on the eve of a new year and the end of the old, i find myself still at a crossroads. even the cards tell me so. i know that a path has to be chosen. i can choose for some instances and not for others.

the boy thing: he came to stay iwth me christmas night and didn't leave until friday noon. our time was cleanly split between bed, movies and bars. we laughed a lot. he's kind. he's considerate. but he's got walls i can't climb. but what was beginning to happen, was that everytime i thought about how much i care for him, it felt as though someone was sitting on my chest. i decided to choose a path. i decided to commit to the path and trust that it would lead to me where i'm supposed to be. i decided to be truer to myself and more honest with him. so i spoke. and i told him, "i really like you, and i'm afraid it's only gonna get worse. i know that isn't what you wanted or are looking for, so if you don't want to see me anymore, it's okay. i understand. i justed needed to be honest with myself and with you." he, said nothing. no reply. yet over the course of our days togetherhe'd say, out of the blue, "you're awesome" and "you rock". which, if i was just a drinking buddy, i would take as high praise. and while those things are nice to hear, i'm not sure he can say anything else, whether he feels it or not. i think he's a little afriad of me. so i went back to sleep, after my confession. we had sex in the morning and he left. that was friday. it's sunday now. no word. but i'm still consoled by the fact that i was true to myself and honest with him.

the move: the move to portland. it really should happen. i'm not sure why i'm staying here. and i'm really not looking that hard for a job in portland. which i should be. i think i just need a hand. i'm hoping for some cosmic gentling in one direction. something to point me towards a destination. something to spark me to move from where i am. and while it's only been a couple months, if he asked, i'd move in with him. he did offer the boat that he watches. a free place to stay 20 minutes or so out of portland. small, but free for a while, til i find something else.

the family: that's just always gonna be what it is and where it is. and while i know that they just want to see me, asking me for the dates that the spa will be closed EVERY OTHER DAY isn't helping. i don't know. no one knows. they haven't set the date. what more can i tell them?

life: do i want to go back and start over in psychology? credits are old, i'll likely have to start over. do i want to just take the couple classes and finish the massage? get an oregon license and do that? do i want to do something new? study photography? start a different path? i've gotten tired and i just don't know.

but, witht he beginning of a new year and the end of an old, surely things will have new light. i'll see them a new way. and something will glisten.

happy new year to all. may you be blessed with love, happiness and peace in the coming year and beyond.

illuminated

it's cold here now
but a light flickers warmth
in the distance
and the promise of thawing
teases.

Strange candles on far winds
never forgotten
but thought extinguished
hold gentle glow and incendiary, smoldering
promise.

In the light of remembrance
In the lightening of loves gone past
i am illuminated
and will shine brighter for it's reflection
i am illuminated

apology accepted.
i love you too
and always will.
see in you a few months.

thank you.

sign

i've been having a convergence of signs lately. everything is coming up 11's.

my birthday is 11/11. and for the last few weeks, 11 have dominated my life. i made $11.11 in tips a week ago. at the blood drive the other day i was #11. my clock stoped at 11:11 the other night. and other such strangeness.

but it all simply leads me to believe that i am where i'm supposed to be. so i have been calmed by it.

then, last night (not at 11, but at 1:15am) my phone rang 11 times. then stopped. and rang again. i thought it was egan, so i picked up. (granted it took me a lot of rings, but i was trying to figure out who would be calling me and why.) the voice on the other end asked if i knew who it was, and i was afraid to even venture a guess. tim... shawn (though he's never called me)... cole. none of them seemed right. none of them would be playing this guessing game with me. after a couple hints, i realized who it was. it was V. and as good as it was to hear his voice, i was never prepared for the words that came from him.

he apologized. said he'd been an ass. said he'd behaved poorly, and wasn't entirely sure why. said he was sorry for not responding to me. i told him it had been months, and i wasn't angry.

he hedged around feelings, but expressed them well to my ear. i told him i loved him too, and always would.

he said some of the nicest things he's ever said to me.

he told me he would be in the area in about 5 months and would like to see me then.

and, while it wasn't an 11, it gave me hope and sign that i am exactly where i'm supposed to be.

will you

if i ask nicely,
will you do what i say,
will you trust me
with your comfort in the dark?
if i appear stronger
will you follow my command,
will you trust me
to tender and tear you apart?
if i plead of you softly
will your will bend to mine,
will you trust me
with the secrets you keep from yourself?
if simply demand it
without offense or guise,
will you trust me
will you trust me
will you suspend your speeding mind
will you open your closeted heart
will you lay beside me a moment more
will you
-simply-
-be-
with me?

ON HIATUS UNTIL AFTER THE SOLSTICE

it was how i said it, and what i said, and i knew it was wrong with the very first "fine", but it doesn't change what i meant behind it.

we were talking. she was trying so hard to build me up because i get so buried under. and she was trying to show me what i blind myself to in myself.

we were commiserating on what we are lacking, or rather, what is lacking in our relationships with others, and not in a blameful way, but in a realization way.

and she, she is the most to me. she is the strongest person i know. she is the fire in our relationship. and i, i am the moon. the cool and distant moon.

she screams. she lets you know.

i still. i secret.

i am so afraid of upsetting others for fear of losing them that i frustrate them to no end.

more than anything... more than anything, i want to be my own. i just don't know who that is anymore. and, frankly, i'm not sure that i, or anyone else, would like me if i could figure out who that is.

the first to fall

as if this wasn't enough...

the second to fall

and the third and the fourth. oh well. no damage to the house, luckily.
they just kinda landed on it. but that big one didn't snap, it just uprooted.

good times.

good times.

all i've got in me right now...

i was in your sites, now gone
my existance wiped clean
by a new image in your foreground
like two candles before you
one within reach
and one just out of,
the brightness of nearness
will cast me in shadow
and dim my light in your eyes
and i will burn
unnoticed
and alone
at a distance

why can't i write?

hitching

there's no peace in this decision
no lifting up no softening,
in place is a heaviness
that hitches my breath
and makes it hard to breathe.
this isn't what i want now
this isn't what i deserve
this isn't a path i need tread,
strangled and stayed
and still nowhere
but to a hitch in my breath
and a slip in my step.
there's no quiet adoration
no looks i can't escape
no hands that stroke me lovingly
and leave me panting til dawn
only a heaviness on my chest
above an empty space
where someone elses heart should be.

i think i want more. but i'm not sure i want it, or could even get it, from him.

i'm ready for someone to actually care.

no no no no no

it's not fair.

he's not allowed to write to me now.

he's not allowed to say 'love you girl'.

he's not supposed to respond, just as he never did before.

no no no no no no no.

fuck.

mistaken identity

i posted this on another blog, in a semi-private way. c left me a message when he found out that he was blocked from reading, called me chicken. i think he thinks it was meant for him. it wasn't. it was for p.

remembering him softly

the way i would look at him
the way he called me gorgeous and sexy
they way he announced my arrival at every show
his shows. not mine.
the way he would tear up when he talked about his family
or music
or her
the little bounce that he would do when he was happy or excited
the scruff on his neck
the length of his cock
and how i died to take every inch and breath of him within me
the way i watched him walk away at the airport
and wanted so badly to run after him
to kiss him
to touch him as he had touched me
soul deep
his phone calls at 2 am
the first call he made after he was robbed
looking for his truck through every city street
the way it felt to leave him so far behind
and to be left by him ever since.

how is it, pie, that you're still breaking my heart?

how she did it

she gave a look like skirts lifting
over soft thighs and round hips
she gave a look like sweaters dropping
from shoulders to the floor
she sighed like satin sheets
smooth and full of lustful whispers
she sighed like she'd been promised
to be stroked and to be adored

she'd forgotten how his eyes met hers
she'd forgotten how he smelled
when he first arrived at her door
and even more, the morning after
she'd forgotten to remember him

thanks and apologies

thanks to the people in the other car, who blared thier horn and scared him off. i'm okay just shaken, and scratched.

and to the 'gentleman' who thought it was a good idea to try to force me into my car, who scratched my chest and tore my shirt, who broke my necklace and made it hard to breathe... i'm afraid i left some skin under your nails. my apologies.

sure, you ruined my night, but i think i may have ruined your manicure. and for that, i'll surely go to hell.

i hope the police are able to find you, i hate to think of you running the streets with your nails all fucked up.

