I don’t know about anyone else but this article blew me away this early Monday morning. What a load of crap! Obviously Joe Soucheray has some issues with women. Single moms to be more specific.

Still shaking my head…

If you never try something new you never move forward. For each step you take on your path in life is a new step. If you don’t take that new step you never go anywhere.

Trying my hand at another blogging site. I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it but I can honestly say starting new at something can definitely be confusing.

But if I can’t reach people in one venue, time to look for other venues that might just have a few people interested in what I have to say.

Here’s to trying something new…

Happiness is getting a colored picture, from a coloring book, just for me from my 20 year old that says “To:Mommy - I Love You! - From:Kaila”. I know I did something right in my life :).

Personal privacy.

Not something the internet allows. If it’s out there - it’s OUT THERE. Forever.

So why do we post and blog and tweet our entire lives for the world to see? Do we need to hear ourselves think? Do we need to find someone to sit down with us at our “pity party” so bad that we are willing to bear our self-victimized souls to the world looking for that one “misery loves company” enabler? Do we really need the “I’m ok” dysfunctional acceptance from people we don’t know and would never care about besides the fact they read what we posted and commented how sorry they were?

Before the internet the only person(s) you had to avoid if you didn’t want all your personal business relayed to the neighborhood was the town gossip(s). Now we are our own worst enemies. We are the town gossip talking about not just everyone else but also ourselves. Some things should stay private. Some things should remain a secret from the outside world.

I could tell you about the goofy things my kids and husband say all day long. I think some of them are funny, some are weird and some are down right disturbing. But it’s MY inside joke/laugh. Not meant for the world. You wouldn’t probably get it anyway and then it loses its humor. So I don’t share.

I could tell you what I had for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack. Where I was when I ate said meal. What I was wearing. When I have to work, when I get off work, what I’m doing after work and with whom. I can even GPS tag where I am at every moment and tag others with me.

You could stalk me all day long because I would be ALLOWING you too. Hell! I would be encouraging you to since I just told millions of people who could see where I was if they gave a shit EXACTLY where I was. So I guess you really wouldn’t be stalking me though would you……..

And people do this every day. Give away what little personal information they have left of themselves out there for everyone to see and comment on. Or take advantage of.

And we seem to be fine with that!

However, if someone DOES start to stalk us, make negative comments about our personal lives, et al THEN we get upset and tell them to “MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS”.

Can we say hypocritical much?????

Had a bad day? Hell, just tell the world.

Pissed at someone? Go right ahead and tell the world and of course “warn” the other person they better STFU “or else” (rolling eyes at that one because we all know you are much braver hidden behind the computer than you would be face to face).

Do ALL of it! Because you already do.

But don’t blame the world when you tell ALL and then someone decides to comment on it in a way you don’t like. You can’t have it both ways. Either deal with other people’s opinions about YOU telling all or STFU in the first place and don’t share every moment of your life with everyone.

Just because you can now share EVERYTHING does not mean you have to - or should. Some things are private for a reason.

Lord, grant me the ability to share that which is appropriate and keep to myself that which is not. And the wisdom to know the difference.

I’ve been saying this for years. Rear view mirrors are for cars. NOT life.

When you always look behind you, instead of in front of you, you focus on the past, not the present or future. While looking back brings fond memories to mind - lets us remember moments and people that mean something to us even in the present - it is not a way to live.

Social media allows us glimpses into other people’s lives. Sometimes more of a glimpse than we really want to see. But of all the glimpses that I see, the ones that disturb me the most are the posts about someone’s past. And not just a momentary blip, but a constant rehash of the past.

We all carry baggage from life. Some more than others. But when you add looking backwards all the time to the baggage we carry, you might as well just sit down on your life path, facing your past, surrounded by your baggage, and just sit there. It’s easier than moving forward with your head spun 180 degrees behind you dragging baggage that just weighs you down.

It’s fine, and healthy, to look back once in a while - remember where you’ve been - what it took to get to where you are now. It’s fine to carry a little baggage with you in life - to remember some things that should never be forgotten. It is NOT healthy to continue to relive the past, drag it with you wherever you go - not allowing the past wounds to heal. Once those wounds heal you can look back on the memory and it doesn’t hurt as much.

