It's been a really weird couple of weeks. Good and bad and everything in between. I've been trying (with a little success) to work on a fantasy novel. I've been working out 5-7 days a week and watching every calorie and I've been rewarded with some weight loss (YAY). I found out that I need to have some non-optional surgery that isn't the kind of surgery that I expected would be my next time under the knife. (It's not life threatening but it needs to be taken care of). And I had to tell one of my very best friends that no - I would not sleep with him while he was married.
So yea. Good and bad.
I'm struggling with the writing some. Not because I don't want to write it. But because for me, it's a new venue and I'm not nearly as confident in my talent as I am with writing erotica.
So why don't I write an erotic novel?
Trust me, I've considered that, and honestly, I'd love to. I just haven't hit upon a story idea yet that lends itself to longer than a short story.
I have the opposite problem with fantasy. Every idea I get there is a novel, not a short story.
Nothing honestly would make me happier than to combine the two styles into one. And I have seriously considered that. But again, I haven't quite hit on a story idea that works for a longer piece. Or a shorter piece.
In erotica, character development is limited. In fantasy, it's mandatory. I think mainly that's where my struggle is. But I'm trying work through it.
I also signed up at Become An Ex, and am really trying to work my way through the programs and the questions. I'm doing so well with the diet and exercise that yes - I am afraid to upset the apple cart so to speak. But it's on my mind.
I don't have any plans for the weekend. That's on purpose. I want to try and get all of my chores done on Friday so that I can concentrate on writing at least 6 hours a day on the rest of the weekend. We'll see how that goes.
I have a couple topics I want to write on this week. I'm really going to have to focus a little on something other than my calories and the exercise bike.
We'll see how I do *grin
Monday, June 30, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Curing Writer's Block: Part One
I bought a little book on writer's block recently - something I experience far too frequently for my taste. One of the exercises in the book was to pick a bad habit and write about why I do it. The goal is to write honestly and clearly about something we do that we know we shouldn't do, but that we do anyway.
My bad habit was easy to choose, and one that several times in the last two years I've said I was going to get rid of, but still have managed to hang onto for reason I'm not entirely clear on.
Smoking.
I started smoking when I was 16. Of the four girls I hung out with, 3 of them smoked. Only one held out, and I wish that'd been me, but it wasn't. At the time, I wasn't really much of a 'bad girl' (as far as anyone knew anyway), and it was my little rebellion.
When I was very little, in the late 60's, all of the anti-smoking stuff really started to come out on TV. I remember my mom coaching my sister and I on how to tell my Dad we wanted him to quit smoking.
And he did.
Boy, was he unhappy with me when he caught me some 13 years later. He still is, but it's my Mom that's really bad about it.
I did quit once. For three weeks. For my first husband's birthday. I got the patch (it was prescription then and damn expensive). Apparently though, I was a complete and utter bitch for three weeks (who, me? /blink) and one evening, he'd had enough and went to the corner store and brought back a pack of Marlboros and threw them at me.
I did not quit then for the right reasons and I know that now. Had I done it for me instead of someone else, I probably would have gotten through that bitchy stage easier.
As for why I still do it, I still don't know. Is it a security blanket of some sort? My last vestige of 'The Jill I Used To Be'? I've gone long periods of time without smoking before - so while I realize there is a nicotine addiction present, I don't think that'll be the worst of it for me. I think it's the habit part. The part where my brain says "you can have a cigarette now" as if it's a treat or something.
I have cut down - WAY down from what I smoked even 2 years ago. I have good days and bad days. But it's still there, ever present, calling to me first thing in the morning, right after I eat and idly lurking while I sit at the computer downstairs.
I make excuses (and at the end of it, that's what they are - excuses - tho I present them as valid reasons) why today is not the right reason to toss them out.
The patch will help with the cravings. But it's the habit I need to make shut up first.
I'll keep working on that.
Anyone with motivation ideas should email them to me. But don't use the pictures and health motivations. Those never work. *chuckle They have been tried many times before.
My bad habit was easy to choose, and one that several times in the last two years I've said I was going to get rid of, but still have managed to hang onto for reason I'm not entirely clear on.
Smoking.
I started smoking when I was 16. Of the four girls I hung out with, 3 of them smoked. Only one held out, and I wish that'd been me, but it wasn't. At the time, I wasn't really much of a 'bad girl' (as far as anyone knew anyway), and it was my little rebellion.
When I was very little, in the late 60's, all of the anti-smoking stuff really started to come out on TV. I remember my mom coaching my sister and I on how to tell my Dad we wanted him to quit smoking.
And he did.
Boy, was he unhappy with me when he caught me some 13 years later. He still is, but it's my Mom that's really bad about it.
I did quit once. For three weeks. For my first husband's birthday. I got the patch (it was prescription then and damn expensive). Apparently though, I was a complete and utter bitch for three weeks (who, me? /blink) and one evening, he'd had enough and went to the corner store and brought back a pack of Marlboros and threw them at me.
I did not quit then for the right reasons and I know that now. Had I done it for me instead of someone else, I probably would have gotten through that bitchy stage easier.
As for why I still do it, I still don't know. Is it a security blanket of some sort? My last vestige of 'The Jill I Used To Be'? I've gone long periods of time without smoking before - so while I realize there is a nicotine addiction present, I don't think that'll be the worst of it for me. I think it's the habit part. The part where my brain says "you can have a cigarette now" as if it's a treat or something.
I have cut down - WAY down from what I smoked even 2 years ago. I have good days and bad days. But it's still there, ever present, calling to me first thing in the morning, right after I eat and idly lurking while I sit at the computer downstairs.
I make excuses (and at the end of it, that's what they are - excuses - tho I present them as valid reasons) why today is not the right reason to toss them out.
The patch will help with the cravings. But it's the habit I need to make shut up first.
I'll keep working on that.
Anyone with motivation ideas should email them to me. But don't use the pictures and health motivations. Those never work. *chuckle They have been tried many times before.
Some decisions should be stuck to
I remembered Sunday morning why I put my scale away in the first place.
After a good first 10 days on the new exercise/eating plan, my plan went afoul during the "Flood of Jill's Living Room" and I wasn't able to work out at all last week, but I accounted for that in my daily calorie intake, and at the end of the week, I was still about 6500~ calories under my weekly BMR total. So I should have lost at least a pound, maybe 1.5.
The scale read exactly the same as it did last Monday.
And this, my friends, is why scales SUCK.
Even without working out, the calorie cut would have meant weight loss. But the scale is fickle and doesn't understand anything beyond it's own little digital hell.
I'm not letting it stop me, or push me any further into a calorie deficiet. I've learned over the last three years that moderation is the key to losing weight and not fucking up my knees (by pushing too hard on the bike). I did get to ride last night, and I ate lunch (breakfast, of course) at Country Kitchen with my folks yesterday for Father's Day, so maybe that'll kick the scale in the ass before I toss it out into the garage just to watch is shatter.
But I won't find out til next Sunday.
I am not letting that piece of electronic equipment take over my life again. Yes, I have a goal and yes, I want to hit it, but the scale is not the friend of someone who's gotten this close to being at an 'ideal weight' after having been overweight my entire life.
So it's been relegated back to it's corner until next weekend. And the bike is once again ready to be ridden daily.
I'm a little disappointed of course, but not as devestated as I'd have been (and was on many occasions) last year. I think my attitude and approach are healthier this time.
At least I hope they are.
No, I know they are.
After a good first 10 days on the new exercise/eating plan, my plan went afoul during the "Flood of Jill's Living Room" and I wasn't able to work out at all last week, but I accounted for that in my daily calorie intake, and at the end of the week, I was still about 6500~ calories under my weekly BMR total. So I should have lost at least a pound, maybe 1.5.
The scale read exactly the same as it did last Monday.
And this, my friends, is why scales SUCK.
Even without working out, the calorie cut would have meant weight loss. But the scale is fickle and doesn't understand anything beyond it's own little digital hell.
I'm not letting it stop me, or push me any further into a calorie deficiet. I've learned over the last three years that moderation is the key to losing weight and not fucking up my knees (by pushing too hard on the bike). I did get to ride last night, and I ate lunch (breakfast, of course) at Country Kitchen with my folks yesterday for Father's Day, so maybe that'll kick the scale in the ass before I toss it out into the garage just to watch is shatter.
But I won't find out til next Sunday.
I am not letting that piece of electronic equipment take over my life again. Yes, I have a goal and yes, I want to hit it, but the scale is not the friend of someone who's gotten this close to being at an 'ideal weight' after having been overweight my entire life.
So it's been relegated back to it's corner until next weekend. And the bike is once again ready to be ridden daily.
I'm a little disappointed of course, but not as devestated as I'd have been (and was on many occasions) last year. I think my attitude and approach are healthier this time.
At least I hope they are.
No, I know they are.
Friday, June 13, 2008
And on the subject of fantasies ....
I’ve written ad naseum about my love of lingerie, right? Everyone who’s read more than a couple of posts here knows that. Over the last couple of years, as I’ve grown into, and become more comfortable in, this new body I have I’ve spent more money on lingerie than I ever have in my life and I have loved almost every piece of it that I’ve bought.
But that isn’t all there is to a sexy wardrobe built for sex is it?