not home (uncut)

i don't want to go home. not tonight.
i want to stay in this space
where nothing's fucked up yet
where nothing's destroyed
where there's only the dark and the possiblity and
wet expectation of your lips brushing me.
i don't want to go home. not in the morning.
i want to fall into the rising sun
lit behind your eyes for hours
after day has broken and rushed on
til we're suprised to see the moon
as it all passed in an instant.
i don't want to go home. not tomorrow.
i want to close the doors and all the windows on the world
and walk laughingly with you
thru crowded empty streets
tracing the changing tide
and chasing the wind across dirt paths to waterfalls.
i don't want to go home. not without you.
not without the sweetness of your words
and the savageness of your sex
not without the dizzy feeling of your touch
or was it too much wine,
regardless my cheeks are flushed, skin alight.
i don't want to go home. not yet.
i want to slip silk smooth between your thoughts
between your arms
i want to learn your emotions by the look in your eyes
i want to learn your topography by touch and taste
and still be constantly suprised by you.
i don't want to go home. not because i should.
i can't settle for what's expected of my demographic
becoming the median thirty-something
kids on the way
life out of the way
nothing in the way of adventure or risk or unprecedented passion.
i don't want to go home. and i don't want to be lost.
i don't need the comfort of overstuffed couches and goose down
i don't need an overpaid 9 to 5 and 401K
but i do need the security provided by your hands
finding me in the night and pulling me closer
into you and your world
until i am part of your continuity and constancy.
i don't want to go home. but i want to know i have one.
i want to feel the pull of expectation
firmly on my hips
i want to feel the pull of anticipation
just to be in your eyes
and the light in them when you see me.
i don't want to go home. and i don't want you to either.

away

i've been away
i've been here but i've been away
even moments when i should be most here
i've been away.
away from my passion
away from my desires
away from my heart
i've been away.
but here
while i wait for him to arrive
while i wait for him to come to me
while i wait for him to stray away
i'm here.
and here's a tricky place to be
be with him
be without him
be beside myself without him.
because he isn't with me
he may not even like me
the essesence of me
the person
aside from the body.
and there's no way to know
no good way to ask
without sending him thinking
and sending him running
away.

for E and me

Take a look at my body,
look at my hands
there's so much here that I don't understand
Your face saving promises,
whispered like prayers
I don't need them.

Cuz I've been treated so wrong
I've been treated so long as if I'm becoming untouchable...

Well, contempt loves the silence
it thrives in the dark,
the fine winding tendrils that strangle the heart
They say that promises sweeten the blow
but I don't need them... no I don't need them.

I've been treated so wrong,
I've been treated so long as if I'm becoming untouchable
I'm a slow dying flower
in the frost killing hour
sweet turning sour
& untouchable.

ooh I need
the darkness,
the sweetness,
the sadness,
the weakness,
ooh I need this.
Need a lullabye,
a kiss goodnight,
angel, sweet love of my life
ooh I need this

I'm a slow dying flower
frost killing hour
the sweet turning sour
& untouchable

Do you remember the way that you touched me before,
all the trembling sweetness
I loved and adored...
Your face saving promises
whispered like prayers.
I don't need them.

I need the darkness,
the sweetness,
the sadness,
the weakness,
ooh I need this.
I need a lullabye
a kiss goodnight,
angel, sweet love of my life
ooh I need this
Well, is it dark enough,
can you see me?
do you want me?
can you reach me?
or I'm leaving...
you better shut your mouth
and hold your breath
you kiss me now,
you catch your death
oh I mean this...
oh I mean this..

--Natalie Merchant, My Skin

Hard to Get

First and foremost: i hope that my dilligent blog-buddy will post often during her difficult time. while i can't be there beside her to push and nudge, console and commisurate, i am with her in heart and in hurt. i love you.

now, on to pure drudgery.

i am an open and honest person (for the most part), and ideally, i like the idea of people being open and honest with me (unless it's really painful, then feel free to temper yourself a bit). i've been told that i give too much too soon. then, the mystery and thrill of the hunt are over and men tire and move along. yes?

okay, so, this is the beginning of something new for me. i decided today, well, like 30 minutes ago, that i would now become 'hard to get'.

huh

only i don't know how to do it without coming off as bitchy and, well, not myself. (this is not to say that bitchy is not part of my character makeup).

in short, we went out on two dates, about two weeks ago. yes, i slept with him on both dates. so what. i wanted sex, i got it. emails have been scarce over the last two weeks with gaps that leave me quite questioning. but today, after nothing for several days, i got one. an email that tells me he's in AZ helping a friend and playing. an email that tells me that he'll be back in town on tuesday. an email that asks if i want "to hang out?"

DUH! of course i do. but, would the 'hard to get' girl tell him that? or, would she wait two or three days to get back to him on his email? would she tell him she has plans for tuesday, how's wednesday? would she sleep with him again? (the sex was pretty good).

a mutual friend tells me he's a "player, but not in a mean way". he's a big (handsome) fish in a (very) small pond out here. he likely has his pick of serveral women on any given night. i'm sure he's had sex at least once since we saw each other, and likely left a few girls panting and teased. so, my friend tells me i have to stand out. i have to be less interested. i have to hold back. i have to be hard to get.

so, please advise... how would the hard to get girl respond? because as much as i want to be gotten, i don't want to stray too far from the girl i am. i want desperately to be wanted desperately, for who and how i am and not a game i've played. and i like this guy. in a down to earth way. so, now, more than ever, i don't want to dive in too fast only to crash on the rocks.

dream

i dreamt last night that i was with him... a lovely guy who loved me. he'd invited me to his family home for an evening with his parents and siblings. every time i looked at him, i could feel myself smile and warm. i could see him glow a little. his family was large, sisters and brothers and an old-country grandmother who spoke broken english but was wise in ways of reading people. he and i curled up in each other on the couch, sat across from each other at the table (better to gaze at each other that way), and spent the happiest evening i'd had in a long time. later the men sat around the tv and the women collected at the table over deserts and coffee and tea. the women asked me questions, both personal and not. they were gauging my feelings for their darling boy. once in a while i would look over towards him, and his eyes were never on me. it didn't feel like i was being ignored though, he simply knew that i would be fine and didn't need his constant attention. and the women would be looking at each other and smiling when i returned my attention to them, because they could see me swooning a little every time i looked at him. they could see that i loved him just as much as they did.

this was my dream last night... and i guess it still is this morning.

i swallowed his breath too quickly
and choked
once again

because of E

adopt your own virtual pet!

Light

There is light in the dawning

Of the new sunrise

There is light in the beaming

Of a doting lover’s eyes

There is light in the burst

Of a baby’s first cries

There is light through the darkness

That misses my eyes

not much has happened.
there hasn't been much to say.
the latest distraction took his binkie and went to chicago.
the other one, the one who wants to be 'tortured'... well, i'm supposed to see him this week.
my power company fucked up and turned my power off. some bizzareness. let's just say not what i had planned to come home to after work. it's on now, well, it's functioning, but by the time i got the whole house lit by candles i really didn't want the lights on.
the cute guy who works at the gym doesn't have a name yet. and, making himself all the more difficult to stalk, he didn't drive to work today, so i don't know what kind of car to look for around town.
my parents would "love" to have me live with them, save some money, pay off some debts. thing is, i can't even bring myself to talk to them on the phone. and i know that the day i do talk to them will likely be a deathwish kind of day.
i made $72 today. before taxes.

i'm gonna let the candles burn tonight.

2 images from my town... okay 3

Boundaries Revisited

so, a couple weeks ago there was drama. i was reading information about infantilism at work, a client asked what it was, i explained in the vaguest way possible without giving any real specifics about how it related to my life. the next day my boss confronts me and tells me that this was a huge boundary violation but that there seemed to be no harm done.

well, that client talked with me tonight and i found out somethings i hadn't known before.

that morning when my relief had arrived, she saw what the client was reading. after i left, she proceed to have a conversation with this client. during the course of the talk, my coworker said things like, "she goes out with a lot of guys and sleeps with all of them. i hope to god she uses protection" and "she's into some really wierd things, like this whole baby fetish thing with her new boyfriend".

the client told me, "she was telling me things that i had no idea about. i mean, i just thought this was some guy you knew, not someone you were dating." i just laughed.

she then told me that the coworker had gone to my boss and relayed all this info to her, that i had been using the office computer to look these things up and print them off and that this was incredibly unprofessional and that i had crossed major boundaries with giving the client this information. that i was divulging my personal life to the clients. (i hadn't. i had talked to my coworker, which was why she had the information. my coworker passed it on to the client believing that i had told the client the same things i had told her.)

whoa.

turns out that my boss and the coworker then went to the client, in her room, and talked to her. asked her if she felt like she needed to process this, if she was upset. told her that it was absolutely wrong for me to 'give' this info to the client. the client stopped them and said, "she didn't give it to me, i asked for it. she was trying to understand something about her boyfriend evidently, according to ___(my coworker's name)".

