Aptitude

Aptitude

Like a skilled tailor

He pieces together her dark desires

Her faraway fantasies,

Her untold visions of long, lustful nights.

He gently gathers them up,

Deftly sewing them together

With the fabric of her fascinations.

He serves them to her,

as if he were the most talented of chefs

The presentation flawless,

The flavors melded and married perfectly.

Consummated without blemish,

He serves to her all of her cravings,

Laid upon the bed of her imaginations.

She devours them all,

Savoring to herself every flavor.

The conundrum, of course,

Is that the more she consumes,

The more she hungers.

Lunargirl

*The above poem is not about anyone in particular, but more of an observation of the human condition.

 

No Words

It has been so long since I have posted anything here. I really couldn’t say how long, really, short of looking it up.

Life sometimes makes perfect sense, but generally that isn’t how my life works. My path has never been devoid of pitfalls, bridges or sharp turns.

Up until the last few months I was sure I knew where my path was leading, but recently, well, I am just not as sure. Of course, this concerns me a little. I have always held with the belief that if you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.

I could go on all day about the possible reasons why, but that is not so relevant. What I need to say here is that I am out of words. There is nothing more for me to say here. Each time I sit down and try to make the words make sense. Each time I leave with either nothing to post,  or nothing worth posting.

I wish it were not so, but even after giving myself a months time I find I still have no words.

Lunargirl

 

Some Post Election Humor

I did not write the following tongue in cheek article, but I did get in an email last night. When you get something that makes you literally LOL, you just have to share, right?

Well, I am thinking that at least half of you will see the humor in it, and it is just about as political as I get on the blog. Enjoy!

Lunargirl

“ILLEGALS FLOODING CANADIAN BORDER”

From the MANITOBA HERALD:

The flood of American liberals sneaking across the border into Canada has
intensified in the past week, sparking calls for increased patrols to stop
the illegal immigration. The possibility of a Romney/Ryan election is
prompting the exodus among left-leaning citizens who fear they’ll soon be required
to hunt, pray, and agree with Bill O’Reilly. Canadian border farmers say it’s
not uncommon to see dozens of sociology professors, animal rights activists
and Unitarians crossing their fields at night.

“I went out to milk the cows the other day, and there was a Hollywood
producer huddled in the barn,” said Manitoba farmer Red Greenfield, whose
acreage borders North Dakota . The producer was cold, exhausted and  hungry.

“He asked me if I could spare a latte and some free-range chicken. When I
said I didn’t have any, he left. Didn’t even get a chance to show him my
screenplay, eh?”

In an effort to stop the illegal aliens, Greenfield erected higher fences,
but the liberals scaled them. So he tried installing speakers that blare
Rush Limbaugh across the fields. “Not real effective,” he said. “The liberals
still got through, and Rush annoyed the cows so much they wouldn’t give milk.”

Officials are particularly concerned about smugglers who meet liberals
near the Canadian border, pack them into Volvo station wagons, drive them
across the border and leave them to fend for themselves. “A lot of these people
are not prepared for rugged conditions,” an Ontario border patrolman said. “I
found one carload without a drop of drinking water. “They did have a nice
little Napa Valley Cabernet, though.”

When liberals are caught, they’re sent back across the border, often  wailing
loudly that they fear retribution from conservatives. Rumors have been
circulating about the Romney administration establishing re-education
camps in which liberals will be forced to shoot wolves from airplanes, deny
evolution, and act out drills preparing them for the Rapture.In recent days,
liberals have turned to sometimes-ingenious ways of crossing the border.

Some have taken to posing as senior citizens on bus trips to buy cheap Canadian
prescription drugs.

After catching a half-dozen young vegans disguised in powdered wigs,
Canadian immigration authorities began stopping buses and quizzing the supposed
senior-citizen passengers on Perry Como and Rosemary Clooney hits to prove
they were alive in the ’50s. “If they can’t identify the accordion player
on The Lawrence Welk Show, we get suspicious about their age,” an official
said.

Canadian citizens have complained that the illegal immigrants are creating
an organic-broccoli shortage and are renting all the good Susan Sarandon
movies.

“I feel sorry for American liberals, but the Canadian economy just can’t
support them,” an Ottawa resident said. “How many art-history and English
majors does one country need?”

 

Updates…updates…updates

Hello my readers that have remained. I am sure I have lost a few, but things are what they are.
I am sure that it has been noticed that I am posting less often, there are different reasons for that.

