen of my world, I've had her for nearly 7 years now and she's my child. She's had a terminal disease for 6 1/2 of her 7 years, but that's always been at the back-burner of her life. She's just Delilah... my overweight, spoiled, pushy little girl. If I had my way, there would be more running around. Unfortunately, due to the illness, I'm unable to adopt again (even if they are also feline leukemia carriers - there's no telling which strain and what the stress would cause the illness to do).

As I was throwing the garbage out this evening, a skinny grey tabby cat greeted me. He followed me back to my apartment where I disappeared inside and produced a bowl of milk (cats are actually lactose intolerant but the poor thing was hungry!) and a cup of food. He ate it gratefully, taking breaks to wind himself around my leg. He mewed, purred, begged for attention. I've named him Coda (Italian for "tail," as his is the entire length of his body plus some). It looks like he's going to be our unofficial outside cat. I'm positive he has an owner somewhere - he's very socialized (and he loved my daughter) - but I'm more than happy to have another fur baby in my life.

2006-10-24T20:48:00.000-07:00

I was sorting through some old files before defragmenting my computer and came upon this, from a blog that Bear and I used to co-author a few years ago when we were still living in sin (as opposed to fucking in sin, which is what we do now since we aren't married and we don't live together *laugh*). I may have mentioned it here before, it was called Sexual Anarchism and was the reason I got up in the morning most days. I was adorably naive and, obviously, Bear and I were much more involved in a D/s relationship than we are these days (not to say that we're not involved - just that it's much more intrinsically understood and less requiring a statement of intent).

Anyhow, he wrote these two lovely entries and I just had to share them. Have I ever mentioned just how much writers turn me on (and, you know, my writer in specific)?

And one other thing.

There is nothing better than feeling her come down from sub space when she's pressed against me, shivering slightly, in the moments just before we go to sleep.

There is nothing better than feeling her breath on my chest as she rests her head on my shoulder.

There is nothing better than drifting off to sleep like this, knowing that this moment will occur again and again, that this is something which is ours, that we are both at our most vulnerable at this time, that we have both given a profound gift to the other in the moments which preceded this one, and will continue to give of ourselves in the moments that follow.

But that one moment ... that small little wriggle as she nestles closer ... it's the best thing I can imagine.

Decisions.

We had been reading for a while. I'm a huge Jonathan Carroll fan and was trying to finish "White Apples." She was working on her biography of Emma Goldman. This is our idea of light bedtime reading.

I forget exactly how it started. I know I had read her post from yesterday and apologized for how my come tastes at the moment; I'm on some medication and can't do much about it. It will get back to normal as time passes, but that doesn't make things easier for her at the moment.

She started laughing. "That is the least subtle way anyone has ever asked me for head," she said.

I clarified my point - I wasn't asking for nor demanding it. I was expressing regret and letting her off the hook.

We talked for a few moments about this concept ... and then she slid beneath the covers and took me in her mouth, effectively taking the decision out of my hands. While that may seem like poor behavior on the part of a submissive, I hadn't told her not to give me head; I had merely said I wasn't requiring it of her. After I came in her mouth and she had finished licking her lips clean, we started kissing - innocently enough at first, but it didn't take long before I had pulled her on top of me and she was rubbing against my still-hard cock.

I believe she explained that she's decided not to have sex while she's on her period; her reasons are her own, but I respect them and don't push. Some limits are meant to be played with; others are meant to be left alone. Yet as we were kissing, as I was tasting my come in her mouth, as she was grinding against me, I slowly began pulling her briefs down. I stopped after no more than an inch and resumed kissing and caressing her.

Time passed. Lips were kissed. My hands eventually found their way back to her waist and hips. And her briefs eventually found their way to the floor.

And her response to all this was simple.

"I love it when you make decisions for me." I slid in on her blood and she began grinding against me, whimpering softly, only stopping her soft cries to ask for permission to come, which I gladly gave. After all, she had been a wonderful submissive that evening and deserved a reward.

And so she came, pulling me closer, gasping in my ear and kissing me.

For her second orgasm, I grabbed the back of her neck with my left hand and wrapped my right arm around her, pulling her down onto my cock as I thrust into her tight, wet cunt. It didn't take nearly as long for her to have her second orgasm as it did for her first.

