Monday, October 24, 2011

Blog 49...It aint easy being Cute

Blog 49...It aint easy being Cute...

As I walked home the other night, bawling my eyes out, I prayed for my psoriasis to come back and ravage my body again, to make me like a leper that I would not have to deal with the pains of being cute, and that people who wanted to be with me, would want me for what is inside and not what I look like on the outside.

For it is not easy being cute.

I could not wear nice dresses, not go on butt walks, I could stand still at shows and ignore the electric current the music jets through my body...but it makes me feel so good when I work out, wear a beautiful dress or dance my ass off...but I don't want the attention that comes with it...How do I find a happy medium?

I would like to walk down the street and not get whistled and gawked at. (my favorite is when they get mad that I don't respond to the does one respond to "ohhhh red, what a view from behind, I could bite that ass." I wish I could have the power to blink and blow someone's head up)

I would like to go to a show and not have a married man hit on me and than get mad when he gets called out on it. How was I suppose to know that I wasn't allowed to tell anyone that you were hitting on me (obviously I told the wrong person cause they just made the shit storm worse...but it never would have happen if the man with the ring around his finger didn't ask me to make out with him in a closet via his world, texts don't have "tone" so it wasn't coming on to me...It aint easy being cute, but at least I'm not a dumb ass.)

I would like to go to a show and not have women get jealous of me. I don't want your fucking man, for god sake, I am on sexual sabbatical, my love life is enough of a shit storm, I do not need to add to the hurricane. And I don't want a man that is in a relationship. That is to much shit storm for me, too much bad thank you...I don't go out looking for dudes, it is not my thing. I would like to smoke a joint with both of you, get to know you, groove to the music...cause I would always like more friendly faces to say hi to...

Even friends get mad at me for being cute. It really sucks when someone who is suppose to be your good girl friend gets jealous of you. To put so much time and effort into a friendship and then just have her shit on it cause boys that she likes pay attention to me (not even hit on me, just pay attention)...well darlin, just a side note, they might pay more attention to you if you didn't have that ugly jealousy mask all over your fucking face, cause that shit is far from attractive.

I would like to go to a show and not get hit on period. Not be followed around by a complete chode who every five minutes wraps his arms around my waist and tells me "I own the barber shop next door, you should come and check it out." I don't give a fuck what you own, what you do, I don't give a flying fuck, I am at a show, I am here to listen to music...SHUT THE FUCK UP.

And if you are going to talk to me, talk to me about shit that matters, not how you want to get with me, cause you don't even know me.

I guess that is what I don't get.

I don't think I'm cute cause of how I look.

I'm cute cause I am a ding dong, have a high voice, say odd things that crack you up, have good intentions, am a sweetheart, give "snugglets" as hugs and so forth.

And you have to know me, to know that about me.

When I told my girlfriend that the married man had hit on me (I hadn't realized he was married at that point...we both hadn't) she asked how I felt about it, I said "I don't know...I don't know him, I don't find someone cute unless I know them."

"Yeah, your weird like that" she responded.

To me, that is not bizarre, it is reality. After having psoriasis all over my body, being covered with spots from head to toe, I just don't see "cute" in the same eyes.

Beauty or cuteness of the skin level comes and goes...but what is inside, shines...incandescently.

And that is what kills me so much...that it aint easy being the kind of "cute" that a lot of people think of.

But it is hella easy to be my kinda "cute"...

You just be you.



So before you do this dance move, make sure you have some distance from the person behind don't want to go elbowing people in the face.

All right, safety first, pull down your goggles, then just like the lawnmower, you got to prime...pump that shit, three times should do the trick, now pull that string is all about the follow through (hence the distance between you and the person behind you) might have to pull it about 3 times before it starts, but you will know when you got it cause your body starts to shake instantly, now turn the saw, get your sawing stance on (mine is the left foot at 10 and the right at 5) and saw that fucking log bitches.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Blog 48...To Forgive (Sabbatical Chronicles Part I)

Blog 48...To Forgive (Sabbatical Chronicles Part I)

Well I have made it a week into my Sexual Sabbatical, I think I gained 3 pounds, I am totally blaming it on the no sex thing...totally.

