Monday, January 9, 2017

Scars

Scars...everyone has at least one visible scar.  But what about the scars that you can’t see: the scars on your heart and your very soul?  Visible scars sometimes fade away with time, the others, they only fade when you are truly able to let go of the reasons they are there in the first place.

Everyone deals with these scars differently, regardless of their visibility.  There are creams out there to make the visible ones go away, but what if there is a positive reason for a scar?  I have a couple of visible scars that I will forever show off, like Merit Badges, the reason for this is because they are there for no other reason but to remind me of my battle for life.  Before I went  through chemo eight years ago (I know!  It so doesn’t seem like it has been that long!) I had a biopsy, this was how we found out what type of cancer I had, that left a 2 inch scar under my right arm.  Then they implanted my power port.  That left another 2 inch scar, this one right below my left collar bone and right above my heart.  When they were finally able to remove the port, they re-opened that scar so that I wouldn’t have another one.

The invisible scars are those left by trauma to our hearts and souls.  Some feel like they will always be there and never go away.  But they do, you just have to figure out how to help them heal and fade away.  My generation and even the generations before were brought up on the saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me.”  I am hear to tell you that that particular saying is so very wrong.  Bruises fade, bones heal, but hurtful words take a lifetime to get over, well, maybe not a lifetime, but a while.  It’s been 17 years since I got out of a very abusive relationship, it wasn’t physical, just mental and verbal, and I am still healing those scars, but I am finding ways, every day to heal them and make that pain disappear.

I loved to do the surveys on MySpace and every once in a while there would be a question about forgiveness, my standard answer is usually, “Forgiving is the easy part, forgetting is a whole other story.”  However, I have learned that once you let go of past hurts, these scars do heal and they go away and this leaves you in a much happier place.  I still have scars that seem will never fade and once in a while, it feels as if they have re-opened and the hurt is there all over again. These are the times that I feel completely alone, and don’t feel like I have control over my life.  But then I try to push the hurt to the back of my mind and they begin healing again.  Once I no longer think about that pain, and what caused it, that scar heals even more.  As we go through life, there will always be events that add more scars to our hearts and our souls, it is just up to us to help them heal. 

I have been very fortunate in that I have a very large support system.  My friends that I had on MySpace who “carried” me through my treatments, as well as my family, and friends who aren’t cyber-space friends were my support system.  Some of you I will never have the privilege of meeting in person and that in itself causes a small scar on my heart because that part of me would love to thank you face to face for your friendship and your support.

When it seems that you won’t ever be able to make a scar go away, stop and think about what is causing this scar to re-open and hurt all over again.  Put things into perspective, then begin whatever healing process works for you.  I had to learn to just breathe.  When things get to be too much, I stop and just breathe, I focus on the whole aspect of breathing and nothing else because without breathing, what are we?  We are nothing but a corpse.  It may not work for everyone, but it is like the old saying, “Take time to stop and smell the roses”.  Take time for yourself, it is important in the grand scheme of things.  We all need it in one way or another.

Love also helps to heal, whether it is the love of a significant other, a best friend, or the love of your family.  Love is the most powerful emotion that we, as humans, get to experience and I feel sorry for those who will never know the meaning of true love. 

Laughter, yet another thing to help the healing process.  I had to learn to laugh again.  I had let laughter leave my life and when I did laugh, it always seemed to me as if it were forced.  But now, I laugh freely and with all the gusto of life itself.

Love hard and completely, Laugh as if no one were listening, and Live...live life to its fullest because we never know when we will draw that final breath.  And breathe, breathe in the smells of the world good, bad or otherwise. 

Love to all,

~RaveynAngel

The Paranormal, Ouija Boards and the End of Days

What I am about to share with you is my opinion, you may not agree with me, or you may think that I am full of shit for believing this, but it IS my opinion, my belief and if you don’t share my side that’s fine. I don’t mind friendly debate, but please keep it civil.
I am going to start at the beginning, so that you will know where I am coming from and why I have these thoughts. (The first part was included in a blog that I shared called Ouija Boards: My Thoughts and Experiences. https://www.facebook.com/notes/brenda-rene%C3%A8-fulbright/ouija-boards-my-thoughts-and-experiences/1474448729468594 )
It was the summer of 1972, I was almost 5 years old and we were at East Side Baptist Church in Topeka, KS. It was after church and they were having a record/book burning bon fire. (For the record, I now believe these to be wrong, but I do understand how religion works as I was a bona fide preacher’s kid.) A teenage girl walked up to the fire with a board game of some sort and threw it onto the fire, within seconds the fire caught it and I heard an inhuman scream and saw a green flame shoot from the box. I also noticed that no one else reacted; meaning no one else heard or saw what I did. I was confused because I couldn’t figure out what kind of board game would do that. A little while later another teenager had another one just like it and was walking towards the fire. This time I really looked at the box and saw the word Ouija on the lid; I didn’t know what it was and was too timid to ask my dad, who was standing right next to me. Within a few seconds the fire caught it and again, I heard that inhuman scream, but this time, I saw a shape in the blue flame that shot out of the box. I also noticed that again, no one reacted, I’m pretty sure that I am the only one who witnessed these things.