While you’re thinking about your fantasies, what are you wearing in them? Besides lingerie or high heels, what else is in your fantasy wardrobe?
Short skirts? Maybe denim ones, for hooker-wear or pleated plaid ones for the school girl look? Knee high boots? Thigh high boots? A nurse’s hat? Teacher’s glasses? A man’s suit? Tight jeans and a shirt cut so low it would be illegal street wear?
Lingerie is awesome. But there are other articles of clothing that can bring out the animal in your partner just as much as a babydoll and a thong.
What’s the sexiest thing you can wear for your partner? Have you asked him or her? Or do you just assume he likes all that black lace and the g-string? Maybe if you haven’t asked, you should. Maybe he has a nurse fantasy. Maybe he would prefer to see you in something short and white and innocent once in awhile. Maybe he’d really love it if you dressed in ‘street’ clothes like a complete and total slut and drug him away from the news and up the stairs to show him how well those clothes suit you in that moment …..
Almost any piece of clothing you buy can have sex appeal if worn correctly (or incorrectly in some cases….). Look at things you own differently. Look at them and ask “Would I fuck me in that?”
No, really. Do it. It’s fun *grin
But that isn’t all there is to a sexy wardrobe built for sex is it?
While you’re thinking about your fantasies, what are you wearing in them? Besides lingerie or high heels, what else is in your fantasy wardrobe?
Short skirts? Maybe denim ones, for hooker-wear or pleated plaid ones for the school girl look? Knee high boots? Thigh high boots? A nurse’s hat? Teacher’s glasses? A man’s suit? Tight jeans and a shirt cut so low it would be illegal street wear?
Lingerie is awesome. But there are other articles of clothing that can bring out the animal in your partner just as much as a babydoll and a thong.
What’s the sexiest thing you can wear for your partner? Have you asked him or her? Or do you just assume he likes all that black lace and the g-string? Maybe if you haven’t asked, you should. Maybe he has a nurse fantasy. Maybe he would prefer to see you in something short and white and innocent once in awhile. Maybe he’d really love it if you dressed in ‘street’ clothes like a complete and total slut and drug him away from the news and up the stairs to show him how well those clothes suit you in that moment …..
Almost any piece of clothing you buy can have sex appeal if worn correctly (or incorrectly in some cases….). Look at things you own differently. Look at them and ask “Would I fuck me in that?”
No, really. Do it. It’s fun *grin
Fantasies and Goals
In my early 20’s, I started reading Nancy Friday books. I think the first one I read was Women on Top. I remember at the time that there weren’t a lot of books like this. You could find an occasional erotic novel in Waldenbooks (which is pretty much what we had then), but stuff like this was pretty rare.
Anyway, I’m thinking that that’s what started me off on this path, or at least it gave me a swift kick in the ass toward this lifelong obsession with sexuality.
I was thinking about Nancy Friday books the other night and I’m thinking I’m probably going to repurchase some of them (it’s unfortunate, but if I kept every book I ever bought I’d be sitting and sleeping on them).
But it brought to mind fantasies. Everyone has them. Some people like me have write about them. Some people keep them locked inside and never reveal them. Some people will reveal them only when they feel 100% comfortable in a monogamous relationship, and even then, they will quiver in fear. People feel good about them, people feel bad about them, people base their entire lives on trying to bring every one they ever have, come to life.
The latter to me, says that it’s not a fantasy though.
There is a very big difference between a fantasy and a goal. And people who carry around these fantasies – waiting for the opportunity to present itself to have a threesome, get a spanking, have anal sex – are working toward a goal, not reveling in a healthy fantasy life.
Fantasies are just that. Fantasies. Sometimes, they do come true. Sometimes, you get very lucky – or unlucky in some cases – and get to carry them out, explore them fully.
And sometimes, you don’t.
Sometimes, you fantasize about things that you’d never even want to do out of your mind. They’re dangerous or they’re scary or they’re just plain unrealistic.
But they do serve a purpose, don’t they? They make wonderful masturbatory material and they can keep you from drifting off in a boring business meeting. You can fantasize about things that you’d never share with another soul or you can fantasize about things that you’d share with even a casual lover during pillow talk.
You can take a very elaborate fantasy – say for instance – a huge bondage fantasy complete with a leather masked master wielding a dangerous looking single tail whip – and carry it partially out with a trusted lover wearing a pair of tight jeans and wielding a wooden spoon.
Fantasies change and grow and expand and contract and…. Well if they didn’t change, wouldn’t they get boring after the first few hundred times?
I mentioned briefly that there’s a difference between a fantasy and a goal. If you can say “I want to sleep with my partner and another girl before I die.” , that leaps out of the fantasy realm and into the goal realm. There’s nothing wrong with sexual goals. Sexual goals are fun *grin. But when you begin to feel as if something that was first a fantasy for you needs to happen or you will not feel fulfilled, it leaps from fantasy land into goal land. And that’s just something we need to accept and work with.
I hold my fantasies very dearly. My fantasies are what inspire a great deal of my erotica. My fantasies change a lot, slight variations to completely brand new ones. I’m happy about that because it keeps my imagination oiled and working.
Being able to tell the difference between what’s realistic and what’s not so realistic is what separates sane from the insane. I’m sure that you’ve done that already (because no one crazy reads blogs, right?) . Stop and think about a few of yours. Are they things you really want to do? Are they things you’d share with someone you trust? Are they something that you really actually want to accomplish?
There are very few fantasies you should ever feel ashamed of. I can only think of fantasies involving insentient beings, or things that would land you in the hospital or prison that would be considered unhealthy. Anything else? Let your imagination go wild. Don’t stop yourself just because you don’t think you’ll ever get to do it. That’s not a good reason to kill a fantasy. A goal, yes. A fantasy, no.
Fantasizing exercises your imagination, your creativity and your sexuality. Providing they aren’t hurting you or anyone else, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with letting your imagination run wild.
Some days, wild is my favorite color *grin. Okay, okay. Most days.
Anyway, I’m thinking that that’s what started me off on this path, or at least it gave me a swift kick in the ass toward this lifelong obsession with sexuality.
I was thinking about Nancy Friday books the other night and I’m thinking I’m probably going to repurchase some of them (it’s unfortunate, but if I kept every book I ever bought I’d be sitting and sleeping on them).
But it brought to mind fantasies. Everyone has them. Some people like me have write about them. Some people keep them locked inside and never reveal them. Some people will reveal them only when they feel 100% comfortable in a monogamous relationship, and even then, they will quiver in fear. People feel good about them, people feel bad about them, people base their entire lives on trying to bring every one they ever have, come to life.
The latter to me, says that it’s not a fantasy though.
There is a very big difference between a fantasy and a goal. And people who carry around these fantasies – waiting for the opportunity to present itself to have a threesome, get a spanking, have anal sex – are working toward a goal, not reveling in a healthy fantasy life.
Fantasies are just that. Fantasies. Sometimes, they do come true. Sometimes, you get very lucky – or unlucky in some cases – and get to carry them out, explore them fully.
And sometimes, you don’t.
Sometimes, you fantasize about things that you’d never even want to do out of your mind. They’re dangerous or they’re scary or they’re just plain unrealistic.
But they do serve a purpose, don’t they? They make wonderful masturbatory material and they can keep you from drifting off in a boring business meeting. You can fantasize about things that you’d never share with another soul or you can fantasize about things that you’d share with even a casual lover during pillow talk.
You can take a very elaborate fantasy – say for instance – a huge bondage fantasy complete with a leather masked master wielding a dangerous looking single tail whip – and carry it partially out with a trusted lover wearing a pair of tight jeans and wielding a wooden spoon.
Fantasies change and grow and expand and contract and…. Well if they didn’t change, wouldn’t they get boring after the first few hundred times?
I mentioned briefly that there’s a difference between a fantasy and a goal. If you can say “I want to sleep with my partner and another girl before I die.” , that leaps out of the fantasy realm and into the goal realm. There’s nothing wrong with sexual goals. Sexual goals are fun *grin. But when you begin to feel as if something that was first a fantasy for you needs to happen or you will not feel fulfilled, it leaps from fantasy land into goal land. And that’s just something we need to accept and work with.
I hold my fantasies very dearly. My fantasies are what inspire a great deal of my erotica. My fantasies change a lot, slight variations to completely brand new ones. I’m happy about that because it keeps my imagination oiled and working.
Being able to tell the difference between what’s realistic and what’s not so realistic is what separates sane from the insane. I’m sure that you’ve done that already (because no one crazy reads blogs, right?) . Stop and think about a few of yours. Are they things you really want to do? Are they things you’d share with someone you trust? Are they something that you really actually want to accomplish?
There are very few fantasies you should ever feel ashamed of. I can only think of fantasies involving insentient beings, or things that would land you in the hospital or prison that would be considered unhealthy. Anything else? Let your imagination go wild. Don’t stop yourself just because you don’t think you’ll ever get to do it. That’s not a good reason to kill a fantasy. A goal, yes. A fantasy, no.
Fantasizing exercises your imagination, your creativity and your sexuality. Providing they aren’t hurting you or anyone else, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with letting your imagination run wild.
Some days, wild is my favorite color *grin. Okay, okay. Most days.
What would you do for peace?
I don't share links very often here.
