The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, \ Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit \ Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, \ Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it. ~~71, Rubainat of Omar Khannam
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Counter Confusion
Thoughts of being without
You
Thoughts of walking
Running, tiptoeing
Away from you
With considerations of
Alternate possibilities
I think often:
But what if this meant something different
This word… this conversation
That look… that lack
This sharing of self
What if this is something different
Something I’ve never encountered
But only dreamed of
What if this is a sharing
A stepping deeper
Or is it a warning?
A making of space between us?
What if this is a tentative
Holding out of trust
An opening of heart
Or is it only you
Showing me intimate parts of you
So that I know what I
Do not have
So that I can see what we are not
What if the things he does not do
The things he does not say
The things he does
Are the very different thing
I have always been looking for
What if I interpret him
In the ways I’ve always wanted to live
And think
And love
Instead of the ways the world has taught me
I must
And yet
Fear whispers insidious
That you are
Another one
Only one of Them
Under a New Mexico Sunrise
An also-ran
Or a once-was
Or an afterthought
Of any kind, to anyone
Most particularly you
And yet, as distance allows me to take a step backwards
And breathe deeply, just a little,
I think perhaps if I am
Not already those things
Then I am certainly on the path
To being exactly that
I don’t know how to be
Anything other than I am
How to capture the sparkle in your eye
How to turn the interest in your smile
Or the frission in the pit of your stomach
Into something that always turns my way
I don’t know any other way
To be something worth claiming
Worth talking about to all & sundry
Worth fighting for, worth pursuing,
Worth loving
Than to simply be who I am
Perhaps that is not enough
For you… or for anyone
I am sorely tempted to quietly
Oh, so quietly
Tiptoe away in time
I think you
I have been oh so afraid you
I ache to believe you
Would quietly
Oh, so quietly
Simply let me go.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Behold the Conquering Hero Comes
((The remainder of this post has been removed for further thought/editing & possibly personal conversation. If you missed it the first time, you weren't paying close enough attention.))
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Behold the Conquering Hero Comes
I've heard it said that a woman should be a lady on the streets and a whore in the bedroom. Well.. like so many other things in my life I've apparently got that one bass-ackwards too. Go figure.
I tend to be a fairly aggressive person in most areas of my life. I'm not sure "whore" is really the most appropriate term, but I can be a bit bawdy in the right company. In the rest of my life, I know what I want when I want it, and when I decide I want it, I take immediate and decisive steps to get it. It makes me itch to see IN-action, and I hate "wishy-washy". Nothing makes my skin crawl more than people whining about things they are unhappy with and yet not coming up with any solutions to make it different. Dating, I've gotten in trouble with oh-so-many-gentlemen when I grab the check at a meal, when I open my own doors, when I walk with confidence & aplomb & fail utterly to lean on them as though my own two feet weren't good enough & don't at all act like the spoiled princess who has to be coddled and taken care of to merely survive. I'm willing to bet large sums of money that 99.9% of the people I know, if polled (please don't feel it necessary to do that), would vote me as a "dom" rather than a "sub" in the bedroom.
They would be wrong.
What really makes my stomach flip over is when the man I'm with takes control. I don't mean that in a harsh, S&M sort of way, but in a firm, steel-in-a-velvet-glove sort of way. A Captain-of-his-vessel and King-of-his-castle sort of way. The bedroom is the one area of my life where I can easily & naturally let go the reins of control & hand them over to another person, letting them take us wherever they would like us to go. I like a man who is inventive, knows what he wants & what he likes & doesn't hesitate to ask for it... sometimes even simply takes it. I like it when he reaches for me in the night (or wherever), letting me know he's got just the glimmer of an idea, & 'couldI, wouldI'? (Most likely!) And I love it when he reaches for me in the night just to reassure us both the other is still there, too. Don't get me wrong - I'll match my partner's passion fire with fire, & we can take turns with pleasant ideas that occur to either of us in both life and in bed til the sun comes up.. .and goes down again! But if most of the time he directs our passage through passion's reign, I'm in bliss. That may be why sex IS important to me.. it's the jousting grounds on which we negotiate for 'who's in charge'. I put on a public face of being footloose & fancy free, a woman of the ages, sexually liberated, and perhaps a bit breezy on the subject... but the men who have bought that image for long have seen the hard side of the curb quicker than they would have liked. I truly give up more of myself to the man who shares my bed than I'm likely to admit out loud. It is the one place where I can relax from the iron control I hold over my life & what I'm doing with it for just a little while. It is where, each and every time, I experience for just a few moments the feeling of being the blushing virgin. The chaste princess saved from all things evil by her strong, virile immaculate white knight. Then both succored and plundered mercilessly by that self-same rogue. <~f~>
That sensation of control carries over, too. A man who engenders those sorts of feelings in the bedroom for me later may find himself a bit confused when I get just a tad more passive in public life. All of a sudden, I LIKE it when he opens doors for me. His hand on the small of my back is a possessive touch I welcome. (More than welcome - it sends frissions down my spine & warm glow into my heart.) I will wait just a little longer to let him pick up the phone and call ME more often than I call him. I don't object, but rather smile a small smile when he offers to carry my things, get me a drink, make a snack, and wonder of wonders... I don't raise nearly the ruckus I used to if/when he picks up the check at dinner. In fact, I begin to plan tiny ways to reward him for all these great big small things he does that early on, made me feel threatened, and now make me feel cherished.
