dirty talk thought process: daily life family introspection thinking woah WTF
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I remember mallrats was on in the background. We were on his dorm bed which was hiked up with bed risers. It was on Bush campus. I remember being naked with our heads at the foot of the bed. I remember him asking “Are you sure” before he entered me.
I don’t know if it is haunting me or if it is a sacred moment, but it hurts. Fuck does it hurt.
I got fingerprinted today for a new job (in a school system) and there was a herd of deer at the location I went to. I was taking pictures of them when one came up to me and started licking my hand. The guy who does fingerprinting gives them leftovers. I think this guy wanted lunch. It was SO COOL and they have soft tongues.
thought process: daily life introspection job money thinking
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My world isn’t hard. I live a spoiled life. Luck has been good to me.
When I was younger I used to hope I’d enjoy what I had and then die young. That way I wouldn’t have to figure out the future or build long term plans.
Sometimes, I worry that since I’ve been so lucky, that when my luck runs out I won’t have built the coping skills I need.
Now, I want to die young, late in life. I just have to make it there. What should I plan for the future? I haven’t thought very successfully about it.
thought process: blogs body image daily life history thinking
I’m sure a ton of you are scoffing. If you’ve seen me running around naked or in silly outfits, or stripping through a window or talking up and participating in class, you’re probably doubting the sincerity of my title.
I’m very good at disassociating my actions with myself.
I can let over 400 people put their fingers inside me, but I can’t bring myself to kiss a play partner unless they make it 100% clear they want it. I can be front and center in a nude photo, but I still feel the need to ask if I can sit down near someone.
I think this stems back to being younger and growing up being told I’m repulsive. I always tried to walk lightly as to not shake the floor. I’d breathe softly as to not sound large, I’d suck it in when passing folks as to fit into smaller spaces and not even possibly brush them. I can’t even cuddle or hold someone for a long time as I feel like I’m about to pass out because I try to slow my breathing and I tense my body as to not put too much weight on them.
I think this is also rooted in my control issues as well. You can strip me down and degrade me as much as possible, but as long as I have control of my mind, I’ll always be thinking of ways to be less obtrusive. I don’t drink, I don’t get high, I don’t do hypnosis, I don’t orgasm around others. I don’t lose control of my mind.
If I sense even the slightest inkling that you may not want me around I’ll latch onto it.
The only time I feel like I can move past this is when working under the orders of others. When I’m volunteering or working, I’ll talk to people. I’ll assert myself. Only if I know I’m in the right.
I don’t play other’s games. You’ll sometimes see those “Player” guides talk about giving distance, insulting the person you are trying to pick up, etc… When people do things like that with me, it shuts me down. “ok, goodbye” is my response because I don’t want to force myself on someone.
Unfortunately, what I do could be seen as playing games, and I promis you I’m not. I give distance because I don’t know if someone wants me near. I insult people because I’m a jackass, and my version of courting someone still involves poking them and pulling their hair like a 12 year old.
I wish I wasn’t a social wuss. A million friends and acquaintances. I hold Everyone in my hands…. at arms end… away from myself.
(I’ll return to hot action and rehash some of my DOWF experiences for you kids maybe later… Sorry to be all deep and shit.)
One of my college professors commented on this blog… this blog in which I talk about all sorts of sexual exploits. Logically I should be weirded out by it, but in actually I’m highly amused.
That is the price one pays for making a searchable name for themselves. The internet isn’t a private place kiddies… don’t put private shit up unless you’re cool with it being common knowledge.
Shout-out to Professor Lipkin! I had lots of fun being your best student ever who still managed to fail and thus never receive her degree despite passing every other class and having more then enough credits!
thought process: bdsm blogs body image daily life feminism health petpeeves privilege thinking
AKA “Why i’m not worried about offending you.”
I’m fat. That’s not going to change. Even if I diet like a fiend and make a huge lifestyle change, I’ll probably never get under 240lbs without some horrible invasive surgery. having said that, something new struck me recently.
I was looking at a picture that compared a girl in a cosplay outfit who was plus size, but not overly so, to another girl playing the same character but who was thin. Both outfits were well done but thinner one was shot in a professional portrait setting, so they probably had a better shot at presenting their costume nicely. The general consensus was that the larger girl was repulsive and should not be out like that. Some people made statements like “whale” or “put her out of her misery”. It seemed as if they were offended by having to look even voluntarily at an image of a large girl, god forbid if they were in the same space as her too!
Then there’s meme roth and all her fat shaming bullshit she’s spewing which is really just a product of our media society. God forbid the fatties live alongside these bastions of thin. As if thin people are never irritating to be near, or never have health problems. God, fat people are made fun of all over, and even if there’s a fat person at a gym they are still made fun of when clearly they are trying to change.