my boss tells her, "sarah doesn't have boyfriends, she has 'guys she knows'". the client was incredibly uncomfortable, felt responsible for the mess and was scared that she was going to get me in trouble. thing is, most all the boundaries that were crossed and the unprofessional information about my personal life that was relayed was relayed to the client by THEM! by my boss and coworker. the client HAD NO IDEA UNTIL THEY TOLD HER!

and the things they were saying! wow, they must not respect me at all!

she also mentioned that my boss had seen me talking to this client one night and thought that i was talking about a date. i had exposed a scar on my stomach and my boss, not knowing what was going on or the topic of the conversation misread the events and felt that this was way too much info about me and my personal dating life to be given to the client. the client said, "what are you talking about? she's never talked to me about a date. we were talking about my surgery. she's had one too. i showed her my scar and she showed me hers from the same surgery." once again, it seems that all the information spilled about me, was coming from the people who were afraid i was giving out that information.

i laughed again. i was so hurt and confused and betrayed and yet amused at the same time. i laughed. i smiled so the client would know that i was okay with it. because, i really am. i didn't do anything wrong. they fucked up.

the client then asked, "so, when's your last day?" information that hadn't been made public yet. but she always knows. i told her that i wasn't sure, that nothing was solid and that i would likely continue to work at the house as relief. she said, "you know sometimes i just want to yell, 'run bitch, get out of here' and other times i don't want you to go, and i'm scared you'll leave. you're the one who gets it."

mind you, this is not the client that usually spends hours talking with me.

so, i crossed some boundaries tonight. i gave her my opinion on her situation (as she presented it to me) and gave her suggestions on how she might handle it.

i didn't tell her that i'm going to domme for some guy to get a couch and cash. i didn't tell her about the guy i diapered. i didn't tell her anything about me. not really. well, i told her that i loved them and that i didn't want to leave completely because i was so excited about seeing them grow, and that i cared about how thier lives were lived. she talked to me for 2.5 hours about her fears of returning to the hospital. she talked to me about where she wants to be, and about not wanting to be at the house, feeling like she wasn't getting what she needed. she talked about a medical facility in portland that might better suit her. she talked to me about her isolating and feeling really misunderstood and misread. she talked to me about not being able to talk to anyone about this stuff.

i told her that all she had to do in life was take care of herself. and that she had resources that wanted the best for her, that she should use them.

and in those words, she knew i was disclosing personal information. that i needed to take care of myself, that i had other resources and i was finally going to use them. and in those words, she saw that i would never suggest to her something that i didn't actually belive to be true. something that i wouldn't do myself.

sweet sea dreams

i turned and turned. arms out, flying style. twirled like a two year old, like a tiny dancer, like the dandelion you twist into flight. careless. free.

my toes grabbed the sand. grounding in ever changing particles of stone. slipping through the warm top layer so smoothly, but supported by the cool and wet packed beneath.

my hair blew wild. strands and sprays light on air, damp with sweet sea water, clinging to my lips and face. masking me, masking the world for me. tangled and knotted. unkempt and untamed.

i sang softly to the water, to the sky. i whispered cosette's castle on a cloud lullaby.

i did.

i have.

but not in weeks.

and i miss it.

an REM moment

"She Just Wants To Be"

It's not that she walked away
Her world got smaller
All the usual places
The same destinations
Only something's changed.

It's not that she wasn't rewarded
With pomegranate afternoons
And Mingus, Chet Baker and chess
It's not stampede and fortune
Of prim affectations
She's off on a riot
And she knows now
Is greater than the whole
Of the past
Is greater and now she knows

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.

It's not that the transparency
Of her earlier incarnations
Now looked back on
Were rich and loaded
With beautiful vulnerability
But now she knows
Now is greater
And she knows that.

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.

Now is greater
Now is greater
And she knows that.

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.

She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.

It's not like if angels
Could truly look down
Stir up the trappings
A light on the ground
Remind us of what, when, why or who
The how's up to us
Me and you
And now is greater than the whole
Of the past
Is greater and now she knows that.

Now she knows.

run down

maybe for 600 a month i could bring myself to sleep with him. maybe.

he isn't what i would consider attractive or suave or interesting or magnetic.

he isn't what i would consider sexy.

his taste in silver jewelry leaves something to be desired.

but 600 a month... that's my rent. that's a lot less stress.

* * * * *

the surfer wrote. the original surfer. the one that reminds me of brad pitt.

he wrote and while he hasn't written back again, it felt good to be thought of, remembered, and interesting enough to warrant a moment of someone's time.

maybe it will happen again. maybe it won't.

no hopes are up this time. no hopes are up. no hopes. no hope.

* * * *

my mother wrote. my father and i have exchanged a few tense emails.

wachovia calls him when my student loan payments are a day late. he gets frustrated. he gets angry. he gets disappointed. he writes to remind me.

he's always disappointed. i didn't go into the military. i didn't cut my hair. i didn't become a teacher. i studied psychology. i studied massage and oriental medicine. i saw a shrink. i took meds. i don't work for johnson&johnson. i moved across the country. i'm not 130lbs. i don't eat meat. i don't go to boston for christmas.

he's disappointed.

she tries to mediate that now. tells me she thinks of me. loves me.

and see, i'm crying now, because i'm just not sure it's true. and how can one girl go her life being so unloved?

* * *

the schedule is intensifying. 10p - 6a at the house. then 8 a - 5p OR 10a - 6p at the spa. that's 3-4 hours sleep TOPS, if i can get right to sleep.

i'm exhausted.

i'm lonely.

i'm soul-tired.

i'm dreaming dark dreams, awake and asleep.

* *

i'm thinking of moving to portland. tim will let me stay with him until i'm settled. diane will be there. there will be people.

but is it failure to leave now, after just one year? i gave my notice at the house. or rather, left a letter of resignation on friday morning. it isn't where i left it now, sunday night/monday morning. did she see it? does she know? she isn't here, i haven't faced her yet, and i'm so scared of having to do that. even though i know she'll understand, she'll be another i feel i've let down. more disappointment.

and do i want to depend on tim? do i want to depend on anyone?

*

will someone pay me to sleep? if i set up a web cam in my bedroom, will someone pay to watch me sleep? just for a week?

will someone see me? see past their own projections onto me, and see me? see through the extra 10 pounds that i can't touch because i have no time to work out? see the girl who just wants to be taken care of for a little while, because she's been so long on her own? held. warmed. heard. seen.

please, someone see me. because i'm losing sight of me.

first 24 hrs.

not so bad.

not exactly what i had thought, but not bad.

and he's sweet.

Boundaries

every month or so i have a dream that wakes me with a scream and a start. it happened today. you would think that that kind of gentling into wakefulness would be accompanied by a vivid image of the preceding dream. but no. not in this case at least. the boundary between dream and real doens't become clear for a moment, so i hover in fear. and then i'm left tending to a startled dog whimper at the door.

it's wakings like that that leave me feeling most alone. there's no one there to coo and soothe me. no one there to ask if i'm okay, what i was dreaming. no one to put an arm around me, pull me into them and breath sleepily against my neck. only i frightened dog to go to, to reassure.

somehow i always end up doing the care taking.

i guess the dream was a preamble to what i would face at work. well, either the dream or the car accident that happened just as i walked out of the house.

see, at work last night, i was reading over some print outs about infantalism. trying to discern what exactly it is that my friend is looking for. where this need might have come from and what other's experiences are with it. i like to educate myself. well, last night a client asked what i was reading. and i told her. i said that it was information on infantilism, people who desire to age-regress in order to meet needs that they can't in normal life. i told her (almost truthfully) that a long-distance friend of mine told me about a wish and that i was interested in finding out more about how he might have gotten to that need. she was interested and asked if she could read it. i said sure.

i never attached this to my personal life. just a long distance friend i was interested in gaining insight into. (and seeing as how he'll be long-distance in a matter of weeks, i didn't feel that this was too big of a stretch, plus i didn't want to disclose my personal life to a client).

i guess i should have known better. a co-worker who came in after me reported this to my boss. and my boss had to talk to the client to see if she was damaged in any way by what i had done. the client of course was forth right, stated the facts as i would have (that she had asked if she could read it and was not adversely affected). the problem is that it was reported to my boss as "baby fetish" material.

care with words has always been important to me. spelling, no. but meanings, yes. clearly not to others. had my co-worker known that "baby fetish" is an inappropriate and misleading term, this might not have gotten so big. but my explanation to my boss soothed her a bit. she explained that my wording was a little less threatening. but still, i've crossed a boundary.