No, I have not been abducted by aliens, spanko or otherwise…

Not part of a secret government conspiracy…

Definitely not working on anyone’s presidential campaign…

 

But…

 

We have been doing much (very needed) work to our very old house and I am finally at a turning point with a physical limitation that I have lived with for over ten years. Within the next two months I am hoping to have a surgery that should correct the problem that I have had since before my oldest child was out of high school. That is a huge relief. It should also make writing (and typing) a lot less painful and difficult.

 

So, that being said, I am still here and if you are still here, great! Please don’t give up on me now, we are almost there. Then I can get back to writing about all the things that tickle my fancy. Or yours.

 

Lunargirl

 

Dirty Little Secrets

I think it is high time that I post something worthwhile and something that is not only deeply personal and close to my heart, but also something that most of my readers probably don’t really know. This post will be all about one of my dirty little secrets, but not of the kinky variety, really. Just real life, real me. It has been a while since I have posted anything like that, and I think it is time.

When I began this project of blogging, it was a foray into the kink world, for sure. It was about getting my thoughts down in a place like a journal or a diary, but it was more than that. This blog was also a place for me to not only document, but to share, to connect. As I think back over all the postings I have made, all the friends I have met, all the things I have learned, about kink and love, about writing and living, but mostly about myself, I am so glad that I made the decision to start blogging. I am so thankful that I never gave in to the temptation to destroy this place, my safe haven, because yes, I have been tempted more than once. But that is not the secret I spoke of.

I have always been fairly open with all of my readers and friends that I do have bouts of depression. No brainer. I have written about it many times, the cycling that is normal for me, really high, really low, very little in between. (Seriously, it is like I go from Pollyanna to Edgar Allan Poe in 2.5) I know I have been open about that.

I have never made a secret of the fact that medications and I just do not get along, for the most part. There are many reasons for that, part of it being that I just don’t remember them half the damn time, then when I do remember it is at a time that I just can’t medicate. Part of it is that I am a very stubborn girl and I don’t like having to take medications. At all. I would rather face down any foe on my own terms, as I see fit, showing everyone that I can handle this on my own, thank you very much. It is just who I am.

That’s not so true now, I guess. I think it would be more correct to say that is just who I was.

Over the weekend, She and I had a few tense moments while we were trying to accomplish a common goal. Well, actually, we would have been fine had I just completed it by myself. I ended up asking for help and then She started asking me “why don’t you do x?? Can’t you do Y??” which made me instantly feel as though She had no faith in my ability to know what the hell I am doing and all I wanted was for Her to hold the damn shelf so I could do what I needed to get done, and now I get all these questions…which resulted in us talking about what went wrong and why. We had been enjoying the weekend up until that point.No arguing, complete harmony. What changed?

She decided it was me. I thought it was Her. Stalemate. Later, in the car, we ended up talking about it again. She just couldn’t understand why I would be upset with her questions, I just couldn’t understand why she didn’t see why I found it a little insulting…Eventually, I was able to explain to her that when she second guesses everything I am doing, it makes me feel as thought She thinks I am not competent or intelligent enough to know what I am doing. Although She thought I was perhaps over reacting just a bit, She understood. I felt better because She finally understood…now if I can get Her to just stop commenting on my driving every time I get behind the wheel…

Later in the afternoon we were talking about something else and I got my feathers a bit ruffled again. She finally stopped and looked at me and asked me point-blank “what is going on with you? Do you need to take another Happy Pill??”

(as an aside, I have been prescribed a medication, an anti-depressant, for daily use. With knowledge of my physician, I have tried to wean away from it, as I was doing well. She has nicknamed it my “happy pill” although I maintain it doesn’t really make me “happy”, but it can help with my depression. A lot. )

So, in the heat of this moment, it did not dawn on me that She was not aware that I have been off of this medication for about two months now. Looking back at it now, yes, she was not there when I spoke to my doctor, as it was one of the visits that I had when She was at work. I did not keep it from her on purpose, I just hadn’t passed that particular bit of information along…So, when I answered that NO, I did not need another pill since I hadn’t taken one at all, She was obviously a little surprised, kinda like the way that the Japanese surprised the US at Pearl Harbor.

So then her expression completely changed. She was suddenly all “Ooooooohhhhhh…..So THAT’S what is wrong with you! That makes SENSE.” The next question was obviously “Why the heck did you stop taking it?” and of course my answer (yeah, if you know me, you can say it along with me…) was “I didn’t need it anymore, I am doing fine.” She laughed at me, which really ticked me off. Then She says “Oh, you were serious? You think it wasn’t making a difference?”