Shortly after that, the movie The Exorcist was released and people went nuts over it. There was a family in our church that went to see it and after a month they still wouldn’t sleep with the lights off. Our preacher, of course, was telling how horrible it was and that no one should go see it. (I feel the need to mention that going to see movies was against their beliefs so of course, they were preaching against it.) I’ve seen the movie, and I happen to love it.

Back in the 80’s, there was a movie made called Witchboard; there was one truth in that movie…well, there were a few, but this one in particular is the “important one”; never ever play with a Ouija board alone. The reason, it doesn’t take but one person to open the portal, but it takes two or more to close it.

In recent years there has been an influx of paranormal movies and ghost hunting shows including one called Ouija. Back in the day, people didn’t talk about ghosts; you would be thought to be crazy if you did; but now it’s pretty awesome if you are a ghost hunter, a medium, or a psychic. I am what’s called a sensitive, I was given the gift of being able to sense spirits, I can tell if they are safe or malevolent, and even if they are male or female; I can also see and speak to them. I have had this ability ever since that bonfire in 1972 or at least that is when it became active.
For the past 10 television seasons there has been an extremely popular show called Supernatural. I’m not going to lie I am a huge fan of the show and the stars. However, I believe that there is a LOT of truth behind this show, that there is fact mixed in with fiction and I will explain why a little bit at a time.

With the explosion in the popularity in the Ouija Board I believe that people are being irresponsible in messing with them.  I was watching Ghost Adventures a while back and in this episode they decided that it would be a good idea to call upon a demon using a Ouija Board. The issue that I had was that they brought in a couple who had already used one to call on this particular demon, Zozo, before. The woman on there was either completely strung out on drugs, or that demon really was there and had possessed her. Now, you may or may not believe in possession, but I believe that it happens.

Now, when you consider all of the people out there who have decided that it’s a cool thing to play with a Ouija or Spirit board alone, you need to think of all of the open portals out there. You may not believe in the paranormal, in ghosts, in demons or angels, but I do. And I believe that the veil between worlds has gotten so totally thin that they are now walking our plane with ease. I also believe that there are those out in the world who are so completely evil that in my mind, the only explanation is that they are possessed.

A while back, I was watching videos on YouTube about “shape shifters” and such, and there were some where you could see the person’s eyes change. I know…I know, that could be a camera flare, lighting issues or it could be manipulated by software, however, a few of the people that were in these videos have been linked to the Illuminati. Do I believe in the Illuminati? Yes, I do. Do I believe that they are Devil worshippers? Sure. Do I think that everyone believes that they exist? No, and I am not going to try to change your mind about it. However, the fact that a specific symbol shows up in numerous music videos, CD covers, etc… is enough to at least make you wonder.

What I am saying is that what if the increased usage of Ouija/Spirit Boards has opened up doorways from Hell to here? What if they really are walking among us? What if people in power have been possessed by demons whose only goal is to destroy our world as we know it? What if the Bible is right…and it is closing in on the end of days? It’s just something to think about.

For the record, I am a Christian, and I do believe in the end of days, I don’t know if it’s near or not, but I will admit that things are definitely a little dicey in our world right now, and I don’t see it changing any time soon.

