I'm Ready

I'm ready to start dating.

I'm ready to be in a committed relationship with a well-adjusted, kind, funny, and sexy man who will love me for me, but also know how to push and guide me in life to mutual goals.

I'm ready to give love to such a man.

Because you know what?

I deserve it.

Period.

Untitled

I am a recovering perfectionist. I treat personal development the way an addict treats "just one more." There is no hesitation, criticism, or blame when I say this. I am a recovering perfectionist.

Where others say, "the sky is the limit" I say, "why stop at the sky?" I dream up the infinite of the universe, from black holes to billions of stars escaping death through the shining light that reaches our eyes. I am a recovering perfectionist. I know success is possible from the depths of perceived impossibility because I have seen it in others. I am a recovering perfectionist.

Living imperfectly I embrace my flaws and live my life how I choose. I am a recovering perfectionist. I do not feel complete, but I feel I have a purpose.

Therefore, I am perfect.

Happy Canada Day!

So I'm not Canadian, but I know readers out there are and you know what? My experience when I visited all those years ago y'all are the. nicest. people. ever. So here's to celebrating you and your awesome country!

5 Truths

Five Truths I Know About Myself Right Now:

1. I am my own savior. 


2. I am beautiful


3. I have everything I need right now


4. "No" / "Failure" is not an option (but I am flexible when getting to my goals)


5. I LOVE MYSELF UNCONDITIONALLY

A Story of Lack and Loss

We've had a death in the family last week and my reaction to it has gotten me thinking. Me and death have a strange relationship wherein I don't view it as a goodbye or some great tragedy, but more like another way to transition to something else. This time, however, it struck a massive fear I've been moving through that had me paralyzed for a few days. Stay in bed all day, afraid to go outside and do things paralyzed. In bed I prayed, meditated, slept, read books on grief and self-help; yet there I was: terrified to move. It all came to me making myself sick and developing my very first migraine (I do not wish those on anyone). The migraine passed and I wept great tears for the loss of my family member, the loss of my way, and, finally, I began to feel better. I could get myself out of bed. I could talk to someone about how I felt... I could write about it too. 

This story I told myself while I was in bed is not new to me: the story of lack. Those shoulds and this is how it should be, all running, hiding from my feelings in the present and berating myself for not... whatever. While I am still sad about how my family member chose to end his life, the fact that I admit that I am feeling that way is a tremendous step on my part. To admit and more importantly allow myself to grieve has lifted my spirits immensely. The task of applying this same lesson towards other aspects of my life is my new and top priority in my personal development. I believe all will be well. 

Earning Submission

Sometimes... OK, a lot of times my thoughts turn towards submissiveness (I just rarely post them). I think of what submissive I want to be, and in all reality it is just an extension of myself. To be patient with a huge dose of snark are my ideal traits, but of course I'm flawed and so snark and stone are mostly present as of now. But that desire is there. The desire to please and have faith in another is very much present. To be rewarded with slaps and kind words spreads warmth between my legs just to write it.

This idea of earning my submission and being rewarded for it is huge for me. Two of my favorite eroticas With This Collar by Sierra Cartwright and The Saint by Tiffany Reisz have these traits in them: what the submissive does outside the bedroom affects how they are rewarded inside the bedroom. While I think I'm doing a fairly good job with drastic personal development, I like to think I can appreciate a man who would subtly turn me in the direction that would please us both equally. To me, that shows forethought and interest, as well as fearlessness and compassion.

It's pretty clear that it takes a strong type of woman to be submissive, and one word of criticism and all my squishy bits suddenly feel exposed and this fragile love I've built for myself evaporates. It begs the supreme question: am I really submissive without that outlet? Without that unrealistically high bar of strength I hold myself to? Sometimes I say "of course." Other times, the answer is "it is only a goal to achieve with the time is right."

Maybe it's a bit of both.

What a Rut

I've hit a bit of a lull in my life this week. Lots of sleeping, not reading, generally dropping most of the daily cleaning habits I've developed. Two things have really been building, weighing pretty heavily on my mind: dating and money.