And then she told me that she didn't think she could come again. This, of course, is nonsense.

I used my hands and arms to immobilize her on my chest and proceeded to thrust into her as hard as I could, to split her open and pound her cunt. In even less time than it took for her second, she was asking permission to come again.

And I gave it gladly. However, she still wasn't satisfied.

She wanted come in her cunt.

And that's how I found myself behind her, looking down, telling her to get her ass in the air as I stroked my cock, masturbating until I was close enough to orgasm to slide inside her and spill myself into her.

We wrapped ourselves around each other and kissed more after that, covered in blood, sweat and come. Then we went to sleep. It was a truly glorious evening.

And, purely for the record, I love making decisions for her when she's been such a good girl.

2006-10-23T20:17:00.000-07:00

It's the type of weather that makes my hands crave to be wrapped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Each day seems to get increasingly more gray and each cloud in the sky makes me unconsciously glance upward in hopes of catching the first snowflake of the season on my tongue.

This middleland between fall and winter is one of my favorite times of year - the leaves are still turning colors on the trees but are also available for fits of childish stomping underfoot (I often catch myself twirling like a pre-pubescent ballerina, laughing recklessly at each leaf snapping beneath me.), the smell of a freshly activated furnace permeates the vanilla caramel scent of my new favorite Yankee Candle tart, my cheeks and the tip of my nose take a few moments to return from their rosy state after coming indoors.

I love transitional states. Change still scares me, but pressing through the fear and into the unknown has always filled me with a sense of control. I might be terrified, but at least I have the reins and the ability to guide my life down the path I believe is right. This time of year used to make me feel claustrophobic, trapped internally as well as not as capable to get out physically, but a bright woman once told me that it's wise to be still and uncomfortable instead of acting from a desperate place.

So, right now I'm sitting cross-legged on my computer chair, wrapped in my new favorite pink scarf, a chenille throw, a warm pair of socks and some very adorable underwear. I'm drinking a mug of hot chocolate and I'm going to bed early to read a few more chapters of the Jeanette Winterson book I just picked up at the library. Life couldn't be any more wonderful than it is at this moment - even with no one else around, I feel whole and complete.

2006-10-19T20:01:00.000-07:00

I wish I could somehow competently describe what it feels like to be lost in one's own head. There are days when I can actively dissipate any deep emotional thoughts, anything that may be painful or uneasy, and focus instead on the vapid, more surface details of the moment. I'm so good at repression, I might as well put my resume in to be a trash compactor.

Other times, no matter what I'm doing and how hard I'm trying to ignore it, those hard to swallow thoughts come bubbling up from some hidden fountain of deeper logic and reason. I could choose to push them back down, press them as far inward as possible... but that's beginning to be the easy way to handle things. I've always been a fighter and this, now, is starting to look like a challenge worth taking.

I doubt I'll go into much detail here, at least for the time being. Despite all my obvious open tendencies, I get the feeling that this is something that needs to be kept sacred. Those of you who are important to me or insatiably curious know, but I'm choosing to keep it in that small circle of confidants for the moment. I'm fine, my family is fine... so no worries there. Life has just gotten a little less comfortable for me, at the moment, and I'm trying to sort through all of that.

2006-10-10T21:11:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching a movie called Green Street Hooligans, which started my recently creaky brain into motion. The movie is about soccer (or football, for non-Americans) hooliganism. Ignoring that it's about people in England and relating to a sport, that could have been my teenage years. I was a very violent youth; always picking fights with people and shooting my mouth off. I ran with a more rebellious crowd (CMS, mainly. And no, I won't go into what that stands for.) and was just generally a very disaffected youth.

Right now, all I want to do is put my fist through something or someone. It wasn't the movie, at least, not directly. It's that I'm filled with so much rage and unrest lately and no good outlets for it. I go to the gym a lot, sweat out a lot of it, but I'm still stuck with this overwhelming pit of my stomach feeling. It's the feeling you get before a good fight, the feeling when you know something is about to go down and you can't speed it up or slow it down.

I feel like this every fall; one last burst of energy before I hibernate for the winter. I'm capable of so much repression of emotion, so I enjoy being able to feel something before I'm forced to turn it off and batton down the hatches. It reminds me that I am indeed human, no matter how much I pretend not to care or get involved. As much as it pains me to admit that, I care. And I fucking hate caring.

