tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38562172011-07-14T19:46:47.303-05:00But what DOES happen to normal people? Email: iamthecoloursapphire@yahoo.comCandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comBlogger10751100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-84834438207456760322007-07-30T15:23:00.000-05:002007-07-30T15:24:27.172-05:00

Just another day in my life. This was one of those days when I thought that maybe a new life, a different life, wouldn't be so bad. But where the hell had I put the receipt, and could you return something that was over twenty years old? Where do you go to get a new life when your old one has you so puzzled you don't know how to fix it? Wish I knew.Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-28979282585349289862007-05-16T13:56:00.000-05:002007-05-16T18:57:59.504-05:00

Ah, customer service. It used to be "No, you cannot have that MRI."Now it's "No, you cannot have assistance with your vehicle."Either way, the principle's still the same.Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-91600936394405259412007-03-15T10:48:00.000-05:002007-03-15T08:52:57.471-05:00

I'm not a stranger No I am yours With crippled anger And tears that still drip sore A fragile flame aged Is misery And when our hearts meet I know you see I do not want to be afraid I do not want to die inside just to breathe in I'm tired of feeling so numb Relief exists I find it when I am cut I may seem crazy Or painfully shy And these scars wouldn't be so hidden If you would just look me in

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1168017342749170742007-01-05T11:04:00.000-06:002007-01-05T11:15:42.780-06:00

In The Story of O, the main character gets her labia pierced and then has a ring attached to it with the initials of her Dom. I got my labia pierced over a year ago, but I've been wearing an open 'horseshoe' to symbolize my owner-free status. Now I wear a captive ring with a tag that reads "Colin" on one side and the initials "LSB" on the other. I call Him "Mein Lehrer", and He teaches me

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1158897376833105572006-09-21T22:54:00.000-05:002006-09-21T22:56:16.873-05:00

"They will love me because they can submit to me. You will submit to me because you love me." Is that why you chose me, or why you left me? All you have now is the former...what happened to your dreams of the latter?Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1157601495426237732006-09-06T22:33:00.000-05:002006-09-06T23:00:19.046-05:00

The man between my legs shoves himself into my ass so hard I can hear as well as feel it tear. The pain explodes just as the man at my mouth does and I choke on both his semen and my scream, his ass slamming down again on my chest, knocking the breath out of me. For a while I can't feel anything, think anything. I'm frozen, paralyzed. Not-quite-numb. It could have been hours or merely

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1157458560538613182006-09-05T06:37:00.000-05:002006-09-06T22:33:49.306-05:00

Tell me what to do. Put me on my knees and force me. Bind me, choke me. Fuck me-my mouth, my cunt, my ass. Hurt me. Rape me. Beat me. Use me. You have no idea how long it's been, for me. Since He left, and even in the leaving I yearned for the pain. So, please, invisible man, bring on the pain. He heard me begging. And when he put the knife to my throat, I was frightened but not

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1157082045048937132006-08-31T22:37:00.000-05:002006-08-31T22:40:45.060-05:00

I've taken off the week of my birthday - next week - but not for the reason I claim: that I don't want my desk to be horrendously decorated with balloons, streamers, posters, and god knows what else. The real reason? Because I really DO want my desk to be decorated, and I'm afraid no one would.Pathetic, I know.Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1152523063512818592006-07-10T04:01:00.000-05:002006-07-10T04:17:43.596-05:00

If you were here, I'd be all over you. My hands on your thighs, your chest, your ass; my mouth wandering elsewhere. I'd stick my tongue down your throat and try to suck all the air from your lungs. If you were here, my impatient fingers would be under your shirt or fumbling at its buttons. My teeth and tongue would tease at your ear, your neck. I'd breath in your ear, whispers of how much I

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1151214480630923372006-06-25T00:12:00.000-05:002006-06-25T00:48:00.723-05:00

Sometimes I wonder if I'm too selfish. Sometimes I don't doubt that I am. Like last night, I went out with friends. And I gave them all a "present"-some of my prescription LorTab. But I only gave them each two, when I have like sixty or something. But they're the only thing working for the pain, right now. Because the pain's gotten worse, recently, and every time I eat it's close to

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1149567456311024982006-06-05T23:15:00.000-05:002006-06-05T23:17:36.320-05:00

Four hours at the DMV so my lame-o brother can get his license un-suspended. I should have left his sorry ass there and gone on to my dentist's appointment and picked him up after. *I* shouldn't have to suffer because he's an idiot. Oh, well. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to play the nice guy.Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1149460033494561512006-06-04T17:15:00.000-05:002006-06-04T17:27:13.520-05:00

Sometimes bathing isn't about getting clean. Sometimes you just lay and luxuriate in the liquid, warm and growing cooler against your bare skin. Sometimes you feel it ooze into your secret crevices; then you grin with the dirty thoughts that enter your head in this 'clean' place.My bath never was clean. I bathe in blood, inviting memories to sink into my skin, enter my hidden places, fuck me