But this one ... this is priceless. It's also related to one of my favorite subjects... *grin
I am not a huge anti-war protester or anything but this just made me laugh. out. loud.
Hope you get a chuckle, too.
What Will You Do For Peace?
But this one ... this is priceless. It's also related to one of my favorite subjects... *grin
I am not a huge anti-war protester or anything but this just made me laugh. out. loud.
Hope you get a chuckle, too.
What Will You Do For Peace?
Come Together...or don't.
I said last week that I’m a book whore. That’s true, and also a little play on words, because typically with every trip to the bookstore, I end up with a non-fiction book about sex or sexuality, or an erotic novel.
I can’t help it. It’s one of my favorite subjects *grin
There’s an interesting quote in one of the books I got recently, which I’m not going to link because frankly, besides this quote and a few web links, the book is just dumb and offers no new information about anything. It’s regurgitated stuff from other books. Or sounds like it, anyway. So while I won’t promote it, I will use the quote (there, that’ll teach someone to write unoriginally, won’t it? HA)
“Simultaneous orgasms are great, but you do run the risk of ignoring each other. Sometimes, it’s more fun to come one at a time so you can watch.”
I read that a couple times, and then gave it some thought. And it’s true.
I enjoy watching a man that I’m interacting sexually with cum. I like to watch his face, his body, and I like to listen.
That’s pretty difficult to do when I wrapped up in a writing, whimpering mass at the point of my own orgasm.
The author goes on to say that it’s nearly impossible to do, which it’s not. If you’re practiced at controlling and containing your orgasms, if you can –wait- it’s not that difficult to do. But her original statement remains true; it is a lot of fun to watch.
I think somewhere along the line, simultaneous orgasm got romanticized, probably by some married women in the 70’s when women started really having a lot of orgasms, and really only had sex to express love and commitment to their husbands. I can see the reason behind wanting to do it, having felt this way myself. Cumming together, if you’re in a ‘love’ situation, can signify to a woman that they are completely in tune with their partner and linked with them. It can reinforce their feeling that they’re doing the right thing. Totally understandable.
*shrug It doesn’t really mean any of that though and delusions aren’t all that healthy are they?
Sex is supposed to be fun, whether you’re doing it as an expression of love, a way to procreate or just to do it. It’s not fun if you’re concentrating so hard on hurrying up or slowing down so that you can share a 15 second moment with your lover. Does that sound fun to you?
Well, unless you’re doing it to sexually torture and tease someone…then maybe it’s fun …
But I’ll think about that later!
And so will you. Won’t you? *grin
I can’t help it. It’s one of my favorite subjects *grin
There’s an interesting quote in one of the books I got recently, which I’m not going to link because frankly, besides this quote and a few web links, the book is just dumb and offers no new information about anything. It’s regurgitated stuff from other books. Or sounds like it, anyway. So while I won’t promote it, I will use the quote (there, that’ll teach someone to write unoriginally, won’t it? HA)
“Simultaneous orgasms are great, but you do run the risk of ignoring each other. Sometimes, it’s more fun to come one at a time so you can watch.”
I read that a couple times, and then gave it some thought. And it’s true.
I enjoy watching a man that I’m interacting sexually with cum. I like to watch his face, his body, and I like to listen.
That’s pretty difficult to do when I wrapped up in a writing, whimpering mass at the point of my own orgasm.
The author goes on to say that it’s nearly impossible to do, which it’s not. If you’re practiced at controlling and containing your orgasms, if you can –wait- it’s not that difficult to do. But her original statement remains true; it is a lot of fun to watch.
I think somewhere along the line, simultaneous orgasm got romanticized, probably by some married women in the 70’s when women started really having a lot of orgasms, and really only had sex to express love and commitment to their husbands. I can see the reason behind wanting to do it, having felt this way myself. Cumming together, if you’re in a ‘love’ situation, can signify to a woman that they are completely in tune with their partner and linked with them. It can reinforce their feeling that they’re doing the right thing. Totally understandable.
*shrug It doesn’t really mean any of that though and delusions aren’t all that healthy are they?
Sex is supposed to be fun, whether you’re doing it as an expression of love, a way to procreate or just to do it. It’s not fun if you’re concentrating so hard on hurrying up or slowing down so that you can share a 15 second moment with your lover. Does that sound fun to you?
Well, unless you’re doing it to sexually torture and tease someone…then maybe it’s fun …
But I’ll think about that later!
And so will you. Won’t you? *grin
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Disruptions
So, yea.
2 days of record rainfall on Saturday and Sunday do not make me a happy girl.
I was sitting in my recliner Saturday night, enjoying some quiet time and actually working steadily on my plotline and my characters for the fantasy novel I've started to work on. I was very happy with the progress I'd made, and then I stood up to go up to bed.
And my feet got wet.
Apparently, the stairwell that's attached to the door in my downstairs living room does not drain when inch upon inch upon inch of water are dumped into it. So it decided, of it's own volition, to start creeping under my door. It soaked about a quarter of the room. Disgusted, I went and gathered my towels (from when this happened in my office) and a fan, and covered it and started the fan. I was unhappy when I went to bed, but I figured I could fix that one area.
So Sunday, I played some Warcraft and then went to get my hair highlighted and trimmed up. I love the woman who cuts my hair. She makes me look amazing. So I was in a super mood ...
... until I got to my car and started to drive home, into one of the blackest skies I'd ever seen.
I hoped for the best. I got back on my desktop (since I had to move all the furniture around in the living room to dry it up) and played a bit more. Around 9 pm, I got up to go fill up my water glass and ....
Yup. More wet carpet. Creeping through the living room, right into my office.
I was angry then. I made several calls to my landlords over the weekend and left messages, and finally got a call back. They're out of town (of course they are), but will be back Monday and come right over to check it out.
In the meantime, the smell was atrocious. The carpet was soaked. The cats were freaked out. I went to bed still pissed off.
Yesterday, I left work at noon and came home to await the landlords. The wet carpet was gone by 6pm and now the concrete that was under it is STILL drying. So I'm stuck upstairs with the laptop and the small TV and surrounded by all of the stuff from my office and the living room that I could move.
Life, disrupted.
It could have been worse. So I'm thankful it wasn't.
But until I can completely obliterate that smell, I'll be agitated.
I've kept working on plot and characters while I'm stuck up here in Small TV Land and hope the floors downstairs dry soon and I can wrestle the smell outta my house.
Send Febreeze......
2 days of record rainfall on Saturday and Sunday do not make me a happy girl.
I was sitting in my recliner Saturday night, enjoying some quiet time and actually working steadily on my plotline and my characters for the fantasy novel I've started to work on. I was very happy with the progress I'd made, and then I stood up to go up to bed.
And my feet got wet.
Apparently, the stairwell that's attached to the door in my downstairs living room does not drain when inch upon inch upon inch of water are dumped into it. So it decided, of it's own volition, to start creeping under my door. It soaked about a quarter of the room. Disgusted, I went and gathered my towels (from when this happened in my office) and a fan, and covered it and started the fan. I was unhappy when I went to bed, but I figured I could fix that one area.
So Sunday, I played some Warcraft and then went to get my hair highlighted and trimmed up. I love the woman who cuts my hair. She makes me look amazing. So I was in a super mood ...
... until I got to my car and started to drive home, into one of the blackest skies I'd ever seen.
I hoped for the best. I got back on my desktop (since I had to move all the furniture around in the living room to dry it up) and played a bit more. Around 9 pm, I got up to go fill up my water glass and ....
Yup. More wet carpet. Creeping through the living room, right into my office.
I was angry then. I made several calls to my landlords over the weekend and left messages, and finally got a call back. They're out of town (of course they are), but will be back Monday and come right over to check it out.
In the meantime, the smell was atrocious. The carpet was soaked. The cats were freaked out. I went to bed still pissed off.
Yesterday, I left work at noon and came home to await the landlords. The wet carpet was gone by 6pm and now the concrete that was under it is STILL drying. So I'm stuck upstairs with the laptop and the small TV and surrounded by all of the stuff from my office and the living room that I could move.
Life, disrupted.
It could have been worse. So I'm thankful it wasn't.
But until I can completely obliterate that smell, I'll be agitated.
I've kept working on plot and characters while I'm stuck up here in Small TV Land and hope the floors downstairs dry soon and I can wrestle the smell outta my house.
Send Febreeze......
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Catch up
By my own admission, books are my drug of choice, and me walking into a Half-Price Books is akin to a junkie going to a crack house. But walk in I did last week on my lunch hour, and books I did buy.
The stack on my nightstand grows, as does the one on the table beside me. Fiction upstairs, non-fiction downstairs, but the piles grow precarious.
I should be ashamed. But I'm not. I am a book whore.
-----
I watched Season One of The Tudors this week. I loved it. I can't wait to get Season Two. This is a part of english history that I know very little about, and in amongst the sex and intrigue are some very clear history lessons. The writing is crisp and inviting. The actors carry their parts, and I ended up feeling sorry for villains and disliking heroines. That's what keeps me interested in a series. It makes me change my mind. Even the music is good.
-------
I began outlining the fantasy novel (well one of them) that's been living in my mind for the last several months. I hope to keep at it, and get my characters set enough soon so that I can actually start writing. Well, providing my current writer's block subsides, that is.