Encouragement

I am going to “reveal” a few things about myself in this that I wouldn’t normally talk about. I am not doing it for pity, or to get any sympathy; but I am doing this because it is due to this tidbit that I have finally decided on a New Year’s Resolution. My resolution is to be an encourager, to do my best to lift people up and not tear them down. Will I slip up and forget, sure I will, I’m human. But I will just keep persevering because it is important to me.
The thing is that growing up, we all thought that we had figured out what we want to be when we grow up, and for some, their ideas changed daily. Some wanted to be a police officer, or a fire fighter, others wanted to be a rock star, or an artist. And the best thing that you can do when your children go through these phases is to encourage them! When I was in 8th grade, I was in the band, I played the flute (NO JOKES – I’ve heard them all, and the band camp one is the worst because EVERYONE brings that one up.). Anyway, we were each being called into the teacher’s office to discuss whether or not we were going to continue playing in the band in high school. Everyone was so excited because of course we all wanted to. I had held first, second or third chair off and on since 5th grade, and I wasn’t bad; but when I got into the office, he shut the door, sat down, looked me in the eye and said, “You aren’t going to sign up for band in high school are you?” It was the way he said it, like he didn’t want me to…I was heartbroken, but being the person that I was back then, I returned his look, dead in the eye, and said, “Obviously you don’t want me in band in high school, so I don’t think that I will.” I got up, walked out the door and didn’t shed a tear until after class when I hid out in the bathroom, pretended to be sick and went home. I will never forget that moment, and when I told my parents what he had said, they dismissed it as if it was nothing. They didn’t encourage me to practice harder, to prove to him and myself that I was worthy of being in the band, they just dismissed it, they dismissed my heartbreak and they dismissed my tears.
Fast forward to my junior year in high school; I had been in choir all of that time and my boyfriend at the time convinced me to try out for one of the solos in our Christmas Concert, so I did. No one knew that I had a three octave range; that I could sing. After the band incident, I had pretty much turned inward. I kept to myself and kept my head down; completely opposite of what I am now. I got up to try out and even my teacher was shocked, the look on her face made me feel good because I nailed it. I had so many people after class tell me that they didn’t realize that I could sing. The next day the solo was given to someone who had sung solos in our concerts since we were freshmen because the teacher wanted someone who had done it before and she wouldn’t have to worry about me getting stage fright. I looked her in the eye and informed her that the previous summer, at church camp, I had sung a solo in front of 1500 people, so stage fright wasn’t an issue. She didn’t even bat an eye and still gave the part to the other girl. Again I was crushed, but I wanted to sing and I was determined to do it professionally whether I got that damn solo or not. But again when I got home, there was no encouragement to keep going. A year later, while singing a solo at church, I damaged my vocal cords and my three octave range was gone, I can barely do 1 ½ octaves if I’m lucky.
I wanted to go to college, but I didn’t know that there was such a thing as financial aid, my counselor never told me, so I thought that my only option was BBC (Baptist Bible College) where I could have attended for free because my dad was a preacher. And even back then that was NOT happening. But whenever I would mention wanting to go to college, I got nothing. I was told that they couldn’t afford to send me to college, so I just needed to get a job and pay for it myself. It didn’t matter what I wanted to do, it was always met with indifference.
Don’t get me wrong, my parents did the best that they could for us. I don’t think that even they knew anything about financial aid for college. But when I was younger, I felt like no one believed in me, and I think that sometimes that carries over into my adult life because I am constantly second guessing myself, but I am working on that and trying to remain confident.
When my children were growing up, I tried to always encourage them no matter WHAT it was that they were doing, I still do it now. And now, they return that encouragement. I can’t even begin to tell you how it makes me feel that I am finally doing something that my kids can be proud of me for, and they are, and they let me know it!!
Encouragement is something that we all need; not all the time, but when people get down, it’s great to hear someone tell you, “You got this!” or “You can do it!” Sometimes I feel like I am starving for encouragement, but I get over that when I start looking through my pictures on fb and reading the comments.
So for the second part of my resolution; if you are feeling down, or less than confident, and you need some encouragement, or just someone to listen to you, I’m here. I want you all to know that you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to do, never give up, don’t listen to the haters and be confident…you got this!

Boycott WWE Raw for ONE Week

I am calling for a one week boycott of Monday Night RAW. Why? Well, let me explain.

Ever since the brand split, it’s as if the writers for Raw think that they have it made, that they don’t even have to try, while Smackdown has been putting on PPV level matches, offering amazing story lines and now, in the lead up to WrestleMania, they are building the matches and the rivalries and it is rapidly becoming WWE’s Flagship show. Yes, I know what that means and that title can never really be taken from RAW, but I think you get what I am saying.

Raw seems to be skating along, thinking that they can’t be touched while I see more and more of the WWE Universe getting more and more bored with the RAW product. It is so bad to me that I wish that when Finn Balor returns they will put him on Smackdown where he will be booked properly and not underutilized like so many of the “smaller” wrestlers do on RAW.

Honestly I only watch RAW because of a handful of wrestlers, but their storylines are getting weaker and weaker to the point of redundancy. Something seriously has GOT to give. 