I hate when She does that. Grr. When She does that, I know that Her answer is much different than mine, and because it is the two of us, I also know that it means I have lost any chance that might have ever existed that She will change Her view on it. I also hate the way it made me feel…I don’t like the idea of Her having to suffer because I am stubborn and not quite right. That is not fair and I wouldn’t do that knowingly.

She said that I needed to be taking the medication. I asked her if that was a demand? She says it isn’t a demand, that it is my body, but She really thinks I should and that I wasn’t handling things well at all, She just couldn’t figure out what had changed.

I understand a little about women. I am a women. We don’t always say what we mean, but we do expect you to know what we mean. Unfair? Probably. Too bad. It is a woman thing. So I know that what she said was that it was my choice, but I also know that what she meant was that I better start doing it.

After all of that was over, She told me last night that one of my coworkers had stopped her to ask what was wrong with me lately, I just didn’t seem like myself. So she told him EXACTLY what was wrong with me lately. He told her to hide the damn pill in a hotdog and sneak it in that way. (like a dog…)

OK, OK, I get it…damnit. I will take the medication. All the time. Ugh.

I thought I was doing well. I guess I was wrong. This does not please me. I would rather face everything on my own terms and beat it. I suppose there are some things that I just have to learn to accept help with, but believe me when I tell you all that I don’t do accepting help very well. I would rather be the help giver than the help needer…

So, in discussing this with my friend that lives in the next town and has worked with me for years (knows me pretty well…) I was also talking about my last posting, which was really dark. Even though I posted disclaimer at the top of it, I did still get concerned emails about it. ( which I still appreciate the fact that you asked, but I promise, I am ok, and I was ok when I posted it…) I asked him if he was worried and he said, no, he knew what was going on, he understood that I will write things down to get them out of my head.

I spent some time wondering aloud about how he would know that I am okay, but others weren’t so sure. The only answer I could come up with is that he has known me for a very long time and has worked closely with me for a very long time. He has seen the fluctuations and understands the way my moods go. He also has the benefit of being able to actually “see” me, where those who connect with me primarily by electronic means don’t really have the same luxury.

My little secret? Not completely a secret, really. I get depressed. I get really, really depressed. Sometimes it goes to a really scary place and sometimes I wonder if  I will be okay. It isn’t something that I talk about a lot because I really don’t want sympathy. I think it is stupid that I get like that, because honestly, life is good for me. Life is so much better for me now than it has ever been. It isn’t all bubblegum and cotton candy, but it is a damn sight better than it used to be. I have no reason to be depressed. That is why it irritates me that I get that way.

So there you have it, readers. In many ways, you all help keep me sane, and for that I thank you. I started blogging so that I could feel “connected”. When I write and I talk to you, via comment, twitter, email, phone, I am connected and I am not alone. So, mission accomplished.

And yes, I took my pill today. 

Lunargirl

 

Control

***A bit of disclaimer***

This posting is FICTION. I really have struggled with whether to post it publicly, due to the incredibly dark nature of the subject matter.

I am posting, at the urging of a reader, for your enjoyment, perhaps even to assist in the understanding of what goes on in someone else’s head.

Please do not assume that this is a “cry for help”, I assure you all, it is not. I am in no way, shape, or form suicidal at this time, although there have been other times.

So enjoy, but please don’t assume.

Lunargirl

She held it in her hand, examining it for a minute. It wasn’t the longest or fanciest, but it would do.

It was different things to different people and at different times, she decided. It’s really hard to say what thoughts were bumping around in her head, and to be very frank about it, she couldn’t have told you herself, had you asked. But no one asked. If by chance, someone would have asked her what it was, or what she was doing with it, she would have told them it was control. It was going to become control.

It isn’t a very common thing to ask, really, and those who knew her best knew she wouldn’t tell them all of it anyhow. It was just her nature.

Her nature was different from most. She spent much of her time making things, mainly because she liked to create things. It allowed her to control how they turned out, it allowed her to ensure they turned out correctly.

Her standards were, by measure of most, impossibly high. She didn’t really think so. She only wanted for things to turn out the right way, without impurities and imperfections that would render them weak. She would happily spend hours working her creations until they were exactly right, only to continue to examine them for any trace of a mistake.

It was, after all, her creation, she was in control of making it into all it could be. If there was a blemish or an imperfection, it was hers to own, as she was the one who controlled its creation. This was her logic, and she thought it quite solid.