------
As I spoke of in my most recent post, I've started watching my calories very closely and exercising daily again. It feels good to take control of that back, and I guess I'm thankful to that stupid scale at the doctors office for smacking me up 'side the head. I'm doing very well, and that makes me happy. Perhas the happiness will break the block as far as writing is concerned as well.
I can hope, can't I?
The stack on my nightstand grows, as does the one on the table beside me. Fiction upstairs, non-fiction downstairs, but the piles grow precarious.
I should be ashamed. But I'm not. I am a book whore.
-----
I watched Season One of The Tudors this week. I loved it. I can't wait to get Season Two. This is a part of english history that I know very little about, and in amongst the sex and intrigue are some very clear history lessons. The writing is crisp and inviting. The actors carry their parts, and I ended up feeling sorry for villains and disliking heroines. That's what keeps me interested in a series. It makes me change my mind. Even the music is good.
-------
I began outlining the fantasy novel (well one of them) that's been living in my mind for the last several months. I hope to keep at it, and get my characters set enough soon so that I can actually start writing. Well, providing my current writer's block subsides, that is.
------
As I spoke of in my most recent post, I've started watching my calories very closely and exercising daily again. It feels good to take control of that back, and I guess I'm thankful to that stupid scale at the doctors office for smacking me up 'side the head. I'm doing very well, and that makes me happy. Perhas the happiness will break the block as far as writing is concerned as well.
I can hope, can't I?
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Off Track
I really wanted to write over my long weekend last week. Didn’t happen. Why? Because last weekend wasn’t about creating, it was about breaking things down.
That did include some cleaning and organizing that needed to happen. But it also included breaking down my apparent frustration in where my weight is.
I had to go see the doctor last week. It’s nice that I go to the same franchise clinic that did my surgery three years ago. They have all of my records, no matter which of the three clinics I go to. I like that. I also like that I can see most results and statistics online.
But the downside to that is that they track my weight pretty closely because of the surgery. And apparently, somewhere between last week and last year, I gained four pounds. Doesn’t sound like much, does it? Not a big deal.
But to me, it was devastating. I still had 12 pounds to lose, and here, I had actually gained 4 pounds?!? What the hell was that!
So I beat the crap out of myself for a couple days and then I focused my head again and got busy. I’m counting every calorie and I’m back on the exercise bike. I got off track. I quit paying attention. It’s no wonder I wasn’t losing and had actually gained. I wouldn’t have been so frustrated at the gain, I decided, had I actually hit the goal I set for myself last year. But since I hadn’t, I really did some serious bitching at my reflection.
So now, I have sixteen to lose.
I didn’t get on the scale. I know I should have, first thing before I started. But my scale has about an inch of dust on it, because I gave up on it. The closer I got to goal, the less it moved and I finally just put it away. I didn’t want my mood every day to depend on a variable number. I’ll get the courage up to get it back out before the week is out.
While I don’t like being down on myself, I do like that this lit a fire under my ass and I feel like I have a little bit of focus now. More than a little bit, actually. I hope I can apply it to other things in my life that need doing – like my writing – and my home.
I’m hoping I can stay on track this time, and get these stupid sixteen pounds off and maybe in the process, make exercise a habit again. I quit riding my bike before because I pounded at it so hard that I hurt my knee doing it. I started slow this time. Maybe that’ll help.
Send good vibes if ya got ‘em. I’m sure I could them.
That did include some cleaning and organizing that needed to happen. But it also included breaking down my apparent frustration in where my weight is.
I had to go see the doctor last week. It’s nice that I go to the same franchise clinic that did my surgery three years ago. They have all of my records, no matter which of the three clinics I go to. I like that. I also like that I can see most results and statistics online.
But the downside to that is that they track my weight pretty closely because of the surgery. And apparently, somewhere between last week and last year, I gained four pounds. Doesn’t sound like much, does it? Not a big deal.
But to me, it was devastating. I still had 12 pounds to lose, and here, I had actually gained 4 pounds?!? What the hell was that!
So I beat the crap out of myself for a couple days and then I focused my head again and got busy. I’m counting every calorie and I’m back on the exercise bike. I got off track. I quit paying attention. It’s no wonder I wasn’t losing and had actually gained. I wouldn’t have been so frustrated at the gain, I decided, had I actually hit the goal I set for myself last year. But since I hadn’t, I really did some serious bitching at my reflection.
So now, I have sixteen to lose.
I didn’t get on the scale. I know I should have, first thing before I started. But my scale has about an inch of dust on it, because I gave up on it. The closer I got to goal, the less it moved and I finally just put it away. I didn’t want my mood every day to depend on a variable number. I’ll get the courage up to get it back out before the week is out.
While I don’t like being down on myself, I do like that this lit a fire under my ass and I feel like I have a little bit of focus now. More than a little bit, actually. I hope I can apply it to other things in my life that need doing – like my writing – and my home.
I’m hoping I can stay on track this time, and get these stupid sixteen pounds off and maybe in the process, make exercise a habit again. I quit riding my bike before because I pounded at it so hard that I hurt my knee doing it. I started slow this time. Maybe that’ll help.
Send good vibes if ya got ‘em. I’m sure I could them.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Wisdom
The Wisdom of Silent Bob
"There’s a million fine lookin women in the world, dude, but they don’t all bring you lasagna at work. Most of them just cheat on you…" Kevin Smith as Silent Bob, from the movie Clerks.
"There’s a million fine lookin women in the world, dude, but they don’t all bring you lasagna at work. Most of them just cheat on you…" Kevin Smith as Silent Bob, from the movie Clerks.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Serenity
I’m not much of a crowd follower. In my younger days I was. I started smoking, didn’t I? But now, I tend to run screaming from anything that too many people rave about. Intentional rebel? Maybe. More like I just don’t like to be normal *grin
So when yet another friend of mine started raving about an TV Series called “Firefly”, I cringed a little. C raved about it, as well as several of my other friends. But I finally cracked, more from curiosity than anything else, and I bought the dvd set just to make them all pipe down. I mean – c’mon. Space western? What the hell is that? I’m not a huge science fiction fan and while I do have a cowboy fetish, I’m not really a western fan, either. It sat on the shelf of my tv stand for well over a month before I finally caved and put the first dvd in.
From about the first half hour into the 2 hour pilot, I realized something. I really did like the damn show.
I was disgusted with myself about that for awhile. Then I gave up the ghost and decided that even this weird space western had clever humor, good action and a cast of characters that was unique. I absolutely adore the girls in this series, especially Annora and Kaylee. Annora is so blazingly upfront and sensual. Her career path, while not something I'd seriously do, is something that intrigues me nonetheless. And Kaylee in her innocence... you know she's not that innocent. You know there's a very deep sexuality buried under all those smiles and that sweetness.
So, the three words that I dislike saying and everyone seems to love to hear from me ….
You. Were. Right.
Okay. Fine. Let’s move on.
After I finished watching the last three episodes of Firefly last night, and then the special features, I decided I probably would get in the car and drive to Border’s today to get the movie, Serenity. I did that today.
In other news …
A couple weeks ago, I picked up the special edition of Clerks II, since I have up until now neglected to buy it. I love View Askew movies. I have had a serious crush on Silent Bob (Mr Kevin Smith) since the first time I saw Clerks. Once or twice a year, I line up all of my Kevin Smith movies and have a little tribute day. For me, that’s Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. Now, I can add Clerks II to that.
Not only are these movies hilarious, but there are classic lines in every one of these that just stick in your head forever. Two of my favorites come from Chasing Amy.
“I love you, I always will. Know that. But I'm not your fucking whore. “
“I was an experimental girl for Christ sake! Maybe you knew from early on your track was from point A to B, but unlike you I was not given a fucking map at birth, so I tried it all! That is until we, you and I, got together and suddenly I was sated! “
That man should never stop writing. Ever.
So this weekend, while I’m recovering from some gawd awful virus that’s making it’s way around Madison, I’m going to hole up, have my Kevin Smith Film Festival and watch the Firefly movie.
And write. I intend to write. *grin
Enjoy your holiday!
So when yet another friend of mine started raving about an TV Series called “Firefly”, I cringed a little. C raved about it, as well as several of my other friends. But I finally cracked, more from curiosity than anything else, and I bought the dvd set just to make them all pipe down. I mean – c’mon. Space western? What the hell is that? I’m not a huge science fiction fan and while I do have a cowboy fetish, I’m not really a western fan, either. It sat on the shelf of my tv stand for well over a month before I finally caved and put the first dvd in.
From about the first half hour into the 2 hour pilot, I realized something. I really did like the damn show.
I was disgusted with myself about that for awhile. Then I gave up the ghost and decided that even this weird space western had clever humor, good action and a cast of characters that was unique. I absolutely adore the girls in this series, especially Annora and Kaylee. Annora is so blazingly upfront and sensual. Her career path, while not something I'd seriously do, is something that intrigues me nonetheless. And Kaylee in her innocence... you know she's not that innocent. You know there's a very deep sexuality buried under all those smiles and that sweetness.
So, the three words that I dislike saying and everyone seems to love to hear from me ….
You. Were. Right.
Okay. Fine. Let’s move on.
After I finished watching the last three episodes of Firefly last night, and then the special features, I decided I probably would get in the car and drive to Border’s today to get the movie, Serenity. I did that today.