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1149096604609941672006-05-31T12:29:00.000-05:002006-05-31T12:30:04.620-05:00

A rushing river, deep and wide, and there’s nothing on the other side but more blood, maybe some of it dried.I’m always covered with blood, not having the capability to escape completely my past. Only recently it’s been mostly dry, crusting, falling off in flakes and sometimes clumps. Recently I’ve been doing all right.Until today. Today I jumped into the river once again, swam in it for an

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1148576402259723342006-05-25T11:57:00.000-05:002006-05-25T12:00:02.273-05:00

Some of the first words I learned to identify as a lie from a man were “I’ll never get married again.” I learned, early on, that these words hide a desperation to wed, a need so profound it’s almost physical. These words have duplicity in them, comfort for the woman to whom they are spoken, so that when the inevitable proposal comes, the woman feels singular, special. She thinks “I am the one

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1148416305831759112006-05-23T15:31:00.000-05:002006-05-23T15:31:45.846-05:00

New hair, three new pics, no time, gotta work, hopefully will post the interesting pics later...Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1147816194932262982006-05-16T16:42:00.000-05:002006-05-16T16:49:54.943-05:00

So sleepy, drove all night...have some pics I need to take and post that you'll appreciate. Busy, busy girl. Must work, don't wanna. Will post again when brain un-explodes...Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1146460549393609282006-04-30T23:57:00.000-05:002006-05-01T00:15:49.403-05:00

Most people, when they think about pain, think about reds and blacks. Not I. When I'm in pain, I see yellow, orange, sometimes green. When I'm in pain, everything seems to be bathed in light, but not clearly - like you've turned up the brightness on your TV during a dark scene, and though it doesn't help with the details at least it's brighter. Streaks of these colours, this orange-y yellow.

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1144367438688330052006-04-06T17:51:00.000-05:002006-04-06T18:50:38.786-05:00

A request from a ghost found me sorting through my past. Not sorting, really, just looking. And the first thing I find is this, from my sister to my lover:Why are you such a jackass?? I mean really? It is my belief, and I could be wrong (on some planet), that you are a complete and total liar. Everything you spew out of your stupid mouth is pure shit. I can’t even begin to imagine where this

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1143817091751767572006-03-31T08:44:00.000-06:002006-03-31T08:58:11.763-06:00

This girl, this woman. Sitting on the couch while she lays her head in my lap. My fingers in her long, dark hair. The room's so dark, illuminated only by whatever movie we're watching. I look down at her and smile. She senses my attention and her eyes sparkle as she looks up at me. I lean down as she leans up and when our lips meet, I am perfectly content. There's no where else I want to

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1141880343254090082006-03-08T21:51:00.000-06:002006-03-08T22:59:03.266-06:00

One year...two...three...seven. Amethyst is seven. I'm twenty-six. And in that time I've had moments I wouldn't give up for the world...and moments I'd trade for a bed of nails, the iron maiden, being buried alive, or death - any or all of the worst things the human creature has discovered or created to torture his fellow man.And a visit like the one today...fucking A, I'm glad I'm so busy

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1140411874650553752006-02-19T21:22:00.000-06:002006-02-19T23:07:19.246-06:00

Ich bin deine. Und ich liebe dich. Liebst du mich? Bin ich die eine? Bin ich deine nur Liebe? Ich wünsche sein. Ich wünsche immer. Ich wünsche alles. Ah, aber ich weiß nichts.Späters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1139443408461763652006-02-08T18:02:00.000-06:002006-02-08T18:03:28.473-06:00

I hate being sick. I'd honestly rather be at work. Or dead. Yeah, dead would be good right now...Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1138771860821188902006-01-31T23:25:00.000-06:002006-01-31T23:31:00.833-06:00

What does a one year old need with M&Ms with his name and birthday, a huge character cake, and petit-fours? And on MY daughter's birthday, even? *sigh*Yes, we're having a combined party for the babies. Since their birthdays are so close and all. It was my idea, even. I should have known.Yeah, I should have known...Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1138599434285417422006-01-29T22:52:00.000-06:002006-01-29T23:37:14.326-06:00

I'm older than I look, but younger than I should be. The poetry I write cries bloody tears, always begging for something, or something more. And because here is where I allow myself to express my pain, I am accused of 'whining'. Okay, then. I whine.The parts of my life I live are ...comfortable. This is where I write; elsewhere I live. And that life is full and vibrant and busy as hell.