My proposal is for everyone in the WWE Universe to boycott RAW for just one week. Just one…and in turn, tune in to Smackdown. Let’s show Vince that we deserve better, that his TALENT deserves better, that the RAW writers need a fire lit under their collective asses and they had better start putting out a better product, one that will give Smackdown a run for their money, or the WWE Universe will keep speaking loud and clear by not saying a word, but by no longer watching RAW. I will miss my favorites, but they do deserve better, SO much better!!

Monday, March 26, 2012

Roxy and Bill

Roxy sighed as a tear slid silently down her cheek.  She knew that it would be over if she told him, but honesty and being up front with people had always been so important to her.  How could she live with herself if she didn’t tell him?  Not telling him would be lying by omission, and she was determined not to lie.

With tears falling freely down her face, she slowly dialed his number.  When he answered, she choked up so much she didn’t think she would get the words out, “I have to tell you something.”  His reply was, “I think I already know, but what is it?”

“I’ve tried so hard to keep this on the level that we agreed on, ‘friends with benefits’, and I’ve truly been alright with it, until now.  I’ve developed feelings for you and I can’t deny them any longer.  I’ve tried.  And I know that by telling you this, you will want to end it.”  By this time, her eyes were so full of tears she could barely see.

“You’re right,” he responded, “you knew what this was from the beginning, sex and fun, with no strings.”

“If I can get my perspective back, would you give me another chance?  I know that in the back of your mind, you would always wonder if it would happen again, but I promise I’ll be ok with it.”

“You really don’t want to get involved with me, I really am an asshole.” He said quietly, “I don’t deserve the tears you are crying.”

“You are NOT an asshole!  Never to me, not once.”

“Roxy, I am just a big dick.”

“Not a good analogy Bill, really.” She dead-panned.

Roxy was trying for humor even though she felt that familiar pain in her heart.  They both chuckled.  The conversation went on for a couple more minutes, then she said good bye and hung up.

Heading straight for the kitchen, getting the vodka and orange juice out of the refrigerator, she poured herself a double strong one and started drinking.  She went out onto her deck and sat down, crying and trying to make sense of it all.  “Damn it! Vodka always makes me think, but NEVER in the order that I need it to be in, not until tomorrow when it will all fall into place.”  But she needed the comfort and assurance now, not in 24 hours.  Well, hell, I’m crying and now it starts raining!  So she went inside and poured herself another one.  Drinking even more and trying to block the memories of the past few weeks. (Yeah, like that was going to happen.)

It had started out as friendship.  They were sitting in a bar, just a couple of the regulars, when some guy she didn’t know came staggering up to her and asked her about a one night stand.  Roxy’s answer was, “I don’t do one night stands, I am not into casual sex.”  Bill had laughed and said, “Me neither, 2 or 3 nights, but never just one.”  After that, she just wanted to be around him.  He was always making her laugh, and feel really good about herself.  He blushed whenever she would say something even the slightest bit dirty, which was funny to her.  Her favorite time was when the karaoke DJ played Crazy Bitch by Buck Cherry for her, and she announced to Bill that she was wearing the thong that she had bought at the Buck Cherry concert right then. 

She always made sure that she was dressed nice, but not too over the top, she didn’t want to overdo it.  Then one Saturday night, she got a call telling her to get her ass up to the bar.  So, she changed her shirt, put on her baseball cap and headed up to the bar.  That was the first time he asked her to come home with him.  She laughed and told him that she had been dressing up a little for him to notice her and it was her ratty baseball cap that did him in.

That night was amazing.  She had never had a lover who was so in tune with her needs without asking her what she wanted or what she liked in a very long time.  He knew exactly what buttons to push to make her come like a fucking freight train.  At one point, he had her ankles up by his head hitting that spot that made her damn near scream.  His favorite form of torture was to just put the tip just inside, and moving very slowly, waiting for her to beg…making her whimper like a puppy.  But he loved the sounds she made so he did this often.   He also would run his hands over her arms and back, just barely skimming her skin, this always caused shivers, more coming and occasionally, an orgasm or two.  She was barely able to walk after their marathon sex sessions, but she had to.  Staying the night too often was too much like dating and that wasn’t part of the agreement.

