I'm not writing too much lately, simply because I'm out DOING.

Life, at least in the current moment, entices me much more in experiencing it rather than taking a backseat with a pen and a pad of paper.

But I come back, as a moth to a flame, pregnant with need to create and be here as well.

In life, I rarely know what I want with much security and stability. I make choices only to change them the next day, after a night's rest and swirling dreams.

It's summer now and my plans are endless. But they do include being here, with you, whether you actually read me or not.

I'm lustful this evening. Horribly, naughtily, awfully lustful.

And I need you.

I feel like my sexuality is slowing coming back to me - the light blowing gusts of a spring breeze that causes me to extend my face into the air to feel as much of it as possible.

I reached over and took Bear's beautiful cock into my hand last night. I felt it, warm and soft, and coaxed it to life with tiny squeezes and strokes.

I wasn't looking for anything - I'm happy with re-introducing sex into our physically flawed relationship in small doses - but it was nice to know that he still responds to me in that manner.

I wanted, for a brief moment, to feel the sensation of our polar opposites. Wet soaking dry... soft over hard... male into female.

I think I'm finally getting my life back.

I've got the photography bug again. I'm thinking I may take some more pictures of myself - some nice pin-up shots that focus on my best, ahem, assets.

After talking about how I don't write for the kudos, I'm feeling the need for a little gratuitous back patting.

"... solitude is such a potential thing. We hear voices in solitude, we never hear in the hurry and turmoil of life; we receive counsels and comforts, we get under no other condition ..."

- Amelia Barr

I've tried a few times to begin this entry, but I'm just feeling so light and carefree that I can't put my exact emotions into words.

I spent the day alone today. Bear had to drive a few hours away to make a social security doctor's appointment (oh yes, the infinite wisdom of the government. Let's make a man who can barely make cross-town doctor's appointment without being in severe pain drive HOURS away to be certified as 100% disabled. Fucking geniuses!), so I was by myself from the time I dropped my daughter off at school until then time I had to pick her back up.

It was, in a word, AMAZING.

I spent the time picking up, watching television, doing laundry and (of course) masturbating. I had GREAT orgasms because I wasn't worried about being quiet. I used my poor, lonely rabbit vibrator and made myself come over and over. When my cunt was twinging too hard to reinsert my pink friend, I gave up and ran some errands.

I played music as loud as I wanted. It was freeing. Don't get me wrong, I love Bear. I like being around him. But this was my first time alone in my own apartment for probably a year, at least for more than an hour. It was just what I needed, and we need to figure out a way to continue that pattern.

Create. Clicking that button on my blogger account provides me with both pleasure and nervousness. Will I have any words spill forth onto the page? Will my usually fertile mind be a blank slate?

One of my largest fears is having nothing to say... feeling nothing. My writing doesn't spring from a shallow place; it has nothing to do with comments and popularity and meeting people. I write because I have to. I need to have something, anything to say. If I don't, I'm worried I'll fall back in line with the endless masses of people slowly suffocating to death in their mundane and boring 2.5 children white picket fences lives.

Today I was pondering routines and motivation. I always mean to do these great things with my life - I want to lose some weight, get my home more organized, cook at home more than I eat out any given week - and I do them. For awhile. After a week or so, without outside motivation, I crack and turn back to whatever I was doing before.

That was one positive thing about living in an active BDSM relationship. I felt driven to please and I wanted to change whatever needed to be changed to make him happy. It's unfortunate that we've slipped out of those patterns although, to be fair, I'm not anywhere near as submissive as I used to be.

I'll come back around again, I'm sure.

I'm the consummate people pleaser. Recently at work, my boss told me that I have the type of personality that makes people want to reach out and touch me (and believe me, even in my line of work, they still have). I'm the one they call up front when clients have issues. While I can be physically aggressive and have gotten in my fair share of altercations in my life (to put it mildly), I'm also immensely capable of pulling out my best doe-eyed, everything is going to be just fine personality to immediately soothe and calm even the most difficult person.

It's not something I'm proud of, necessarily. I have a variety of different personalities, all that fit me for various circumstances, but none that I'm really choose to wear longterm. I can be sweet, I can be mean, I can always get what I want when I want it, but I'd rather just be chill and be me.

I'm not sure if the more recent swing towards the zen side of the scale is because of the yoga I've been immersing myself in or if I decided to seek out the yoga to fit me in that manner but, whatever the reason, I'm finding myself VERY laid back lately.

Unless you piss me off.

Wow.

I collect girls. It's pretty amazing to me.

It's almost humorous to me, looking back on past websites and words that have flowed (sometimes violently and sometimes smoothly) from my mind and into physical form, how sexually free I used to be.

I almost don't recognize myself in those words, like this one from nearly a year ago...

"I knew as soon as he kissed me that it was a kiss with intent. Kisses of affection, kisses that bind us together in domestic life and partnership, have been the most common lately. This sort of kiss, filled with abandon and promise, was more than that.

It's no secret that I haven't been "doing the deed," as it were, quite as often as I'd like. I have a rather epic sex drive that is impossible to match or exceed for most people but, during our good periods, Bear has (literally) risen to the challenge.

Needless to say, I was a little hesitant to give in to his unspoken promises. To put it bluntly, the only thing worse than not fucking is starting to fuck and being put off. I'm simply not the type of girl who enjoys that.

But the hair pulling and choking that followed the kiss, well, I'm the just the type of girl who enjoys that sort of thing. And multiple orgasms... let's just say that they're high on my list of "to do's."

It's nice to be reminded that we're not roommates, and I've forgotten just how much I need a strong man in the bedroom. It was a wonderful weekend."

I mean, that was only a year ago. Things have changed SO much in that regard in only a year, with minimal health advances. I'm a little bummed, so to speak, but looking through past entries has also reminded me that when the weather starts to get warm I seem to go through a bit of melancholy until I move forward to embrace the season.

Eh.

"It just seems like you agree to have a certain personality or something. For no reason. Just to make things easier for everyone. But when you think about it, I mean, how do you know if it's even you?"

"People always say how you should be yourself, like yourself is this definite thing. Like a toaster, or something. Like you can know what it is, even. But every so often, I'll have, like, a moment, when just being myself in my life, right where I am, is, like, enough."

I feel like Angela Chase today. If you don't know who that is, I recommend rushing out to purchase My So Called Life on DVD as soon as possible. Angela Chase sums up my high school career (although I did tend to be a bit more like Rayanne) in a way that no other pop culture event has.

I'm WAY in my head recently. I'm stuck there, cocooned in thoughts and emotions and introverted ideas, thinking thinking thinking instead of living in the moment like the good Buddhist in me insists I should.

I'm not entirely sure where it's come from, either. Mainly a sense of feeling lost, presently, stuck in a cycle I can clearly see but am unable to crawl free from. I'm this unique person with all these thoughts, both healthy and unhealthy, but I'm constantly being pigeonholed into this personality that doesn't really fit or feel comfortable on me.

Right now, I don't even know what I want. I don't know how much of my desperation steams from this need to fit in or be who everyone seems to think I am, and how much of it is my genuine self.

It kind of sucks, to be crass for a moment.

I'm hoping my murky picture becomes clearer soon...