By this point I should be pretty grateful how the Universe deals out my cards. Cerebrally I know no matter how bum-tastic the state of affairs feels right now, I have the tools to be my bad-ass self and pull my shit together. My feelings-- those sticky, icky bits-- are throwing a mega pity-party for themselves. Questions of adequacy and worthiness pop up all the time that give me pause in my decisions... hence the lull and temporary ineptitude to things other than work. I worry I don't have "enough" money. I worry that because of my severe muscle atrophy in my leg that I won't attract an active, dominant man... when that's the type of guy I ultimately want to be with. I worry that I'm not sexy or beautiful enough. I worry that I'll attract the wrong man just because I'm starting to get a wee lonely. So I've told myself the story of avoidance.

So how do I resolve these feelings of inadequacy and worthiness? I don't know, that's why I'm writing about it. The best thing to do (and what I've been eking out) is to go ahead despite my fears. Lemme just tell you, battle paint stains.

I Promise I Haven't Died

Well, as I've titled this post, I'm not dead. I just don't live a consistently exciting life or feel "in the mood" to write. That and my focus is elsewhere. Point being, I'm sorry to leave you all in the lurch with a rather sad post, but I have worked through many things and am doing quite well for the last month. Going forward I can promise posting will be spotty, at best, and even if I am having the sexy time (and a hoot of it too!), I can't promise I'll write about it.

So my May has been rather exciting and as far as personal development is concerned I'd say I'm turning out to be a smashing success! Is it a daily process? Of course it is, and I won't lie this has been a long journey. The best part is, I'm only just now touching the fringes of the type of life and person I want to be. Whereas before that knowledge made me scared, dissatisfied, and generally unhappy to move forward, now I find the notion fun, exciting, and, yeah, not quite "perfect."

BUT THAT'S OK. 

As a Class A Perfectionist I've lived most of my life with the "all or nothing, unrealistic goals" mentality. As you might imagine, this does not breed content or success. Throughout this month I've had to learn to love myself for who I am now (admittedly I am still working on that one), get to a point where I was satisfied with self-love and joy, move forward to acceptance and general contentedness of my surroundings, and finally (at least where I am currently) soothing and coaxing my anxiety of "perfectionism" to trust in the unknown, while still molding my life into my ideal.

... and now I've run out of things to say. Happy Summer!

Distractions

I've been having a tough time. Not just on the stuff that I have shared here but more. More that I am so scared of I can barely choke them out in therapy. I give this surface image of a semi-well adjusted weird but bubbly girl who has dreams despite the craziness. Who holds herself above water under pressure, pulling through with a certain kind of stoicism. But you want to know the awful, ugly truth?

I can bury it in a flash. I wasn't aware of it until recently. Something brings up some uncomfortable feelings? Oh look how amazing my life is! I'm on such a great path! This type of distraction is prevalent in other areas of my life, mostly appearing as "procrastination." A certain task makes me feel uncomfortable -- oh look! The dishes need to be done!

Writing this post is making me VERY uncomfortable. Why? I don't know. The phrase "stick with it" has been bouncing around in my head, but the moment I try and focus on a feeling it is almost like it dissipates like vapor. I've learned my unconscious ... it's been trained.

These are all just words, words vomited into the void as I can no longer keep them. I am full. I am empty. I desire to be filed with love and grace, but I have compacted my soul with so much pain, so much hurt, can love survive? I consume to numb the pain, I gag to pretend I can make it go away. No more room, it says, no more room. And thus my body quivers at the slightest provocation, the fear of falling, the unknown so strong. How can I not move forward without trust of change, of the unknown? I will submit to trust. I will open my soul, expose my most vulnerable parts and I will cry I AM AFRAID! Over and over. I am afraid, I am afraid, I am afraid. With each strangled cry of fear, each heartbeat I will feel the pain and let go. And accept the girl I am, no judgement.