Texting Bill was fun.  She could say things that she might not be able to say out loud to him, but had so much fun with that aspect of their “relationship”.  In one conversation, she told him how the elements just “do it” for her.  You know, thunderstorms, rain, fog, snow, water of any sort, but that she had never joined the mile high club.  She told him that she wanted to fuck in the rain, feeling the rain on her back like hundreds of fingertips skimming her skin, but that wasn’t feasible where he lived, so she suggested that she show up wearing the “fuck me” boots (Black knee high boots with silver buckles and 5 ½ inch stiletto heels.  Bill was the one who named the boots.), sexy lingerie and her black trench coat, he liked the idea, so she did it.  The look on his face was priceless when he opened the door and saw her standing there wearing the trench coat opened just enough to expose a little leg, well, the boots at least. 

He drew her into the house, closed and locked the door, then knelt down in front of her removing her underwear, then the bra, “Leave the boots and the coat on, he breathed into her ear.”  They were in the bedroom by now and he bent her over the bed and took her from behind.  The whole experience of it had her almost mindless and screaming.  Yes, he is that good.

It was a few days later, in the bar that he bought her drinks for her.  She was broke, trying to catch up on bills after some pretty rough months, but things were getting better, it was just taking time.  They were laughing and talking and writing dirty one liners on the little white board in the bar.  Hers had been, “The wolf told Little Red Riding Hood, ‘Bitch suck my dick!’”  She said, “Dude, don’t change the story, you’re supposed to eat me!”  He again, blushed but laughed.  They always laughed, even in bed. 

While they were talking, she told him that she had a smart assed, but sort of serious question to ask him.  So, she looked him in the eyes and asked, “Does this count as the 2nd night, or is it a freebee?”  He told her that he really wasn’t sure.  After a couple more drinks, she told him that she really needed to get home and to bed.  It had been a long week, and it was only Tuesday.  When she got home, she texted him to let him know that she had made it safely.  That started the next round of “erotic” texts.

He asked her to come to his place, she said that they both needed their sleep.  His next text made her smile and start to get a little warm, it simply stated, “Sleep is over rated, I should have went back to your place.”  She reminded him that she knew where he lived and was fully capable of getting there.  The next text got her hot, “Then stop texting me and get over here”, then, “Wear the boots.”  By this time, she had already stripped down to a t shirt and a thong which was a little damp from the texting, and the request.  She quickly grabbed her ripped up jeans, zipped up the boots and practically ran out the door.

He was at the door waiting as soon as she got out of her truck.  That night, they fucked like rabbits.  So many positions, so little time, but she was bound and determined to change his mind about the 2 or 3 nights, and she had a plan.  Nothing devious mind you, simply beneficial for the both of them.  But it wasn’t the proposition she wanted to think about right now, it was the details of that night.

Once she got inside the door and he had shut and locked it, he pinned her against it and kissed her, it was demanding, overpowering and she could feel her knees going weak.  He kissed her mouth until she was sure her lips were swollen, he then kissed her cheeks, her ear lobes, then lower to her neck and the tops of her shoulders, knowing what this did to her. 

She put her purse down and he had her shirt pulled over her head before she could say a word.  More kisses, he started at her shoulders where he had left off.  Leaving a trail of kisses across her collarbone, down to her breasts (this memory made her snort with laughter because in her own opinion of herself, she didn’t really have breasts…they were really small, but with very large nipples.  Her nipples were a constant source of embarrassment when she was younger, but had met a couple of men who were in absolute heaven over that aspect of her body.)  Bill didn’t seem to mind them; in fact, he made it a point of paying the most delicious attention to them, usually leaving her gasping for air.

At some point one of them had removed her bra, but she couldn’t remember which one of them had done it.  As he had been kissing her and enjoying the feast of the nipples, he had been guiding her to the bedroom where she had undone the button and zipper on her jeans, as she was taking them off, he told her to put the boots back on.  She discovered that these boots, for whatever reason, made her feel confident, almost powerful, and this was one hell of a power trip.  After the “second round” she giggled and told him that she half expected the ring girl to come through with the sign for round three.  By this time it was going on 4 in the morning and he had to be at work by 8.

They were snuggling together under the light blanket, when she realized, she had had numerous orgasms, too many to count, she was practically exhausted, and he hadn’t come yet.  She wasn’t sure why she asked, but she did.  He told her that it wasn’t her.  Roxy laughed and told him that she was going to take that the good way since there was really two ways to interpret that statement.  He then said that to him, that was a gift.  It wasn’t fair because once a man comes, there is always the recovery time, and that was wasting time for more fun.  “Speaking of gifts, I have one for you.  He was lying on his back, she started at his mouth, trailed kisses down his neck, across his chest, down his stomach, and then, without any warning, she wrapped her mouth around him and sucked all of him in.  She was licking up and down his shaft like she was licking an ice cream cone.  Slowly she worked her way lower until she had his balls in her mouth.  She loved the way they felt.  She licked them, sucked on them then worked her way back up to the tip of his cock, where she then teased him like he did her, taking just the tip into her mouth over and over while listening to his breathing, waiting for that exact moment when she took all of him into her mouth again.  After a couple of minutes, he pulled her on top of him, so that she slid down on him, wrapping him in the heat and wetness of her pussy.  She rode him; then when he least expected it, she lifted herself off and began licking his cock again, tasting both of them, like a cat lapping up cream from a saucer.