I sure the hell have been thinking a lot more, and trying to give myself more alone time with my phone off to just let myself swim in the river of thoughts flowing through my brain...I had no idea the tributary was so fucking deep...damm.

And while taking this time to figure out what I need and what I want, something my dad said to me about a year ago keeps flashing in my head.

I probably would have not even remembered it if my mom didn’t keep on pestering me about Thanksgiving plans...she wants me to join the family up in Brookings, Oregon...I went last year, it was the first time I had been back since the Thanksgiving that I decided to leave my ex-husband...when I went last year, it rocked me. All these memories of letting go flooded my head, I know I had made the right decision leaving my husband, but that by no means made it an easy choice...

I remember just bursting out into tears over the phone with my dad after the holiday trip, still trying to comprehend what exactly I was feeling...

My dad said...I had to forgive, I had to forgive my ex-husband, and I had to forgive myself.

I appreciated at first note what my father was preaching...and I strived hard for some time to forgive my ex-husband.

I think I finally reached that point to forgive him about four months ago when I found out he had a child with another woman.

For no matter how I feel about him, my feelings pale in importance to that of a child, a fresh face of life...and even though the news brought up memories of my own miscarriage and an odd feeling of my capabilities as “a woman”...any feelings of malice I had towards him, simply washed away.

I forgave him...

And on I went, doing my royal duties...and the closer the holiday season approaches, the more my mom keeps on bringing up the “thanksgiving thing” the more I fight it...the other day as I was on one of my late night walks the thought of going to Brookings flashed in my head, I recalled how upset I got last year... and in an instant, I knew why I did not want to go.

My dad’s words flashed in my head and I realized I had forgotten to accomplish the last part of his advice...I had to forgive myself.

I haven’t forgiven myself and I should.

I need to...

It is what is holding me back.

I learned so much from the mistakes that I made, from my loss, and I have climbed so high and even though I have struggled every step...I keep on walking up my hill.

The little girl I was when I met my husband, was the not the woman who left him, and is a mere shadow of the princess I am today.

I need to forgive myself for what I think was a mistake.

Marrying my ex-husband was not a mistake, it was a choice I made in my life that helped me become who I am today, and that is fucking awesomeness...and there is nothing fucking wrong with being awesomeness (especially when it is awesomeness times 11)

And finding the strength to leave a marriage that we were both unhappy in...that is proof of my veracity as a woman.

One cannot forgive oneself in a thought...

But the concept can kindle the fires of self-forgiveness which only time can ignite...

And it’s not like I can’t light a fire here peeps...

(and if there is a fire, can we please have smores...please)


(this is another one of my lame affirmation dances, but like it)


Go saunter your hot ass in the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror...and tell yourself that you forgive yourself...for being a dumb ass, a chicken fucker, a ding dong, a bad friend, a bad lover, being selfish, not doing what is always right...anything that you do that you know is not being the best you, you can be...forgive yourself and be done with it...RELEASE

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Blog 47... Sexual Sabbatical (Love Tales IV)

Blog 47... Sexual Sabbatical (Love Tales IV)

[Love Tales 1-3 are blogs 10,17 &35]

Did I really tell myself no sex for at least 2 months/up to 6 months...YIKES.

Why did no one slap me upside the head on this decision? (I could have really used it)

And since I have been 18, I have only gone without having sex for this long during my stints with psoriasis...I expect the path ahead to be laborious...but hey, I am one tough lady, and if anyone can do shall be me.

So off on Sabbatical I go...because sometimes you need to get your house in order, and I have some spring-cleaning to do (crap does that still make sense if it is fall)

But a couple of blogs ago I called my friends out, and people tend to react in two ways when you call them out...they either get angry and pissed off, or realize that you wouldn’t be telling them this shit about themselves if you really didn’t care and they look at themselves and see their faults.

And while I had one react the first way, the other reacted the second way...and when you make people look in the mirror, it is only fair that you stand in front of the looking glass too, and sometimes the reflection...isn’t everything you wanted to see.