In other news …
A couple weeks ago, I picked up the special edition of Clerks II, since I have up until now neglected to buy it. I love View Askew movies. I have had a serious crush on Silent Bob (Mr Kevin Smith) since the first time I saw Clerks. Once or twice a year, I line up all of my Kevin Smith movies and have a little tribute day. For me, that’s Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. Now, I can add Clerks II to that.
Not only are these movies hilarious, but there are classic lines in every one of these that just stick in your head forever. Two of my favorites come from Chasing Amy.
“I love you, I always will. Know that. But I'm not your fucking whore. “
“I was an experimental girl for Christ sake! Maybe you knew from early on your track was from point A to B, but unlike you I was not given a fucking map at birth, so I tried it all! That is until we, you and I, got together and suddenly I was sated! “
That man should never stop writing. Ever.
So this weekend, while I’m recovering from some gawd awful virus that’s making it’s way around Madison, I’m going to hole up, have my Kevin Smith Film Festival and watch the Firefly movie.
And write. I intend to write. *grin
Enjoy your holiday!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Healthy
So, what makes a healthy sexual relationship?
Are you wondering where that came from? Me, too. It just kinda popped into my head today while I was cussing out downed DSL connections and having to re-do an hours worth of work. It popped back into my head tonight while I was straightening my hair(which I finally got exactly the way I wanted it with the new cut so it’s a banner evening here). So I figure it’s worth exploring a little.
Out of the several relationships I have had over the years, I’d have to say that very few of them were actually healthy sexual relationships. At one time, I was overly co-dependent and slightly passive-aggressive, and my sexual relationships were steeped in that. I didn’t ask for things I wanted, I gave what my partner wanted, and then felt resentful that I wasn’t getting what I needed. Well, duh.
I can say “well, duh” now because I know better. But then, I thought I was doing what I was supposed to be doing: taking care of my partner, and leaving my own needs for last.
Yea, that’s not very healthy.
A healthy sexual relationship is much like I described when I wrote about casual relationships: It’s a relationship in which both people get everything they need and a large part of what they want. Both people feel energized by their time together, rather than drained by it. Both people are honest about their feelings and feel free to share their personal fantasies and desires. Both people are sexually satisfied and look forward to being together in that way. You’re both comfortable enough to be open about almost everything you’ve ever conceived sexually and you’re both accepting of each other’s conceptions, whether you’re interested in carrying them out or not. Typically, that’s all many people are looking for; the acceptance of what they fantasize about. Carrying it out is gravy over the person you’re fucking listening and being receptive to what you have to say.
If both people are at least relatively emotionally healthy on their own, and if they share similar moral values, there’s no reason that their sexual relationship won’t be healthy, too. But that’s not really a guarantee. The smallest thing can cause one person’s emotional health from one direction to the other. In a matter of minutes. Usually it will swing back the other way, but not always. Everyone has triggers. But hopefully if you’ve gotten to know someone before sleeping with them, you’ll learn to avoid the big ones.
A healthy sexual relationship can do more than fulfill fantasies. It can help you sleep better. Lose weight. Open your mind. Learn to be more open and less shy.
But it’s not a cure-all for what ails ya. Make no mistake about that. You need to be able to give as well as you get. One-sided relationships are not healthy relationships. Additionally, any relationship that damages other parts of your life is not healthy, either.
I guess the bottom line is this: If both parties in the relationship feel good about it, and it’s not ruining anything else in your life, chances are it’s healthy. And a healthy sex life is a beautiful thing.
Now all I gotta do is get serious about finding one *grin
Are you wondering where that came from? Me, too. It just kinda popped into my head today while I was cussing out downed DSL connections and having to re-do an hours worth of work. It popped back into my head tonight while I was straightening my hair(which I finally got exactly the way I wanted it with the new cut so it’s a banner evening here). So I figure it’s worth exploring a little.
Out of the several relationships I have had over the years, I’d have to say that very few of them were actually healthy sexual relationships. At one time, I was overly co-dependent and slightly passive-aggressive, and my sexual relationships were steeped in that. I didn’t ask for things I wanted, I gave what my partner wanted, and then felt resentful that I wasn’t getting what I needed. Well, duh.
I can say “well, duh” now because I know better. But then, I thought I was doing what I was supposed to be doing: taking care of my partner, and leaving my own needs for last.
Yea, that’s not very healthy.
A healthy sexual relationship is much like I described when I wrote about casual relationships: It’s a relationship in which both people get everything they need and a large part of what they want. Both people feel energized by their time together, rather than drained by it. Both people are honest about their feelings and feel free to share their personal fantasies and desires. Both people are sexually satisfied and look forward to being together in that way. You’re both comfortable enough to be open about almost everything you’ve ever conceived sexually and you’re both accepting of each other’s conceptions, whether you’re interested in carrying them out or not. Typically, that’s all many people are looking for; the acceptance of what they fantasize about. Carrying it out is gravy over the person you’re fucking listening and being receptive to what you have to say.
If both people are at least relatively emotionally healthy on their own, and if they share similar moral values, there’s no reason that their sexual relationship won’t be healthy, too. But that’s not really a guarantee. The smallest thing can cause one person’s emotional health from one direction to the other. In a matter of minutes. Usually it will swing back the other way, but not always. Everyone has triggers. But hopefully if you’ve gotten to know someone before sleeping with them, you’ll learn to avoid the big ones.
A healthy sexual relationship can do more than fulfill fantasies. It can help you sleep better. Lose weight. Open your mind. Learn to be more open and less shy.
But it’s not a cure-all for what ails ya. Make no mistake about that. You need to be able to give as well as you get. One-sided relationships are not healthy relationships. Additionally, any relationship that damages other parts of your life is not healthy, either.
I guess the bottom line is this: If both parties in the relationship feel good about it, and it’s not ruining anything else in your life, chances are it’s healthy. And a healthy sex life is a beautiful thing.
Now all I gotta do is get serious about finding one *grin
The Importance of Kissing
Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves. ~Albert Einstein
I got two new big pillows for my bed. I used to have 4 fluffy feather pillows on it, but over the last six months, two of them have developed "leaks" and I've had to set them aside to be taken to my mom for repairs. I got a couple of very nice faux down filled pillows, hoping that since they aren't real down, they won't leak *grin. I also bought some high-count pillowcases for them, so they're actually very luxurious on my bed. I’m going back to get the matching sheets.
I have so many pillows for a reason. I like the bed feeling 'full'. I sorely dislike the idea of an empty bed for long periods of time, and I got used to having so many when C was out of sea so much. Even if you're in the bed alone, you feel a certain volume to it. And it helps.
Beyond having another body in the bed, one of the big things I miss about having a consistent partner/lover/boyfriend/what-the-hell-ever is kissing. Sounds simple enough, right? It’s really not.
I recently told someone that, in relation to a casual relationship, the lack of kissing would be a deal breaker for me. Remember the scene in Pretty Woman where Julia Robert’s character says that she never kisses her tricks? I understand it in her case. But in my case, it doesn’t work. Not only are people not ‘tricks’ to me, but kissing is a huge part of the whole sexual experience. A great kisser can make me immediately ready for sex. A bad kisser can turn me off so much that I don’t even feel remotely up to sex. I have gotten past it in a few cases, but for the most part, if a guy is a bad kisser, chances are I’m not going any further with them.
I’ve had kisses that were so wet I felt like I needed a towel. And conversely some so dry that I wondered if there was some sort of physical deformity involved. If a guy immediately stuff my mouth full of tongue I’m not going to react well to it. There needs to be a bit of finesse involved in that, and some guys, no matter what their age, still haven’t learned that. I don’t like ‘loose lips’ either.
Picky? Yup. And unapologetic about it. Kissing is sexy as hell to me and important. If someone can fire me up with a couple of hot kisses, I know I have myself a winner.
Yes, it really is that important.
A man's kiss is his signature. ~Mae West
Making out should be fun. Spending an hour, two, three with someone on a couch or a blanket or a bed before any actual sex happens can be a shitload of fun and should never be ignored. Not every time you have sex, of course, but often enough that neither of you forget that the base of sexual attraction is not simply intercourse. It’s all the stuff that leads to fucking, too.
Kissing is a big part of that. Probably the most important part. And well worth the time to learn to do properly.
I got two new big pillows for my bed. I used to have 4 fluffy feather pillows on it, but over the last six months, two of them have developed "leaks" and I've had to set them aside to be taken to my mom for repairs. I got a couple of very nice faux down filled pillows, hoping that since they aren't real down, they won't leak *grin. I also bought some high-count pillowcases for them, so they're actually very luxurious on my bed. I’m going back to get the matching sheets.
I have so many pillows for a reason. I like the bed feeling 'full'. I sorely dislike the idea of an empty bed for long periods of time, and I got used to having so many when C was out of sea so much. Even if you're in the bed alone, you feel a certain volume to it. And it helps.
Beyond having another body in the bed, one of the big things I miss about having a consistent partner/lover/boyfriend/what-the-hell-ever is kissing. Sounds simple enough, right? It’s really not.