"You really need to get some sleep; you have to be at work so much earlier than I do.”  He said, “Yeah, you get to go home and go back to bed.”  He stretched out on his back while Roxy was lying next to him with her right arm across his chest and her right leg slung across his. 

“Mmmmm…..I like falling asleep in your arms.  Please don’t take that the wrong way; it is just nice to fall asleep in someone’s arms”.  He hugged her closer, if that was humanly possible, and within a few seconds, it seemed, he was asleep.

A few hours later he woke her up with kisses on her neck and shoulders, rolled her over and woke her up the way she loved being woke up, with his cock sliding into her.  He was gentle at first, and then picked up the pace.  The next thing she knew, it was 7:15 and he had 45 minutes to get to work.

A couple of nights later it was Ladies Night at the bar they frequented and she decided to go up for a couple of drinks.  She had already determined that she was going to renegotiate their arrangement.  He got there a little after she did, smiling when he saw her.  His smile always made her stomach clench, places a little lower clenched up too.  Damn, just looking at him made her horny.  She knew that she had to talk fast.

She was on her second drink when she told him that she wanted to open negotiations.  That she wasn’t satisfied with the 2 or 3 night rule, especially when she knew that if he decided to stick to it, she would only have one more night with him.  So, she stated that she had been doing a lot of thinking and thought that they were good for each other, at least in bed, and she wasn’t willing to give that up.  So, she proposed the “Friends with benefits” package.  He asked her if she would still be alright with it if he wanted to take someone else home. “Of course I would.  Look, a couple of failed marriages, several failed relationships and being a social recluse for a few years has made me a little more cautious.  Besides, I’m no more looking for a relationship than you are.”

He told her that he would think about it and let her know.  By this time the damn cheap whisky that she was drinking was starting to get to her, so she told him that she really had to get home.  Like always, she texted him when she got home to let him know that she had made it safe and sound.  This night was a little different, she was sick.  Never again would she consume that much cheap whiskey, she would stick with what she loved, Jack Daniels.

His response to the text that she was home was answered by this, “Good thing, I was about half expecting you to pull into my driveway and ask for negotiations to begin.”  She texted him back “too drunk, waiting for the room to stop spinning or for the puking to begin.  I am so sorry.”  Then she quickly sent another one, “So is my offer still up for negotiations?”  His response, made her so hot and bothered that she was trying to figure out if she could get to his house.  It read, “Do you really think you have to ask the guy whose dick your fingers were just wrapped around, if it is UP for negotiations? Yeah I’d say it’s on the table.”  She fired back, “It was my mouth that was wrapped around your dick.”  He replied, “Your mouth was not, at least not tonight in the parking lot.  Nice memory.”  He had walked her to her truck, and was wearing jeans with holes in them.  She had boldly reached up inside his jeans and grabbed his cock, something that was normally out of character for her.  But just being around him made her bolder, more sure of herself, very confident.

She didn’t go over to his house that night, that would have been a really stupid move since nothing she did would stop the room from spinning and stop her stomach from reeling from drinking 5 or maybe even 6 drinks that night.  She finally said good night and that was that for the night.

The next day she kept finding funny, but somewhat sexy sayings to send to him.  The first one said, “A good friend always makes sure you get home at night with your panties on.”  She added, “A friend with benefits takes them off for you.”  He thought that was funny.  The next one she sent said, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me, so roll me over smack my ass and show me that you want me.”  He didn’t respond to that one, so she apologized for it, then he told her that he thought it was funny too, but had been to busy to reply.

It was the next night, after Ladies Night that sort of confused her.  She had asked him what he was doing and he told her that he was just going to stay in, rent a couple of movies, order a pizza and have a few drinks.  Then he asked her if she would like to join him.  Not even stopping to think, she told him that she would love to.  “What movies are you going to get?”

“Not sure, going to have to see what they have.”