I'm Pretty Sure Something's Not Right Around Here

Technically I do not turn another year older until 5:08am, but come midnight I wrote this disturbing entry:

I once believed Love existed, then I realized Love is cruel and callous. Love exists only if you love yourself, only if you have the capability for hope and bravery. The absence of Love is here, in my shallow heart. It is where coldness resides and a lump forms with each stroke of pen. The absence of Love grows within me for there is nothing and no one to Love. To cherish and appreciate. I am a ghost among men, among the mortals who feel and cherish the fragility and beauty of life. I, who bloom from the bowels of cynicism and distrust, laugh at your foolishness. I accept my loneliness, my disgust of fate and the cruelty of nothingness. I concede to oblivion. 

Clearly something is wrong; between sinking to a new low in my food neurosis, an increasing distrust of others, an even harsher criticism of myself, and a sense of superb instability (despite it looking like I've got my shit together)... I am officially in I'm freaking my fucking self out territory. Doesn't that sound fun? Not.

Girl Rage

photo credit

I totally wrote a post & even with an "automatic save" 1/2 of my post was somehow deleted. 

Let's just say I'm not having so great a morning. 

What I've Learned

The last 36 hours have been oh so so illuminating. For all you bookish folks out there, do you know when a book can surprise the fuck out of you and you didn't even realize what life was like before? Well, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic, but I did learn what type of person I am.

I learned that in my single-minded pursuit to better myself, I've become critical and all too quick to judge others when I have no right to. I've become wholely unsympathetic and a bit selfish. I've also, possibly unconsciously, hardened my heart to... Well, any of those squishy bits that get all a-mush when open to romantic pursuit. It both thrills and terrifies me to admit that last bit, but I'm glad I've realized it.

I've also learned I'm a TOTAL BADASS sales woman and books allow me my squishy bits to be exposed in a safe manner/ place. And that I have the best connection when I "expose" myself to others in that book environment.

Like a toddler testing itself and its surroundings, I learned that while I'm not all gung-ho about the idea of a relationship (cringe), untimatelly I do want companionship beyond sex. I'm just not that type of girl to sustain a strictly sexual dynamic. I want the challenge intimacy brings, and I'm ready to be ... Well, myself. I'm ready to take the steps to be open, patient, happy, and all the quirks that make up my life. I'm ready to be curious, adventurous, and blissfully satiated (I didn't say I didn't want smashing sex included, I mean, really).

And that book? The culprit of my reevaluation? "I've Got Your Number" by Sophie Kinsella.

Yeah.
I know.
I'm just as shocked as you are.

Creation

I'm a "write it down" kind of girl. At school, I'm the student writing furiously with about 10 different colored pens or markers in my arsenal, ready to be used. Post It notes litter my day planner, while days are highlighted depending on certain appointments. To do lists get me excited. Journalling again has helped immensely with keeping my sanity... If I keep up with such activities.

I didn't realize how much I was missing school and structure until I was out of it for a week. Take that adrenaline and stress away and I am cast adrift, floating aimlessly in a vast pool until I knock against the rim. I won't be going back to school for months (summer), so I've had to slowly invent new ways of structure and discipline. I'm not going to lie to myself or you by saying the challenge isn't exciting.

Despite the craziness, I am, admittedly, a total adrenaline junkie. But that's OKAY. I've learned to harness my need to create, challenge, and LIVE into positive pursuits. I've had the go ahead from the doctor to keep active, and since he's given me an antiinflammatory injection my pain went down from a 6-8, to a way more manageable 2-3. Life can be lived again without me biting someone's head off or me breaking down into tears at the slightest provocation. Heaven really is real! Anyway, the sad fact is I'm starting over. My fitness baseline is 0. So I'm going to take things real slow. 10 minutes here, lots of stretching and icing, a bit of strength training, and a weekly assessment to round it all out. The 6 Million Dollar Man "we can rebuild" comes to mind for a strange sort of motivation.

Life is in motion and balanced, the best way I know how to live it.

Photo credit

Enlightened

As predicted, a few feelings came up for me as my little arrangement with J3 has continued. Whether it has been influenced by my period or pain it anyone's guess. But feelings of inadequacy have certainly been bouncing around in my head the last few days. Through journalling and reflection questions came up that I sought answers to: I wanted to define what exactly I meant to J3. You see, I've been finding that our sexual dynamic now is very similar to when we were "dating," leaving me to conclude that we really weren't ever anything more that a one-sided sexual objectification. I questioned him about it and he sort of agreed. Something along the lines of me asking, "either you weren't [of the boyfriend mindset]. didn't want to be, or didn't feel up to it, right?"