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1138156330614428462006-01-24T20:19:00.000-06:002006-01-24T20:32:10.630-06:00

Kiss me, kill me.Either works right now...Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1138080002823238982006-01-23T22:03:00.000-06:002006-01-23T23:20:02.893-06:00

"Is this what you've becomeWhere did all your animosity come fromYour words still keep me up at nightI try to sleep but it's a useless fightTell me what didn't I do for youTo deserve this torture that you put me throughYou drove your nails into my heartNow you wonder why our love was torn apartIs this my cross to bearTo believe you when you say that you never caredYou always said you wanted

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1137185396799698182006-01-13T14:45:00.000-06:002006-01-13T14:49:56.813-06:00

"It seems a cold world without something...more.""On the contrary, it is a better world. A world where we are responsible for our own actions, where we can be kind to one another because we want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment. I won't tell you what to believe. It is far better to be taught to think

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1136784499015594262006-01-08T23:18:00.000-06:002006-01-08T23:28:19.030-06:00

He kisses me behind my ear, in the hollow right behind the lobe. That and his hand on my hip make me shiver. Now, if his arm would wrap around my neck, his teeth added to the gentle kiss. His leg in between my legs, lifting me up, having me ride it. Pushed up against the nearest wall, his weight solid against me, no escape. Mouths on mouths and tongues tangled with tongues and there I am,

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1135485764355589222005-12-24T22:35:00.000-06:002005-12-24T22:42:44.370-06:00

My sister came up to spend some time with us before christmas. I had to work all week, but we still got Santa pictures with the kids and then pictures with my whole family. It being christmas Eve, I'm not going to say a lot, but check out my pictures site. Lots of good stuff there.And Amethyst is doing great, especially since she's an only child on christmas. Can we say SPOILED?Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1134421043362865142005-12-12T14:52:00.000-06:002005-12-12T14:57:23.376-06:00

He's just another guy, another fuck. And it can be said that I tried to love him. For all of twenty minutes, I waffled between love and manipulation; to feel the emotions or to say the words. The words won out. Though I admit the possibility of something else, something MORE, the opportunity passed. I won't end up with him. Not the least of reasons is that I make more money than he does and

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1132696356914491292005-11-22T15:33:00.000-06:002005-11-22T15:52:36.926-06:00

Yesterday morning, Amethyst woke up complaining of nausea. As I try to hand her the Pepto, she starts vomiting. Blood.We just got home from the hospital. I'm exhausted. I hadn't slept Sunday night, and obviously I didn't get much/any sleep in the hospital. My poor baby. She's feeling better, though. And as long as she stays hydrated, it shouldn't happen again. So yeah, I'm making her

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1132381999672312982005-11-18T23:47:00.000-06:002005-11-19T00:33:19.686-06:00

She's doing okay, not crying too much or anything. But she's just so...not well. You can tell she's feeling icky all the time, and she won't let me get more than an inch and a half away without following. She's sleeping in my bed with me, going to the bathroom with me, fixing food with me, and right now, she's blogging with me. Sometimes I'm glad she can't read. Right now I wouldn't mind

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1131384839207411392005-11-07T11:32:00.000-06:002005-11-07T11:33:59.223-06:00

I dream. And when I dream, I see. I see myself, as I am, as I was, as I want to be, as I could have been, as I might be. And I see Amethyst, Amethyst as she is, in all her glory, her innocence, her maturity, her understanding, her childhood. I see Amethyst as I want her to be, as I imagine she might become. I see her smiling. I see her flying, arms stretched out over the horizon, embracing

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1131127607338764542005-11-04T06:12:00.000-06:002006-01-08T23:29:58.206-06:00

I say, "my heart is hardened against him." I say, "I don't want him." I say, "I'm done and I just want to BE done." And it's true. And I believe it.So why, when my mind is not my own, does he intrude? Why, when I spend the daylight hours thinking of anything else, do I spend the hours of darkness with him? And SUCH hours! It's kinda like...like I'm in his head. Kinda. Like all the things

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1130910989647931982005-11-01T23:53:00.000-06:002005-11-01T23:56:29.663-06:00

So, it looks like I'mma be about two hundred short for bills and such this month. What with being out of work for two weeks because of Amethyst's surgery. So, who do I have to fuck to get that kind of cash? Any volunteers?Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1130180182345494092005-10-24T13:55:00.000-05:002005-10-24T13:56:22.353-05:00

I really love it when my partner posts stories like the one below. I really wish for it more often. Warms me cockles and, well, other things...thanks!

rumorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03087857023059011708noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1130164986601918382005-10-24T09:43:00.000-05:002005-10-24T09:45:57.776-05:00

He calls you out of sleep, and when you answer, your voice is slurred. You wonder, idly, if he might think you drunk, and somewhat giggle to yourself that this is your first thought upon waking. Then his voice cuts through the slumber, through the giggling, through the lost, idle thoughts. "Wake up." As if he knew you were asleep, knew he was waking you, and now expects your full attention.