If, during her scrutinies she discovered an error, imperfection, blemish, she would set about fixing the problem. Her creations had to be perfect, there was no “good enough”, only perfect.

Sure enough, there were times that a blemish ran all the way through her creation. There were sometimes curves that would not straighten, rough spots that could not be smoothed. She knew that when she found those imperfections that they simply could not be corrected, no matter how hard she tried or how long she worked. Some things are destined to remained flawed, and it is a fool that cannot see these for what they are. She did not consider herself a fool. When she found a piece that simply could not be made perfect there was only one remedy: destruction.

Any photographer worth his salt can tell you that for every picture they publish, six end up on the cutting room floor. It is the way of things. Just “how it is”. On this day, for reasons only she could understand because only she could see the way the entire picture fit together, she finally understood that she had landed on the cutting room floor. She was not part of the perfect creation. She contained blemish and rough that could not be repaired or removed. She could control her future, even if she hadn’t controlled the past.

When they found her hanging there, her head cocked at that grotesque and unnatural angle, it seemed like a bad dream.

No one could understand the how, or the why of it.

As humans do, there were those who grieved her. After a while, life went on as it always had, because that is what life does.

If she could have seen the way it all played itself out, she would have laughed at the foolishness of it all, the irony of the thing.

For the real truth of the matter was that for as hard as she tried to make herself important to them, eventually her name was forgotten and saving for a single scrap of marble, it was as if she had never existed at all.

For a girl who always sought to control her life, she had never really controlled anything, and in assuming control of her demise, she had lost control of everything that mattered.

 

Dream A Little (Day) Dream…..6

Emily was amazed at just how quickly everything had conspired together, as if the result for her entire world was to land her, bottom blazing once more, into this corner. With a short sniffle she allowed the events from the evening to replay in her mind.

Although she had planned to behave very well at dinner, it seemed as though it were no time at all before she was reminded to not slouch…sit up straight…although she had planned to be a very “good” girl, it sure wasn’t working out the way she had meant for it to. Besides, being “good” all the time was very hard work, not to mention, it wasn’t very much fun at all. Before long, Emily was getting restless, and then she was openly trying to find ways to misbehave, but she didn’t want to overtly misbehave. Oh no, it had to be something that could be explained away with an alternate answer. Little Emily decided that if she just wasn’t capable of being good, she was going to at least have a little fun with her companion for the evening. She knew already that there was no way she was going to escape the “goodies” in Henry’s mysterious bag, so why not work on making the reasons a little easier for him to find?

So with a heavy sigh, she sat her elbow on the edge of the table, noting with an inward grin that she had managed to get the attention of her dinner companion, although he said nothing, she saw that he looked very pointedly at her elbow…but no ‘real’ response, other than his hazel eyes locking with her bright green ones…so, very deliberately, she slouched over and put her chin on the palm of her hand, grinning a half-wicked grin, daring a response in the busy restaurant.

Looking as though he were caught exactly between stunned and amused (and perhaps a little disapproving…) her guardian opened his mouth to speak, but before he got the first word (which she would have sworn was going to be Young Lady…) out of his mouth, the waitress approached to set down the bread, which looked wonderful and smelled even better. Emily straightened her posture to allow for room on the table for the loaf, served on a thick board which resembled a cheese board.

“Thank You” he said pleasantly to the waitress, who seemed oblivious to the fact that she had interrupted what was becoming a bit of a showdown, nodding towards her customer and making her way around to the kitchen once more. Emily’s eyes followed her for a moment and then returned to the pair of eyes that was waiting on her, seated directly across the table. Henry smiled most pleasantly and stood up, making a polite excuse that he needed to seek the men’s room for a moment. As he made his way towards his destination, Emily’s attention returned to the bread, more precisely, to the board that the bread was served upon. She mused that the shape of it very much resembled a paddle, and that such a thing would definitely have a bite to it. As she concentrated on what a few swats from a thick paddle like this would feel like, she began to feel the warmth growing again in places that she really would rather it didn’t. Squirming a bit to try to relieve the growing pressure did nothing but aggravate it. Damn. She was not going to have to give any reason to earn a punishment, her body was going to see to that all on its own. Knowing that it would be very embarrassing to have him witness the degree of her “excitement” did nothing to make her less “excited”. Emily was very sure it was making the situation worse.

What if he had a paddle like this one in his bag?

What did he have in there, anyway?