So if simply existing and not being absolutely ashamed of myself, was reason that others are offended, then why should I be so damn worried about offending their delicate sensibilities in other ways?
Combine that with people who simply offend me with no concern… people who talk on the phone (bluetooth headsets in particular) really fucking loud, people who wear perfume that makes me sneeze and have mini asthma attacks, people who wear their pants way too fucking low, people who use homophobic slurs in common language, people who call the entire area of the vulva the vagina, people who sport conservative or stupid bumperstickers, or the ideals behind them… Sarah Palin or Rush Limbaugh… The list goes on.
Mash all these things together and you have an atmosphere where I stop caring if I’m offending you and I jsut start enjoying myself. I’ll still be a good person. I’ll still hold the door for you, tip well, let you cross the street, and other courteous things, but don’t be suprized if I’m wearing my pro-abortion t-shirt while doing it, or if I’ve got a leash on, or my knees tied together and my panties stuffed in my mouth with tape.
I don’t care if my existence offends you.
I’ve been told I don’t show my feelings a lot and that I don’t like people seeing me be emotional.
I find this funny because i’m sitting here in a not good feeling and all I can think is “how the hell can I tell the people around me about how I feel”
But really, why does it fucking matter what I feel? It’s not going to change what they do because they can’t do anything for me.
and I’m not one of those people can create some beautiful great art with their feelings. I don’t have a delicate or emotional ability in expressing myself.
At this point I have two options, can clean my room. Cleaning my room makes me feel better when it’s over and I can move better and it looks presentable and I find all new things to play with and do. OR I can go to sleep. In which nothing gets done, and I get more depressed and hateful of myself. Then I go back to sleep, wake up with a headache from sleeping so much, and realize it’s after dark already and the day is gone. Unfortunately the fact that it hurts to move a lot means my choice has been made for me.
I hate my body. I feel so betrayed by it breaking down on me.
I want to be functional or dead… not that I should be telling anyone.
I don’t have daddy issues like a lot of girls often talk about. My father was fantastic. In quite a few ways I was closer to him then i was to my mom. He was the house husband since he retired early and so he would drive me to school make diner and talk to me more often.
I miss that.
I couldn’t figure out why i liked my chiropractors so much at first. I feared it was something not quite right, maybe even dirty. Then i realized they had a sort of father like tone about them. They are both the right age, have children and scold me gently for causing myself pain. Then they cause me more pain, for my own good and sort of take care of me. They both have good personalities and one of them even had my dad’s radio station playing when I came in. It’s probably not appropriate to get attached to people like that, but what do you do when you just want that kind of relationship you had with your dad?
I miss my father.
I hate myself for loving this song/video. I get bored with the beginning and fast forward to her getting out of the limo (about 3 min in), when the music really starts, but I kinda dig the hellatious costumes and setups.
I love all the setups during the chorus… the golden metal body suit with the swarovski studded crutches, the white zentai style sits with the giant puffs, the mickeymouse yellow suit with the black geisha-bow lips.
“I just killed my boyfriend”
And the lack of remorse for killing the bastard who abused her and threw her off a balcony.
Then the sass she gives as she is getting her police photo taken.
I know, it’s lady gaga, she’s got some fucking HORRIBLE videos like “eh, eh” where she’s neon orange with the platinum hair, waking up already wearing stilettos and making her man food, and ironing his shirt while only wearing underwear. Or the video Love Game with the line “I wanna take a ride on your discostick” and dancing around with that glowing scepter in the middle of a bunch of street dancers.
I just kinda really like this stupid video.
“I’m your biggest fan, I’ll follow you ’til you love me… papa paparazzi…”
So I have decent length, (currently) dark red hair. It’s clean and conditioned and I have the fan on next to my bed and I though Oh I feel pretty.. let me turn on my webcam. and be vain for a second becasue I mean, I’m currently stuck crippled in bed, might as well have some fun with it. (Why am I crippled? what’s wrong? Well I’m tired of explaining it, but needless to say I haven’t left my house in a week and a half due to crippling pain resulting in a spinal injury.)
I’ve come to realize, i dislike most of the photos I’ve taken of myself with my hair down. I think my face has strong features and my hair just… I don’t know… it never feels quite complementary in photos.
and Besides other little things like, making sure there’s no double chin, holding my head up, relaxing the mouth, I’ve found I hate profile pictures of myself. I have a neanderthal eyebrow ridge. I can use my eyebrows as a visor against the morning or evening sun. It’s crazy. My nose curls up hard, and my chin juts out. My face is wayyy too strangely curvy for profile. 3/4ths though.. that’s the money.
p.s. if you haven’t noticed it’s like the same fuckin picture but one has hair… and there’s no photoshop.