I’m not saying you should forget. I’m not saying the memory won’t have its stinging moments. But you need to move FORWARD. HEAL. EMBRACE THE MOMENT. You can’t embrace the moment when your arms are full of past baggage and wrapped around your person holding on so tightly to the past.

MOVE ON. MOVE FORWARD.

For some forgetting is the easiest way to move forward. For others talking about it is. But there are extremes to both of these ways and both extremes are not healthy. When you try to forget, it has a way of creeping up and slapping you in the face when you least expect it - and you are not prepared to handle it. When you talk about your past over and over again you find yourself mired in your own past, like quicksand, and find at some point that you are stuck. What started out as a theraputic way to work through the pain becomes the only thing you have left to hang on to - lest you drown in it. And the pain you hold on to holds you back - consumes you.

LET GO. MOVE ON. MOVE FORWARD.

I’m not saying it’s easy. Nothing worth doing ever is. But it is necessary.

Remember that loved one who passed and cherish the moments you had with them. Do not martyr yourself that you live and they do not. That’s not life. Take a moment and reflect, remember, smile - but don’t let it freeze you in the moment. Let it wash over you like a cool summer breeze and enjoy it. Close your eyes and remember. Then open them again and move forward.

Remember that difficult time and learn from it. Smile and be proud that you got through it - past it. No matter how many people helped you along the way YOU had to get through it yourself. Embrace that moment and realize how strong it makes you TODAY. Not how difficult it was yesterday.

Every once in a while stop on your life path and open a piece of that baggage you carry with you. Pick a memory that you find not so difficult to remember, hold it, remember it, let it wash over you and through you. Then set that piece of baggage on the side of the road and only take with you the memory - not the weight of it - as you move forward. Do this once in a while and over the course of time your baggage will be lighter, your steps easier, the path forward clearer.

REMEMBER. LET GO. MOVE ON. MOVE FORWARD.

There are so many times I want to remind people of this when I’m on a social media site. It’s not an easy thing to do. But I am a walking, talking example of how this can work - how it does work. That’s not to say I don’t have baggage. I even look behind me once in a while. And on the rare occasion I think to myself “what if”. But I don’t live in that moment. I live THROUGH it. And I MOVE ON.

Just imagine the moments in life you are missing by always looking backward. Turn your head around and LIVE.

Remember the past - live in the present - hope for the future.

Namaste

I have come to realize that no one can “sell their soul” to write a good book. A writer puts all their heart and soul into writing and there wouldn’t be anything left to sell…

Only share…

     It was dark by the time we got back to his place. I knew the moment he had asked me to come over for a drink that drinks were the last thing he had on his mind. I was more than okay with that.

     He was the kind of guy you didn’t turn down. Even a one night stand with him was worth having to leave before morning. There would be no regrets tonight. He was tall. His unruly, dark brown hair spiked in different directions, making me want to reach up and straighten them out. His pale blue eyes were striking. When they looked at you your soul was bared before him. He hadn’t shaved in about two days. The scruff on his face gave him a rugged look that was all too sexy for my own good.

     The black t-shirt he wore fit his shoulders and torso just right. Not too tight, but showing all his muscles to perfection when he moved. His jeans hugs his legs and back side in a way that left little for me to question. He was male perfection. And tonight, he was going to be mine.

     He opened the door to his place, letting me walk in first. I stopped just inside the door. He reached over and turned on the light in the hall before us, closing the door behind him. With a heart stopping smile on his lips he asked me if I was ready for a drink. All I could do was nod.

     I followed him down the hall towards his kitchen. He flipped the light on. He had a small bar in the middle of his kitchen with two tall bar stools. I sat down as he grabbed two glasses. After filling them with ice, he poured some liquid in them. I didn’t care what it was.

     He handed me my glass. We both took a healthy mouthful of the alcohol. It was smooth, warming my insides as it went down. Not that I needed any warming up. I was plenty warm already.

     After a moment he offered to show me around his place. He walked around the bar and grabbed my hand. We each carried our drinks as he led me out of the kitchen. He showed me the living room, with its plush cream carpets and earth tone furniture. Next was his office. Very much a man cave of electronics and books. He pointed out the spare room and bathroom as we passed them.