the client reported that, "i know sarah has an alternative lifestyle, and while some people might be freaked out about it, it doesn't bother me." GREAT! well, in sarcasm and literally. but when my boss tells me this, and says that she knows i have an "alternative lifestyle" (i tell her about some of these things because we consider each other friends), but the boundary issue is now that clients know i have one, i reminder her that likely the scars, tattoos and piercings were dead giveaways that i don't lead a pure vanilla life. but that i keep the arms covered so that the scars don't show and constantly tell them i have no life outside of work. maybe that i go to a concert or a good restaurant, but that's it as far as disclosure.

another client told me, "i think it's cool that you care that much about your friend to educate and investigate." she's lesbian and having a little trouble coming out. i'm seeing this as a plus. she sees that some people are accepting and tolerant. she knows that i won't judge her. (my boss is now worried because the other clients think she might be developing a crush on me. i kinda thought that might be happening, so i'm really careful with her.)

these are adults. they play on dating websites. they look up porn. they read about sex. they have sex. they masturbate. they do all the things that the rest of us do. i wasn't handing out packets or asking them to try it. i simply side-ways answered a question.

i'm not really in trouble. though i could see the concern in my boss's face and hear it in her voice. she's having trouble with the agency we work with and is concerned that any additional infraction will be the last. i understand. she's also gotten crap for "hiring people who are just like the clients", meaning self-harmers. yeah, that's me again. thing is, i'm also a pretty good example of survival and (around them) an even keel. i live on my own, support myself, i'm employed (doubly). i consider it a, "look where you could get to if you keep it up". i'm really not that bad.

am i?

it's wakings like this that make me think i need to cut my losses and leave the job. am i making it too hard on my boss? and i adding additional trouble to her own? i can't keep track of all the double standards, and she doesn't always bother to inform us of them. i love her, don't get me wrong. i just feel like a major fuck up around her.

but the other job pays less. and it isn't quite full time yet. and i don't want to leave my boss in a lurch. i can't quit on her when she has no one to replace me. i can't quit the clients when i'm the only one some will talk to. but at the same time, i'm not supposed to be connecting with them because they are supposed to connect to their therapist (who none of them like).

i'm caretaking.

i just want someone to roll over, wrap an arm around me and dreamily whisper me back to sleep.

and D Day gone

1:45 am Mondy July 31.

the weekend is officially over.

not a call. no contact. that facinating, intriguing man never found his way to me.

there's some sadness. there's some self-pity. there's mostly loss for what i thought would be an interesting and fun encounter.

1:45 am Monday July 31.

i won't hear from him now. and i think it best to not contact him further. am i missing out? is he? no telling. i'm just sad that i'll never get a chance to find out.

on the other hand, the writer wants me to be his domme. he fatasizes about being age-regressed, being under parental control.

i guess in the absense of one intrigue, i've been issued another.

D Day come

2pm. saturday, july 29th.

no word from the facination.

he's in town this weekend. that lovely long-haired surfer photographer. somewhere in OR right now. that aussie accent. that focused nikon attention. closer now than ever. and still impossibly far.

e askes, 'are you gonna fuck him tonight?', reference to the writer. meeting him in portland for drinks, darts, and a show. i'm waxed. i've lived off molassass/lemon/cayenne pepper water for the last 3 days. why not? but no desire. my mind is elsewhere. on another. and i've cultivated enough distractions this month. but if there's pot... well, who knows.

2:30pm. saturday, july 29th.

we tried to keep up hope of contact. we tried, in all our supportive friend ways to assure me that this one... there's a good feeling about this one... sad thing is good feelings don't always work both ways. or maybe, he's preoccupied by other good feelings. good 125lb blonde busty good feelings.

ah well. there's still time. i emailed him my phone number. maybe. right? maybe?

and so it is. another unfulfilled opportunity.

and me, without falafel.

quick wishes

for my dear darling dave - a safe and speedy move. one with only the good kinds of adventure that leave you smiling down the road. and a renewed life, breathing full and deep the artistic life that pacific has stolen from you.

for my fiery friend - more comforting arms around you and less rehashed conversations. a wish that one of you would make that movie moment, midst fight/argument/conversation, reach across and still the other person's retort with a kiss. a kiss to communicate understanding, love, passion and the knowledge that it's all gonna be alright.

for my well obscured observer - that you would have brought me left-overs from nicholas'! and that you continue to grow and glow as an artist of image and word.

for my 'downs' baby brother - friendly skies, never another scratch of poison ivy, and the acceptance of a father 27 years past due. oh i pray this is for you and not for him. his vision is so distorted that even when you're living in his image he still sees only flaws.

for my distraction - that that 'awe shucks charlie brown' gaze will lift and light upon someone able to return it.

for my pumpkin - that your loneliness will pass soon. that the sadness you feel creeping in won't hinder you from venturing out.

for box girl - a speedy pack and unpack. there's muppet uno waiting for you, and the smile of a friend who's missed you.

for my husband and the father of my baboon - continued mending. make her work for you, make her earn you back. make her show the love you both believe to be there.

for my trail-walking friend - steam that knocks you to your knees. and a lightness of soul that lets you get back up.

for my latest temptation - that you'll be tempted too.

for me - to become the goddess she sees. to embody the strength, endurance, creation and cradling of the sea.

sooo, updates....

its here i hear the lily dance--

i've not heard from distraction. my lack of communication may have finally made point. i feel sad though. his last email included the line, "'cause i kinda like you and want to hang out or whatever". and if that is charlie brown down gazing and kicking at the dirt over the little redheaded girl, i don't know what is. but it's gotten silent. there haven't been emails or IM's in a couple days. i think that the bloom is finally off the rose.

its here i hear the lily dance--

the hiker, the pirate and the writer. two down and one to go, by way of internet introductions. the hiker came out on saturday afternoon. we walked the beach, sat and talked, had a drink (well i did, he had water), then went for dinner at a little dive bar i love. the hiker was gentle. gentle in appearance--soft and large. gentle in voice--never sharp, never above accepted conversation levels. gentle in gaze--no tawdry looks or wandering eyes. gentle in speech--politically correct and morally correct, buddhist. all this gentility lends me to believe that he may also be gentle of mind. so, while none of these are bad things, and are in fact often sought after, i never felt engaged or engaging.

and so, by 8 he had gone. with a gentle hug and a wish to see me in portland soon. by nine i had received an email from the pirate, saying he was bored. i sent him my address and told him to get on mapquest then get in the car. it would take two hours to get to me. he wrote back that he would. and he did. and he too was gentle. timid from years of being alone. shyness little helped with alcohol is a hard and fast shyness to be met with. and he was supposed to be the pirate, the raucous and rowdy. i took him to bed, he's come prepared for the practicalities but not the act itself. a 6 year hiatus had left him more than a little tense. i worked over an hour, hand and mouth, to massage this man, to relax him, to free him. .... the hardest part for me has always been when the gentleman acknowledges his record setting times. as this one did. and the most compassionate and fitting reply is hardly ever enough to soothe that wounded ego. but i try. as i did with the pirate. morning came, he bid me farewell and said he wished to me in portland soon. and i was left to more stillness.

its here i hear the lily dance--

the writer. he's on his way to my last hometown in two weeks. making a break for chicago, hoping for a break with his writing, which i think is great, but has been met with less than encouraging words from friends. we banter. i can hear the bitter sarcasm leaping from his tongue like pop-rocks and coke. i can hear it because i've known it. he's dry and satirical. sardonic and sarcastic. and i would get wet enough just at that. but he's about to move. and i'm afraid to ruin the fantasy by meeting him, and he's afraid of meeting a fantasy by meeting me. we've agreed we should meet, have an anti-climactic encounter and part ways to return to cyber flirtation. he'll be free to leave portland unencumbered by romantic intrigue and i'll be free to remain unencumbered. i'll be left to the stillness and the silence again.

its here i hear the lily dance--

tonight, two weeks after first writing to the surfer/photographer/millionaire... three unanswered emails later... tonight i get this:

Sj, no worries, I love your enthusiasm, maybe you should become a photog! I know a way you could school in 9 months... and come work... busy me, gotta go...C

no mention of his trip up here this coming weekend. no mention of a meeting. only a brief allusion to my embarrassment over asking a famed photographer to "show me how" and look at my photos. where for a moment the announcement of his name in my outbox stirred me, the moment past and left me still. again. so still.

its here i hear the lily dance--

its here i hear the lily dance
swaying 'gainst the reaching grass
swirling with the whistling wind
her only partner shadow cast.

that, my friend, is my update. my disconnected, gentle, timid, relocating, better forgotten update.

but i guess it's been quite a dance.