“Ok, well I get off work at 8 and have to run by my apartment for my phone charger, then I will be there by 8:30 or a little after.”

“Sounds like a plan, I will see you then.”

When she stopped to grab her phone charger, she changed shirts.  She put on a black cami top with her black and pink bra underneath, he liked that bra, and his eyes always lit up when he saw it, like a kid in a candy store.  She also put on “the boots”, as they were called now.  She still knew that in the back of his mind, they would always be his “fuck me” boots, and no one else’s. 

Roxy knew that thinking about this night required one more drink, it confused her.  While fixing her third vodka and orange juice, she remembered his kisses when he answered the door to let her in.  Just thinking about it made her tremble with desire.  “Damn it!” she mumbled under her breath.  The reason for the confusion was, why on earth would he go to so much trouble for her?  He hadn’t ordered the pizza yet because he didn’t know what kind she liked, good thing, she is allergic to pepperoni and onions, and it wouldn’t have been a good thing if he had ordered something with tons of pepperoni on it, she was out of her Benadryl.  The other thing was that he didn’t think that she would drink the kind of whiskey he did, which was Maker’s Mark, so he had bought her a fifth of Jack Daniels.  The movie that he had chosen was Underworld 3: Rise of the Lycans, a movie she had just been dying to see.  If this was just sex and fun, why did this night feel like a kind of date?  Ok, sure, they weren’t going out, they were staying in, so she knew that there would definitely be sex, but he ordered her favorite pizza, Italian Sausage with extra cheese.  They waited until the pizza got there to start the movie, but were talking about movies and music, and kissing and touching, she knew that if this kept up, they wouldn’t get through the movie.  He started the movie, and they ate their pizza.

She got to see about 15 minutes of the movie before their clothes were flying. (Somehow her bra ended up on the other side of the room.)  They were both naked and he had her legs wrapped around him, when he told her to hang on tightly.  He easily lifted her up and carried her into his bed, she was already coming with the anticipation of what she knew was yet to come.  That night, she gave as much as he did, learning the places on his body that made him squirm under her touch.  She used a feather touch with her fingers to make him gasp with desire combined with her mouth and body; they made love practically all night.  The next morning he told her where he had an extra toothbrush and they had sex again.  (This thought made her wonder if he still had that toothbrush.  He told her it would be there for her.  More confusion.)
  She left his house a little after 10 am and headed home to get a little sleep, which never happened, too much to do.

It was almost a week before they could hook up again.  They both were extremely busy, but she wanted to see him before he left to go out of town, and she had to go get her daughter who was coming home for the summer.  They both knew that it could be a while before they could get together again.  Those texts were nice too.

“I’m getting my daughter on Saturday!!  I am so excited.”

“Is it permanent or just for a while?”

“Just 2 months, for the summer, but I will have to share her with her friends.”

“Do you think that she would share you with me some evenings?”

“Probably, she wants to meet you, she is totally fascinated by your tattoos.”

“I think that I could let her check out the tattoos if she will share you with me.”

Remembering this conversation brought on a fresh wave of tears for something that she knew she had fucked up.  That last night they had spent together was more than she could ever imagine, but the whole time, she kept feeling as if it were good-bye.  And now, in retrospect, she realized that maybe it was.

So for now, she was waiting…waiting because she had put the ball into his court.  It was his move.  She had calmly explained to him that if she had the balls to tell him, KNOWING how he would react, then she had the balls to let him know if she was developing feelings again and would just text him and say, “I’ll catch you in a few days.  I’ll talk to you later.”  That would be their code that she was getting too close and needed to step back and gain perspective on the situation again, then they could go back to the way they liked it.  She knew that she had the strength to do this, he had given her that strength, and he was worth it.

Let the waiting begin.  She will still cry tears of absolute anguish knowing that he is worth every bit of emotion she feels for him.  She would wait, hoping that one day the walls he had so carefully constructed around his heart to not feel love would crumble down, and he would realize that she was the one responsible and come back to her.  If he didn’t, then she would chalk it up to the best two weeks of her life, and hopefully they could still be friends.

Not the end….just waiting for the next chapter in Roxy’s life to begin.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Pictures and Things


Webster’s Dictionary defines the word Choice as, “the act of choosing”.  Everyone has a choice.  We have those who have gone before us to thank for this.  I was scrolling through my news feed this morning and came across a picture that one of my friends had commented on.  The picture was nicely set, good lighting, and was in no way exploitative or pornographic.  But some of the comments left on that particular picture shocked me.  