     Last on the tour was the master bedroom. It was a large room. Plush dark grey carpet covered the floor – the kind you can really sink your feet into. The main feature in the room was the four poster king sized bed. A dark burgundy comforter covered the bed, with large pillows piled at the top. Rich colored curtains covered the window, keeping out the lights of the night. On the wall opposite the bed was a door that opened into what was probably the master bathroom.

     He had turned on a low lit lamp on the night stand. I had only walked into the center of the room – taking it all in. It was a simply decorated room, but spoke of money and elegance. Both I would have also attributed to its owner.

     He set his drink down on the night stand and walked over to where I stood. He took my drink from me, reaching out with his other hand - finding mine, and led me to the side of the big bed. He put my half finished drink down next to his.

     With one hand under my chin he raised my face up, his other arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me close. I looked into his eyes, mesmerized. My arms wrapped themselves around his neck as his head dipped towards mine. My eyes closed as I felt his lips brush mine. My heart raced as his lips teased the corners of my mouth. The hand that was under my chin reached around behind my head, fingers entangling themselves in my hair. My head fell back, eyes still closed, as his mouth placed little kisses along my jaw line, down my throat, behind my ear.

     My breath was shallow and quick. I arched my back, pressing my body closer to his. His arm tightened around my waist, crushing me to him. He pulled his head back just enough to find my lips with his, urgently parting them with his tongue. My body felt like it was melting into his. My tongue met his, both of them dancing together as the heat of desire flamed between us.

     Without breaking the kiss, I slowly moved my hands from around his neck to his chest, down his well formed abs, to where his shirt disappeared into his jeans. I yanked up the front of his t-shirt, putting my hands under it to run them over his bare skin. His skin was smooth, his muscles firm. I continued to pull his shirt upward, breaking our kiss only briefly to remove it all together. He quickly dispatched my own shirt, unbuttoning it with swift skill and finesse. My black, lacy bra quickly followed my shirt.

     I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Our bodies, pressed so tightly together, moved as one, falling on the bed. Without missing a beat he pulled me into the center, my head resting just below the pile of pillows. I was on my back, the full length of his body pressing down on me. I could tell through his taught jeans that he was as into what we were doing as I was. One of his knees was between my thighs, exciting me even more.

     If it were even possible, our kiss grew deeper, taking my breath away. My hands roamed his back, my nails lightly scraping along the length of his spine. As his lips left mine I gasped for air. His tongue was following a trail down the side of my neck to my shoulder, then from my shoulder across the collar bone, blazing fire in its wake between my breasts. I inhaled sharply, arching my back upward as the sensations collided in my brain.

     His hands each cradled the sides of my breasts as his mouth paid each of them tribute. His tongue working lazy circles around the nipples. My breath was ragged, my heart erratic, my thoughts only focused on one thing. Sheer bliss. My hands moved up from his back, my fingers entangling themselves in his hair. After paying thorough homage to my breasts his tongue streaked a slow trail of fire down my stomach to my abdomen.

     When he reached the top of my jeans he quickly undid the button and slid the zipper down. He leaned up on his knees, and with both hands on either side of the waistband he swiftly removed my jeans, tossing them on the floor. My panties soon followed. I sat up; reaching for the belt he wore. It wasn’t long before his jeans and briefs followed the rest of the clothes strewn on the plush carpet.

     He pushed me back down on the bed, continuing where he left off. My hands grabbed the comforter as his mouth went lower, finding the heart of my female desire. My knees bent and opened, giving him total access. A raspy groan escaped between my parted lips as his mouth and tongue worked their magic.

     Barely able to control myself, I reached down and pulled him back on top of me. His more than apparent desire was pressing against my inner thigh. I reached down between our naked bodies and guided it home. Our joined bodies found a rhythm of their own. My legs wrapped themselves around his waist, meeting each of his thrusts, while my hands grasped at his back, pulling him closer.

     My breathing was shallow and quick, my heart almost exploding, as he kissed me. Moans of pleasure escaped my lips as he slid his head to the side of my face, lightly biting my neck. Our pace quickened as we both found ourselves riding the wave that would set us free. The friction of our bodies moving as one, his penetrating mine, mine accepting his all too willingly, created a heightened awareness of the pleasure we were sharing.