So.. my favorite position? They're different with different people, and I'm absolutely certain there are tons I haven't experienced at all. But general, ones where my man is dominant, and ones where he has put me. Directed me. Placed me there to maximize his.. um.. our pleasure. Behold! The conquering hero comes :-)
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
T 12/20/2005 - The Power of Pineapple
I apparently don't make it to the back of my canned goods cabinet often enough. This morning I was frantically digging for "snacks" to send to school with the girls, & there was a mysterious brown gooey mess under & around one entire section. I just now went to explore & clean it up... an old can of pineapple (exp 07/2001) was the culprit. The pineapple had eaten clean through the steel can (yes, steel, not aluminum) on the bottom & the ooolllld icky juice oozed out. Yuck.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Hippos 2
And I found the hippo on this guy's page. Just in case you're in the mood for a good little read or two. or three.
Hippos
- There is something categorically wrong about being "stunned" with a Christmas greeting. Must analyze.
- There was no snow on the ground & the air outside was juuuust balmy enough I'd left my coat in the car. It felt more like late October.. or perhaps late February... than just before Christmas.
- Noone around was wearing garishly snowflaked sweatshirts or santa hats, or holiday gear of any kind.
- The walls & floors of the building were institutional plain, no decorations in sight.
- Everyone I saw looked as rushed as I felt. The ONLY person who looked at all relaxed was the one who said Merry Christmas. Coincidence?
- The person who said it to me looked at me almost as though it were a dare, & they expected to be scowled at.. as though they'd done that many times in the last couple of days & while still defiant, had learned to stay wary of the public beasts.
- The person who said it to me deserved a return of Christmas cheer.
On quick review, I realized my insides felt much like the walls & floors of the building. I put out my psychic mirror, & knew there was no sparkle in my eyes (which is a shame, because they're so pretty when they sparkle!) They were for the moment so introverted that only a dull grey monotone was looking out at the world, and I was so busy looking inward I wasn't even seeing it anyway. Poor world! What had it done to deserve such treatment? I may joke about it from time to time, but I don't ACTUALLY kick the cat when I come home frustrated... why should I take out my own personal demons on unsuspecting strangers?
Sometimes I get so tunnel-visioned into an emotion or three that I lose sight of all the wonderful things around me. And holy cow, there are some wonderful things around me. People who are so jam-packed full of fantastical qualities I can't even put them all into words. Supreme beings of all shapes & sizes both inside & out. I have been increasingly tunnel-visioned this season, and to my friends I apologize for wallowing all over their holiday(s). I will try to shake out of it a bit in the season that's left and return to them all the good things they give me just by being in my life. (Although I still reserve the right to crawl off like a dog to lick my wounds in some secluded wood when necessary.) God love them for sticking around!
Tonight I took three hoydens with me to do some Christmas shopping and completely failed to annhilate them in the process. I did, however, interspersed amongst the running directional commentary (Get OVER here! Stop touching things, please? Keep your hands to yourSELVES! Don't push each other into people.. have you lost your minds? Do NOT lay down on the escalator! Walk, please. Walk, please! WALK!!! STOP TOUCHING THINGS!!) manage to remember to toss out a few "Merry Christmas"s of my own. Experimentally-like. I know my sparkle was only at half mast, but they didn't necessarily know that. You know what? Most of them looked as stunned as I felt at the elevator. That's just not right. My half-sparkle shoulda been lost in the blinding love of the season, not standing out as an anomaly. So now I'm going to HAVE to keep it up. Ripples in a pond & all that.
Blogger won't let me cut & paste, so although I know this reads a bit choppy, I'm hitting "go" & going to go work on wrapping up a little Christmas cheer. Maybe I'll stand on a chair for awhile & look around the house before bed. Maybe I'll lay down backwards over the sofa & look around the living room. Or backwards off my bed & look around there. Sometimes a change of physical perspective will - oddly enough - alter an internal one as well. I've settled myself into all sorts of nonconventional ways of thinking when hanging upside down off the edge of my bed... maybe a little "(upside)down" time will settle me into some new perspective again now!
It does do odd things when combined with mistletoe, though. I'm just sayin'.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Public Face
Instead, I send it searing downwards
through neck..shoulders...arms
frozen in harsh winters rictus
where it pools .
Where your eyes cannot see,
making one single fist of passion
nails score slices from my palms.
I cannot unlock them
to hold you.
Were I to return your embrace,
that cry so tightly held
in frozen stance
might loose itself upon the world
and I might never let you go.
12/17/05
Friday, December 16, 2005
12/15/2005 - Friday
Christmas has all my life been my very favorite holiday, so finding myself less than spirited by now is a bit unusual. Between frantic attempts to handle end-of-year business, Christmas parties that ought to be fun, and personal quandries of both the familial and the amorous kind, I feel more than a bit verklempt. Even long hot baths & a glass of wine aren't cutting the mustard at the moment! Yoga might... if I could just get my heart onto the mat with me. Bashing Charr (Guild Wars) seems to be an ever so slightly successful panacea this evening - if it only worked without putting a crick in my back! Bitch bitch bitch moan moan moan... I know: Quit complaining & FIX it! Well... some things don't fix. Others don't fix right away, and still others simply can't be fixed all by your lonesome.
Have I mentioned that my B will be spending the holiday with her father this year? NO?! Well... it's the 1st in 5, and while I'm determined to be ecstatic for her (she'll have a great time!), there's a tiny massive wail of despair for me welling up deep deep inside me, scheduled to burst forth 12/24/05 at midnight proper. No Christmas decorations up in my house this year, and if a great deal on a flight out of the country dropped into my lap by the 23rd... maybe even the 24th, I'd grab my these-days-perpetually-packed-overnight-bag, toss in a handful of cash & a bottle of suntan lotion & I would be SO on that flight before you could say 23-skidoo!
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