2006-10-08T20:09:00.000-07:00

I have had a lovely and exhausting weekend, which was exactly what I needed. Capping off a 50 hour work week, I took my two favorite girls to my birthday party at my mom's house. My mom always knows just what to buy me and this year was no exception. I'm rocking a new teal blue bracelet that proclaims my "rebel" status, a pin-up girl calender and a book of the 1,000 places I need to see before I die. I don't know which one I'm more excited about, to be honest. Phedre got along just wonderfully with the fam; they invited her back for the holidays. Now all I need to do is come out of the closet. *laugh*

Afterwards, my daughter and I were her guests at a bellydancing performance at a local art gallery I didn't even know about (I fell in love with a print from a local artist - if only I had $6000 to blow!). She looked just amazing up there; the entire crowd couldn't stop talking about her. I was smiling to myself listening to them, knowing that she was leaving with me. I'm a very lucky girl. We went for ice cream with her family after that and my poor daughter didn't get into bed until after 10.

Today a friend and I took our daughters to an orchard about an hour away. We picked and ate apples off the tree, drank some fresh apple cider, they got to ride horses and play and I came home sufficiently exhausted and sunburned (shocker, right? I'm so pale I'm almost translucent; the sun could probably burn me through a window).

Bear and I have been fighting lately, but I'm choosing not to air that grievance here. I'm too hurt and emotional by his lack of communication that anything I say will come out bitter, sarcastic and possibly spiteful. Let's just leave it at this... I know how I want (and deserve) to be treated and he's not acting the part.

Hope everyone is well. :)

2006-10-04T04:45:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to me! Feel free to send naked birthday wishes to me!

2006-10-01T18:15:00.000-07:00

I'm an hour and a half into my Yom Kippur fast and I've already had to answer a lot of questions. No, I'm not Jewish. I don't even believe in God. Do I think it's insulting to use a religious philosophy if I don't believe in God? Absolutely not. It is our ability and right as human beings to pick and choose what we believe in, and everything that the fast stands for (besides the repentance to God) appeals to me.

I fast (and I have for the last 10 years) because I really relate to the idea of atoning for all the sins of the past year. While I'm not a religious person, I am very spiritual. I believe in living my life the absolute best that I can, and I consider myself a soulful person. I take these 25 hours as a time to reflect on everything I've done for the past year, what I've learned and what I'd like to do differently. I dedicate myself to another year of living my best life and deciding where I'd like to go with the next 364 days. While Rosh Hashanah is officially the Jewish New Year, Yom Kippur is my New Year. Everything is fresh now, I'm free of any doubt and guilt from the previous year and ready to move forward.

For anyone who is wondering, my ex-husband was Jewish. He started me fasting, which I did for family reasons (You try to please a Jewish mother in law, I dare you!) and have taken a more personal view on it in the last 4 years or so.

I wish you all a very happy Aine new year. May your next year be filled with love, joy, child-like laughter and happiness. I hope mine will.

2006-09-28T20:08:00.000-07:00

Life has its innate rituals... the way that the seasons always turn at the same time each year, that the gray clouds usually mean rain or snow and that blue skies are absolutely the perfect time for picnics.

In my life, few things are ritualized. I like to keep the spontaneity alive. However, each night that I crawl into bed (warm and naked), I roll onto my stomach. I toss and turn for a bit, mulling over little moments from the day. At some point, either my hand will brush delicate parts or some piece of the bedding will rub me in just the right way and I'm awake.

I can't remember an evening in the last six months that I've gone to sleep pre-orgasm. My head won't let me, my body won't let me... and I've just begun to give in to it. I can't think of many people in my life that haven't made their way into my fantasies. I'm a natural born sex kitten and I learned long ago that my libido can spin out of control if I don't give into it just enough that it feels sated. I walk around with damp pants (which is exactly why I should wear underwear but I just can't bring myself to do it - I don't like the way it feels) most of the day because I get turned on so frequently.

I'm pretty sure that Tom Jones was singing about me.

Name that sexuality! (Seriously, help her out.)
	I'm gay. Totally gay (and I don't mean happy)!
	Straight. Very straight.
	Bisexual, baby. Bring it on.

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