of all the kinky duct tape things

i've heard "get the duct tape"
i've heard "use the duct tape"
i've heard "wear the duct tape"

but i've never til now, heard, "leave the duct tape"

tangled web deceives

it's quieter than it should be for a saturday night north of hell
the blue glow of my cathode nightlight falsely seducing me with
'stepped right out' busy messages and unfulfilled inboxes
and my only argument being that i was told, "connection complete"

competition

Ribbons and Bose

she's the flirty little debutante starfucker
her head in his lap sucking his wallet limp and dry
arm candy demanding dolche & gabana
tits lifted higher than her gift nose will go.

inside my head, there's monsters

who am i kidding?

he's famous, at least in some circles, photography circles, sports circles.

i'm blehh. at least in comparison.

i'm the girl who takes grainy, blurred photos of rocks, and i've asked him (not knowing who he was) to help me? am i fucking kidding? it's like walking up to hendrix and saying, could you show me the "g" chord?

i'm the girl who thinks that chocolate brownies should be considered a part of the food pyramid because chocolate comes from cocoa beans and beans are legumes. i'm the girl who fights to keep her weight down and her tits up. i'm not the 'bunny-caliber' that this guy is likely accustomed to.

i can't make change for a dollar right now.

i live in a shack. a filthy shack. an embarrassment of sorts that i wouldn't know where to begin to clean. and my car? oh, well, with the duct tape holding the side rearview on and the recently demolished drivers seat... oh yeah. i'm a fucking prize. get thee to thy trailer park, woman.

i'm afraid this possibility of a meeting is only working towards lowering my self image. for god's sake, my last date paid with FOOD STAMPS!

my insecurity level has just skyrocketed. i mean, i'm not freaking out about meeting D. he hikes. he lives in an unassuming town near by. he works in software. HE DOESN'T HAVE A COUCH EITHER!

but C, well, C is planets, galaxies away from anything i would recognize. i'm going to look like the dull, fat friend on doubles night. the one who gets the pity date from the cute guy's friend so that the pretty girl won't feel bad about leaving early.

i need to stop now.

i need to forget that i ever spoke to him.

i need to lose the illusion that he'll even contact me.

i need to walk away before this becomes the disappointment it's bound to be.

i need to hire a maid or a housekeeper.

i need to lose 15 pounds.

i need to go back to contacting normal guys with normal lives who's names are not splashed around in newspapers and sports blogs. (seriously, i searched his name on here and came up with more than a page of hits for photo credits.)

this is ridiculous.

i am ridiculous.

and i dare you... DARE YOU... to prove me otherwise.

but wait...

just when you thought i was already the epitome of amazing...

i can count to 27 with my eyes closed! yes, yes i can.

thing is, i can't say 27 without smiling and breaking into ridiculous laughter.

a new friend, from far away (splits time between caymen islands and texas) was talking (IM) to me last night. drunk. and begging me to turn on my webcam. thing is, i'm at work, so no can do. then, he stops.

...

and says, "do you know how much i'm worth?" i can tell he's driving at a point here because he doesn't let me get a word in, "do you want to know how much i'm worth?". and now it seems like he really just wants, no needs, to tell me. so i bite. and say, "how much?"

"27 million. not including the companies that i own with partners." huh.

my best reply..."well that's more than me."

see he had asked me open a paypal account. and while i already have one, i was skeptical and didn't hand out that info. "why?" i asked.

"because i want to help you out. do you know why? because i like you and because you like me and you give me a chance." and suddenly, doing some quick math, i realize that if that's all it takes to get part of millions that i am way over due from some people and need to start calling in my accounts!

see, i give you that upfront. you get the like, and the acceptance and the chance. you get that automatically (good or bad for me). it goes away when you fuck up. and i tell him that. i tell him, "of course i like you. you haven't given me reason not to. you've been a nice, fun guy. you haven't treated me like shit." i guess it works differenly when you have money.

his drunk is beginning to hit him hard at this point and he says he's going to bed. but then, "i'm gonna wake up the cook and the housekeeper. (yes, the cook and the housekeeper) get them to make some food for me. i'm hungry." before i can finish the sentence that that doesn't sound like the best of ideas to me at 3am he decided that sleep and a non-vertical position is really more important.

i talked to him again this morning. he spoke (coherently and soberly) about his parents, his connection to his great grand mother, the woman he loves in boston...

but still...

27 will never be the same.

i got nuthin'

Smiths break - 'Ask'

Shyness is nice, but

Shyness can stop you

From doing all the things in life

That you'd like to

So, if there's something that you'd

like to try

If there's something that you'd

like to try

ASK ME - I WON'T SAY "NO" - HOW COULD I ?

Coyness is nice, but

Coyness can stop you

from saying all the things in

life that you want to

So, if there's something that you'd

like to try

If there's something that you'd

like to try

ASK ME - I WON'T SAY "NO" - HOW COULD I ?

Spending warm, Summer days indoors

Writing frightening verse

To a buck-toothed girl in Luxemburg

ASK ME, ME, MEASK ME, ME, ME

Because if it's not Love

Then it's the Bomb

That will bring us together

Nature is a language - can't you read ?

Nature is a language - can't you read ?

ASK ME, ME, MEASK ME, ME, ME

Because if it's not Love

Then it's the Bomb

That will bring us together

because i am insane

i'm inflicting myself upon the rich and attractive men of california (and other states too, but i have focus).

only two of them though. both surfers. one a self proclaimed artist and professional photographer. both 40.

one wrote to me.

some guy in either WA or NY, wrote to me saying that he could start me out at $1,500 a week. if i sent him my number he would call me in 2 minutes and discuss the details.

i told him i wasn't sure what he was asking. but wow. that money could come in handy. too bad i'm not that kind of whore.

this might just be the enterainment i was looking for. a new distraction. now i just have to figure out how to nicely get rid of the last/current one.

faery tale for all ages

do you think frogs hop around waiting to be picked by the eager lips of hopeful princesses?

is there a frog prince hoping some some kitchen wench will happen by, kiss him and turn toad?

and so as not to stick to the gender games of old-fashion faery tales: do you think there is a prince, dreaming of a frog to kiss and turn into his princess?

i'm a silly girl with fantastic dreams and delusions. my most recent one is of a prince in a land far away, but not so far. and he's a prince, but lacks the seal of highest royalty. humanity and nature are still in him equal, so it seems. and i've been hopping underneath his window, unseen and unrealized for two nights. i watch the glow coming thru, squint my eyes for changes and pray a door will be left ajar as a semiconscious invitation. on other days, i have a quick and strong leap, but here i fear to use it. if he were frog too, not a prince, i would have made a gliding leap in his direction and licked his eyes to clear his view in passing. but i fear the prince would detest the scars of hard living and the warts too common of my species.

he's in camelot, and i the muddy creek. and princes don't pass time wandering in bogs, at least not after puberty. now he's in the halls, escorting ladies of pedigree. and i'm outside, chasing the wind, seeing his face in the cool stream reflections. he will waltz in tux and tails. i'll be splashing in ponds dancing on a lily-pad.

and if he could catch a glimpse of me, would he see me for what i am? or would he see me the same as all the other eager, leaping, parading scores before him? i'm no better than the rest of my kind, and certainly no worse than his. but the rejection of a prince is profound. and the attentions of my own kind are plenty.

so tell me, gentle reader, tell this frog the truth. is a melding of the species likely? or should i continue with the skins i have?

madness

what i write between the lines is madness

what i feel within my viens is madness

i see clamoring, fierce clamoring, around me... striving with dedication and fear to avoid sucumbing to that madness.

how can you escape what's all around you, filling the gaps between what's spoken? how can you hide from what is within, making you pink with life and vibrating with expectation?

i shut off, shut down, shut out, shut in. a recluse of my own devising, with desperation trying to hold my madness in and yours out.

i've come a distance, but didn't go far enough. places i visit in jest are the unbuilt homes of my heart and imagination. waters south of me seem deeper, mysterious and uncharted. i would dive into them if i only knew that rocks and dangers weren't right below the surface.

