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.

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.

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...

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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*