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1129693841409872502005-10-18T23:59:00.000-05:002005-10-18T22:52:46.193-05:00

Perhaps it is the taste, that distinctive flavour behind the last meal, the last cigarette, even the thick new waking taste. The one thing, the aftertaste, the UNDERtaste, that was distinctly YOU. Perhaps it is the smell, the singular musk underneath the cologne, the cigarettes, the sweat from a day's work. Perhaps it is the touch, the feel of your skin against mine, your chest beneath my

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1129520877121658302005-10-16T22:47:00.000-05:002005-10-16T22:47:57.130-05:00

Myself, I'm one of those people. I have to own my past. I haven't the capacity to disassociate myself from it.Once I took an online test, one of those "what kind of romantic are you". Mine was "Second Chance Romance". I expected it to be "Romantic Rescue", which was the result of the person from whom I found the test. Second chance. Ha! If only...Things don't work like that, you know.

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1129238550599653922005-10-13T16:22:00.000-05:002005-10-13T16:22:30.606-05:00

So, guess who's three years old today!?! That's right, me. I, the blog of the mentally unstable chic, am three. Today. Three years ago, she was in Hawaii, on Oahu, in Mililani, on Waikalani Drive. Three years ago she had a lot to say and even more time to say it in. Now, she's probably still got a lot to say, but absolutely no time in which to do so. Which sucks. Because I get SO lonely..

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1128909567754306322005-10-09T20:54:00.000-05:002005-10-12T00:02:57.753-05:00

It is bodies, because it has to be. It is hands in secret places, tongues in hidden crevices. It is the shadows of flames caressing and lightly burning across skins pressed closely against skins. It is whispers of lies, the way all bodies lie when pressed like that. It is pain and pleasure, violence and gentility. It is the release of fluids, the mess of glands releasing their hold. It is

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1128856628284643852005-10-09T06:16:00.000-05:002005-10-09T06:20:29.986-05:00

1940 - John Lennon is born1974 - Oskar Schindler (of Schindler's List fame) dies1916 - Babe Ruth pitches and wins the longest ever (14 innings) World Series game (2-1)1888 - The Washington Monument opens to the public28BC - The Temple of Apollo is dedicated on the Palatine Hill in Rome1975 - Ironically, Andrei Dmitriyevich Sakharov, the Soviet physicist who helped build the USSR's first hydrogen

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1128750538240512232005-10-08T00:40:00.000-05:002005-10-08T00:48:58.246-05:00

When I first realized it was gone, I almost suffocated under the weight of the shock and dispair. So much of my childhood is a blur, but I remember with absolute clarity how much I loved sitting on top of the telephone poles and looking at the colours of the trees against the sky. The colours were so vibrant, then. They haven't been the same since.Maybe that's my problem. I lost the colours;

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1128631607912222772005-10-06T15:46:00.000-05:002005-10-06T15:46:47.926-05:00

I sit in my self-absorbed little world, lamenting the fact that I never go anywhere and never do anything because no one loves me and I don't have any friends. Right now, that attitude is making me giggle. Because I've gotten SO many offers just to go out TONIGHT that it's mind boggling. And what did I do? I turned them all down. Because I'm fucking EXHAUSTED. God, you have no idea! I work

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1128632704953306722005-10-04T20:47:00.000-05:002005-10-06T16:05:04.960-05:00

I work to live and recently I live to work, but mostly I work to stave off the emptiness of losing my life's partner. The he who could-have-been; the he who never-was. And then I wonder if I ever really lost him, or perhaps just lost the opportunity to meet him.Regardless, here I am. Content, but alone.Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1128397895391816582005-10-03T22:51:00.000-05:002005-10-03T22:51:35.396-05:00

I ask a lot of questions. Sometimes too many, but I need clarification. Work sucks, you know. They just moved me and it sucked and they're probably going to move me again which is going to suck worse, but it's a paycheck, and I've got bills. And then there's Amethyst's surgery next week, and I'm worried as hell but also trying to calm HER down and explain what's going to happen and how she's

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1128142511204849622005-09-30T23:56:00.000-05:002005-09-30T23:55:11.210-05:00

It's a cookbook!!Okay, I WAS going to do this whole long post about submission and how and why I identify with it, but, honestly, I'm sleepy, and you just CAN'T compete with an opening line like this one. So g'night!Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1128019916089678662005-09-27T13:22:00.000-05:002005-09-29T13:51:56.096-05:00

Men are easy. If a man's not thinking with his dick, he's acting directly on its behalf. But there are SOME men you expect to be different. Olive was one of those men for me. He said the sex was over, and I believed him. That wasn't going to stop me from trying to seduce him, but I didn't think I would succeed-much LESS that it would have been so easy. All I did was call him and tell him

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1127710061196401882005-09-25T23:47:00.000-05:002005-09-25T23:47:41.203-05:00

I like my sex rough and tumble, fierce, violent, hot and intense. But mostly, I like my sex. Right now would be good, actually. But instead, I think I'm going to masturbate for a while. Sounds like fun...Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1127443742715120772005-09-22T21:48:00.000-05:002005-09-22T21:49:02.723-05:00

