To My Future Boyfriend(s)

I will cheat on you.

From the day we meet to the day we part, there will always be others. Others to take my breath away, to steal my heart from you, to make me wet. I will be with them behind your back and you will feel their presence when I am with you. It is inevitable. It is unavoidable. 

They will share our bed and you will see what they can do. You will see how they can make me scream, see the girlish excitement of love for them flitter across my face. You will see how they can change me -- forcing a kaleidoscope of emotions fractured and glued, tragically beautiful and chaotically violent into a single day. 

You will see my breath catch, hear my heart breaking, feel my limbs curl around you as I pass on their gentleness. You will see my fingers flex and bend, dancing across the air to a tune of lust, of passion, of impatience and perhaps, regret.  I may even mention how disappointed in them I am. 

Yes. There will always be others that no matter how much you matter to me, no matter how much I may call you Master or Sir or how much in love with you I fall, no how much respect I will have for you I will be thinking of them. 

I am a bibliophile. And books will always come first. 

Unless you build me a library... or give me yours. Because then, seriously, I love you forever. 

What? I never said I wasn't easy. I mean... my perfect day includes a used bookstore, the beach, food, and sex. And maybe a butt plug, but that's just for kinks. 

Photo credit here

Because I always read half naked. ALWAYS. 

The Female Sisyphus

I'm not sure at what point I dropped the ball on living any sort of life worth living but it's occurred to me I'm just exististing. What I mean to say is it would appear I've chosen to live my life on only the barest of what could outwardly called put together. I've systematically shut down any belief in myself to occomplish anything. For example, I had a brief moment of clarity and clocked myself at a maximum of 20 seconds of effort -- even on the smallest of things. 

It doesn't matter what it is: bills, finding a piece of paper, putting my clothes away, getting to work on time, eating a remotely healthy diet, accepting I might fancy someone, applying for classes, dishes, reviewing a novel... All fill me with this sense of anxiety and dread I can only withstand for a maximum of 20 seconds. It would seem I've frozen myself in this little stasis of immobility and to be honest, I'm not even sure why or how -- or how to get myself out.

Well, I know how I got here. I'm not sure what challenge I put forth to myself but what I've let myself become is pretty much my worst nightmare. It's like at some point I "failed" at something and chose this to be my punishment. I'm preeeeeety sure the punishment doesn't fit the crime. 

Whatever the events I chose to get here, it brings me no amount of comfort to chose to get out of it. Like choosing to live my life in accordance with... I dunno happiness and comfort and flow is the equivelant of carrying the boulder up a steep incline. And sectioning it out doesn't do one iota of good because I remind myself that this pebble of a task is part of that huge heavy boulder and even if I get that pebble up the incline, that huge, heavy boulder is still on my back growing like a tumor infecting my body and life with the evil partnership of gravity.

A happy thought, no?  

I'm not quite sure how I'm going to get myself out of this one this time, but I will eventually. 

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I've Basically Died & Gone to Heaven

This is the fun part where my bookish ways collide with my kinky ones. Without further ado I give you...

Fifty Shades of Alice in Wonderland (#1)

Summary (from Goodreads): Eighteen-year-old Alice is unhappy. Her boyfriend is nice and polite, but he's also quick and careless in bed, and doesn't give Alice the attention and variety she craves. But he's not entirely to blame, because Alice herself doesn't understand her own needs. She's heard about what sex is supposed to be like, but has never felt anything remotely close to what she's read about in runaway bestselling books.

BEYOND 9 1/2 WEEKS...

Then Alice follows a vibrating white rabbit down a deep, dark hole, which leads to a place beyond her wildest imagination. There are no nice boys--or girls--down here. Only those who indulge in secret, forbidden, kinky fantasies.

BEYOND PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AND ZOMBIES...

Alice is confused and frightened and... aroused. She is bound. Teased. Spanked. Toyed. Brought to the limits of sexual endurance. And during her trials, she begins to understand her body's needs for the very first time.

BEYOND THUNDERDOME...

This isn't the fairy tale you grew up reading. This isn't for children at all.