The first time that I called him up for a friendly fuck (meeting to do so in a car, no less) afterwards he bemoaned that he didn't feel "good enough" for me, which frankly I had thought that was the case and added to our dynamic now. Take that yearning away, as it was affirmed by him yesterday and what do I have? The worst kind of apathetic lover ever. Sure he's great in bed and we're only having sex, but the recognition that I am no different from or better than "just another tryst" and woah that sexy factor goes way down for me. If it doesn't matter to him one way or the other if we stopped yesterday, what's the point? He hasn't had success at all with other women so I'm a bit confused.

Is it just a guy/ girl thing? I'm curious. I was hurt, although now it's a mixture of pity and insult. There's more for me to learn, I think, and I'm still redefining what this new bit of information means. I knew it was a temporary arrangement and I'm a quick study, but DAMN. I want sex and I want to be desired and appreciated for me. Because I really don't think that's too much to ask and if some dum dum can't get with the program...

Vulnerability

J3 and I have had another successful session together. He used a flogger I recently bought and a ruler to finish me off with. This being the first time using the flogger and under the influence of painkillers (my knee has been hurting a lot lately) I can't rightly say how exactly I feel about it. The flogger is certainly a nice warm-up tool, but it was the ruler that really did it for me. The sound and sharpness with which such a simple tool makes when contacted with my skin drives me to a point that is something like bliss.

And this game we have agreed to, J3 and I, to test my boundaries... to see how far J3 can go before I yelp "yellow" (the stock word for slow down) or "red" (which means stop all together). I enjoy that game. I enjoy swallowing my pride to admit what I see in that moment as weakness or flaws. It's almost like my ultimate submission, saying, "yes, I have acquiesced to your demands, I have nothing left to give... use and treasure my body as you see fit. I am broken by you." The best part is each new time we play I build up my strength, my tolerance for each new act.

As opposed to when we were in a relationship, we are exploring and actually doing a lot more. I've made it clear to him that I want less talky talky and more doey doey which, to his credit, he has stepped up and followed through. Much to our equal enjoyment. I have a great deal of darker desires that would be filed as abusive in any other category or setting -- like getting slapped in the face (which pretty much sends me to the moon). Today was also the first for that too. He would choke me until I nearly passed out and then slap my face and call me dirty things. That cycle of brief unconsciousness and abrupt awareness ... I can't describe how frenzied and turned on it made me while we fucked. And under the haze of morphine that's saying something.

Of course, after all the name calling, all those times he strikes me so brilliantly, there is the aftercare. There is that cosmic convulsion of laughter and heavy breathing. Of two naked bodies pressed so close, their breaths tickle the other's skin. There is the moment that fades into silence, the lightest of strokes through the hair of the woman and the invisible swirls that are painted on the man's body. In that eternal moment of muted compassion there is reflection, silent thank yous, and gentle kisses. There is relief and mutual respect.

Now, for all of those who caught that sudden third person transition might be asking what the--? And it was completely on purpose. Because I don't like how vulnerable that type of aftercare gets me. That's the type of vulnerability I get to work on, while enjoying great sex. A side bonus, if you will.

Either way, all seems good 'round these parts (a sudden deluge of income for me wouldn't hurt either).

Love Explained Beautifully and Honestly

Relationships are Complicated

I struck a sexual liaison with J3 recently. Granted, it has only been two glorious times but there is a thin inclination that there will be more. And that last sentence sums up the confounding nature of J3 the fuck buddy. Oh yes, I am fully aware of what I have entered into and am using the opportunity to flush out any tendrils of excessive feelings and let those little silly things go... while getting my brains fucked most thoroughly.