The worst advice I've ever heard given is "Be who you are". Okay, maybe it's not the worst, but certainly the most useless. You ARE who you are. You can't BE anything else. You can ACT like someone or something else, but you don't turn into swine because you act like a pig, nor into a princess if you act like a snob.That's me. I am who I am, and I can't be anything else. Sometimes it hurts,

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1127105545227843762005-09-18T23:50:00.000-05:002005-09-18T23:52:25.236-05:00

Not the first kiss, not the first fuck. Not even the first love. The first everything. Because, really, there is nothing else.Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1127104741631190492005-09-18T23:38:00.000-05:002005-09-18T23:39:01.636-05:00

When there's too much pain or fear it is the human instinct to distance themselves from it. Human nature can be a bitch. Right now I'm not afraid. Actually, it's been a long time since I can remember being afraid. But pain...pain I know. Yes, I whine a lot; poor, pitiful me. Why the hell not? Maybe that's what's inside my head.When I hurt, I hide. Human condition, and different people

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1127023287213395652005-09-18T01:00:00.000-05:002005-09-18T01:01:27.220-05:00

I took Amethyst to the State Fair today. My dad went along and so did a friend of mine and that new guy I've been mentioning. Which was annoying on SO many levels. The first of which being all the goddamned carnies trying to get "daddy" to win her a prize. Jesus H. Christ on a crutch. And half the time they didn't know which one of the three men with me was "daddy". Uh, NONE? And fck off?

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1126931097782050692005-09-16T23:24:00.000-05:002005-09-16T23:24:57.790-05:00

Well, in general, I'm honest all the time. But tonight I'm not being diplomatic about it. I am who I am, and this is unadulterated me. So if you're going to get your feelings hurt, stop reading. I'm not going to change.I was supposed to go out (and then in) with that new guy tonight. We were going to do dinner, movie, probably his place and sex. That was the plan. But I've been working ten

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1126807453465362062005-09-15T13:03:00.000-05:002005-09-15T13:05:15.890-05:00

In this world you tried not leaving me alone behind There's no other way I prayed to the gods let him stay The memories ease the pain inside, now I know why Chorus: All of my memories keep you near In silent moments imagine you'd be here All of my memories keep you near Your silent whispers, silent tears Made me promise I'd try to find my way back in this life I hope there is a way to give me a

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1126792815956665792005-09-15T08:59:00.000-05:002005-09-15T09:00:15.963-05:00

Absinthe...

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1126667690423340222005-09-13T22:14:00.000-05:002005-09-13T22:14:50.430-05:00

And I love you and you don't even know who you are, do you?Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1126586938001090552005-09-12T23:48:00.000-05:002005-09-12T23:48:58.006-05:00

I have, perhaps, an exaggerated opinion of my own intelligence. Exaggerated or not, I believe I'm brilliant. I know I am, based on IQ tests alone. And I often think I'm better than others because of it. So I tend to be condescending to people who show obvious signs of stupidity. Which is easy to hide online. You can't hear tone of voice or see facial expression online. Among my pet peeves

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1126503552488828662005-09-12T00:38:00.000-05:002005-09-12T00:39:12.496-05:00

It's very difficult to masturbate in a car. At least for a girl, at least without taking off her pants. I wanted to orgasm, but didn't want to be too obvious. Just in case one of the people passing or being passed took an active interest. I was driving a stick, but that wasn't a problem since I was doing seventy and had it on cruise control. Unzip my pants, rub more than just a little bit,

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1126501120819367692005-09-11T23:58:00.000-05:002005-09-11T23:59:35.503-05:00

I could talk for hours about who I am and what I want. I have, actually. But it would never be enough. There are things that would never be said; not by deliberate omission, but because there are things I'm not aware of. Too many things about myself and what I want and need.So, to know me, to be with me...Only no one can read the spaces in between.Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1126386189501652412005-09-10T16:02:00.000-05:002005-09-10T16:06:02.123-05:00

This is who I am. Here, you can see the kind of in-your-face honesty that leaves you raw and less than curious because there's too much already to know. Here is where I allow myself to be horny, bitter, vengeful, beautiful, ugly, sentimental, loving, and simply ME. There have been times when I hid from this because the truth was too honest to tell. Or maybe just too painful. Obviously, I

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1126157281551282522005-09-08T00:27:00.000-05:002005-09-08T00:28:01.556-05:00

...bound, ankle and wrist, spread open and blindfolded....put on display....available to any and all....touched, caressed, whipped, beaten....possessed and given away....fucked, anonymously, many cocks and many men....kissed and pleasured by a woman....owned.Interesting bits of fantasy.Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1125990819788337852005-09-06T02:30:00.000-05:002005-09-06T02:13:39.796-05:00

Or: Since It's Way Too Late for Reconciliation, How's a Little Revenge?I told him once:"Do you REALLY want to fight me? I cheat. And the name of THIS game is *I* win-you will end up not wanting me, hating me, and knowing you should never have insisted on this. Remember that I have ammunition that no one else has."So here's a little story...He met her when he was way too young, still in his