'a' presents and 'b' presents and 'c' presents, half the alphabet following, asking me to put them in order, make sense of them--alone. those that don't present are the ones that i chase after, believing this sentence will make more sense with their inclusion.

but, madness it still is. and i reign high queen above tracks and tracks of it.

personal sites and personality

if you didn't know me... and i sent you an email... an introduction of sorts, chances are you would never write back. trust me, i know this from experience.

i'm sarcastic when i'm insecure and shy. and these don't seem to be endearing qualities to those whom haven't yet had the pleasure.

but when you meet me, you talk to me, when i get that glimpse of first acceptance, then you see the quiet and the fire, the tender and the strong, the contradiction and the balance in my eyes. after that, i'm okay. after that, you'll likely love me.

it's the getting there that most people don't get past.

see, i do a lot of personals sites. mostly because there are relatively few people my age where i am. and even fewer open-minded, blossoming, becoming, and transcending people where i am. and i don't have any problem with making the first connection, with sending a note, risking that void of contact that comes from an unreturned outreach. but i don't write to everyone. i'm not willing to take that risk on 'medicore' (if that's the right spelling. don't judge me!). only 'amazing'.

and then i sit with the void, for a day or two or ten and realize that 1) my humor doesn't translate, 2) that i REALLY wanted to hear from him/her, 3) that if i could have a second chance at that first message, i would take it, in a keystroke.

i see beauty. i see it in eyes, and laughter. in gentle words and fiery passions. i see it quiet. in pain. in healing. the only place i have trouble seeing it, is in me.

so if you get past the first words i send... if you read this... if you have the ability to read me a little... well, we'd be worth the while.

i can rapture you
still you
feed you
and steal you
i can be a luxury--
your decadance
i can be humbling--
your thirst

you're the ticklish wind
that swirls between me
lights and lifts me
cools my tempers

you're the gull
to my ocean
equally resting on and
running from me

you're the sun
generating my gravity
controlling my orbit
burning and leaving me cold

but i am still the moonlight
finding you in darkess
giving you eyes to the unseen
and a hue you're unaccustomed

i'll be a mermaid

this might get tricky

when distraction left this morning, he said, "maybe next time we can do something outside the bedroom."

well i never!

i told him, "we went to the bar, we watched a movie. honey that's more than i do with long term relationships!" luckily he laughed.

he arrived here last night with $10. that's not gonna go far. especially the way i drink. that's one movie ticket. one entree at a restaurant. 2 meals at taco bell. two drinks and a tip at a bar.

i'm a little concerned he wants more than just my charms now. and sadly, his charms aren't holding my attention very well anymore.

pretty eyes wasn't there.

he's moved.

to eugene.

fuck.

so i went out. saw the boys i thought i would see. licked a girl's thighs for fun. met my waxer's husband. promised i would go out again tomorrow night. but the thrill is gone. pretty eyes is gone.

so the distraction will take me out, buy my drinks, and watch me lick a few more thighs.

fuck.. pretty eyes is gone. shy is gone.

and i'm left with drums and a distraction.

waiting for pretty eyes

there was a moment, just a moment, today when i thought that you were here.

i had closed my eyes to sleep and this whisper came across my cheek. it was soft and sweet and strong. a light brush of hair drew over my lips and then, i could breathe you.

had i dared to open my eyes, i never would have seen yours looking back at me. i never would have witnessed the deep pools that gazed, literally gazed, back at me. full of life and passion and music. made more powerful by the depths of words unspoken.

had i dared to reach out, i would never have felt those soft hands cupping my face, slowly sweeping down my neck and back up into my hair. i would never have curled against you, small next to you, fitting perfectly beside you.

had i dared to speak, i would never have heard your murmurings against my ear, speaking of beauty and desire. i would never have heard your breath between my lips. i would never have heard you call me enchanting.

so there i laid, silent, still, with eyes closed tight. daring not to move or breathe. and there i laid until i fell asleep with the dream of you freshly cast over me, anxious to see you again.

ocean view

i had the most beautiful day...

my seal came back. well, my seal and a friend.

they swam along side me. they watched me. they calmly kept an eye on me as i walked the beach. i went to the rocks, took off all i could and still be considered decent (in some circles), and waded in to my thighs.

it was after a run, so the cold was more bracing than it would have normally been. and the seals bobbed. they surfaced and dove. they watched me. stayed with me.

i sipped the water. i sunk into the sand. i held eyes with those amazing animals. i prayed for strength and beauty and calm and power. i prayed for the attibutes of the ocean. i asked that the seals watch me.

i felt love. i felt enveloped and cared for. i felt the moment again. and i felt peace.

3 a.m.

3 a.m.

sunday morning.

i'm awake, alone

where are you?

are you bound to her

in body or mind?

are you living?

i'm not sure.

not sure i am

not sure i was

not sure i will be

with the sunrise.

3 a.m.

is the ghost time

time i'm haunted

by what's passed.

the eyes i held

the moments i swam in

the voices i strained for

all rush back.

and you are there

and he is

and she is

when she can be

and i'm awake, alone

murdering the moment

with red wine

and a knife.

death or dinner?

i need to sleep.

i need to get out of my head.

i need to forget about not being desired.

i need to move past feeling unwanted and left behind.

i need to remember that this is going to pass, as it always has in the past.

i need to sleep.

if another fabulous person came along tomorrow, would i still be feeling sad about this one? would i still be sinking into blackness and cursing light? part of me thinks i can let go, thinks that i'm done. but it's likely the same part that thought the same things about pie. it's likely the same slivers of my brain that fool me into thinking i am fine, when the truth is i'm momentarily numb.

i've let this consume me, this ugliness of being brushed aside, for two weeks. nearly the same amount of time that i knew him. the same amount of time as we giggled and spoke lovingly. this amount of heartbreak seems disproportionate to the actual events. it was a two week flirtation that abruptly ended in a 5 hour meeting! and i'm going on like this was a lifelong love.

so, my own feelings of silliness aside, why? because i, for the first time in over a year, had allowed myself to get comfortable with someone else, to trust them, to rely on their presence in my day. i had let down the defenses that i've worked so hard to build. i risked a tender time in my life, an anniversary of sorts, risked being happy again. i was foolish in having believed that this amazing person could live up to all that i'd forsaken.

i came out here hell bent on not falling in love. i decided to fuck whoever, whenever, and for whatever reason i wanted to. i decided not to invest and not to divulge. i was not going to be vulnerable again, not to another person. if i was going to be vulnerable it would be to the sea and the sky and the goddess. but not... not... to another person.

i failed. and the sad part is, that he didn't even know how vulnerable i was. he didn't know about the rapes. he didn't know about the disappointments. he didn't know about the losses. still doesn't. what he did know was that i had had episodes of life-threatening behaviors. he knew i didn't get along with my family. he knew that pie had broken me. that's all. he didn't realize the depths i had allowed him to reach. so, how could he realize the fathoms i would have to climb to return to surface?

i won't fail again. i'm cutting myself off from that involvement again. from that vulnerability and trust-giving. i won't allow that to happen again. i can't. for my sanity, for my life blood, i can't.

i lay in bed at night and my stomach aches. my nearest thought is that driving a stake through my core would satisfy the ache. my hands pushing something solid and thick through my abdomen to my back. this would dull it, dull me, allow me peace. i wake in the morning and pass by blades. blades that reflect slivers of my face and call me in a siren song. blades i touch to remind myself of their proximity. in the evening i nurse the burn on my thigh. the perfect round circle red and sore. agitating the burn, re-inflicting the pain so as not to have to do it again.

i avoid the mirrors that scream to me and remind me that i haven't run in a week. i avoid the bank statements that show me how in debt i am, the debt that keeps me from going out and finding life, distraction, fun.

the only thing i can't avoid is rushing to the computer screen every couple hours, checking to see if anyone has remembered me. if anyone has thought of me. the answer is usually no. the phone hasn't rung. there's no email. the postman delivers only bills i can't pay.

this feels familiar. this feels all too much like it did. these are the feelings that lost me last time. these are the circumstances that lost me last time. the heartbreak, the loneliness, the debt, the stillness. this is why i just need to sleep.

abandonment issues

i think i have abandonment issues...

i would love to be more abandoned. to let go, to give up, to surrender and yield myself completely. i want to allow myself that indulgence. but the clearest problem that i can see with that is that i have no one to abandon myself to. the level of trust and pure love that is required to lay my life and heart into the hands of another, it just doesn't seem to be something that i find.

rather it isn't something that is returned to me.

in the wake of a recent heartbreak, a friend was telling me that the likely reason the person had little contact with me was because of humiliation. my friend believes that this person felt so bad about my treatment, my pain, that it is too hard to have contact with me. too hard to talk to me. and way too hard to see me. and here is how i have been abandoned. i have been left. i have been let go of. and the ugliest part of it is that i can't bring myself to do the same.
and not out of some macabre desire to inflict self-indulgent pain upon myself, but because i care for this person. genuinely. as a person, as a friend and as a love. and i can't simply walk away from those feelings. i can't disregard the importance of such a person. i can't diminish the effect the person had on my heart by simply abandoning.

maybe i didn't make that impression. maybe i was less. maybe this person wasn't affected by me to the extent that i was. and that's okay. i guess. though that pains me some too. i'm a little tired of being easy to walk away from. just because i try to make it easy for you, doesn't mean that i like it if it is. (and i hate myself some for knowing that.)

so, do me this one favor... if you read this... though i doubt you will... if you read this... please just let me know that you haven't abandoned me completely. it will make it that much easier for me to let go

i'm going to be queen for a day. being a goddess hasn't really gotten me very far and i'm beginning to think that i picked the wrong status.

as queen, i would decree that someone buy me drinks on saturday night.

i would also decree that either 1) someone go jogging and lose weight for me or 2) the voluptuous figure i have going on attains greater appreciation.

that really isn't too much to ask, is it? i mean, not from a queen.

as goddess i had asked for affection, love, desire and passion. i had asked to be treated with kindness, acceptance and respect. i had asked to be the one to treat another with loving compassion and sweetness. i had asked to treat him with patience and understanding.

well, either the goddess thing isn't working, or his head is fucked worse than i thought.

i'm feeling a little "ranty", so if you want to pass this by feel free. i won't quiz you later or otherwise hold you responsible for this information.