While my reflection was one of beauty and pureness, it was missing a brightness and a certain confidence.

Now when it comes to looks and intentions...I am confident and know my goodness shines incandescently...but my path is where I lack conviction...I need to figure out what I want to do in life...what makes me happy.

The one thing I lack true pride in is my occupation (not all of them, just the one I make my money on) while I do the best I can, it is not my dream job, and why should I not strive for everything that I want and more.

I also lack confidence in knowing what I want in a relationship...Do I want a committed relationship? Do I want to have a couple lovers? Do I want no relationship at all? ...I do know I want to be treated well and to be at least that is a start.

And I cannot give to another properly if I have not acknowledged my needs, and tended to them. And made myself all I can be.

And having just gotten out of a relationship that really fucked with my head and heart...I cannot jump into another without taking time to mourn...or to ponder why it did not work and to gaze upon myself and see what I could have done better, how I contributed to the failure of this union.

And in trying to sort out the deterioration, my inner light hit the mirror in a way that the reflection blinded me for a while...and as I prayed for the light to lose sharpness...I realized that me being horny and being sexual, was not helping me get any lucidity...(especially when you are still messed up from your last relationship...I am never going to treat someone right, especially one who treats me so right, if I do not get over my issues of the heart that this last partnership created.)

And maybe if I shut off the lower half of my body, I can focus on healing my head and my heart. And bringing myself to the place I want to be in life.

I mean, I know I can get laid, shit I even know I am awesomeness times infinity when it comes to why waste time on that chapter...(this sabbatical crap is going to be tough)

Sometimes (a lot of times) I feel boys just want to fuck me, they don’t want to be my friend or partner, cause while I am great in bed, I am a freaking princess, and it takes a lot of work and effort to have me in someone’s life, and many a time, people are not willing to put forth the effort. (lazy chicken fuckers)

And I am worth the work...times 11.

I need to remind myself of that.

And the less reminding I will need, the more I fulfill my own needs and dreams.

This will be an opportunity to find out who wants me for me, and what I am on the inside, not just what I feel like on the inside.

And I pray my head might clear and the answers might start emerging from the darkness if I start growing true friendships with the people I would consider being in a relationship with...and the fact that I bring the house down in bed has nothing to do with them wanting to be with will just be an added bonus...(like the frosting on a cupcake)

Cause let’s be honest, as good as I am in bed, pales in the comparison to the person that I am.

Off on sabbatical I go...(are we there yet?)

God help the poor man that I break it with...we might have to start installing seatbelts on my bed....just saying.



Start by unwrapping the cupcake...take a little lick of frosting (maybe two, the frosting is pretty fucking good) then tear off the bottom of the cupcake and start to nibble on that. This leaves you with a more equal cupcake to frosting ratio...which I prefer. Then, holding what is left of the cupcake, eat all the edges first, leaving the center bite as the last...gaze at it lovingly, and devour...ain’t nothing like a cupcake, especially a red-velvet one...

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Blog 46...They called me a Tramp...ohhhh

Blog 46...They called me a TRAMP...ohhhh

An ex-boyfriend (I think in trying to win me back, ummm, not a smart move honey) said that someone I knew had called me a tramp...

I was confused for a second because in the Dictionary the proper meaning of “tramp” is a vagrant or a beggar...and I have princess dresses and sparkles and really smell good (and my doctor says I am “pristine”) I pondered it for a moment, but then, after examining the dictionary I found the slag term and it said “a promiscuous woman”

Well a couple things know nothing of my bedroom unless you have got a camera in it, and have I not mentioned that for the first year of high school I was tormented with the name “fire muff” so you all are going to have to come up with some seriously better vocabulary to be able to knock this princess down.

It is funny how people feel so ready to judge when they know nothing.

From the time I met my husband, I slept with no one else for 10 years until I decided to leave him, at that point I needed to sleep with someone to help give me strength to not go back.

Now after leaving my husband, I did not want a serious relationship...and I had some fun.