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1125984576778838662005-09-03T02:07:00.000-05:002005-09-06T00:29:36.786-05:00

Friday night, out with friends for my birthday. Food, drinks, more drinks, karaoke. A guy, even. Fun night, actually. I can't sing for shit, but the effort's gotta be worth SOMEthing...right? But there was drinking and dancing, and I LOVE to dance. I noticed the guy watching me while I danced. I just danced. Who cares what men think, right? He'd fuck me anyway, dancing aside. Men are

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1125695702677175352005-09-02T16:17:00.000-05:002005-09-02T16:15:02.743-05:00

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word,And never mind that noise you heard.It's just the beasts under your bed,In your closet, and in your head!Exit light! Enter night!Take my handWe're off to the never never land."This is my daughter's new favourite bedtime song. Anyone else think she's going to grow up to be a serial killer?That's my little AntiChrist!Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1125589659010859412005-09-01T10:47:00.000-05:002005-09-01T10:47:39.016-05:00

Wow, it was like no other experience in life. Physically, to say "excruciating pain" doesn't even beging to cover it. Ever passed a kidney stone or gotten kicked REALLY hard in the balls? Now combine those, multiply by a high power of ten and you'll have not even half the idea of how much it hurt. And then at the end it's like pushing out the biggest turd ever (to be horrifyingly graphic). At

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1125461390567330572005-08-30T23:07:00.000-05:002005-08-30T23:10:12.250-05:00

I need attention, and I feel like everyone's abandoned me. I'm depressed and there's no one I can talk to who would understand. I need your arms around meI need to feel your touchI need your understandingI need your love, so muchWhy am I not sleeping?Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1125444025527834292005-08-30T19:19:00.000-05:002005-08-30T18:20:25.526-05:00

It's entirely possible that the previous was entirely TOO malicious. Ya think?Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1125443923188462552005-08-30T18:16:00.000-05:002005-08-30T18:18:43.196-05:00

A letter I received on that day:"names that can not be spokenCrow came and talked to me right after he got off work today and said that if you were to ask about the unmentionable name I was to try to ignore you. Then he told me that he had told you the story and that you had said something about it not being fair that you had told him your real name but he wouldn’t tell you her name. I can see

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1125328355840023802005-08-29T10:12:00.000-05:002005-08-29T10:12:35.883-05:00

Mine was taken some time in August of 1997. I don't remember the date, just that it was barely a week or month until my eighteenth birthday. I'd wanted to wait until that birthday, but I was still seventeen when I gave mine away. I took his, too. We called him 'Lurch', my sisters and I. Lurch because of his clumsiness, his looks, his willingness to be with me? I do not remember the whys,

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1125216879764358402005-08-28T03:14:00.000-05:002005-08-28T03:14:39.833-05:00

It happened the first time at birth. Another came with her first tear. And though no one can explain it, there was one with her first smile, too. Many years passed, many, many years. Years in which she laughed and cried, played, fell, learned, and, in general, grew. How many times during those years? She doesn't remember, or if there were any at all. Even they were many years ago.Now she

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1124984757140888532005-08-25T10:42:00.000-05:002005-08-25T10:49:52.673-05:00

It's no surprise to anyone-least of all me-that I'm single. I don't LIKE the state of affairs, but I'm not in any way shocked by it. What IS surprising is the fact that I've ever been in a relationship at all. And much more shocking that I managed, somehow, to get pregnant.At that point in time I was so young. How can an eighteen-year-old be that young? I look back at that girl and I just

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1124913273045675862005-08-24T14:54:00.000-05:002005-08-24T14:54:33.086-05:00

Judging by the insanity of the last weeks, my vacation is going to be the most relaxing, lazy time of my entire life. I'm working twelve, fourteen hours a day. I'm STILL trying to get home before Amethyst goes to bed so I can tuck her in. And I think my medicine is ceasing to work at all, not that it was all that great to begin with.Anyway, I did get a mini-break last night. Went to see

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1124373605972382672005-08-18T08:56:00.000-05:002005-08-18T09:00:05.980-05:00

I was listening to Bob and Tom on the radio on the way into work this morning. It just HAPPENS to be one of Raven's favourite programs. Why am I amused? And why am I thinking about Raven? Because of this quote:"The most loser bird in all of nature has to be the Crow."I think I turned purple laughing...Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1124123144028991682005-08-15T11:26:00.000-05:002005-08-15T11:25:44.076-05:00

Amethyst had her fifth first day of school today. And she's only in the first grade. But she went to ECE (the pre-K program in Louisiana) at Southern Hills Elementary, then Kindergarten for two weeks at the same school until we moved to Oklahoma where she went to Valiant Elementary for a month until we moved to Tennessee where she finished out Kindergarten at Tom Joy Elementary. I think that