Yet despite the fact he is the best lover I have ever had, each responding (and fueling) each other in devious synchronicity, I don't trust him outside of the bedroom. From making plans to enhancing the S/m dynamic, I honestly don't think he'll follow through. For example: he's great with knots and enjoys typing me up. My mind goes to the fact that inexpensive classes are offered locally for him to attend, yet his response is of the hesitant nature. Why? Who bloody well knows, -- it would just make him that much more of a sex God, the twat.

Ain't got time for that!

In all seriousness, as long as I have zero expectations of him other than his dick, I'm fairly certain I'll satiate my horniness for at least a month, maybe more. Yippie!

TMI Tuesday: The One With Songs

Music is the spice of life and for this week, following the prompts, I've chosen which is the best song for the situation described (in my personal experience). If you are on a non-flash device, you might not be able to listen to some songs so I've provided youtube links. Enjoy!

1. When you wake up in the morning.
Loreena McKennitt - All Souls Night

Loreena McKennitt 'All Souls Night'.mp3

Found at bee mp3 search engine

What better way to wake up than with a little dancing? It doesn't start out too harshly and loud, it builds up. Perfect for calmly getting my behind out of bed to start a fabulous day!

2. When you climax during sex.
Lonely Island (feat Akon) - I Just Had Sex

The Lonely Island - I Just Had Sex .mp3

Found at bee mp3 search engine

It's really just too perfect. Also, a good laugh.

3. When you urinate.
Taco- Puttin' On the Ritz

Taco - Puttin On The Ritz .mp3

Found at bee mp3 search engine

Purists, it's OK. I know it's a cover. But Taco adds so much flavor and is so 80s! I don't know about you, but when I'm sitting in a compromising position I want to feel rather fancy... and have fun with it. Runner Up: Hugh Laurie (as Bertie Wooster from Jeeves and Wooster) - Puttin' On the Ritz But honestly, it's Stephen Fry as Jeeves that just makes the scene so good. 

4. When you walk into your home after a long day of work.
Various - Mr. Norman's Song

This a collaborative song/project that many many people helped create. Even when I'm tired or have a day of hardship, it's good to know the masses come together to create beauty. 

5. When you take the first sip of your favorite beverage.
Michael Bernard Beckwith - Energetic Shapeshifter 
I love water, the substance that we as humans cannot live without. I feel like I should speak to my gratitude in that simplicity. With lyrics that loop, "you might as well give in and be happy" and guides listeners to take a second and savor the joy around them... I feel like enjoyment in what is usually mundane should be celebrated. 

Bonus: When you are reprimanding your kids or yelling at your significant other.
The Wailin' Jennys - Deeper Well (live)

The Wailin' Jennys - Deeper Well .mp3

Found at bee mp3 search engine

I'm of the general mindset that anger is hurt and fighting with a significant other is a heated opportunity to understand yourself and a way to find peace -- as long as you step away from the situation. I always listen to "Deeper Well" when I am searching for God, or I'm angry and confused. But! For those times in the past when I just think someone's a right tart there's the ever fabulous Pet Shop Boys - I'm With Stupid. The lyrics are perfect and the music video featuring the guys from Little Britain is just hilarious.

Bonus, Bonus: When you are having sexual relations. 
Carfax Abbey - Cry Little Sister

Again, I know it is a remake, but I just like it. For some reason the slight variations of beats and the main singer's voice does it for me. I love the lyrics, but to me the beat encapsulates how passionate sex is supposed to be like: raw, honest, and fleeting. 


If you would like to participate in today's TMI Tuesday (or any other future ones), or see other bloggers responses visit the TMI Tuesday blog! 

Tomorrow

It is late as I transcribe this and all I can think is, it is not tomorrow, it is not tomorrow.

I'm not in difficult pain, but the pain that aches like a contracting burner that lights up my left leg in teeth-grinding discomfort. I hate it. I hate that I've wasted so much time. I am happy that I wrote, though. A small consolation but a consolation none the less. You would think that I might have some inkling of how to move forward as the pressure releases within me. Yes, as the calming introspection wafts over my consciousness I can feel the thoughts, hope, and solutions coming.

But I am afraid.