I recently told someone that, in relation to a casual relationship, the lack of kissing would be a deal breaker for me. Remember the scene in Pretty Woman where Julia Robert’s character says that she never kisses her tricks? I understand it in her case. But in my case, it doesn’t work. Not only are people not ‘tricks’ to me, but kissing is a huge part of the whole sexual experience. A great kisser can make me immediately ready for sex. A bad kisser can turn me off so much that I don’t even feel remotely up to sex. I have gotten past it in a few cases, but for the most part, if a guy is a bad kisser, chances are I’m not going any further with them.
I’ve had kisses that were so wet I felt like I needed a towel. And conversely some so dry that I wondered if there was some sort of physical deformity involved. If a guy immediately stuff my mouth full of tongue I’m not going to react well to it. There needs to be a bit of finesse involved in that, and some guys, no matter what their age, still haven’t learned that. I don’t like ‘loose lips’ either.
Picky? Yup. And unapologetic about it. Kissing is sexy as hell to me and important. If someone can fire me up with a couple of hot kisses, I know I have myself a winner.
Yes, it really is that important.
A man's kiss is his signature. ~Mae West
Making out should be fun. Spending an hour, two, three with someone on a couch or a blanket or a bed before any actual sex happens can be a shitload of fun and should never be ignored. Not every time you have sex, of course, but often enough that neither of you forget that the base of sexual attraction is not simply intercourse. It’s all the stuff that leads to fucking, too.
Kissing is a big part of that. Probably the most important part. And well worth the time to learn to do properly.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Anti-Instant
Sometimes I wonder if my life wouldn’t be easier if I were like a majority of the population – an instant gratification girl.
It occurred to me today as I was cleaning house, and doing some thinking about certain subjects that I’m not the kind of person to go masturbate *every time I get an itch. Sometimes, like today, I like to wait. I like to live with that itch for awhile, make it grow, make it drag on. As I said recently, I draw a lot of my creative energy from my sexual energy, and by pointedly *not running for my vibrator every time I get a twinge, I can develop and draw that out even more.
I haven’t written any erotica in awhile and I miss it. The creative process that goes into writing a good piece of erotic fiction is something that really does fulfill me. While I also want to write non-erotic fiction, erotica is my first love simply because it’s where I had my first major successes. I have a couple of fantasy stories in my head but for some reason I have more difficulty sitting down to write those out.
If I were the kind of person who sought out instant gratification, I’d be able to sit down and write whenever the muses struck me, but I’m not that way. Just like sexual energy, I like to let the creative energy build until I can barely stand it. That way, I’m assured that I’ll sit down and write a good piece, start to finish, rather than leaving these half-written pieces all over my desktop (of which I have about four right now). I save them on my desktop because I like seeing them there to remind me that I have work to do.
If I were an instant gratification kind of person, I’d probably be looking a little harder for a local ‘friend’. But I’m not. I’m not avoiding it, but I’m not out there sending winks on personal sites and writing emails to anyone who strikes my fancy. Maybe I should be, but I’m not. I typically wait for someone to write to me first. Old fashioned? Maybe. But likely more because I know something about myself.
I am not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s okay.
In the last three years, I’ve had a couple of profiles up on some personal sites. Not hard core ones, but not really half-hearted ones either. They’re just there. They’re just me. Out of every ten responses I get, I might respond to one person. Out of the ten or so I’ve seriously responded to, I’ve met five gentlemen. And out of those five gentlemen, most of them haven’t bothered to ask for a second meeting.
And that’s okay.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I don’t know how to date. Maybe I don’t give off the right kind of vibes when I meet these guys or maybe I’m not at all what they were expecting. But I am who I am, and I’m not going to put on airs to make a false first impression.
And that’s okay.
This is not to say that I don’t dress up and do my hair and put on make-up. I do. But I try to go into them relaxed, and I always tell myself that whether he calls me again or not, I’m all right either way. I know that these are things that are normal for most people. And I feel like I’m about 20 years behind where I should be, because of the kinds of relationships I’ve had in my life.
And that’s okay. Because it’s never too late to do things the right way.
And the right way for me is to be patient. Just as I am with my writing. Just as I am with my sexual energy. And just as I am with this whole dating thing.
Patience is the antithesis of instant gratification, and it has a lot less opportunity for failure. So I’m okay with that. *grin
Now, having said that, I think maybe I’ve waited long enough *grin
It occurred to me today as I was cleaning house, and doing some thinking about certain subjects that I’m not the kind of person to go masturbate *every time I get an itch. Sometimes, like today, I like to wait. I like to live with that itch for awhile, make it grow, make it drag on. As I said recently, I draw a lot of my creative energy from my sexual energy, and by pointedly *not running for my vibrator every time I get a twinge, I can develop and draw that out even more.
I haven’t written any erotica in awhile and I miss it. The creative process that goes into writing a good piece of erotic fiction is something that really does fulfill me. While I also want to write non-erotic fiction, erotica is my first love simply because it’s where I had my first major successes. I have a couple of fantasy stories in my head but for some reason I have more difficulty sitting down to write those out.
If I were the kind of person who sought out instant gratification, I’d be able to sit down and write whenever the muses struck me, but I’m not that way. Just like sexual energy, I like to let the creative energy build until I can barely stand it. That way, I’m assured that I’ll sit down and write a good piece, start to finish, rather than leaving these half-written pieces all over my desktop (of which I have about four right now). I save them on my desktop because I like seeing them there to remind me that I have work to do.
If I were an instant gratification kind of person, I’d probably be looking a little harder for a local ‘friend’. But I’m not. I’m not avoiding it, but I’m not out there sending winks on personal sites and writing emails to anyone who strikes my fancy. Maybe I should be, but I’m not. I typically wait for someone to write to me first. Old fashioned? Maybe. But likely more because I know something about myself.
I am not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s okay.
In the last three years, I’ve had a couple of profiles up on some personal sites. Not hard core ones, but not really half-hearted ones either. They’re just there. They’re just me. Out of every ten responses I get, I might respond to one person. Out of the ten or so I’ve seriously responded to, I’ve met five gentlemen. And out of those five gentlemen, most of them haven’t bothered to ask for a second meeting.
And that’s okay.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I don’t know how to date. Maybe I don’t give off the right kind of vibes when I meet these guys or maybe I’m not at all what they were expecting. But I am who I am, and I’m not going to put on airs to make a false first impression.
And that’s okay.
This is not to say that I don’t dress up and do my hair and put on make-up. I do. But I try to go into them relaxed, and I always tell myself that whether he calls me again or not, I’m all right either way. I know that these are things that are normal for most people. And I feel like I’m about 20 years behind where I should be, because of the kinds of relationships I’ve had in my life.
And that’s okay. Because it’s never too late to do things the right way.
And the right way for me is to be patient. Just as I am with my writing. Just as I am with my sexual energy. And just as I am with this whole dating thing.
Patience is the antithesis of instant gratification, and it has a lot less opportunity for failure. So I’m okay with that. *grin
Now, having said that, I think maybe I’ve waited long enough *grin
Friday, May 16, 2008
Ain't No Miracles Here baby
For anyone out there who thinks the way I used to --- that if you could just change that one part of your life that you thought was holding you back from being completely happy, your life would be perfect --- please don’t. It’s not true.
For all of my adult life, I told myself that if I could just lose enough weight to be a normal size, that the other parts of my life would magically fall into place.
Guess what? Not so much.
I’ve been under ‘normal’ size now for over a year (Normal size is considered to be a size 12/14) and my life is far from perfect. I do have much more self-confidence. I am healthier. And I do look 200% better. I do have a good job that I like. I am saving money and paying off debt. I am living in a huge duplex that I really do like.
But not everything fell into place the way I expected it to. I mean, how could it? But the fact is, when you are mired down in shit, and so dis-satisfied with your life that you focus so intently on one thing that you just know is going to fix everything, it definitely keeps you motivated and going, which is good. But at the end of it all – when you have attained your goal, it’s a pretty big let down.
I’m not complaining. I am very happy with everything that I’ve accomplished and I am not ungrateful for my health, both physical and emotional. But contrary to what I ‘believed’ would happen, my life has not magically transformed into what I always wanted. The last couple weeks have really driven that home for me.
I’d rather be buried in reality than living in a fantasy world, and that’s where I am. This is my reality.
There may be that one big thing that you know you have to change. But don’t believe for a minute that that one thing is going to totally reconstruct your life. It won’t.
But if you’re very lucky, changing that one thing will give you the courage to keep going, and keep changing, until your life is closer to what you want it to be. That’s where I am right now. I’m trying to decide what’s next.
For all of my adult life, I told myself that if I could just lose enough weight to be a normal size, that the other parts of my life would magically fall into place.
Guess what? Not so much.
I’ve been under ‘normal’ size now for over a year (Normal size is considered to be a size 12/14) and my life is far from perfect. I do have much more self-confidence. I am healthier. And I do look 200% better. I do have a good job that I like. I am saving money and paying off debt. I am living in a huge duplex that I really do like.
But not everything fell into place the way I expected it to. I mean, how could it? But the fact is, when you are mired down in shit, and so dis-satisfied with your life that you focus so intently on one thing that you just know is going to fix everything, it definitely keeps you motivated and going, which is good. But at the end of it all – when you have attained your goal, it’s a pretty big let down.