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1123773491003878252005-08-10T08:23:00.000-05:002005-08-11T10:33:47.836-05:00

The silence reaches across the distance to echo in my ears. It is a profound silence, deep and disturbing in its purity. Months go by with the silence still unbroken until, one day, a distant murmur. The words have far to go, across this desert, and they do not echo like the silence. I have to strain to hear them. And even then, the message is garbled, indistinct. I cannot interpret the

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1123697637900985422005-08-09T13:13:00.000-05:002005-08-11T10:55:01.270-05:00

Have you ever had that feeling that you're the only one who sees the world around you? The only one with a foot in reality, noticing things as they ARE, not how others WISH they could be?Have you ever wondered if this life is just a test, and what, exactly, are you being tested on? Have you ever wanted to make the criteria for the rest of the planet?I was a very intense child. I always got

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1123516862781733902005-08-08T10:59:00.000-05:002005-08-08T11:01:02.786-05:00

Of the million photos I took this weekend, this one is probably my favourite:I just love my babies!Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1123196311019411342005-08-04T17:56:00.000-05:002005-08-04T17:58:31.026-05:00

here's wishin' strong gris gris for you on your trip. May the path be all downhill both ways...

rumorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03087857023059011708noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1123174331682566612005-08-04T11:52:00.000-05:002005-08-11T10:55:54.690-05:00

My nephew is five months old and my daughter has seen him more than I have. She's been down there all week! And I've never had the two of them together; when I'm there, she's not and when she's there, I'm not. But I'm going tonight and I finally get to see the two of them together! Yay! I've been MISSING my baby this week, and, of course, it KILLS me that my sister and nephew are so far away

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1122917065103127212005-08-01T00:24:00.000-05:002005-08-11T10:56:58.270-05:00

Friday after work I went out to dinner with my friends. Olive joined us. It was going pleasantly until Magenta threw a fit and I, of course, had to go placate her. My food had been sitting at the table for a while by the time I got to it. It was yummy and good, but I was frustrated by Magenta's temper tantrum. So Olive and I spent a great deal of time discussing her theatrics that evening.

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1122581009439798592005-07-28T15:01:00.000-05:002005-07-28T15:04:28.330-05:00

Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you hope to give back -- in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1122569732286852342005-07-28T11:55:00.000-05:002005-08-11T10:57:26.646-05:00

The sage said, "The best thing is not to hate anyone, only to love. That is the only way out of it. As soon as you have forgiven those whom you hate, you have gotten rid of them. Then you have no reason to hate them; you just forget."~Hazrat Inayat KhanIndifference is the strongest force in the universe. It makes everything it touches meaningless. Love and hate don't stand a chance against it. ~

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1122486847555606162005-07-27T12:53:00.000-05:002005-07-27T12:54:07.563-05:00

Never can resist sneaking around in other people's houses...thanks for leaving the key under the flower pot...Clip

rumorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03087857023059011708noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1122077026162340212005-07-22T19:03:00.000-05:002005-08-11T10:57:53.050-05:00

When Raven and I were together, we fell in love with Lightning. I say we did, but not totally, I don't think. But we both loved her, and that enabled the threesome thing to happen. That's what did it for me: I loved her. Now, Olive wants a threesome. I don't know if I can. It was different with Raven, because I knew he loved me. I wasn't afraid of losing him to another woman, I guess is

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1121924116887098432005-07-21T00:19:00.000-05:002005-08-11T10:58:15.686-05:00

(or: Does It Bother You to Know I'm Better Than You Are?)One: The picture on my profile is of the tattoo on my left breast. Not really that difficult to tell, but some people are retarded.Two: I love my daughter. I'm a good mother, a GOOD mother. In all her pictures she's nothing but happy (and probably more than a little bit spoiled). Maybe once or twice more than a year and a half ago, I

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1121898056874868372005-07-20T17:20:00.000-05:002005-08-11T10:59:18.120-05:00

You know what fascinates me? Catholicism. I'm drawn to the idea of confessing all my 'sins'. Not because I want forgiveness, or even penance. No, I want release. I say I don't have any secrets, and that's true-to an extent. I tell person A one thing and person B another and person C yet another still. All truths, but never the whole picture. And to be able to get that out, to tell ONE

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1121724713239404422005-07-18T17:11:00.000-05:002005-07-18T17:11:53.246-05:00

GodDAMNED! Okay, I read over Clip's blog and mine and realized that they both sound like fantasies. Insane fantasies, but fantasies nonetheless. I almost think it might have been imagined. If not for the bruising around my crotch and the ache in my scalp, I'd think it didn't happen. Three days later and I'm STILL in pain. I couldn't even screw Olive last night, which I would have dearly

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1121708463625290752005-07-18T12:39:00.000-05:002005-07-18T12:41:03.626-05:00