Still I wish to shut it out, but I cannot. It is a geyser -- this progress in myself. It cannot be stopped. For I know I have purpose. I know I will not fail. I will overcome my need for absolute control -- my distrust of others. Oh yes, that is exactly where my neurosis blossoms from. The apex of my fears, down to the structure of my life for so long is being demolished, rotting away like the filth that it is; a dangerous cancer slowly devouring its own disease. It has consumed its host, it no longer can breed as it once did. For I am an amoeba of the Universe, forever splitting and crashing back into the light that birthed my brilliant soul.

Falling

I've had an unmistakable sudden drop in mood recently. Indeed, I have become rather blasé in my response to life following Saturday or Sunday, I think. I've made an appointment with my therapist for later in the week, to be sure, so at least one part of my brain is working. I don't bother to hide it, yet am angry when my mother became concerned tonight. 

It is the strangest depression I have ever experienced because I know something is wrong. I know that I am sad by the way the urge to cry rolls over me (yet I do not because I am reminded of just how silly this whole situation is). I know because I am angry. Where the strangeness comes in is how this sadness and anger are being played out. I don't feel trapped, and I don't feel angry at myself or any one particular thing (unless told to do something). I don't feel as if I am "stuffing" my emotion down. I don't feel like hiding the way I normally do. I unsuccessfully "purged" my lunch today and was equally proud of my body for not meeting my unhealthy compulsion and equally curious and apathetic as to why I would try such a thing.  It's all very... scientific. Like I am watching myself experience it with some device that allows the audience to feel sympathy for the characters going through it. 

Odd, yes?

What brought it on? The stress and pressure of school and work? Consuming the entire Hunger Games trilogy in a week? Finally dealing with the death of our cat (we put her down last Friday)? Mourning the fifth anniversary of my aunt's death? 

Who knows? It doesn't really matter anyway. I would feel quite comfortable to have this whole mess behind me so that I can just get on with life. What a bother you are, emotions! Naughty, naughty! 

photo credit

Priorities

When Things Get Complicated

Life is a bit of a funny thing. Just when I think things have settled, chaos and distress threaten to take hold. Thankfully I have great coping skills, but I still find myself being influenced by stress. While I know it's pretty much the only way to learn or heighten my tolerance for such things, it stills alarms me a smidge. What keeps me going is the fact the days I feel like I'm imploding from OH MY GOD ALL THE THINGS I NEED TO DOOOOOOOOO (aka being someone with responsibilities) are much lower than the days where I feel pretty confident that I actually do said things. In short, I'm facing my fears on those days where I just feel like I want to hide. And yes, I will admit that I do sometime hide to a certain extent. But here, Gentle Readers (Amelia Peabody anyone?), is where I would like to clarify what hiding actually means.

"Hiding" is now an act of self-care. "Hiding" means I admit to myself that I am not super-woman. That I am not perfect and 12 hours of sleep are well earned after a stressful research paper. "Hiding" means recognizing I need to read to be myself: calm and happy. "Hiding" means a re-prioritization of my life. Thus, it means a reward for a job well done; it means I can face another day with sanity. And truly, going forward it is best that I meet my days as such for I have a mountain before me to climb!

The struggle to keep my head is further exacerbated by the fact I believe a gentlemen classmate of mine is keen on me. You see, I sit next to this particular fellow and through a group project we have become friends. He is attractive, I will admit, and thought so the moment I saw him weeks ago. We have similar interests and he is an ambitious fellow of the highest caliber. The hints have been coming since last Friday with little comments such as "cute and funny, I like it" and volunteering the fact he is unattached. Or others such as, "like me" when I spoke of how I enjoy men who are not the norm (I was speaking of my infatuation with the beautifully rugged men of Scotland). This was promptly laughed off by me as I would classify his lineage of French-Mexican as normal, to me. Also, I may or may not have been trying to drop hints in that same conversation that well, I like a dominant man. You know this, I know this... he and his 18 years does not.