I’m not complaining. I am very happy with everything that I’ve accomplished and I am not ungrateful for my health, both physical and emotional. But contrary to what I ‘believed’ would happen, my life has not magically transformed into what I always wanted. The last couple weeks have really driven that home for me.
I’d rather be buried in reality than living in a fantasy world, and that’s where I am. This is my reality.
There may be that one big thing that you know you have to change. But don’t believe for a minute that that one thing is going to totally reconstruct your life. It won’t.
But if you’re very lucky, changing that one thing will give you the courage to keep going, and keep changing, until your life is closer to what you want it to be. That’s where I am right now. I’m trying to decide what’s next.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Do ....who?
I was doing some reading on one of my bdsm message boards the other night. I’ll admit I’ve kind of abandoned them lately as I’ve been spending much more time working on some fantasy (as in sci-fi fantasy) story ideas and just letting myself relax and be in the moment than I have reading forums. Anyway, as I read through a series of posts about dominant expectations I got to thinking…
Do-er dominant, or do-me dominant?
I’ve had both. M was much more of a do-er. Whether it was pain, sex or roleplay, M wanted to direct what was happening. M liked to ‘play’. C, on the other hand, was a do-me dominant. “Do this for me, do that for me.” Unless it was an occasional spanking, he really wasn’t that interested in ‘playing’ at all. While I am not currently in the market for a dominant per se, I do still enjoy elements of dominant/submissive play in my sex life sometimes, so it’s still a pertinent topic.
For me, a do-er dominant is one that plays *with his submissive. One that uses toys, including and most importantly his mind, to draw emotions and reactions from her to his satisfaction. A do-me dominant, conversely is one who wants to be serviced. I think more than anything, it’s a matter of who has the focus, and who is the center of attention in most cases in the relationship.
As to which I prefer, it’d be easy to say a combination of the two, but that’s not necessarily always true. I know that there definitely are submissives for whom service is their biggest kink, I’m not that. Do I enjoy doing it sometimes? Yes. Do I want to make a career out of it? Does it make me wet in anticipation? No.
That’s not to say that I expect to be a passive player with a do-er dominant. I’m not very good at being passive to be honest. But as I’ve said many times before being told what to do at the right time in the right place can be a very big turn on. And as I seem to have lost most of my self-consciousness issues with being ‘the center of attention’, being ‘toyed’ with and ‘played’ with has a bit more appeal to me than it used to.
I used to have a very good submissive friend to whom service was key in her relationship. Her master demanded it, and it made her happy and fulfilled to provide it. Even their play was not about play; it was about her doing what he wanted, when he wanted, and she provided him a canvas on which to play. They were a perfect match, and very happy together. Definitely not the norm, but just right for each other.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with either the do-er dominant or the do-me dominant. I think there are submissives out there to match nearly every percentage of either side that exists. The key is to be careful what you wish for, and to be careful how you present your expectations to a potential partner.
Do-er dominant, or do-me dominant?
I’ve had both. M was much more of a do-er. Whether it was pain, sex or roleplay, M wanted to direct what was happening. M liked to ‘play’. C, on the other hand, was a do-me dominant. “Do this for me, do that for me.” Unless it was an occasional spanking, he really wasn’t that interested in ‘playing’ at all. While I am not currently in the market for a dominant per se, I do still enjoy elements of dominant/submissive play in my sex life sometimes, so it’s still a pertinent topic.
For me, a do-er dominant is one that plays *with his submissive. One that uses toys, including and most importantly his mind, to draw emotions and reactions from her to his satisfaction. A do-me dominant, conversely is one who wants to be serviced. I think more than anything, it’s a matter of who has the focus, and who is the center of attention in most cases in the relationship.
As to which I prefer, it’d be easy to say a combination of the two, but that’s not necessarily always true. I know that there definitely are submissives for whom service is their biggest kink, I’m not that. Do I enjoy doing it sometimes? Yes. Do I want to make a career out of it? Does it make me wet in anticipation? No.
That’s not to say that I expect to be a passive player with a do-er dominant. I’m not very good at being passive to be honest. But as I’ve said many times before being told what to do at the right time in the right place can be a very big turn on. And as I seem to have lost most of my self-consciousness issues with being ‘the center of attention’, being ‘toyed’ with and ‘played’ with has a bit more appeal to me than it used to.
I used to have a very good submissive friend to whom service was key in her relationship. Her master demanded it, and it made her happy and fulfilled to provide it. Even their play was not about play; it was about her doing what he wanted, when he wanted, and she provided him a canvas on which to play. They were a perfect match, and very happy together. Definitely not the norm, but just right for each other.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with either the do-er dominant or the do-me dominant. I think there are submissives out there to match nearly every percentage of either side that exists. The key is to be careful what you wish for, and to be careful how you present your expectations to a potential partner.
Define Casual
I love getting questions from people who read here. First of all, it lets me know that someone’s actually reading this blog (lol), and second of all it lets me know that I’m provoking thought. Both of these things make me happy.
Over the last several months, I’ve mentioned ‘casual’ relationships a lot. One of my readers wants to know what I mean by a ‘casual sexual relationship’. I scanned back through some posts, and it appears she’s right; I never really defined that.
I can’t define it for everyone, either. Anyone who has or wants or talks about casual sexual relationships probably has different ideas of what that should be. What I mean by it may not be what someone else means. I guess maybe that’s why it’s even more important to have a clear definition of what casual is – and is not.
You’ll notice that most of these points address an issue of respect or friendship in one way or another. To me, those are two of the most important points of any casual relationship definition.
- Casual does not mean ‘one night’, ‘one weekend’ or ‘one fuck’. The second word in ‘casual relationship’ is ‘relationship’ and be that ‘dating’ or ‘friendship’, it denotes that this is not a one time thing. It means that before the sex and after the sex, the rest of the relationship will continue.
- Casual does not mean there is a lack of respect for the other person’s time, attention, energy or personal space. Again, because there is another piece of the relationship beyond fucking, that respect should naturally be there. While a casual relationship in and of itself means that there is no commitment, if a commitment of time is made – if plans are made – I expect them to be respected no less than you would of a very good friend, or someone you were dating. Casual does not mean you can blow the other person off ‘just because’.
- Casual does not mean ‘exclusive’ nor does it mean that either party should not be looking for their ultimate goal in relationship land. However, timing is key here. I don’t want someone I’m having a casual relationship flirting with someone else in front of me. When someone is ‘with’ me, spending time with me, I expect them to be with me. Spend all your other time looking for your Ms. Right. But if you have my attention, I expect to have yours.
- Casual does not mean a lack of regard for the other person’s feelings. It doesn’t mean that just because you are not working toward a long term commitment, that the other person’s feelings should not matter. This also means that you are obligated to share any changing feelings about the relationship with the other person so that those feelings, or possibilities can be explored, and the relationship can be altered to accommodate – either by ending the sexual part of it, or making the relationship less casual overall.
Having said all of that, a casual relationship should be fun. It should be an opportunity to play with things you’ve never been comfortable playing with in a serious relationship. It should be a chance to let go and be yourself. And above all, it should be giving you back what you put into it. (And that’s true of any sort of relationship out there – from your job to your family.) That doesn’t mean you should treat the other person casually. It’s the relationship that’s casual, not your friend. If you feel that you’re contributing more than you’re getting back for extended periods of time, you’re slowly going to feel less like being there, and it’s taking a chance on ruining the friendship that happens outside of sex.
Just for the record, this wasn’t as easy to define as I thought it was going to be. At basis of it all is the friendship. And if I don’t have that, the rest of it isn’t going to fall into place for me.
I want to make clear, too, that just because I talk about casual relationships a lot doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to something more. If I were to meet someone that I felt that deeper connection with, I’d certainly be more than open to exploring it.
Does that help clarify? :)
Over the last several months, I’ve mentioned ‘casual’ relationships a lot. One of my readers wants to know what I mean by a ‘casual sexual relationship’. I scanned back through some posts, and it appears she’s right; I never really defined that.
I can’t define it for everyone, either. Anyone who has or wants or talks about casual sexual relationships probably has different ideas of what that should be. What I mean by it may not be what someone else means. I guess maybe that’s why it’s even more important to have a clear definition of what casual is – and is not.
You’ll notice that most of these points address an issue of respect or friendship in one way or another. To me, those are two of the most important points of any casual relationship definition.
- Casual does not mean ‘one night’, ‘one weekend’ or ‘one fuck’. The second word in ‘casual relationship’ is ‘relationship’ and be that ‘dating’ or ‘friendship’, it denotes that this is not a one time thing. It means that before the sex and after the sex, the rest of the relationship will continue.
- Casual does not mean there is a lack of respect for the other person’s time, attention, energy or personal space. Again, because there is another piece of the relationship beyond fucking, that respect should naturally be there. While a casual relationship in and of itself means that there is no commitment, if a commitment of time is made – if plans are made – I expect them to be respected no less than you would of a very good friend, or someone you were dating. Casual does not mean you can blow the other person off ‘just because’.
- Casual does not mean ‘exclusive’ nor does it mean that either party should not be looking for their ultimate goal in relationship land. However, timing is key here. I don’t want someone I’m having a casual relationship flirting with someone else in front of me. When someone is ‘with’ me, spending time with me, I expect them to be with me. Spend all your other time looking for your Ms. Right. But if you have my attention, I expect to have yours.