I didn't have internet this weekend, my laptop is kinda fucked. But I wrote the previous on Sunday around the time I have it marked and saved it to disk to post at work. Yay, work! Anyway, that's what happened. Now that I've read Clip's blog, I know it WAS him, and am more than slightly relieved.And now on with the monotony of work...Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1121708303984228352005-07-17T14:37:00.000-05:002005-07-21T00:40:40.560-05:00

Teil Zwei(or: You Can't Rape the Willing)God, this weekend was busy, and it's not over yet. Tonight I'm going to Battle of the Bands at some crappy little hole-in-the-wall venue downtown. One of my favourite bands will be there, my new favourite, really. I'm excited, and I've got a friend going with me...but that's not what y'all want to hear about, is it? I know you're dying of curiousity

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1121450576067654752005-07-15T13:02:00.000-05:002005-08-11T11:02:21.226-05:00

I have this sort of fantasy that I'll be walking down the street or around in a bookstore or really anywhere, and I'll be striking to someone. Someone will think to themselves "Who IS that girl?"And tonight...tonight it'll be "THERE'S my girl." He'll know who I am, he'll recognize me by my tattoos if nothing else. And I have...words. Now, I love words. Love the way he puts them together and

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1121269219143031122005-07-13T10:35:00.000-05:002005-07-13T10:40:19.150-05:00

So, plans made, car ready, gas card on hand, hotel booked. So now the question is: what IS a girl to wear?Oh, and I have new hair-again. It's very dark, looks nearly black in indirect light, but in the sun has these GORGEOUS purple/red undertones that please me no end: One of these days I'm going to have to settle on a hair colour...NAH!Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1121121373995817242005-07-11T17:36:00.000-05:002005-08-11T11:03:18.773-05:00

It comes in quietly, sneaking in inch by inch by mile. On soft-clad feet it steals in, silently, so silently. It's smooth, the way it insunuates itself, taking over from the inside out, taking over piece by piece by tiny little piece. So when you are overcome you don't realize that you are conquered. But you are, wholly and completely. You no longer belong to yourself. You belong to the

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1120992534629496962005-07-10T05:39:00.000-05:002005-07-10T05:48:54.753-05:00

Maybe I should just move alongBut you know I'd draw blood if that's what you wantYou found someone who makes you laughWho'd stick around, but that's not want you wantYou slipped at the startAnd dragged the whole thing sideways downEverybody fucks upIt's just something that's been going 'roundAnd you found someone who said she'd stayWho'd give it all, but that's not good enoughNow you're standing

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1120990232032161942005-07-10T02:09:00.000-05:002005-07-10T22:39:16.896-05:00

On the other hand, stay the FUCK out of my blog. I'm an all or nothing girl and you've MADE your choice, asshole.So go fuck your new piggy bank, you impotent little leech.Laters

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1120975500965215202005-07-10T01:04:00.000-05:002005-07-10T01:05:00.973-05:00

Don't Think I Don't Know Who You AreGet online just to check my email, where the comments from here get sent. And I see it, "unforgiven1". It's not as if I didn't suspect it, not as if I was completely oblivious. But I've been living my life, he's been living his. He's been living his with someone else, even, almost since the moment I left. So why now?Ya know, it took me over three years

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1120804929696350152005-07-07T16:50:00.000-05:002005-07-08T01:42:09.703-05:00

A Conversation on the Use (or Lack Thereof) of Safewords Me: I'm just imaging ropes and chains and getting a blissful little smile on my face... Magenta: i must say i would approve if it was someone you trusted, if you had a safe word....? dear? dear? Me: I don't use safe words. Ever. I wouldn't be in that kind of a situation with someone I didn't trust anyway, and the thought that I might have

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1120682675834461182005-07-06T15:44:00.000-05:002005-07-06T15:44:35.840-05:00

Girls are funny. Weird, even. Totally strange. They want what they want, but if they TELL you what they want, it doesn't count. As in, my sister can't tell her husband that she wants a dozen red roses or really just any flowers or thoughtful gifts every now and then for no reason. Because if she told him he'd only be doing it out of a sense of obligation, not an actual desire to please.

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1120666006002937032005-07-06T11:03:00.000-05:002005-07-06T11:06:46.010-05:00

Because I liked my response so much:(and because I'm conceited enough to admit it):I just now got your query. The answer is yes, I want to know. But no, I don't. I delight in the anticipation of revelation, but fear the answer. My imagination runs wild across hills and valleys and galaxies, searching in every hidden depth and height for the one thing it can't think of, the one thing that your

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3856217.post-1120587557140774342005-07-05T01:19:00.000-05:002005-08-11T11:04:40.483-05:00

Well, it's too late to give it up now. Two weeks, a little less than. I've got approval to leave work early; I've booked a hotel room, arranged a baby-sitter. A strange city, but that's never been a problem for me, not with how many times I've moved, how many cities I've had to conquer. To the solid from the surreal, and it takes my breath away. (I'll have to remind myself: inhale, hold,

Candihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14905008638681787309noreply@blogger.com