oops my computer died

hi kids

i’m well, slumpy is passing and the sex is good.

unfortunately the computer is not.  back as soon as i get back online from home…

no, no don’t worry… i’m never down more than a few days… me is a junkie don’tchaknow

in the meantime, go comment on ‘girl power’ or something…

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slumpy

i am feeling slumpy.

i’m also hormonal as hell because my monthly bill is due within days and that always (since i hit the mid thirties anyway) seems to need to lead to some kind of hormonal meltdown or at least total crankiness.

the pisser of it all is that i am utterly and completely aware of my hormonal status… once i have at least one meltdown.  i can’t ever seem to get that i’m heading for aunt flow until some kind of horrendous emotional maelstrom passes through and even then?  even once i’m aware?

i still can’t seem to get control of the damn train wreck.  i can see it happening, heck rational me is watching from the inside even, and yet i just cannot seem to control it.

i’ve had it pointed out to me in the past that perhaps the hormones around menstruation allow us to more clearly see our true feelings toward the events, people and things in our lives.  that somehow cutting off the usual control that one has over their emotional being will somehow allow greater clarity when rationality returns.  and you know what?

to some extent it’s true.

some but not all.

in some ways it really is kind of excellent to have no control over your emotional body for days on end.  shit gets moved around that’s for sure!  it’s just that sometimes it happens at some really inopportune times.  like when talking to your boss or running into your ex and you know?  not big on the raging OR the crying in front of either of those sorts.

lucky me it’s usually rage over tears which is somehow more socially acceptable.  [and why is that anyway?  hrm that's a whole 'nother post!] but still, how is it okay to let your cranky out all over people you love?

the answer is that it’s not.

so somewhere in there must exist a way to handle the hormonal surges in a more graceful manner.  right?

[for the record, i take calcium and vitamin d and folic acid and essential fatty acids every day and i drink lots of water and eat lots of vegetables and get tons of exercise... so it's not that.]

but that isn’t even the worst of it.  this month i have pms and march.  it’s grey and dreary and raining all the time.  there are puddles in all of the streets and the fuckers made me change my clocks and i always get the blues in early spring/late winter AND i have fucking pms.

but wait, it gets worse.  my slumpy assed mood is making me not feel like having sex (which, i’m kinda impressed to say, you totally can’t tell from my posts) which would otherwise help fight off the pms with like endorphins and stuff.   that said, here i am  not horny.  now i know the horny will return in the spring, in fact i can sort of feel the sap stirring way off in the distance even right now.

i swear i know how trees must feel when they first feel the ice loosening around their roots and they begin to feel rain rather than frozen water landing on their branches.  when somewhere way down in the heart of things something warms up by one degree and the whole tree sort of groans and shakes itself out and girds itself for another growing season.

i wonder if, just for an instant in tree time, the trees think “ahh fuckit, maybe i’ll skip it this year… nap a little longer…”

i’ve helped to make this disappear sooner in the past by forcing myself outside whenever i had time off, the sun was out and the temperature was above ten degrees.  that time is coming very soon and i know that i will start to feel little tickles in my loins on a more frequent basis and i know too that my boyfriend will help me to scratch those itches with much gusto.

in fact i even know how much my life totally rocks and that knowledge sits there like a warm little light in my chest, but…

but i still have the early spring blahs and i’m still dumping my cranky all over the place and i hate when i do that.  it will be a little better now because i’ve figured out the impending period and i know what’s going on but wow.  sometimes i think if there was a pill to get rid of it i would take it.

ah well… me and my slumpy ass are off to have a nap.   your suggestions are welcome of course.

girl power

it’s very difficult to post when you’re madly in love with the post that’s currently up [not to mention all the awesome comments!] that said, there’s some stuff swirling around in my brain that i want to get out.

firstly a couple of definitions according to the google:

A woman is a female human. The term woman (irregular plural: women) usually is used for an adult, with the term girl being the usual term for a female child or adolescent. …

girl:

  • a young woman; “a young lady of 18″
  • female child: a youthful female person; “the baby was a girl”; “the girls were just learning to ride a tricycle”
  • girlfriend: a girl or young woman with whom a man is romantically involved; “his girlfriend kicked him out”
  • a friendly informal reference to a grown woman; “Mrs. Smith was just one of the girls”
    • woman:

    • an adult female person (as opposed to a man); “the woman kept house while the man hunted”
    • womanhood: women as a class; “it’s an insult to American womanhood”; “woman is the glory of creation”; “the fair sex gathered on the veranda”
    • a female person who plays a significant role (wife or mistress or girlfriend) in the life of a particular man; “he was faithful to his woman”
    • i’ve been thinking about this girl/woman problem for a while now and i confess that i have yet to come up with an answer that pleases me. with apologies to chelsea and always aroused i find it interesting that three women, including myself, who are over thirty-five and, by all reports, smart and together and confident and dare i say powerful all call themselves ‘girl’ in their handles.

      this was brought more firmly into my consciousness when chelsea wrote a post about the word va-jay-jay and her enormous objections to its use. in a nutshell she doesn’t like the infantilisation of terms in relation to the feminine. that said, go read HER post and let her words tell you what she thinks rather than my terribly brief summation.

      here’s the bit that really got my attention:

      And this is exactly the main issue that I have with “va-jay-jay.” It’s precisely the way that the term is feminized through making it sound like baby talk. As a woman, I work very hard not to be viewed as a child. I bristle at attitudes, clothing, rhetoric, manners, music, advertisements, decorations, and language that treats me as if I am a girl. I was a girl. It was fine. I grew up. Now I’m a woman. Treat me like one.

      except here this thing… these are words written by a woman who uses the handle chelsea girl. a handle, by the way, which i think suits the person that blog represents extremely well. a handle which i at least reflect with my own badinfluecegirl as does alwaysarousedgirl with hers.

      i know that i don’t consider myself to be a child or a youth. i feel like a relatively mature human. i would consider myself a member of the tribe labeled adults and yet? and yet i call myself badinfluencegirl.

      i do that because my best friend named me one day while both of us were high off our asses and laughing that another friend had called me the devil. the moment i started this blog (many months later) i knew in my bones that that was the correct handle.

      had i heard of the other two before? aag was a distant blip on my radar and that’s all. i had never read her blog (foolish foolish me) nor had a i heard of chelsea and yet here the three of us are using similar naming conventions at relatively similar stages of life [please don't think that i speak for either of them hey.]

      so why do three mature and adult women who by all reports seem happy to be their respective ages and maturity levels call themselves girl? it’s certainly not to diminish who we are. it may be to make our impact more unexpected but… other than ‘call girl’ types i don’t know too many young bloggers using a nickname with the word girl in it.

      it seems to me that we are somehow calling ourselves ‘one of the girls’ as the definition above would imply. that in using this word we are proclaiming ourselves to be part of the sisterhood of women.

      but wait.

      doesn’t that almost mean that there are two words hiding in one here?

      that there is the regular word girl that means less than adult female but then there is also the word that means ‘girls’ as in ‘group of women or the collective ‘women’” or um… dammit.

      the logic doesn’t hold up. the collective women or group of women should be ‘just me and the women’ … it only sounds funny because we weren’t used to it. it’s not done yet. maybe, with common use, “going out with the women” would actually sound like something i would ever say.

      hrm but that doesn’t work either, men say they’re going out with ‘the boys’ to mean their gaggle or group as well and lots of them are seniors when they’re doing it.

      so which is it? if i’m a woman but not a girl then why does the handle badinfluencewoman or badinfluencelady or badinfluencechick sound so utterly lame in comparison to badinfluencegirl?

      why do i *know* that in calling myself girl i am in no way taking away from my womanness? why do i know that in my gut and yet still *know* that chelsea too is right on this one?

      which means, i suppose, that i have no idea.

      do you?

      past my bedtime

      [i didn't realize my new theme didn't have timestamps and i think this post is better if you know it went up at 4:41am]

      i want

      i want you right now. here and in my bed and naked and warm and awake and ready to scratch the raging itch between my legs.

      i want to feel your skin as it heats under my touch and hear your sigh as my fingers roam your body. hear my own breath soften and change when your fingers float along my edges; glorious edges, points and blades and angles beneath the softness of flesh.

      i want our toes to mate and our knees to mingle and our hair to get tangled and our nipples to rub against each other. feel the hair on your thighs and chest tickle my oversensitive skin as our bodies get to know each other anew. it’s always new even when it’s familiar with us.

      i want panting and groaning and moaning and sweat and inexplicable sounds of effort mixed with high pitched gasps and long slow sighs.