     The building explosion drove us to move faster, our bodies almost slamming into one another, as if to become one. As the climax of our union hit both of us at the same time, his back arched, pulling him up away from me. I held on to him - rising with him, as he pulsated inside me, my own body quivering with its own earth shattering orgasm.

     Spent, his body collapsed onto mine. We laid there as our hearts slowed down to their normal patterns. He rolled over onto his side, one hand reaching to pull my face to his. Slowly, tenderly, he kissed me. After a few minutes he pulled back, reached towards the top of the comforter, pulling it down under us. He covered both our bodies with the comforter and pulled me towards him. I curled up next to his side, one arm draped over his stomach, my head in the crook of his shoulder, his arm wrapped around my back. As we both drifted to sleep my last thought was that I didn’t want to have to leave in the morning…

Not sure I remember exactly when I started my own tumblr blog. I do know it was 99 blogs ago :). Which makes this, of course, #100 - give or take the random ones that were taken down.

It’s not a profound blog. It’s not a story. It’s not one of the few poems I feel the need to write occasionally. It’s just a blog pretty much about being blog #100.

Not sure why it’s a landmark blog… I guess we human creatures have a way of needing to celebrate certain points in our lives. Even the small ones. So here it is - blog #100.

I want to thank the 13 people who continue to follow me - although I’m not sure when someone last read anything I wrote….

Oh yeah! I remember. Thank you Lynn for noticing I posted a short story :). And txting me that you noticed :D.

Other than that I’m not sure if what I am blogging is anything anyone wants to read.

I remember when blogging was THE thing to do. Maybe it still is but I don’t seem to see it as much. Or maybe everyone seems to be doing it so it’s like having a facebook acct that everyone just posts what they want only in a less interactive format. I don’t know.

I do know my beautiful daughter, Kaila, directed me here. And I’ve posted everything from the profound (at least in my mind lol) to the silly to the weird to the rant.

But to what avail? What is the purpose? I guess - like anything else - we get out of something what we put into it. But there have been times I have put my heart and soul into something I’ve posted but it’s like talking to air. If I talk and no one listens did I really say anything at all?????

I guess that’s for no one to decide by myself. I do like the option to post whatever whenever. Sometimes it’s been rather theraputic. Someplace to rant or put out there something that is on my mind without over a billion people looking.

When I go to log into tumblr I notice all these pictures. It seems like the photo “blog” is the thing to do. Whereas some pics are great, and some are inventive, most of the time it’s just a quick way to post something without having to put it into words. Yes, a picture can be worth a thousand words. But sometimes, most of the time in my opinion, there is no substitute for the written word.

It’s like the difference between a book and the TV. Love to watch a show or movie on TV but there is something special about reading a book that allows the READER to imagine what the writer envisioned. You get to give it your own spin, exercise your mind. Live in your own imagination. Someone else’s words but my vision. Words well written that allow my mind to travel to different worlds, different realms, experience different “lives”.

Something a movie or show just doesn’t do. Pictures make you an observer. Words make you part of the story.

So I guess you can tell you won’t see many pictures here from me. Just words. Maybe that’s why my blogs aren’t read by many at all. I just don’t appeal to the instant gratification of the visual brain dump. I want to make you work your brain pan. I want you to exercise the cells between your ears. I want you to THINK. Imagine. READ.

Now that #100 is done it’s on to the next milestone.

Thank you again for reading. If you got this far :)

Namaste

Waking before the sun

Walking the long dark driveway

Climbing on the all too familiar yellow bus

Its only consolation is it’s out of the wind

The ride is long

That ride to school

In the depths of winter

Here up north

Sixty minutes of solitude

Sixty minutes of invisibility

Replaced with eight hours of invisibility

Here up north

Where if you aren’t “in” you are out

Where you can disappear in the back

Where you are only visible to be picked on

Bullied

Here up north

Where days drag on in the dark of winter

Where another long bus ride ends only to be replaced with another the next day

Where someone new can fit in

But those of us who never did never will

Here up north

More memories of hate for those who don’t see you

Than memories of laughter

Except when it was at your expense

Memories that fade over time

Yet can be resurrected at a moment’s notice

Reminding you of what you were

What everyone thought you couldn’t be

Stuck in the dark of winter

Up north