1) there was the brief flicker of another... another internet introduction. (yes, i'm guessing that i should have learned my lesson by now, but...) well, i haven't heard back from him. he seemed kind, interesting, intelligent, grounded, broad in his interests and open of mind. and giving him access to fonts of information on me seems to have backfired. he either thinks i'm insane (which i am), or simply not worthy of his time (which i might be).

2) the 24 year old still wants to be my slave. he elludes to it daily. i'm not sure if this is a good thing to take on. he's sweet, but, honestly, i'm not sure how long he'll hold my attention.

3) i want to spend the weekend in portland or in a hotel. i want out of my mind and my surroundings for just a day or two. i'm beginning to... still. not stagnate per se, just still.

4) i dreamt of him last night. the man who stole my breath and heart. the man i could have swapped shoes with. i've been fairly good about not contacting him. really, i've tried. but i miss him. our conversation. our jokes. our banter. i miss the feeling i got talking to him. and that kiss. i miss that kiss. the one i didn't get enough of. in fact, maybe that is the best way to sum him up, "the one i didn't get enough of".

5) and pie. i dreamt of pie last night as well. fucking double whammy if i ever saw one. but it was good to see his face. i haven't heard from him in months. i've left messages on his myspace. but none that are ever returned. i was his best friend, right? well, maybe he finally got the one he wanted.

6) there is a distinct possibility that i broke a bone or two in my hand when the car bit me. i'm not sure. the swelling has gone down and it isn't too much bruised. but there feel like there are "things" that should be connected to other "things" and i just can't be sure. well, it still works and gives a decent handjob, so i guess i don't have to worry too much.

7) i miss him. i really do. this was the first time that i had allowed myself to fall since the last musician stole my heart. both of them i miss. both of them i still love. both of them i wish could see the beauty that i could have been to them. why is it that no one wants that?

fuck, now i'm depressing myself and i still have 3 hours left of work. i'm off to look at porn.

promised photos

i loved the warm colors in the bar that night. i tried to get the reflections off the glasses and the movement of the people, but i think i shook a little.

the moon reflecting off the lake was so pretty. i know this isn't the sharpest photo, but i kinda like it anyway. the color and the blend. a little mysterious....

the sky was kinda turning purple in the late afternoon. i'm not really sure what the metal thing is in the foreground, but it always catches my eye. what i had really wanted to do was try to get a photo THRU the hole, but the angles wouldn't let me.



anyway, E, let me know what you think. i love getting your input and i'm having so much fun with my little camera!

photos

E -

i took some photos, a couple i really would love to show you, but the fucking rite-aid worker didn't do the cd. so, i'll scan them at work later tonight and post them by morning.

in the meantime...

he's asked to be her slave. he's asked to be taught by her, dominated by her, controlled and taken care of by her.

her methods are usually more subtle than paddling and humiliation. she works quietly from inside their minds.

he wants her to work upon his skin, redden his flanks and face. he wants to learn control and he wants to serve.

she wants to maintain distance from this distraction. she wants only what she wants and when, leaving time for others to distract her and the silence that she craves.

he wants to be dominated by her, be important to her. he wants the distinction of being the object of her attentions.

she won't give him attachment, love, emotional investment.

he won't be fully happy until her affections are shown by collar and lead.

the strikes he so enjoys inflicting would cease. he would not be allowed to raise an eye, let alone a hand to her. he would have to relearn a vocabulary, losing words like "slut" and "cunt". he would be left in discomfort, speaking only when spoken to. his mouth would drip "mistress" and "i offer you".

she would teach him to display and present. she would teach him to worship and attend. she would teach him the positions that only those in captivity know. she would call him slave, dog, worm, table and pet. she would confine him and reject him, punish him and reward him. she would make his muscles would burn in discomfort rather than pleasure.

would he be served by this humiliation?

should she take him on?

would this cross the line of unimportance she had drawn?

moonlight mermaid

i've suffered your bruises silently, never letting you know the depth of your inflictions. whether this aids me, i'm not yet sure. but it certainly makes life easier for you. and for now, that is the salve that keeps me well enough to move.

so, maybe i'm a little strange. a little odd. a little... quirky or eccentric. but according to a friend, i'm the moonlight, and who would question the moonlight. you know it wavers in it's luminescence. you know it shrinks from sight and returns with a vengence that lights the night fully.

and i light nights for them. the ones that open their arms to me and become enveloped in this energy are privy to charms others are blind to.

and a mermaid too. my scales shimmer and navigate me through rough waters. i am the siren that leads them to a little death. so i am the moonlight mermaid. i smell of the sea and glow celestial. i have the power to change tides and swallow men. i am timeless. i am eternal. mythical and fact.

in a moment of weakness
i opened my eyes
i saw love before me and
i was blind
and now i don't want to
see you again
because i'm afriad this wound
will never mend
my heart slipped from my sleeve
crashed to the ground
you bystepped it smoothly and
i fell down
is this what you wanted?
is this what you saw?
did you think i could walk away
after this fall?

i did a foolish thing.

i opened my heart when i shouldn't have and now i'm stuck trying to find the right way to close it. the right diversion to occupy a mind that keeps straying to places it shouldn't. the right hands to distract me from those i want around me.

diversions are easy enough to find. i guess i've never really had that problem too much. but knowing that i am living a life of diversions and distractions... that's the part i have a problem with.

there's usually at least one quiet moment that passes during the day when the sudden shock of lifelessness hits me, jars me and thrust me out of the mindlessness i've cultivated. it lifts me out of time and space and it's all i can to do brace myself against empty black pit i'm threatened with.

so i cling to hours of sleep, refusing to open my eyes to light and life.

so i cling to another body, refusing to stay too long in my own.

and i wonder now, if this night passes, with sleep out of reach and alone in my bed... i wonder, if this night passes and finds the blood still in my viens...

a friend told me, "I wish you could see inside yourself. see the strength and beauty. See this sort of churning vortex of colors and glows... I wish you were loud enough to tell the people that hurt you that they did. I wish you were louder for yourself. I wish you would scream for yourself now and then."

my screams tickle out of me in fine liquid lines. my screams are angry red and pulsing. but my screams don't matter when no one cares to hear me. when no one pauses long enough to see what i want to hide from them and want desperately for them to see.

and then i'm alone in that empty night. and then i'm crying soundlessly. and then i'm breaking into smaller pieces that broke so long ago.

i wonder if you heard me.

i wonder if you saw me.

i wonder if it means anything.

getting over him

i couldn't be bothered to shower or even change out of the t-shirt that i'd worn all day and then to bed. i scraped a wet toothbrush thru my mouth and found the nearest pair of jeans and shoes. i needed to see life after an emotionally hellish week. the first bar i arrived at called "last call" at just 9:30pm and one beer. so, i found myself at another bar, nothing special and nothing exciting.

two tequilla shots later i managed to strike up a conversation with the only long-hair in the place, also, seemed to be the only person under 40. we talked about there being nothing to do. i drank. we introduced ourselves, and as normal for me, i promptly forget his name. he talked about cars. i drank more. we developed nicknames for other patrons (half-ass, meatloaf, and the like). some drunk woman waiting for her boyfriend called me beautiful, flirted a little and gave me flowers. i drank again.

