I am awake. It is 6am in NY. I’ve been typing out emails and scribbling lists for a few hours now. The moment I think I’ve done my very last thing three more spring up in it’s place. It’s chaos and I love it.
When things are stagnate I begin to doubt myself. I begin to question my purpose. I pick at myself. I can be my worst enemy when things aren’t moving along. I need the perpetual chaos. The constant spinning of threads that wind and weave into ideas and plans. The grind is my friend. Rest is for the weary.
I don’t need a quiet mind. Not right now. Not when my personal life seems to be sagging. Maybe it’s me. My guard is way up high right now. It’s going to be that way for a while. Too many people have hurt me deeply. I’ve shed far too many tears as of late. I’ve tired of crying. Diving into work seems to be the best way to tunnel out of this.
I welcome you dear chaos. You keep my fires burning. My heart is filled with the bliss of accomplishment. My mind is crowded with noise. I’ll take those. I don’t think I could stand it being quiet right now.
I needed a boost and I got one at Catalyst Con West this past weekend. I needed to be surrounded and submerged in my work and the work of others. It is inspiring. It is nourishing. It’s like going to a family reunion filled with family you actually like. I never leave Catalyst empty headed. So many ideas have made there way to paper already. I’m still processing thoughts to share.
I shall enjoy the chaos for a little longer. Enjoy the madness. There is beauty to be found among these two.
But women can never be careful enough, can we? If we take naked pictures of ourselves, we’re asking for it. If someone can manage to hack into our accounts, we’re asking for it. If we’re not wearing anti-rape nail polish, we’re asking for it. If we don’t take self-defence classes, we’re asking for it. If we get drunk, we’re asking for it. If our skirts are too short, we’re asking for it. If we pass out at a party, we’re asking for it. If we are not hyper-vigilant every single fucking second of every single fucking day, we are asking for it. Even when we are hyper-vigilant, we’re still asking for it. The fact that we exist is asking for it.
This is what rape culture looks like.
This is what misogyny looks like.
— from What Happened to Jennifer Lawrence Was Sexual Assault (via catagator)
I have no expectations. None. I’m not searching for anything in his touch. There is no meaning in his smile. I’m just going to enjoy his attention. After months of feeling undesirable and unwanted I finally had a night where I felt everything but those things. I needed that night. I needed to ease back into my skin and remember the foxy lady that I am. I needed to hear someone call me gorgeous dozens of times. I needed to have them ask me if I was for really real of just a dream. (Yes, he said that. It was cute.) I needed to sit and flirt and make out. I needed all of my flaws to be seen through someone else’s eyes and be worshipped. I feel happy, content, airy and free. He freed me from the prison of my doubts. I’m still me. Sexy, awesome, charming me. It feels wonderful.
I won’t be diving into anything serious for a while. I’m going to take some more time to reconnect with myself. Remember who I am. I am not the weepy broken hearted girl. No, I am a sexy bubbly lady seeking pleasure and adventure. At least until the next time my heart is whisked away. Till then I have it locked up for safe keeping while I remember me. ;)
Little bruises round my wrist
The places where your fingers twist
The places where the ropes do burn
The places where you lips leave kisses in turn
On my knees all through the night
Where I shall stay till mornings light
Rugs may burn
Wood may bite
I shall not leave my post till those words your lips do cite
lustinsaz said: Have you had a fantasy involving a truck driver? Could you tell me that fantasy?
I have not had that kind of fantasy before. I’m sure I could conjure something up one night.