She began to think that perhaps she should try a bit harder to behave, since she really wasn’t sure what all was really possible in terms of punishment. Perhaps it would not be very wise to push too awful much…Little Emily was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she did not realize that Henry had managed to return without her notice and was presently standing just behind her.

“So,” a voice whispered in her ear, close enough for her to feel his breath hot against her neck “you have are thinking it might be fun to try pushing your luck a little this evening, darling?”

Emily tried not to jump when he had caught her so off guard…not to mention, the whispering in her ear! Oh, she was definitely going to have a problem when he did get around to checking those panties, and she had absolutely no doubt that he would be checking them…

“Y-y-yess….Nnnoo…well, maybe just a little?” she offered quietly, stammering and stumbling over her words a little more than she would like to. “but, I promise, I will behave now. I want to be good.” she added.

“That is nice to know,” he whispered, leaning over a bit, getting very, very close to her and still standing in just the place where she couldn’t really see him without turning her head and being uncomfortably close to him…Did he just drop something in her purse? She was almost sure he did. He stood up and walked back around to his seat, grinning a bit as he sat down. “but,” he continued, folding his hands over each other and sitting them on the edge of the table, “you were being a bit defiant a few moments ago, weren’t you?”

She couldn’t help but blush. She had been, for sure, and what’s more, she had been all but daring him to call her on it. She snuck a look out of the corners of her eyes, wanting to know if anyone else was listening in on this very interesting conversation. She was almost sure that no one was any the wiser as she answered “yes sir” very quietly into her lap. This was not going as planned, she decided. It was so much better. Emily had to admit, even now she was very turned on by the idea that someone might be listening in.

“Well, we can’t have that, now, can we my dear?”

she shook her head, agreeing with him.

“What do you suppose we should do about this?” he asked, clearly enjoying having her on the spot like this. Damn. How was she supposed to answer that question in such a public place?!?

“I should be punished for it when we get to the room?” she offered, quickly and quietly as possible, hoping that was the right answer and that for the love of all that was good he would not make her repeat it!

“No,” he said shaking his head slowly, “well, yes, I mean” he added “you will be punished for it, but I think we should start that now” he said, leaning forward and looking her directly in the eye.

A vision of her bent over his knee in the restaurant, paddling her bare backside with the bread server came to her mind unbidden. No…no…she thought, he can’t mean that! Then a vision of her bent over the table, everyone watching her bad girl behind turning a deeper red with each swat of the paddle…in horror she realized that this was making her very very wet!

“Oh, please!” she said with quiet desperation, “you can’t spank me here!” she looked to make sure no one had heard her whispered plea. To her relief, they all seemed engrossed and completely unaware of her plight. “Please! I will behave I promise!”

Henry laughed, his eyes twinkling in the light from the incandescent bulb above them “Silly girl,” he said, “I certainly can’t do that here,” he continued “but we are going to begin your punishment here and now. It will be something that will remind you to continue to behave.” he said seriously. “Constantly.”  He sat back for a moment and allowed his words to sink in for a moment.

Emily was at a loss, she couldn’t understand what he was getting at. If it wasn’t a spanking, what on earth could he do to punish her in the restaurant? As if he could see the wheels turning in her mind, he answered her unasked question with a quick nod of his head.

“Take your purse and go to the ladies room. Look inside. I think you will know what to do next.” He smiled at her, enjoying her torment for just a moment “and don’t be long. Your dinner will be here in just a few minutes, unless I miss my guess”

===================================================================================

In the safety of the restroom stall, she opened her purse and gasped. He could not be serious.

In a restaurant??

She sat there on the toilet seat, holding a large plug. He must have had it hidden in his jacket pocket, just waiting for her to step out of line. Part of her was amazed that he knew her so well, part of her was irritated that he had planned for her to do exactly what she had done and she had fallen headfirst into his plans. She had no doubt that the plug was going to constantly have her attention, and from her experience with plugs in the past (which he was quite aware of) she knew that any hope of not soaking her panties was already lost.

As much as she wanted to challenge him, she also wanted him to be the stronger of the two of them. Although part of her hated to lose this battle, part of her was overjoyed that he had called her bluff and was dealing with her in such a way. The plug did leave her feeling very full, there was no way she was going to forget it was there. As he waited for her, holding her chair, Emily sat down very gingerly and when he scooted her towards the table the vibrations from the motion of chair leg on floor made her insides liquefy. Not squirming was simply not in the cards. This was going to be a long dinner.

And she was quite sure she wouldn’t be provoking any more discipline.

 

At least not yet.

 

Lunargirl