For about 1 year out of the past 3 years I have had psoriasis and whenever I had psoriasis I didn’t have sex with anyone...Thank God I am in remission...

So that leaves two years total of me having “tramp time”

Because I like sex...does that make me a tramp?

Or is it because when I knew I didn’t want a relationship I would find men I found attractive and who I assumed had a good size cock and ask them if they wanted to have non-committal sex...

Cause guess what peeps, I would get horny!
And vibrators just don’t do it for me.

Does that make me a tramp? Cause I was able to carry on sex-only relationships with people, who I still consider my friends...I thought I was being adult about that shit...(you know, not one of the boys ever said no when I asked, they said they felt pretty honored, and admired my honesty)

Is it cause I wrote in my blog that I give good head? Well shit, if you had my kind of talent you would fucking write about that shit too.

Is it cause a lot a boys try to get with me? Don’t get mad at me cause I’m cute. And, I have had many a men in my bed who I did not sleep with, and if you told them I was a tramp they would be like, “damm, what was wrong with me cause she kept on doing the slap away with me.”
(how many times do I have to mention that I am a base girl)

Am I a tramp because I love love, and because even though I have tried to turn myself against love, I can’t? As much as I love dating restriction, I love being in love and the feeling...the natural high...and I believe that one day I will find my king...

Is it cause I slept with that 20 year old?...Hey, in my defense, I told him “No” a bunch of times, but alas, one night I got horny and told him that as long as he viewed it as “educational” we could have sex...I would teach him the art of “connecting and pleasing a woman.”

He didn’t think I was a tramp...He told me I “took him to a new level of consciousness” and was “a Yoda”...tramp to one person, Yoda to the next, we all have our own perceptions of things I guess.

Is it cause, until recently, for over a past year I was in a non-committal relationship? Well I wanted to commit but he said “No” (I have learned now he told others that I was his girlfriend...ummmm, you might have wanted to tell me darlin.) And at times in that relationship I would get hurt and feel malice and go have sex with one of my “fuck-buddies”...hey, you are the one that said we weren’t committed, pardon me for proving your point...that shit fucked with me, it really did...I never cheated in committed relationships and being told it was okay for me to see other people just baffled me.

Maybe it is because sometimes I am a dumb ass and believes a man when he says he wants to be with me and treat me good, but he is full of shit...(I think this is a lesson I have learned a bunch and can totally pick out quickly now, or would hope to)

Maybe it is because I am really picky when it comes to dudes and when someone crosses my line or starts to bug me, I am just done and move on.

Is it cause I don’t stay single for that long, or at least, I go on a good amount of dates? Hey don’t hate cause I am a fucking special ass woman.

Do these things make me a tramp?

Who gives a fuck?

So I am a tramp in some people’s eyes, I bet some people see me as a bitch too, or a chicken fucker...I also know that others view me as the vision of “total awesomeness” or this is what I have been told, others view me as a friend, a ding dong, a prude, selfless, selfish, a yoda, an inspiration to live, to be themselves and embrace who they least I’m well rounded bitches...

You don’t like some of the shit I do, don’t do it. We all learn from each others mistakes and lessons...and I learn from my mistakes and lessons...I have fucking learned a lot.

So call me whatever the fuck you want

I know my veracity as a woman, and my opinion of myself, is the only one that really matters.

Besides, I call enough people “Chicken Fuckers” that I am bound to get some name calling my way...

Can we do me a favor though, please? The next time anyone decides to call me a name, can we do a reference check so I don’t have to pull out the old dictionary in confusion...where in the world did proper English go?

Next thing you know people will go around calling people chicken fuckers and ding dongs...

Let’s all pray that day never happens...totally.



So a big part of this dance is the stance, cause a bow and arrow tend to have some weight and you need to be able to control the direction of flight. I put my right foot at 1:00 and my left foot at 8:00. Make your left hand into the shape of a V so you can hold the bow and guide the arrow. With your right hand grab the stretchy part of the bow and the back part of the arrow and pull it back tight. Now aim the arrow up high, kinda squint your eyes...and let the arrow fly...and repeat...