Ah yes, this fellow I speak of is 18. He does not look 18, but I am of the school of thought that how you looks does not make up for the number of years and experiences a person. Equally, I don't sense he possesses the dominant qualities I desire. He is exceedingly nice. The bend-over-backwards for anyone he knows because that is his nature type of fellow. Sweet, smart, attractive, intelligent, and ambitious -- he is quite a catch. Just not my type of catch. The boost to my ego, however, is rather tempting.

Tempting and easy, a rather vicious cocktail for me to be presented with. Any advice from you lot? Clearly it's too soon to see how this pans out, but I don't remember ever being put in a situation like this before so I'm equally amused and mortified.

Some Serious Type of True

It's the Little Things

Upon speaking with a girlfriend earlier today, in addition to visiting the The Valley where there is a relative case of scrumptious men available to ogle, I may have been a bit harsh in thinking I'm not open to a relationship. While it is no longer a goal of mine to find a partner, I must admit I like sex with men. And as a veritable parade of male hipsters, aspiring actors, and other yummy LA folk were spotted on the streets, I began to recognize a trend of what got my pulse to quicken. The following are simple things whether from a distance or in the throws of mutual enticement that get me instantly aroused.


1. Height: If I see a man who is 6'2 or over, my cunt immediately tightens and I will be suppressing the urge to pant. Straining my neck to look up never gets old in my book and will always make my mouth water. At 5'5, having those long arms curl around me with his head resting on top of mine is like an adrenaline shot to me feeling safe, not to mention giving him head as he looms over me.

2. Smell/ Taste: A good smelling man is imperative to me. Having a hyper sensitive olfactory system has led to many a insta-wet panties. Great smelling soaps, colognes, or deodorants are all perks but when I get close enough lick a delicious smelling man's flesh my tongue explodes in flavor. Depending on the man's diet, they may taste more spicy, tangy, salty, or sweet and ohhh is it a grand feast.

3. A Man With a Genuine Plan: Confidence is always great but when I meet a Dom who's brain works faster than mine -- and will keep me just enough in the loop  (even if I'm just observing) -- I go weak at the knees.

4. Playing with My Neck: I'm not sure why but my neck is almost as sensitive as (if not more than) "intimate" parts of my body. Kiss it, lick it, bite it, put your hands on it, doesn't matter what you do I squirm as if on the edge of orgasm. In fact, I've come hard from a man kissing my neck in an expertly fashion.

5. Encouraging, Specifically in Fitness: This one is a bit of a utopian wild-card for me. Because running and races are so dear to me, even if the man isn't necessarily inclined to run, I get turned on when I see men cheering on or hugging their wives/ girlfriends at the finish line. Honestly, my brain immediately jumps to being tired and invigorated after a race, only to be forced to fuck in the car. Mmm.

Thoughts on Logic and Legacies

Alliterations, gotta love 'em.

Life can be unexpected and grand and beautiful. Life can dole out some hard truths that challenge what people know about themselves and the world they choose to live in. A few years ago a boss joked that I thrived most at the center of chaos. He was referencing my management style and how I was happiest and most productive when I was challenged -- basically if all hell broke loose, I would have a grin and a solution. One thing that is at the core of my life's tone is that change in the only constant and I strive to embrace it. Why? Because it challenges my Taurus stubbornness of comfort and same-ness. Going back to college has ignited that drive to be more than I am now, has provided me with puzzles and challenges just waiting to be solved. Being consumed with academia has also had its down-sides, however.

The most significant down-side is the fact that my average of reading 4 books a week has been cut in half and the dread of mortality has been seeping in. This fear that I will not be able to read all the books I want to before I die... I laugh at it, but damn is it depressing. The idea that I have no control over this has added to the trajectory of minimization of "excess baggage" I have been on. Mostly meaning: if I can't take care of it, I'm not going to bother worrying about it -- this includes troubles from my past.

The result has had a decidedly cerebral effect.

Romance, children, motherhood, partnership (all things I've desired to have/ experience) seem... seem... BLANK. I don't long to have children the way I used to and in recent babysitting gigs I have left thanking God I don't have kids right now. I recognize the shift in priorities, how time consuming everything is, but when I ask myself, "do I want companionship? Do I desire love, even in the future?" The reply is ehhhh, maybe? The answer stems from the fact that I am satisfied with my life.