- Casual does not mean a lack of regard for the other person’s feelings. It doesn’t mean that just because you are not working toward a long term commitment, that the other person’s feelings should not matter. This also means that you are obligated to share any changing feelings about the relationship with the other person so that those feelings, or possibilities can be explored, and the relationship can be altered to accommodate – either by ending the sexual part of it, or making the relationship less casual overall.
Having said all of that, a casual relationship should be fun. It should be an opportunity to play with things you’ve never been comfortable playing with in a serious relationship. It should be a chance to let go and be yourself. And above all, it should be giving you back what you put into it. (And that’s true of any sort of relationship out there – from your job to your family.) That doesn’t mean you should treat the other person casually. It’s the relationship that’s casual, not your friend. If you feel that you’re contributing more than you’re getting back for extended periods of time, you’re slowly going to feel less like being there, and it’s taking a chance on ruining the friendship that happens outside of sex.
Just for the record, this wasn’t as easy to define as I thought it was going to be. At basis of it all is the friendship. And if I don’t have that, the rest of it isn’t going to fall into place for me.
I want to make clear, too, that just because I talk about casual relationships a lot doesn’t mean that I’m opposed to something more. If I were to meet someone that I felt that deeper connection with, I’d certainly be more than open to exploring it.
Does that help clarify? :)
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Imagine
There are lots of things that go into a good sexual experience. Technique of course is important. Sexual chemistry, of course. The ability to be spontaneous. The confidence to take chances. All of these things go into making a sexual experience fun, passionate and memorable.
There’s something else though, that very often gets overlooked. Imagination.
You can have the best technique in the world – a quick tongue, agile hands and hips that move perfectly. But if you don’t have the imagination to back that up, you’re going to get boring quickly.
You have to change things up sometimes. Even subtle alterations can make a big difference in a typical fuck and an outstanding fuck.
Being completely in the moment helps. Following your instincts and letting yourself carry out things that come into your head (that you believe your partner will enjoy that is) is part of it, too. Being brave enough to actually do those silly, sexy, passionate things that come into your head can mean the difference between getting off big and just getting off.
Imagination doesn’t have to mean that every sexual encounter is a big production with costumes and toys (although that’s fun, too). It means that you’re willing to expend some extra energy – that you’re confident, that you’re open to new things, that you’re willing to explore and drag your partner along with you. It means that sometimes it’s not enough to ‘go with the flow’. Not enough for you, not enough to make the event special.
And I am a firm believer in making sex special *grin
I have a big imagination. I don’t think that’s a surprise to anyone. When I’m comfortable and confident in bed, I’m able to make up for a lack of imagination in my partner. Sometimes.
But the fact is that I feed off of feedback from my partner, too. I want to see facial expressions and I want to hear guttural noises from deep in his throat when he’s having a good time. When I have physical manifestations of sexual pleasure on display before me, my creativity level can soar. Because that feedback makes me want to work even harder and see just how much I can wring out of him before it’s over.
*grin
It’s good to have imagination. It’s even better to exercise it, and use it.
Find some.
There’s something else though, that very often gets overlooked. Imagination.
You can have the best technique in the world – a quick tongue, agile hands and hips that move perfectly. But if you don’t have the imagination to back that up, you’re going to get boring quickly.
You have to change things up sometimes. Even subtle alterations can make a big difference in a typical fuck and an outstanding fuck.
Being completely in the moment helps. Following your instincts and letting yourself carry out things that come into your head (that you believe your partner will enjoy that is) is part of it, too. Being brave enough to actually do those silly, sexy, passionate things that come into your head can mean the difference between getting off big and just getting off.
Imagination doesn’t have to mean that every sexual encounter is a big production with costumes and toys (although that’s fun, too). It means that you’re willing to expend some extra energy – that you’re confident, that you’re open to new things, that you’re willing to explore and drag your partner along with you. It means that sometimes it’s not enough to ‘go with the flow’. Not enough for you, not enough to make the event special.
And I am a firm believer in making sex special *grin
I have a big imagination. I don’t think that’s a surprise to anyone. When I’m comfortable and confident in bed, I’m able to make up for a lack of imagination in my partner. Sometimes.
But the fact is that I feed off of feedback from my partner, too. I want to see facial expressions and I want to hear guttural noises from deep in his throat when he’s having a good time. When I have physical manifestations of sexual pleasure on display before me, my creativity level can soar. Because that feedback makes me want to work even harder and see just how much I can wring out of him before it’s over.
*grin
It’s good to have imagination. It’s even better to exercise it, and use it.
Find some.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Recovery Times
Ideas of things to write about come to me at the weirdest times. Ideas of things to write about come at inopportune times. But occasionally, an idea will come to me when I can’t exactly write about it, but in the moment, I can decide exactly what I want to say.
It occurred to me the other night, after I rolled over immediately after my self-inflicted before-bed orgasm was finished, that solo orgasms are different than orgasms given to you, or shared with another person.
Now, obviously, that’s true. But all of the mental and emotional stuff isn’t what I was thinking of. I was thinking of the fact that when I have an orgasm with another person it – meaning from the peak to the full recovery – last a LOT longer than the ones I have at home alone.
When I go to bed at night, almost every night, after I’ve read for awhile and shut the light off, I have a quickie with the vibrator I keep under my bed. I’m guessing on average, 30 seconds after I peak, I’ve already rolled over and closed my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever recovered that quickly when playing with another person.
There are sometimes when it takes a little longer for me to roll over. Sometimes, if the fantasy I’m rocking around in my head is more ‘real’ to me, I’ll drag it out longer. Sometimes, if it’s more about actual sex and less about stress-relief/sleep-assistance, I’ll take a little more time. But on average, I don’t do that.
That’s a shame, really. But in the real world, where I don’t have a regular sexual partner and most of my orgasms *are self-induced, things are what they are. There are, of course, other times besides right before bed that I masturbate. And at those times, especially if I do it in my chair at my desk or my chair in the living room, it’s usually with a specific thought in mind and I will take a bit more time and enjoy the afterglow. But even then, it’s different than the intensity and the duration of a good hard orgasm with a partner.
I’m not sure if it’s the aura of sexual chemistry that surrounds an orgasm shared with a partner, or the fact that as a female, I never know if it’s the last one when I’m with someone else (can he wring one more out of me? Can he? Yum I hope so). I don’t get either of those when I’m lying in my bed with my electronic assistance. I get “I need to cum because ….” And then I make it happen.
Oh I’m not trying to make it sound sad. It’s not. I am mostly without a partner very consciously. I’d say by choice but I don’t believe choice is the right word. But consciously is. I could have multiple lovers of a local variety if I wasn’t picky or if I was willing to forgo some standards, but I’m not. So while I’d like to have someone local – I make my choices very consciously. So there’s nothing sad about a quickie orgasm before I roll over and go to sleep.
I just the think the physical differences are interesting, that’s all. Course, there are also physical differences between having an orgasm with something inside of me, and nothing inside of me, but that’s a different story for a different time /wink.
It occurred to me the other night, after I rolled over immediately after my self-inflicted before-bed orgasm was finished, that solo orgasms are different than orgasms given to you, or shared with another person.
Now, obviously, that’s true. But all of the mental and emotional stuff isn’t what I was thinking of. I was thinking of the fact that when I have an orgasm with another person it – meaning from the peak to the full recovery – last a LOT longer than the ones I have at home alone.
When I go to bed at night, almost every night, after I’ve read for awhile and shut the light off, I have a quickie with the vibrator I keep under my bed. I’m guessing on average, 30 seconds after I peak, I’ve already rolled over and closed my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever recovered that quickly when playing with another person.
There are sometimes when it takes a little longer for me to roll over. Sometimes, if the fantasy I’m rocking around in my head is more ‘real’ to me, I’ll drag it out longer. Sometimes, if it’s more about actual sex and less about stress-relief/sleep-assistance, I’ll take a little more time. But on average, I don’t do that.
That’s a shame, really. But in the real world, where I don’t have a regular sexual partner and most of my orgasms *are self-induced, things are what they are. There are, of course, other times besides right before bed that I masturbate. And at those times, especially if I do it in my chair at my desk or my chair in the living room, it’s usually with a specific thought in mind and I will take a bit more time and enjoy the afterglow. But even then, it’s different than the intensity and the duration of a good hard orgasm with a partner.
I’m not sure if it’s the aura of sexual chemistry that surrounds an orgasm shared with a partner, or the fact that as a female, I never know if it’s the last one when I’m with someone else (can he wring one more out of me? Can he? Yum I hope so). I don’t get either of those when I’m lying in my bed with my electronic assistance. I get “I need to cum because ….” And then I make it happen.
Oh I’m not trying to make it sound sad. It’s not. I am mostly without a partner very consciously. I’d say by choice but I don’t believe choice is the right word. But consciously is. I could have multiple lovers of a local variety if I wasn’t picky or if I was willing to forgo some standards, but I’m not. So while I’d like to have someone local – I make my choices very consciously. So there’s nothing sad about a quickie orgasm before I roll over and go to sleep.
I just the think the physical differences are interesting, that’s all. Course, there are also physical differences between having an orgasm with something inside of me, and nothing inside of me, but that’s a different story for a different time /wink.
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