This is for those with dark desires, who wish to explore erotic excess beyond the plain vanilla of everyday life. Follow Alice down the rabbit hole, if you dare...


Fifty Shades of Alice in Wonderland is slightly longer than the Lewis Carroll version, roughly 32,000 words or 115 paper pages long. Melinda DuChamp is the pen name of someone you may know.

RUNNERS UP:

Fifty Shades of Chicken I actually own and I can tell you it is not only hilarious but the recipes are delicious! The Mr. Darcy book I just fancy a peek at. I do so love a good laugh. (Click on photos for more info/ description)

Drunk Thanksgivukkah

Confession: my family doesn't celebrate Chanukkah, but I've decided to get quite sloshed anyway. Enjoy your holiday! 

Back to Business

I've just completed my first real workout since my injury. Literally. Just now. Like I've just finished stretching out and in my excitement had to blog about it. Now if I'll be honest ever since worker's comp decided not to renew PT (physical therapy) back in October I dropped the ball. Why? Excuse excuse blah blah. Doesn't matter now, does it? That's the past and this is the present.

I've been in a funky mental haze lately but have noticed over the last two or three weeks that I've stopped being in bone-aching pain after work, or that even half-assing some of my PT the sharp pains have slowly gone away. Basically I've noticed that while I'm still not 100% I feel more myself athletically than I have in a long time. I have my body back.

Kind of.

I'm still way over weight and morbidly out of shape but I've come to terms with being gentle with myself. I've come to terms with my continued need for pain killers (although that's dwindling too) because I'm a still a weenie and hell no. Life is so much better when you take care of yourself and I'm sorry, but I'm not about to win an award for being Saint of the Year because of this knee. I like it when OTHER people hurt me (read: DOM), not when my own body decides to go rogue and do it thankyouverymuch.

So I've found a fitness plan (that I've modified somewhat) that will work for me. Just like school, work, and cleaning I'm going to ease into my work-outs. Oh, but I've signed up for my first 5K (set for February 1, 2014) as some extra motivation.

BOOM BITCHES.

The Dirty Word: If

I have this nasty habit of using if. As in, "if I don't do the laundry, then I can't wear pretty clothes" ... even though I have several outfits I can wear. It's a side effect of perfectionism. I punish myself for even the slightest of infractions and criticize myself brutally, to the point of severe mental abuse. Seriously, now that I'm aware of my self-talk, I'm shocked at what comes forward.

Thankfully I've made steps in this area and each time I fall off that proverbial wagon the ground appears to be getting closer. Take for instance my most recent of falls: I've scrubbed this house in nearly every room. Organized GENERATIONS of junk (I come from a line of pack rats, and am quite determined to break it), yet I haven't completely mastered the upkeep. I've nurtured and developed what is slowly blossoming into a healthy form of OCD, but in these new habits there are faults. While these new habits do not rely on the mighty "if", I am abolishing a lifetime of unhealthy habits, and raising the bar on what I consider "living standards". This in itself is not a miraculous healing, at least not for me.

Each time I feel like I've fallen into squalor just because I haven't put away the sheets or hung the clothes because I'm too tired I get to remind myself that I've made the bed, done the dishes, cleaned the bathroom, swept the floors AND given the dogs a bath. So really one fall from grace isn't all that bad.

It might take a few more tries, but I know I'm well on my way to perfect imperfection.

Confessions

Dear Lord, I know I am ready. I stand at the new plateau achieved ready to fly. I am so grateful for all I have accomplished thus far and I ask for you to guide my heart to the next destination. I open myself wide to the Ultimate Love. I let any remaining fears of inadequacy drift from me as I soar to success. I know you touch all in my life, blessing me with joy, happiness, and fulfillment. I experience your grand design with patience and peace. With this I honor You by loving myself unconditionally and unquestioningly. I give to others this same unquestioning love from the overflow -- attracting and receiving it back to me perfectly. I release this into the Infinite Universe thankful to know this to be true now in my life, unfolding more perfectly than I can imagine.

And so it is. 

Amen.

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