      i want you against me in as many points of contact as are feasible but most especially the lips. your tongue entwined with mine and thrusting as our breaths intermingle. soul kissing with every molecule from the nose to the toes.

      i want to tickle you with my hair and rake you with my nails and encircle you with my legs and squeeze. undulate my body against yours and smile my satisfaction when you react with a twitch or a shudder. watch your face as your tip and my entrance flirt and tease and slide and tell each other about their day.

      i want you to grow against me as our skin moistens and heats and i want to reach between us to help myself along, my fingers flickering on my clit as we continue to dance on my bed. hear you groan when i tilt my pelvis in that certain way and you are poised at the gate and you enter ever so slightly. just so slightly and no more and you sit and breathe and our faces begin to take on that look that they only get when we are fucking.

      i want to get stirred there at my entrance and feel myself open to you. open and slide you in a little more with each gentle sway of your hips until, like magic, there you are inside me as our hip bones nestle into each other.

      i want fucking for ages with dancing between positions and stopping for mouth on genital contact and teasing strokings and lickings. a timeless eternity as we flip and bend and contort on the bed without waking up too many of the neighbours.

      i want your balls to slap my clit and send me into further spasms when you take my hips and drive into me from behind or your fingers on my clit as we play variations on the letter X; your teeth gritted fighting coming even as my vagina spasms and gushes around you. changing positions again and again until i finally take you in my mouth and with a few quick strokes of my hand take your seed into my throat and swallow.

      i want to ride you with my hand until you come and come and come again before you flip me once more and have another snack on my sopping wet pussy.

      i want to pass out, tired and happy and sore at some point farther into the night than you arrived.

      i want to be satiated and yet?

      i want to wake up in the morning and fuck you some more.

      evolving

      i’m supposed to be writing a post right now. i can feel several posts swirling around in my brain but none of them are coming out. it’s kind of how i feel about everything this week actually, all disconnected and yet utterly fascinated.

      i have a couple of really awesome sex stories to tell you (and they’re even real!) and i need to review the cosmo guide to red hot sex and i should be sleeping and instead i’m writing this post.

      sexually i’m in the same boat. my pussy is itchy and moist but isn’t particularly in the mood to have me play with it. it’s not telling me not to you understand it’s just not begging for it.

      well that’s not true either. i have been so horny i was wriggling in my chair at least a few times this week but even then i couldn’t seem to sit down with the sexy writing.

      never fear, i haven’t lost interest in the blog or anything, i’m even growing up the template because i’m considering adding a few ads and the sidebar on the old one was WAY too long already. let me know what y’all think of the new look by the way…

      i know the beginning of both the stories i want to tell you and in fact one of them may get told from two perspectives but i haven’t decided yet. somehow it just ain’t there and you know what? it’s at times like these that i wish my two blogs were one.

      anyway i’m hitting a little obstacle and i haven’t figured out the way around it. you see my sex life with mr. big is evolving in ways that feel intensely personal even though they would also make incredibly good smut.

      and i’ve written the intensely personal stories with him before it’s just that they take a little while to come out of the keyboard. it’s a lot easier to write a nice dirty story instead you know? not that i write as many of those as i once did but anyway. it’s a lot easier to make up a stranger in a laundry room than it is to put something that’s actually happened into words.

      furthermore it’s significantly easier to put something that’s actually happened into words if you don’t care emotionally about the person or events in question but, you see, when it matters to you? when the outcome of the things you are writing about is to grow your relationship with someone you care deeply about?

      that’s hard to talk about. putting emotions out there for all to see? now that’s hard. doing justice to events that involve the physical and mental coupling of two people busy falling for each other in some great big romantic way? doing justice to that without writing the sappiest and lamest excuse for hot writing ever?

      that’s pretty damn difficult it is and i’ve been noticing some trends.

      it seems that whenever he and i do something or discuss something or somehow allow our relationship to grow in its significance i can’t write about our sexual experiences for a little while.

      like that post fall that i posted in november. that event actually happened about five weeks before i posted the story but that day was really big for us and it’s very bigness made it hard to talk about. here was this intensely personal experience that i had shared with this beautiful new man who had dropped into my life like a meteor.

      i identify with meteors since i was born during a meteor shower.

      here he was and here we were having all these really excellent experiences together and i’m supposed to write about our sex in a way that doesn’t violate that and it took me weeks to manage it.

      and now it’s happened again.

      i look forward to seeing what i write about.

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