I love myself, I love my friends, I finally have a great relationship with my family. Through rigorous physical therapy my knee is healing and I feel confident I will run in the coming months. My brain is lulled and happy with activity and challenges. I am spiritually minded and feel confident in my goals and growth. Life feels natural, free, and balanced. In short, beyond finances, I am living from the overflow.

I'm curious as to your take on this. Have you ever gone through this? Are you perfectly happy being single?

Fresh Hell

Whenever my body decides to revolt on me (usually when I'm on my period), I have a penchant to ask What fresh new hell is this? This is mostly a question that is wildly inaccurate. While oftentimes my body warns me of the pending uprising, I am always shocked by its presence. Whether that be manifested in my lactose intolerance deciding it's had enough of my pretending to be a milk drinker -- I think most lactose intolerance-ees will agree those pills rarely work -- and mandates that I spend the evening by the side of the toilet bemoaning my life choices. That's the tamest scenario I could provide without grossing anyone truly out, but I think you get the idea. I don't take care of my body, my body tells me so in violent manners that a wallop to the head would be welcomed graciously.

So what has me up at 3am (I don't care what the Goddamn time stamp says, it's 3am) running to the word vomit factory that is my blog? It would appear I have contracted something which brings an uncontrollable nose faucet, an elephant on my chest, shivers, mild delirium, and best of all... ACHES. Now if you've never had the pleasure of getting sick, what the fuck is your secret I want it. 

Anyway, I'm not exactly sure how colds are experienced by others, but I usually stay in that awful stage where it's the day before you're about to get sick... the entire time. Meaning I am still functioning at a normal level, but covert WWIII is exploding all over my body. I've been very blessed in the fact that I haven't gotten sick since my injury up until now but DAMN. That achey feeling your body gets goes to a whole new level. While the rest of the body does its thing, sleepers are carrying out kill-shots in my knee. It's a miserable experience and I don't recommend it to anyone. 

F you cold. F you. 

Getting Crafty

Being the resistant cleaner I am, I went to the internet this afternoon to procrastinate in the glory of mindlessness.

Lo' and behold I found these great beauties:

For all you needle crafters out there, you can find the pattern here: http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/simple-adjustable-handcuffs

P.S. I like these better, but Pintrest is being a dick and won't tell me where these are from because I don't have an account. 

Another Sunday Funny

Let's Talk About Things and Stuff

Oh Hai! It's been a while, hasn't it? I've kind of been having fun outside the internet, fine-tuning myself into who is typing today. Actually, that's a slight lie. Let's just say due to the natural cycle of womanhood I'm a teenie bit more reactive today than normal. C'est la vie, no?

My shit sundae started a bit like this: I was having a relative handle on my unpredictable hormone level and for the most part with the help of coffee, I felt and acted normal. After work, however, I hear through the grapevine that yet another one of my exes is getting married. To a gal he started dating directly after me. No, don't worry, you haven't stumbled into the script of a shitty romantic comedy. In my mind I've always taken this tidbit as comedy (I'm a lucky charm!) but I'm not quite sure why this latest news has me feeling all goopy in my middle bits. To further the point, it also makes me feel a bit, well, dejected and tainted. Despite what my brain says, some part of me still wants to throw a little tantrum and scream to the Heavens, "WHYYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!?!" When in all reality I'm right where -- and with (family) -- I'm supposed to be.

Now, this next bit of anxiety can't be emotionally healed with the tiniest paragraph. I fear I would be concerned (rightly so) whether raging bitch baby hormones were coursing through my body or not.

New Year's Eve I feel pretty hard and fucked up my knee again. While at this point I'm quite at ease with OH MY GOD HOLY FUCK MY KNEE sort of occurrences, the swelling hasn't quite gone down and as my rehabilitation trainer pointed out today... it's unstable and I should see my doctor soon. When your worries are confirmed by someone with 15 years worth of experience with post surgery aid... It's like the shit encrusted cherry on top of my sundae.

Good news? That same trainer introduced me to a punching bag. Part of me died and went to heaven.