Women have fought for equality for many years, and in some ways we get it, and in some ways we don’t.  But do the things that we don’t get treated equally in make us any less of a person?  No, it doesn’t.  Does a picture posted of a woman in lingerie automatically make you think that she has low self-esteem, or that she was exploited in any way to get her to pose for that type of picture?  I don’t see it that way.  Do you immediately think the worst of the photographer?  I don’t.  20-some years ago I would have posed for a picture like that, but since having three children, I wouldn’t now…but that doesn’t mean that I am uncomfortable in my own skin, on the contrary, I am VERY comfortable in my own skin, but I know how harshly women are judged whether in person, or in print.

As I said, the more comments that I read the more shocked I got.  Even though the young woman in the picture stated that it was her idea, there were women on there who attacked her for it.  I would wager a guess that if this photographer had posted a picture of a man with no shirt, all oiled up and very well defined, that those same women who were tearing this young lady apart, would be some of the first to download that picture, or share it or make comments on how fine he looked.   I could be wrong, but I have known so many women who constantly complain about the objectifying of women, and how women aren’t treated equally, but turn around and will share pictures of half naked, if not almost completely naked men on their profiles and think nothing of it.  How is that any different?  It isn’t.  That model made the choice to pose that way; they made the choice to wear what they did.  It had nothing to do with low self-esteem, they were not coerced, they weren’t forced…they made that choice on their own, don’t condemn them for their choice that they made, just because you don’t agree with it. 

Just because this model was posing in lingerie, it was automatically assumed that she was a slut or a whore by some that commented.  Why?  Just because I may post a picture of a female model in a thong, or in a pair of jeans that have the ass ripped out of them…does that define who I am?  No, it doesn’t.  Just because someone has the talent to write an erotic short story or poem, does that define them as that kind of person?  No, it doesn’t.  People are so quick to judge others by the pictures, poetry, or short stories that they post on the various social media sites. Why do people feel the need to be so judgmental and quick to assume the worst?  Have we, as a society become so close minded that we can’t see the beauty in all things…regardless of the subject matter.  People like to say that they aren’t close minded…but think about it; why couldn’t the women who didn’t like that picture just ignore it and go on?  Why didn’t they take the couple of seconds that it takes to hide it from their news feeds?  I will tell you why, it is their own self-doubt, it is their own lack of self-esteem, it is their hatred for anyone who is prettier, or smarter, or more successful than they are.  I would do just about anything to have the body that I had when I was 20!  It’s still there, but well hidden under a few layers of chubby…lol!  I am not ashamed of how I look, I have three beautiful children that I brought into this world, that helped me to look this way, THAT is why I am comfortable in my skin. 

You may disagree with all of this, and THAT is YOUR choice to make.  A comparison that keeps popping into my head, and I know that I will probably take some heat for it, but this is my blog…no one else’s and I am going to say it.  There aren’t very many people who support Westboro Baptist Church or the members in it…they spew hate and discontent, and they teach those children to be the same way…some of the ladies (and honestly, I am using that word loosely.) that were saying some of the worst things reminded me of those people; full of hate and spewing that venom as far and as wide as they could to hurt as many people as they could.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Jumbled Thoughts

This time of year can be exceptionally difficult for some people, myself included.  I have experienced some of the worst things during the months of October through February that I sometimes wish that I could just be a bear and hibernate through these months.  


I lost a dear friend in a car accident this past Sunday, and the last time that I saw him, I didn't hug him like I normally did because I was in a hurry.  The guilt that I carry because of that is devastating, but I know that as time goes by, that pain will become a dull ache in my heart, and will just be added to the other aches that I carry.


This time of year is supposed to be filled with love, laughter and time spent with friends and loved ones, but I am seeing more anger and hate and discontent than I have ever witnessed.  The economy is such that there are so many that cannot do anything for their children for Christmas, and I for one, know exactly how that feels.  If it wasn't for the compassion of someone that I care very deeply for, I wouldn't have any money to get my children anything this year either.


One of the pages that I subscribe to on facebook posted this yesterday, it hit me like a ton of bricks:


Tell your parents, your friends and everyone important in your life how much you love them while they're alive and do it often...Don't wait for their funerals to express how much they mean to you...it's too late then, they won't hear you...Make them smile now, let them feel it now."

I am going to make it a point to always tell people how much they mean to me...even if they aren't speaking to me for whatever reason.  I am dealing with that as well with a couple of friends who are...well were, like family to me.

Love deeply, appreciate those around you, accept with compassion those who are less fortunate and Have a Merry Christmas.