4 tequilla shots and a corona into the night his hands are on my thigh and i don't particularly care. he's nice enough. i don't get a creepy vibe. and let's face it, i need a pick-me-up after getting dumped/rejected. we devise a plan that involves me following him to his house, dropping off his car and then heading back to my place (which is a pit).

his car is dropped off, he's in my car and his hands are roaming. feeling less inhibited than usual, i stop the car, thinking i'd just get a quick kiss and keep going. suddenly my jeans are somewhere under the gas pedal and brake and the boys tongue is hard at work between my thighs. i figure it could be a promising evening and 15 minutes later resume the drive to my house.

for the next 12 hours this lovely young man, is my dedicated sexual servant. he ties me down, makes me beg, works me into a mass of quivering limbs and a couple bruises. he likes to have his hair pulled. he likes rough bites. and he seemingly loves playing the role of my tormentor. and his 24 year old body keeps stride with mine, asking later, "are you always this insatiable?"i laugh and call his attention to the fact that every window in my apartment is fogged.

in a moment of weakness, we run across the street for breakfast food. he offers to pay for me, which i think is just fantastic even though i'm only having juice. he whips out his food-stamp debit card, claims the purchase and we're soon back in my bed.

near the end of the 15th hour of our trist, the boy, a dedicated oralist...dedicated..., finishes with me and we decide on a shower before i have to return him the hour home. there are red teeth marks on his shoulder and chest. i notice the first of what are doubtless my own many bruises. my neck is tender from his rough play, sitting is a challenge from the "punishment" spankings he gifted me, and i'm positive i've lost more hair than necessary. all in all, i'm a happy girl and content to deliver him home.

we part with a simple kiss, i give him my email address which he states he'll write to me at with this info and lets me know that if i want to kidnap him on my other days off this week, well, he's okay with that. i reply a noncommittal, "i might have to do that". and say goodbye.

and as i drive the hour back to my own part of town, i'm both thankful and anxious. see, i'd forgotten his name the moment he spoke it after we just met some 15 hours ago. and while i'm thanking the goddess that i never had occasion to have to call him by name, i'm scared to death of how to figure out what it is. i mean, not an inch of skin went without touch and taste between us, and i don't know what to call him.

---------------------------

all is safe. he emailed. his name is on the email. i'm in the clear and he'll never know.

captions

when you kissed me, i couldn't remember a single concern that i had.
when you watched me drive away, they all flooded back.

-------------------------------------

a friend asked me today what i thought would happen if i knew, really knew, my importance to others. would it make me cocky? would i become arrogant? i couldn't answer because i don't know that i would every really believe it.

------------------------------------

minutes later someone came to me with an apology that wasn't really hers to give. someone had found a way to hurt me with the slanting of this woman's words and she felt responsible. i let her know that there were no apologies needed. that i knew her intentions were good. and that i understood that the malice came from another source, a source that was seeking importance and regocnition. but in there, in that conversation, the woman said, "i trust you. we all do." and that made all the difference.

--------------------------------------

if i could hold your hand one more time, look in your eyes, smooth the hair back from your cheek... if i could incite in you the excitement that swelled in me... if i could just live another moment in the ignorance before you saddened and silenced... if i could, i might be happy now. i wouldn't be fighting tears. i wouldn't be trying so hard to forget you. i wouldn't be plunging deep into lovers that last only a moment.

Bend

he comes when i call him. and he knows the rules.

he doesn't speak unless i tell him to.
he doesn't stay the night.
he does exactly what i say, and i take care of him.

those are the rules and he follows them eagerly, attentively, like a novice monk bent before god.

and if he forgets himself, if he needs reminding, he gets the heel of my boot in his ribs.

i am in control. that's why he comes here. he needs to be dominated. and he knows i give him what he needs.

a firm hand on his shoulder signals him to his knees. he receives his instructions with reverence and solemnity. his hands go where i tell him. his mouth touches only what is offered to him.

he spends hours bending to my body and will. and he's denied nothing. he's needs are something i know fully by looking in his eyes.

when the last of my whims is sated he's allowed to take his leave. he kneels again, kisses the hand that caressed him and the heel that prodded him and silently disappears in the night.

and i to my bed. where i smile and fall lusciously to sleep, dreaming of a strong hand that will one day make me bend.

i can capture moonlight. it isn't so much capture as it is entice. i can walk through bleakness and find infinitesimal spots of reflected radiance. i call to it. i coax it. and slowly it becomes. becomes larger, brighter, more of what it already is. my eyes adjust not to the blackness that surrounds, but to those little glimmers. i focus and they grow to blinding.

i can do this with people too. though with them i am the moonlight. i am their reflected radiance. with their presence we can block out the darkness, seek out the slivers of light in each other and glow.

sometimes, though, they don't see me there. and i get to affect my moonlight magic in secret. i can call out the flickering brilliances within them, pull them to the surface and guide them through the night. sometimes they sleep through it, and they believe it something else that shone on them. but i know better.

sometimes it's lonely being moonlight. people forget that i'm there. their eyes don't tune well to my light most times and they miss out on what i bring them. or they see only what i'm showing them, and forget the luminescese itself. but still, i ease them through the darkest nights, soothing them, calming them, providing just enough to get them through to daylight.

and so it is i've done again. i've snuck in through closed doors to places shut off and distant. i've reached into the emptiness and found a spark of light to return to surface. this time though, my moonlight reflected her gleaming brightness that he had tried to forget. and true to form as moonlight, there is no credit here. that sun has again blinded him and it's only her glory that he sees.

so i retreat, as moonlight does, and return to the secret places that others fear to look. and i'm smiling as i'm going, knowing that while daylight is bright, it doesn't last forever, and i'll return to calm and coo, to soothe the souls, dry the eyes, and bring solace to the darkened heart.

Top 10 good things about getting dumped

1) for once, spontaneous crying is NOT blamed on your PMS.

2) you get an automatic reprieve from your diet for a week.

3) friends and family encourage homocidal thoughts and fantasies.

4) no one holds that extra drink against you.

5) you can hang up the tight pants and pull on the sweats.

6) the $200 trip to the salon is entirely justifiable.

7) casual sex is back on the table.

8) it's a great conversation starter with that cute bartender you've been eyeing.

9) ...

who am i kidding? i can't think of 10 good things about this. i feel like shit. and i guess i just have to get over it.

for a couple weeks we had fun, talking, emailing, instant messages for hours each day. he said things like "i adore you", and "i'm falling in love with you", and "i need you". he promised me that he was real, that THIS was real. he told me all the wonderful things that i wanted to hear. i was feeling them too. i was enthralled, enraptured, and falling so hard.

sure, it had only been 3 months since his fiance had left him, i knew that he wasn't over her and that it would be a while before he could let go of her. but that didn't change the things he said and the promises he made, to keep me safe, to not hurt me, to be with me. and the foolish things i did? i believed him.

so, now i'm lost in trying to figure out if this rejection is because of him/her or becuase of me? i mean, is it really his love for his ex that is holding him back? or, when he saw me, was i not what he expected? was i not the image he had built up in his head? that kiss he gave me when i showed up on his door lead me to believe that things were going to be alright. but 30 minutes after getting to the zoo he's quiet, and comes out with having talked to her for 3 hours earlier that day. for having relived all the things he loves about her. he tells me he might take her back if she asked. how am i supposed to believe him now? how am i not supposed, at least the self-conscious insecure part of me at least, to think that this was just an easy let down?

i cried to my boss/friend. i cried to my best friend. both tell me that it's him. that he's missing out. that he lost here, not me. that i shouldn't be blaming myself, my figure, my face or my words. but the fact is, i cried. and i'm still crying. and not because i got left behind, but because i didn't get a chance to be with this amazing person who i had fallen so hard for. i cried because i wanted this more than anything i've wanted in a while. hell, i was willing to walk away from other lovers for a man who's dick i had yet to even see!

so i brought brownies to work and ate nachos with one of the women. both of us negating our eating disorders for the night. and she, a lesbian, tells me, "it's not you. i mean, you're fine. and you know i could just say you're beautiful inside and out, but i didn't." and this is true, she didn't say that, but i like to think it's because she knows i'm a raging bitch.

so i'm unshowered, still in yesterday's bra, and eating whatever i feel like. fuck running for the week. i think i have a pass. a "get out of life" pass for a week. a week to readjust to not being adored. to not being enchanting/enchanted. a week to hold every bad feeling agaist him. a week to wallow.

and you know, when i think about it, he really is missing out. i would have been really good to him. i wouldn't have left him. i would have continued to adore him and fall harder. i would have made him laugh. i wouldn't have expected him to forget her, i just would have expected to become more forefront than her. i would have given him the time he needed to get over her and still be a realiable lay. so, he did miss out.

and for all of this, i'm not better than him. for the same reason he says he let me go, thinking he would take her back if she asked, i'm in the same place. yes, i'd take him back. without question. without blame. without second thought. he'd come to mean that much to me. he'd become real, and with him, so had i.